#THOR LOVED HIS DAUGHTER SO SO MUCH

[angelfrombeneth]

THE NOT SO SECRET, SECRET - P . PARKER

Mature Content Ahead

Peter Parker (Tom) x Stark!Reader

Summary: You and Peter are sneaking around but how secret is your secret?

Warnings: SMUT

You and Peter have been hooking up for a while. Since your dad brought him to the compound you've been around eachother a lot. Your dad still doesn't know about your late night rendezvous with Peter, and you'd like to keep it that way.

You are Tony's eldest daughter. You aren't an avenger and he wanted you to steer clear of that life but you refused to live with Pepper and Morgan because you wanted atleast a bit of action. You're like any teenage girl going to school, having boy problems. You decided to join the cheer squad for Midtown High, considering you train daily with Nat you might aswell put it to good use.

You were one of Tony's prized possessions he held you really close. Daddy's girl if you will. You were extremely smart and he used your mind to his gain with Avenger tasks which you were more than happy to help with. It was a perfect arrangement. It got even more perfect when Peter arrived at the compound 2 years ago. Both of you being the same age, go to the same school, yet you'd never seen him before. The pair of you instantly connected becoming friends at the compound and at school, but then it became more.

You hopped out of the shower, pulling on a cropped tank top over your bare chest with some shorts. You pulled your hair from the shower cap, running your fingers through it as you smiled.

"The Avengers are back Miss Y/N" FRIDAY filled the room.

"Thanks FRIDAY" You smiled, before grabbing a clip and clipping your hair back in a loose ponytail before skipping down the stairs.

"God I'm exhausted" Thor groaned, throwing himself on the couch.

You reached the bottom of the stairs, turning the corner and leaning against the door frame staring at them all. "Long day?" You chirped.

You watched as Peter's head raised and his eyes shot daggers at you. He scanned your body, continously. You were satisfied with this.

"Y/N, Have you done your homework" Tony emerged from his side office just off the livingroom as he stood, fixing his shirt cuffs.

"Yes, Dad" you groaned.

"Good, that's my little girl" He smiled at you before turning to everyone in the room. "All of you come with me" He stated before walking towards the conference room before halting. "Not you Parker" As he looked at Peter.

The rest of the Avengers piled into the conference room before the door shut.

"Aww, Poor Parker being left out" You cooed, walking over and standing above him as he settled into the couch.

Peter looked up at you, sighing as he reached to touch your thighs, holding the flesh just below your ass. "I can have much more fun out here with you" He smiled.

"I'd love that but, I'm tired" You snickered. You leaned over, giving him a perfect view down your shirt as you pecked his lips softly. "Tah tah!" Before turning around and running off upstairs.

That night, Peter had plenty of food for thought, the way your ass spilled from those tight ass shorts you wore or the way your nipples stayed harder under your tank top. He couldn't help but think about you.

THE NEXT MORNING

"Morning" You smiled, as you walked into the dining room, leaning over Steve as you grabbed a waffle, taking a bite. You stood in your Midtown High cheer uniform, decked in Blue, White and Yellow. Your hair up in a high ponytail as your sleek silver rectangle reading glasses rested upon your nose.

"Morning Y/N, You got cheer today?" Steve smiled as he held your waist as you leaned against him.

"Yep!" You popped the 'P' as you smiled at him, "You coming to class Peter" You smiled up at him.

His eyes were already trained on you, burning through your clothes as if he was trying to see you without them.

"Yes- Of course" He stumbled over his words.

"God Parker, that reminds me. You whine like a bitch" Bucky scoffed.

"What-" He looked to Bucky confused.

"I've never know someone to moan like a bitch like you do" Bucky laughed, earning a snicker from Thor and Sam.

"Aww Bucky leave him alone" Nat scolded him.

"Yeah! And besides, what's wrong with that Buck? I love a whiney man" You smirked, watching as Peter choked on his water. Everyone laughed as Peter grew redder in the face "Anyway, catch up Parker. Im not waiting for you!" You cheered before walking out.

Peter instantly scrambled behind you, grabbing his bag and hoodie before darting out the door after you.

"Ten bucks, they'll hook up" Nat spoke.

"20, they already are hooking up" Buck, leaned back in his chair smirking.

"You think? He follows her like a lost puppy" Sam started.

"Even more so, I'm seeing it" Thor thought.

"We'll see" Nat raises her mug smiling to Bucky.

"Little Stark definitely has him on a leash" Sam laughs.

THAT EVENING

You sighed, walking back into the compound, dropping you bag on the floor by the door to the kitchen as you walked over to the fridge.

"Rough day?" You heard, as you bent down to grab a waterbottle from the bottom draw of the fridge. You turned around to see Peter leaning against the door frame in loose joggers and a compression shirt.

You hummed as you twisted the cap off the waterbottle, taking a sip as Peter made his way over to you.

"Missed you today, you were so busy with cheer I didn't see you" He huffed, placing a hand on your waist, his other hand moving the hair from your ear as he peppered kisses down your neck.

You smiled, placing the water bottle down on the counter as you turned to look at Peter, your hand instantly lost within his locks. You sighed, your hand dropping to the back of his neck as you pulled him towards you, your lips landing upon his.

This kiss was slow and soft, your lips moving against one another's as his hands slid down to your ass, kneading at it as his tongue slipped into your mouth.

You hummed, pulling him closer, both your arms wrapping around his neck as your tongue toyed with his, pulling him as close as you could as the pair of you pratically exchanged DNA.

Peter pulled away, panting softly as he smirked as you, the pair of your lips, slightly red and swollen. "Upstairs?" He quirked his eyebrow as you smirked nodding before taking his hand and leading him up to his room.

"We can't do it in my room, someone will tell my dad" You whispered walking down the hall past a few avengers bedrooms.

You made it to Peter's room. He grabbed your waist yet again crashing his lips onto yours as you sighed. His hands tightly on your hip as the kiss deepened. His lips, softly and flush against yours as his tongue subtly slipped in and out.

You leaned back against his door, feeling for the handle as you pushed it open, the pair of you stumbling in the room before Peter slammed it shut with his foot.

Breaking away as you kicked off your shoes and climbed onto his bed, he stood striking down at you.

"FRIDAY, Lock the door. No one can come in" He smirked.

"Door is locked Mr Parker" FRIDAY chimed back.

"All to myself" He smirked, peeling his shirt off and dropping his joggers as he dove ontop of you, kissing you again as his hands found themselves all over your body.

You giggle, your lips against his as you kiss him back before he pulls away, his lips against your neck, sucking at the skin as you sighed, your hands running over his bare back.

He pulled away for a moment, pulling your cheer dress over your head and throwing it across the room, leaving you in just your underwear.

"Didn't know you were that needy Parker" you laughed, his hands instantly on your bra as he yanked it down, his hands kneading at your breasts.

"I'm going to make you feel so good" He smirked, his hands reaching you unclasp your bra before tossing it aside as his mouth latched onto one of your breasts.

You gasped, biting your lip as his hands held your waist as you manurved to straddle him as he leaned against the headboard.

You sat up, yanking his boxers down to his knees as his cock sprung out and hit his stomach as you smirked. You grabbed a condom from his drawer, ripping it open abs sliding it down his length as you smirked. His eyes trained on you as his mouth was still full of your breast.

"Gunna ride you" You hummed, your hand sliding up his length as you sighed, pulling your panties aside as you pumped him a few times before slowly settling yourself down on his cock. Gasping for a moment as he penetrated through.

"So fucking hot" Peter mumbled, his hands on your boobs, squeezing them as he peered at you.

Your hips began to rock back and forth, rolling down against him as you hummed, the feeling of him curving up into you, drove you insane.

You hummed, biting your lower lip holding a pout as you tried to control yourself against the pleasure. Peter's mouth suctioned onto your breast, as his hand kneaded the other as you continued to rock your hips back and forth.

"You are such a boob guy" You let out a soft chuckle, your hand caressing through his hair as you sighed, swivelling your hips further against Peter.

A soft pop sounded the room as his mouth withdrew from your skin. "Mhm- How can I not be" He pecked your lips softly, as he shimmied back, leaning back against the headboard, spreading your legs with his as he began to thrust up into you.

"Ah!-" You yelped out, the thrusts throwing your body forward against his, your hands slithered up to grab the headboard as you attempted to steady your breaths between thrusts. "Nghh- there.. please-" You pleaded as hus hands gripped your hips tighter as he thrusted harder into you.

"Good girl-" He hummed, pushing up with his calfs, the position changed as you fell back against the foot of the bed, your back against the sheets as Peter got ontop of you, your legs clamped around his waist as his lips Instantly attached to your neck, sucking the skin harshly as his hips buckled into yours.

"Oh my god!-" You gasped, clawing at his back as you yanked his hair his eyes connecting with yours as you pulled him into a deep kiss. The pair of your lips locked messily, your tongues darting against one another as his pace became consistent.

You'd break away and take breaths as you yelped each time Peter pulled out and thrusted in once again- the feeling was amazing.

Your hand slid up to his neck, as you applied slight pressure as his eyes rolled back slightly and his pace sped up.

"Nghh- You like that- you like when I do this Pete?" You gasped, your hand toying with the grip on his neck as he pistoned faster into you- your voice cracking with moans as he continued.

A soft whine left his lips as he continued to thrust, a smile upon your lips at his sounds.

"M-mhm close" He groaned.

You placed a hand on his chest, signalling him to slow down as you slowly climbed out from under him as you smiled, getting onto all fours.

"I want you to cum in me Pete.." You smile back at him.

Peter quickly kneeled, gripping your ass as he slapped it, yanking the condom off his cock tying it n dropping it into his bedside bin- before rubbing his tip against your slit as you hummed.

"Is it safe to" His touch was soft against you.

"Shut up, I don't care" You pouted looking back at him.

With that he bottomed out, grasping your hips harsh as his bare cock thrusted into you- A whine behind you as he could feel every. single. inch.

"You've been such a good boy, I'd treat you, now fill me up" You leaned back against his chest, your hand on his cheek as you pecked his lips.

His hand pushed you back down into all fours as he thrusted into you.

Your back arches as you hummed, his pelvis thrusting into you as your eyes closed, gripping the sheets as you took it all in.

"Doing so good f'me" Peter mumbled from behind you, kissing your shoulder as he leaned over you, hand caged around your waist as he continued to thrust into you like a rabbit in heat.

You nodded as you sighed, your head hanging forward as he continued to thrust. Your body growing slightly tired as you whined, letting put a soft whine with each thrust.

"Faster.." You sighed, turning back and looking at Peter.

A wide smirk, spread across his face as he lifted you up to lean back against his chest, your lip between your teeth as you reached back, wrapping your arms round the back of his head.

"Such a good girl for me... If only everyone know how much of a good girl you were" He kissed your cheek, his hands snaking around your found as he gripped your tits. Peter was definitely a tit guy, every chance he could, he'd be holding them.

His lips on your neck, as he began to nip at the skin as his pace began to pick up. You croaked out a squeak as your body recoiled against the thrusts at first, soft hums leaving your lips as he'd thrust in and out of you.

You stayed like that for a while, both in such an intimate position but that was till Peter couldn't take it anymore. His hand harshly pushing you back down onto all fours as he grabbed your hair into a makeshift ponytail as he pummelled into you.

"FUCK- mhmphh!-" You screamed, throwing your face forward into his pillow, muffling any noises that came from you as he thrusted. Your ass slapping against his skin as he sped up. Soft groans leaving his lips as he was chasing his high. You were already so close, you were just waiting for him- but you don't think you could last much longer.

"Yes- Fuck.. Yes! I'm cumming-" Peter whined, his hand thrown over his face as his thrusts became sloppy as he bottomed out, thrusting harshly once more before pouring his load into you.

You also, releasing at the same time, letting out a loud screech at you fisted the sheets as you grit your teeth.

The pair of you panting heavily as Peter slowly pulled out, groaning as he collected any escaping and thrusted it back into you a few times.

"Mhpmh-" You whined slightly as he did so.

"Sorry" He laughed, pulling away as he layed next to you, scooping you up and pulling you into his side.

You smiled, pecking his lips softly before laying your head on his chest.

"That fucking uniform does something to me, I was thinking about you all day" He laughed, as you rolled your eyes chuckling.

The pair of you stayed there for a few more minutes before Peter carried you into the shower, where you two yet again couldn't keep your hands off one another.

THE NEXT MORNING

"I'll take that 20 bucks now Nat" Bucky walks into the seating area with a coffee in his hand.

"What?" Nat looked up at him, confused.

"I was up all night because of those kids- I told you they were hooking up" Bucky rubbed his head, groaning.

"I knew it" Sam smirked.

Nat groaned before leaning over and giving Bucky 20 dollars, of which he was very happy about.

"Morning!" You smiled, definitely a pep in your step as you walked into the lounge area wearing just a large tshirt.

They all turned to look at you, shocked at the sudden entrance, but even more shocked when they noticed the marks all over your neck to your legs. Bite marks, hickies and mysterious bruises.

"What?- Is there something on my face?" You reached to rub your face.

"You look like an animal has attacked you-" Sam chuckled.

You rolled your eyes at him.

Peter came behind you, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your cheek softly.

"Look, I know you guys know and my dad isn't here right now, so I'd just appreciate if you all didn't tell him" You smiled, your hand reaching your caress Peter's hair.

"Didn't tell me what?"

You all froze. Especially Peter.

[woniwontons]

hi! i have a request for a fic where bob/sentry/void get cuteness aggression for the reader, like they are being motherlike and sweet to a kid or a puppy or smth and they find it so domestic and adorable they need to squeeze the reader in their arms or something 😩 it could be all of them together or separate imagines i don’t know how to put it into words so i need your help 🙏

i love it

imagine bob likes to squeeze and bite you ~

w.c: 608 words; warnings: biting, cuteness aggression, baby fever, super fluffy

While shopping for a friend's baby shower, the tiny clothes, blankets, and rattles were the cutest things you’d ever seen. Especially a small onesie themed after Thor that had a little red cape.

Bob trailed behind quietly, pushing the cart for you, silently reacting to every soft gasp and coo you made at everything.

When you found the Thor onesie, you opened your mouth into a silent scream. “Look at the cape! It’s so cute,” you said, holding it up for him to see.

As you turned to place it in the cart, Bob didn’t answer. He just watched you. His eyes fixed on your side profile, your flushed cheeks, your soft lips.

His fingers twitched.

And before you could turn back to him, he crossed the small space between you. Firmly gripping your waist, fingers dug into your soft flesh, and pulled you against his chest. His hands slipped across your stomach, palms splayed wide, his chin settling on top of your head.

You felt the slow exhale he let out, warm against your hair. Surprised, you blinked, caught in the quiet weight of his sudden affection.

“That is really adorable,” he murmured, voice low and a little rough. Then, softer still: “Maybe you can buy one for ours someday.”

“Ours?” you echoed, tilting your head up, wide-eyed.

His grip only tightened, arms folding you fully into his chest now.

He wanted that with you so badly, to see you happy holding their child. To spend his money on their son or daughter on whatever your heart desired. Whatever onesies, toys, or furniture was necessary to see this maternal joy on your face all the time.

He didn’t elaborate out loud. Just gave a low, “Mhm,” like it took everything in him to leave it at that. Like anything more would break the thin thread of control he was holding onto.

You spun around to face him, flushed with heat that showed evidently on your neck. “Let’s get it then,” you said, breathlessly. “And maybe leave before I forget we’re in public.”

~

On the way home, you were in the passenger seat, window cracked just enough to let the breeze in. A song you liked started playing on the radio, and you were singing without thinking. Softly at first, then a little louder when the chorus hit.

Bob’s hand rested warm and steady on your thigh, thumb rubbing slow circles. Every now and then, he glanced at you and shook his head with a quiet laugh under his breath.

You didn’t think much of it until he suddenly pulled the car over.

No warning. Just the motion of him pulling the car into park and the sound of gravel crunching beneath the tires.

You barely had time to ask what he was doing before he leaned over the middle console, grabbed behind your head, and pulled you into a kiss. Fast, hard, like he’d been holding it back since the store.

You were startled at first, frozen, but only for a second. Then your fingers wrapped around his wrist, your other hand gripping his shirt as you melted into him. He pushed forward, mouth claiming yours, one hand firm on the side of your waist like he needed to keep you there.

Then Bob grabbed your hand, the one on his wrist, and started kissing it instead. Slow at first, tracing over your knuckles with his mouth. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, crinkling at the sight of your embarrassed face.

And then—bite.

Hard, right between your thumb and wrist.

“Hey!” you yelped, half laughing, half wincing as you pulled back to look at the forming mark.

He just shrugged, planting a firm kiss on your cheek before resettling into his seat. “I just couldn’t help myself with you looking at me like that.”

You could still feel the pressure of his teeth long after he pulled away. His hand never left your thigh.

click here to request a fic from me!

preferred characters located on my pinned masterlist ~

[bones4thecats]

Hello, can do resquest, Poseidon, Hades, Loki and Thor x Valkyrie reader, who is the mother of all Valkyries, This is what it looks like, https://es.pinterest.com/pin/890657263798502008/

❥· Nurture vs. Nature, Multi-RoR × F! S/O

Characters: Poseidon (🔱), Hades (💀), Loki (🐍), and Thor (🌩️) A/N: This is another favorite of mine. I love this thing so much, and I hope you like it as well, @zinnia1506! ✎ Summary: After the loss of your adoptive son, Zerofuku, you made your thirteen daughters, whom were named after your title of the 13 Valkyrie Sisters. But, after the setting of Ragnarok, your relationship molds over with hatred with your oldest.

┍━━━━━━━━━━━━━☽【❖】☾━━━━━━━━━━━━━┑

Looking at the sky with an empty expression, you took each breath in slowly. You felt empty, incomplete, someone would say. But, in reality, you felt normal. This was your normal.

Each cloud moved by with each passing second. While other Gods and Goddesses would see this as useless, this was the only thing you wanted to do for your pass-time. It was quiet, peaceful.

Small footsteps behind you made your eyes open, there, standing behind you, was the young God you were in charge of watching. "Zero. Do show me, how would you draw that flower?" You asked. The young, child-like god, smiled and grabbed some nearby flowers, using them like crayons on the paper you summoned for him.

"This is how you do it, Lady Valkyrie!" He joyfully said. You watched as he used the flowers to color the pink petals, before searching for a green item for the stem and leaves. As he ran around, your eyes shimmered. For some reason, being around Zerofuku made your life feel more welcoming, open even.

Before you knew it, Zerofuku handed you the paper. You took it in your hands gently and looked over his work. Every detail was there, which surprised you. The way he highlighted the sun's rays hitting the petals to the shadows cast in opposition made your eyes widen slightly.

You breathed out and smiled gently, though it was covered by your mask. Zeroufku felt your mood lighten and he began to shake in happiness himself. "Do you like it?" He asked. "Of course. You did a wondrous job on it, child."

"Thank you!" He replied. "Would you like it back? I'm sure it would be a lovely addition in your home." You said. Zerofuku looked at you and shook his head, pushing the drawing back into your chest. "No. Go ahead and keep it! Besides, you seem to like it more than I do!"

That was when you knew it. You wanted to feel this all the time. So, you began babysitting Zerofuku more and more. But, you regretted the one day you didn't. That was the day he went to Earth and never returned.

Tears fell from your eyes as you sobbed at the same spot as you were that day. You never wanted this feeling again... you needed to find a way around this...

-

🔱 You looked at the aquatic animals swimming around. The blow-fish looked at your finger, following it as you lightly drug it across the glass keeping you separated. Poseidon observed you from behind, his trident on the ground as you observed the fish.

🔱 Poseidon sighed internally and walked up to you, and, once you heard the sound of his weapon, your branch-shaped hair moved slightly, much like the ears of an animal. You turned around and looked into the blue eyes of your husband.

🔱 "What did Zeus do this time?" You asked. He shook his head, "This was not Zeus' doing. Rather, it was your oldest, Brunhilde's." You froze, eyebrows furrowing as you questioned what he meant. After all, Brunhilde didn't speak out against the Gods that often. It was always with you when she did it.

🔱 "She declared Ragnarok. Zeus accepted and is currently scrolling through the nominees for the Gods' Team." He replied, eyes watching the octopus Göll, your youngest, affectionately named Ink. "She opposed the Gods and is fighting for Humanity, isn't she?"

🔱 "Yes." He said. Your eyes went to the floor. This was not something you wanted to happen. For years, you raised those girls to help the Gods. NOT help the humans. The humans that tore your once-beloved son from you.

🔱 "I would like to fight." Poseidon's eyes widened slightly, looking down at you with his grip tightening on his trident. "No. I will not allow it."

🔱 "Poseidon, it is my choice. I'm not fighting for the honor of the others, but for the honor of my son." You said, eyes darkening in anger. "Zeus already asked me to fight in Ragnarok. I will be taking your place. No matter the outcome, the girls will need you. Our boys will need you." He said, motioning to your five sons, Polyphemus, Triton, Orion, Theseus, and Aeolus, running around happily, unaware of the chat between their parents.

🔱 You looked back to the ground, sorrow filling your form. In the action of making your thirteen daughters out of enchanted clay, you wanted to feel the love you felt for Zerofuku, but, Brunhilde threw that away. Like a rag used up.

🔱 Just as Poseidon began walking away to grab your sons to bring inside, you grabbed his loincloth-like fabric around his waist and said, "Please. Just, don't hurt any of the girls." He looked into your eyes, blue into blue, and blinked.

🔱 "Alright." He said, leaning in and kissing your head, in a way to comfort you in this mind-racing time. "The boys and I will be inside soon."

-

💀 Your husband sat beside you in your bedroom. Tears were falling from your eyes silently. That day was horrible. You declared you weren't going to speak to your daughters until Ragnarok was over, saying you needed time to even out your situation during the battle. Hades, your husband, patted your back through everything.

💀 A letter had been delivered by Hermes to you from Brunhilde. In this letter, she declared she, and her sisters -- your other daughters -- would be performing Völundr with their assigned human fighters. You were in distress, you already lost your son, how could you lose your daughters too?!

💀 Hades leaned his head on yours, silently helping you. He could hear the first round of Ragnarok playing in the background on your holographic-television. It was when it was over, that you both heard the announcement of Lü Bu, the first human fighter, dying.

💀 The God of the Underworld's eyes widened in surprise, not at the fact that the human died, but at the fact that one of his step-daughters, that he loved just as much as you did, sacrificed herself for humanity. Were they really that amazing?

💀 "No... Randgriz... my baby..." You sobbed harder now, tears falling heavily as your hands covered your eyes. Hades' eyes began to water now. Randgriz was one of his favorite step-daughters. He loved the light and love she brought to the Underworld, to his life, and the way that she cared for everyone, no exceptions.

💀 A knock on the door alerted you, but, you made no effort to move. Hades, who wasn't crying nearly as hard as you were, stood up and answered. "Who is it?" He asked.

💀 "Papa?" A little voice said. Looking down, there stood your youngest child, Zagreus. He looked up with tears threatening to fall down his cheeks. "Is Randgriz okay?"

💀 You ran up to Zagreus, and enveloped him in a hug. Zagreus, who was surprisingly smart for a child of his age, hugged you back, understanding what was happening now.

💀 Hades frowned and kneeled in front of your both, wrapped his arms around you two and began to cry. Your sniffs pained him, as did his son's. You made those girls to help with your emotions, to keep your happiness around. Yet, you neglected the thought of losing them like how you did Zerofuku. You protected them for years, and, despite all your effort, you were losing them all over again.

-

🐍 Loki knew your daughters well. He was around, what a human would say 20s, in age when they were sculpted by your hands by enchanted clay. You asked if he could watch over them for years when you were busy, and he did so pretty well. Sometimes, it felt like your daughters were babysitting him though.

🐍 You observed as Loki played with your three children, your daughter, Hel, and your two sons, Fenrir and Jörmungandr. Loki danced around them, Fenrir shapeshifted into his single form; a large wolf, while your other son became his only form; a large serpent. Hel just wrapped her arms around her father's neck as he flew around, playing tag with them.

🐍 "Come on, Dad! You're going to high up!" Fenrir called. Loki merely laughed and told them to try harder in catching him. Jörmungandr looked at you and silently asked for help. You smiled gently and called for your husband, making him freeze and call back to you.

🐍 Just then, your sons tackled Loki, making him yell and fall down to the ground. "Gotcha!" The boy-turned-serpent yelled. You kept a smile up, but it vanished when you heard your husband's name being called from behind you.

🐍 Loki looked up and put his daughter on the ground next to her brothers. "Let me guess, little old me is up next?" He asked Thor, who was tasked by his father, Odin, to retrieve his cousin. "Yes."

🐍 Thor looked at you and nodded back to you after you motioned for him to take your three kids away. They happily jumped with Thor, on their way to sit with their Grandpa and their Uncle. You then looked at Loki and then down at the ground, asking him if he was sure about doing this. "After all," you added, "Poseidon, Heracles, Hajun, Hades, hell, even Susano'o No Mikoto now... what if you're next?"

🐍 "Love. I know you lost five of the girls, but, believe me when I say this: I will make sure I get back to you, and... hopefully keep whatever Valkyrie chosen alive." He said, his hands holding your face as he stares into your eyes.

🐍 "I'll come back." He said. "I love you."

🐍 You smiled and kissed him, he hummed happily before taking your hand and walking with you back to his room to get ready for his round.

-

🌩️ Thor cared for your daughters. He was someone you cared for deeply, and, since he wasn't biologically related to them, it comforted you that he still put effort into acting like a father. Your emotions actually came out with him, and it did make your girls proud when you married Thor and not someone like Zeus.

🌩️ You've been married for years, and for those years, he and you parented Móði and Magni, your twin boys. As you raised your two biological children, Brunhilde began to separate herself from you, leaving you feeling a hole again. And, with no other ideas, you tried to connect with her again, only to be shocked when she told you she didn't want contact again.

🌩️ Odin told you it was most likely due to 'teenage-angst', but, after hearing she proposed Ragnarok, you were heartbroken once again. You looked at her, and, when she eyes connected with yours coldly, you leaned your head onto Thor's shoulder.

🌩️ You stayed with Thor the entire time, only being away from him due to the first round. And, after it was over, you tried talking to Brunhilde, only for her to ask if you were happy with yourself.

🌩️ "What are you talking about, Brunhilde?" You replied. "You know what I'm talking about! Your husband! He just killed your own daughter! How can you pick him over us?!"

🌩️ "I'm not picking him over you, 'Hilde! Do I have to spell it out?! I made you all because I wanted you guys! I wanted children to call my own!" She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right. We're nothing but animated clay to you. You were never, and will never be my mother."

🌩️ Your eyes widened in shock as Brunhilde walked away. Shock was all you felt. After everything you gave her; your time, your care, you love, and she just says it was all nothing to you. Your boys just stood beside you, also shocked. You were an excellent mom, they've seen the photos and videos of you raising your girls. Why was she hating you so much?

🌩️ "Fine... have a good rest of the tournament, Brunhilde." You said, walking away with your boys trailing you. Thor, who was watching from behind a nearby pillar, was upset. He saw you care for Brunhilde and your daughters, you just struggled expressing emotions when it comes to loss. How does she not, in her millions of life with you, understand that?

🌩️ "Brunhilde." He said, causing the eldest Valkyrie to turn around and look at her step-father. "What?" She replied. "You've wanted to know why your mother made you, correct?"

🌩️ "Yes."

🌩️ "I think it's time I tell you."

┕━━━━━━━━━━━━━☽【❖】☾━━━━━━━━━━━━━┙

[fatliberation]

Freddie Mercury was bisexual though

Nope, this is false! 🏳️‍🌈 Freddie was gay, there’s a lot of misinformation out there about his non-existent affairs with women, and much of it can be chalked up to a shit biographer named Lesley Ann Jones (aka my arch nemesis).

I've been deeply fascinated by Freddie Mercury and studying his personal life for years and years so excuse the following infodump (or jump in for a queer history lesson!)

Contrary to popular belief, Freddie was an out gay man. “Gay as a daffodil, my dear!” He’s clearly stated his sexuality in a handful of interviews; “I’ve done all that but I’m gay. Mary was my last woman.” (This interview was removed from youtube but you can find it mentioned in Freddie Mercury: A Life, in His Own Words which is a compilation of his actual quotes from interviews over the years.) Those statements got buried from the media in favor of promoting his more promiscuous quotes like "Darling, I'm doing everything with everybody." (Journalists LOVE to include this quote when talking about his AIDS...) He did purposely retain an aura of mystique around his sexuality, especially because it was much safer (trendy, even) for musicians to flirt with bisexuality than to be openly homosexual back then.

Here's a quote from Peter "Phoebe" Freestone, Freddie's personal assistant of twelve years, close friend, and "agony aunt" in his memoir, Freddie Mercury: An Intimate Memoir by the Man Who Knew Him Best:

"When the interview appeared, it was half the length that he imagined it would be. When confronted, Judy Wade said that it would have been impossible to have printed the whole text. She said she was holding back for his benefit, not for hers. Admissions such as, ‘I'm just going for a line and I'll be back in half-a-minute,’ would not have done anyone any good. However, she was fully prepared to underline in her second sentence that admission of being a fully 'out' gay man, although this does not lay the later myth which was popular which claimed that Freddie had never admitted his gayness."

Freddie's close friend Thor Arnold, a gay man and member of the "New York Daughters" (Freddie's gay friend group in NYC, of course Freddie was "mother!") corrected misinformation when fans on the Queenzone forum argued that Freddie was bi:

"Freddie NEVER tried to hide to his friends that he was TOTALLY gay. In his industry, he had to hide it to some extent although as I have said before, he certainly gave clues. This is the same man who came up with the name QUEEN for his band. This is the man who dressed very sexually, ambiguously 'glam' up until 1980. This is the man who threw an Easter bonnet party and had us all create Easter hats. This is the man who used the term darling (or Dahling) more than he used proper names, and renamed his friends with old actresses names (…) I've never seen Freddie look twice at a woman but I have seen him look 3 or 4 times at an attractive man and say, 'Thor, Thor... Oh just look at him... Just gorgeous. I'd love some of THAT' We were genuine friends of Freddie and he would never hide that he was really bi. FREDDIE WAS A GAY MAN through and through...everyone...please get used to it."

LAJ, the biographer I previously mentioned, worked VERY hard to straight-wash Freddie in her book by erasing his gay relationships. She was obsessed with his relationship with Mary Austin and is the main reason modern journalists consider Freddie to have been in profound, romantic love with her his whole life. In reality, they dated for a few years in the 70s and remained close friends after they split up (because Freddie was having affairs with his boyfriend). However, he did rely on her as his "beard" to keep up with appearances for the press.

LAJ completely skipped over Freddie's first official boyfriend, saying it was "a covert fling with a young theatre." His name was David Minns. Freddie loved him so much he left Mary to be with him. They were in a serious relationship for three years.

If you're a Freddie fan, you're familiar with Mary's story of him coming out to her, saying "I think I'm bisexual," and her response, "I think you're gay." This story is probably not the truth. Mary has been very inconsistent with her story of how Freddie came out to her.

Another version she told for BBC Radio:

"I don’t know what sparked the conversation. But I remember standing in the kitchen and he was trying desperately to articulate how he was feeling, and his lifestyle and I just said, 'so you are telling me you're gay?' And he just smiled and 'we'll take it as a yes, you know, we'll leave it at that.' And that was it, it has been a long road getting to that point."

Honestly, I am a bit mistrustful of Mary Austin's intentions in general. If you're curious as to why, this post is a good primer on the ways she might have betrayed Freddie's wishes, namely being cruel to his chosen family after his passing.

Freddie only had one other girlfriend before Mary in college, Rosemary Pearson. When asked about Freddie on ITV's This Morning show, she said that he was more interested in her male friends than in her, and she suspected then that he was gay. This was in the 60s.

LAJ refers to his relationships with women throughout her book, but she doesn't list any names. That's because they don't exist. I could name at least seven of Freddie's boyfriends off of the top of my head. Minnsy. Joe Fanelli. Tony Bastin. Vince the Barman. Bill Reid. Winnie Kirchberger. And of course, his husband Jim Hutton, whom he spent the last six years of his life with.

There is one name that LAJ has chosen to platform and exaggerate her importance, and that's German pornstar Barbara Valentin. If you've heard of her, you might think she had a relationship with Freddie in the 80s, you might have heard the story where he had wild threesomes with her, that they lived together, that he even proposed to her. Not one word of it is true. Freddie hung around Barbara during his time in Munich because she was his 'in' to gay clubs and cocaine dealers. She also served as his English translator and conveniently, another beard for the press.

Not a single person in Freddie’s life has ever corroborated that Freddie and Barbara were anything but friends. As for the claim they lived together, according to Peter Freestone:

“In the event, Freddie never actually lived there although Barbara fulfilled a huge role in Freddie’s life at that time… Freddie became very disillusioned when with more and more frequency articles were appearing in the German press’s gossip columns… about the relationship between him and Barbara… After one article claiming to have knowledge of him and Barbara getting married, Freddie concluded that it could only be Barbara who was providing the information.”

(He was actually living with his Bavarian boyfriend of the time, Winnie Kirchberger.) Freddie stopped seeing Barbara after he found out she was gossiping about being his lover and these stories started appearing in the newspapers. Barbara continued these lies after Freddie's death, making up ludicrous lies like how Freddie tried to kill her by smothering her with a pillow?? She also claimed that he put her at risk of contracting AIDS by having sex with her after his diagnosis in 1987, which is the lie that burns the most. Freddie stopped having sex altogether before his diagnosis because he was terrified of contracting it. Before there was any information of how it was transferred, he showered compulsively. There is such a fucked up narrative that Freddie threw caution to the wind and wasn't careful during the epidemic, that it somehow fits this twisted narrative that his death was a result of his immoral lifestyle. That's the pervasive homophobia that stained the Bohemian Rhapsody biopic.

LAJ is one of those biographers who publishes their books after the celebrity has died, so they wouldn’t be able to deny the information being written in the book. So if there's anything to learn here, is that you can't always trust a biography!

Anyway, Freddie was gay as a daffodil my dears, and he deserved better.

[amethystarachnid]

Hiii, I was wondering if you could do a Loki x reader story where the reader is of one of Frigga’s ladies in waiting/a daughter of a friend of the crown who has shown promising magical ability? Frigga agrees to give her lessons in sorcery alongside Loki and they instantly get along but their friendship becomes more. Maybe she defends Loki against Thor and his friends when they belittle him. You’re my one of my favorite Loki writers so it would mean so much, thanks!

EXILED HEARTS

⤷ LOKY LAUFEYSON

ᯓ★ Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, some angst and some fluff

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 7.8k

ᯓ★ Summary: As Frigga’s protégée, you grow close to Loki through shared magic and understanding. But courtly judgment, Odin’s decree, and whispered scorn force you and Loki to choose between royalty and each other. In the end, you choose love—and build a life far from the palace’s golden cage.

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing I think, just some angst

ᯓ★ Love is in the air - Valentine's Day special game

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The candlelight dances on the silk-lined walls of the royal library, casting flickering shadows across the shelves as you press deeper into the alcove. Your fingers hover over a page in a worn tome, ancient Asgardian glyphs etched in gold leaf. The script feels alive beneath your touch, humming faintly—perhaps only in your mind, but you like to believe it’s real. You’re not supposed to be here, not this late, and not without permission. But curiosity is louder than decorum.

You recite the lines again, under your breath. The ancient incantation rolls off your tongue imperfectly, but something in the air tightens—a hush, like the world is holding its breath. You flinch as a row of candles flares, a gust of invisible wind whipping past your cheek. Then it’s gone. Stillness returns. But your heart pounds.

“That passage,” a voice says softly behind you, “is not meant to be read aloud without guidance.”

You turn so quickly your braid slips over your shoulder. Queen Frigga stands just within the archway, her silhouette gilded by moonlight from the tall windows. She doesn’t look angry—curious, perhaps, or quietly amused. Her head tilts as she studies you, eyes soft but sharp as ever. You’re not sure if you should kneel, apologize, or bolt.

“My queen, I—I didn’t mean to—”

“I know,” she says, stepping into the room. “If you had meant to cause trouble, I suspect the whole wing would be in disarray by now.”

You flush, clasping your hands in front of you. You’ve served at the court long enough to know better than to touch books not offered freely. But the Queen has always held herself with grace, and now, she moves beside you with no hint of reprimand.

“You read it aloud correctly,” she says, eyes still on the book. “That’s more than most trained mages can say.”

You blink, stunned. “I did?”

A faint smile curves her lips. “Your magic is unrefined, but it's there. Stronger than I expected.”

The words wrap around you like a cloak you’re not used to wearing—warm, heavy, significant. You’ve always known the spark lived inside you, but it was private. Unspoken. Tucked away in dreams and half-lit evenings when you whispered spells into your pillow and imagined stars answering back.

“I don’t... I don’t know what to do with it,” you admit. “I thought maybe if I read enough, something would just—click.”

“Magic doesn’t click,” Frigga replies. “It unfolds. Like silk. Or music. Or a storm.”

She glides her fingers over the open pages and closes the book gently. “You have great potential, my dear. And you’ve been quite patient, haven’t you? Serving in silence. Observing.”

You nod. You've been a shadow in these halls for years now—your mother once a dear companion to the Queen, your name a small one tied loosely to the court. When you first arrived in the palace, you were told to mind your manners and stay out of sight. You did. But you never stopped watching.

Frigga reaches out, her fingers brushing just above your wrist. You feel a warm pressure—not a touch, exactly, but something more delicate. Like a thread catching yours.

“I will teach you,” she says, voice gentle but sure. “But not alone.”

You frown slightly. “Not alone?”

“My youngest son still studies. Perhaps not as diligently as he should, but it would benefit him to have a partner. And you may find him... enlightening.”

Your breath catches. You’ve seen Prince Loki, of course—everyone has. A dark figure in green and gold, wry and sharp-eyed, moving through the palace like a secret. He’s aloof, cold at times, always ten steps ahead of everyone else in the room. He’s also the Queen’s favorite, though no one says it aloud.

The thought of studying beside him is equal parts terrifying and thrilling.

“I would be honored,” you say quickly. “Truly.”

Frigga smiles. “Good. Come to the east courtyard tomorrow morning. Before the sun rises. Bring nothing but yourself.”

And just like that, the Queen turns and leaves, her robes whispering like wind through silk. You stand there for a long moment after she’s gone, heart still fluttering, hand resting over the closed tome as though it holds something more than paper and ink.

Maybe it does.

The east courtyard is cold before dawn, the stone slick with dew. You wrap your cloak tighter around your shoulders, breath clouding in the pale light. No one else is here yet. The palace is still asleep, save for the guards at their posts. You stand by the marble fountain, trying not to let your nerves chew at your composure.

Then you hear footsteps. Precise. Measured.

Loki appears from the far archway, his green cloak trailing behind him like a shadow with purpose. He glances at you once—expression unreadable—and then looks away just as quickly.

You straighten. “Good morning, Prince Loki.”

He raises an eyebrow, his tone cool. “So you're the Queen’s new pet project.”

You bite back a retort, keeping your voice even. “She offered to teach me.”

“Yes, she does enjoy playing tutor now and then. Don’t mistake it for favoritism.” He steps closer, arms folded across his chest. “I assume you’ve read half the library already. Tell me—what does the Eltherian sigil for balance look like?”

You hesitate. “Three intersecting crescents, forming a triangle.”

“Impressive.” He sounds almost disappointed. “So you are a little witch.”

“I’m not trying to impress you.”

He tilts his head, a crooked smile forming. “No? Most people do.”

Before you can answer, Frigga appears through a shimmer of light, stepping into the courtyard like the sunrise itself. She doesn’t greet either of you—just smiles softly and lifts her hands. A circle of runes spirals into the air around her, forming a translucent dome.

“Now,” she says, “we begin.”

And begin you do.

---

It starts with silence.

Not the awkward kind, but something more curious. Comfortable. Or perhaps simply patient.

Loki doesn’t speak much during your first few lessons together. He watches. Assesses. He makes no effort to hide the way his eyes flick to your hands as you shape energy into form, or the faint quirk of his lips when you mispronounce something in old Vanir. He rarely corrects you aloud, but you always feel the judgment just behind his gaze.

But you also notice the way he lingers after Frigga dismisses you both. The way he conjures minor illusions absentmindedly while you review a scroll, as though daring you to ask questions. And one morning, he surprises you.

“You shouldn’t hold your palm flat when summoning a sigil,” he says suddenly, as you're struggling to stabilize the glowing arc of a protective ward. “You’re letting too much energy pool in your wrist.”

You glance at him, caught off guard. He’s sitting cross-legged nearby, an illusion of a raven perched on his shoulder. He doesn’t look up from his book.

You frown and adjust your hand, tilting it slightly, trying again. This time the sigil hums with steadiness, and the edges no longer flicker.

“How did you know I was doing it wrong?”

Loki shrugs. “I’ve been watching.”

He says it so plainly, like it means nothing. But something in the way he says it makes your chest flutter.

From that day on, things begin to shift.

Loki is sharp and unpredictable, like a blade half-hidden in silk. But he’s also brilliant. His understanding of runes, language, and magical theory is far beyond what any of your tutors could have offered. You learn more from watching him for an hour than from studying texts for days.

And surprisingly—he starts to share.

“You overthink the spell before casting,” he says one day, as you're practicing duplication charms. “Your mind races ahead of the magic. It won’t follow you if you run from it.”

You exhale. “That’s not very comforting.”

He tilts his head. “Who said magic is supposed to be comforting?”

And yet, when you cast the spell again and it holds, you catch his expression soften.

Sometimes he shows you tricks that aren’t in any book. Subtle sleight-of-hand movements that help anchor concentration, mnemonic phrases he created himself to recall complex sequences. His magic is elegant, and full of flair—showy, yes, but also intimate. Thoughtful. Personal.

And you start to respond in kind.

You show him a meditative chant your mother taught you, one that calms the mind before a spell. You teach him a gesture from your family’s minor sigil-craft—a flick of fingers that stabilizes wards at the edge. He doesn’t admit it, but you catch him using it the next morning when he thinks you aren’t looking.

Frigga notices.

She rarely comments, but there’s a certain smile she wears now when she watches the two of you sparring or laughing quietly over a scribbled note. She leaves the sessions earlier now, allowing space to grow unmonitored. She doesn’t need to nurture what is clearly blooming.

One day, in the garden after a particularly draining session, you both sit beneath the shade of an ancient tree. Loki conjures two glasses of chilled wine with a flick of his fingers, handing one to you without a word.

You accept it, raising an eyebrow. “Poisoned?”

“Only mildly,” he replies with a smirk.

You laugh, and he watches you with a strange look in his eyes. Not amused, exactly. More like... reverent. But it passes quickly.

You sip and let the silence stretch between you, the warmth of the wine settling in your limbs.

“Why do you try so hard to hide how kind you are?” you ask quietly.

He stiffens just slightly, the smirk faltering. “Kindness is a liability in court.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He turns his face away from you, his voice lower now. “Kindness is a performance. Just like cruelty. Just like charm. It’s all costume.”

You study him carefully. “And which one are you wearing now?”

Loki doesn’t answer. But he doesn’t look away, either.

The bond forms in quiet things.

The way you begin to fall into rhythm when you cast spells side by side. How his presence begins to anchor you instead of unnerve you. How your laughter comes easier in his company, and how his sharp edges soften when you’re near.

He teases you. Constantly.

“You hold your wand like it’s a fork,” he mutters one morning.

“At least I don’t use mine like a toothpick,” you snap back, without missing a beat.

He blinks, then laughs—a full-bodied, rich sound that startles both of you.

After that, his teasing becomes more frequent. But now it’s paired with warmth. With glances that linger too long. With conversations that go on well past your lessons.

And sometimes, your hands brush when you pass him a book or a vial or a rune-stone. Neither of you ever comments on it. But neither of you pulls away.

One evening, weeks into your lessons, a storm rolls across the palace—lightning crackling violet across the sky, thunder low and distant. You find Loki already in the library alcove, cross-legged on the carpet, eyes scanning a floating scroll.

“Can’t sleep?” you ask softly.

He glances up. “Can’t ignore the noise.”

You sit beside him without asking. The storm outside is a mirror to something in your chest—wild, unsettled.

He conjures a flame in midair, letting it dance between his fingers. “Do you ever think about leaving?”

You tilt your head. “Asgard?”

He nods. “All of it. The court. The roles we play.”

You hesitate. “Sometimes. But I don’t think I’d belong anywhere else.”

“Maybe you’d belong everywhere.”

You smile faintly. “Or nowhere.”

Loki looks at you for a long moment, something in his gaze quiet and unguarded.

“You’d make an excellent liar,” he says softly.

You blink. “That’s a compliment?”

“From me, it is.”

And when the thunder rumbles again, you don’t flinch.

By the time your lessons have stretched into months, you and Loki are inseparable. At least, in your private hours. In court, things remain unchanged. Loki is still the prince, and you are still a lady of no consequence. But in the shadowed corners of the palace—in the gardens, in the library, in the stillness of the early morning—you are equals.

You know the exact angle of his smile when he’s about to say something clever. He knows the cadence of your laugh before it breaks free. You can feel when his magic flares too hot, and he can sense when yours begins to fray. You speak in half-sentences now, and still understand each other perfectly.

There’s something between you. Something unspoken.

It curls like a spell just on the edge of being cast. Like a secret waiting to be whispered into the dark.

But neither of you gives it voice.

Not yet.

One night, you find him in the observatory, leaning against the railing, staring out at the stars. His cloak is gone, his tunic unfastened at the collar. He looks more boy than prince. More truth than mask.

You step beside him. “You always come up here alone?”

“Only when I wish someone would follow.”

You glance sideways. “Did you wish for me?”

He smiles faintly, not answering.

The two of you stand there, the cosmos yawning open before you. In the hush of starlight, everything else falls away.

Loki speaks first.

“Magic is the only thing that’s ever made sense to me. The rest—the throne, the rules, the lies—it’s noise. But this...” He gestures outward. “This is real.”

You nod slowly. “I know. It’s the only time I feel like I’m me.”

His eyes flick to yours. “You always seem like you.”

“Only because you see me clearly.”

His breath catches. Just for a second.

Then, softly: “I do.”

The silence that follows isn’t empty. It’s full—of everything you could say. Everything you both choose not to.

---

It begins in moments Loki doesn’t expect.

When your laugh echoes off stone walls and silences the static in his head. When your hands brush as you pass a shared spellbook and he feels a flare of heat in his chest that has nothing to do with magic. When he finds himself watching you instead of the stars, wondering if your smile is ever meant for him alone.

He knows what it is.

Of course he does. He’s read every poem, every legend. He’s watched others pine and ache and confess. He’s mocked them for it. But this — this — sneaks up on him. A thread quietly tying itself around his ribs each time you tilt your head and ask him something only he would know. Each time you call him by name like it’s not a title but something softer.

He realizes he wants to touch your hand without magic. To walk beside you with no pretense. To hear you call him justLoki and not think it strange.

And that’s precisely the problem.

You are not just anyone. You are a lady of the court. Trusted. Refined. A daughter of the Queen’s closest friend. Frigga adores you, sees you as a protégé, a favored companion. You were born noble enough to serve royalty — but never quite enough to marry into it.

And he—he is a prince.

He’s always known the weight of that title. It crushes beneath its own expectation. Marriages in court are chess moves. Alliances. Not choices.

He tells himself it would be unkind to give you hope. To let this thing, this want, bloom into something it cannot be.

So he buries it. Quietly. Carefully. He sharpens his wit when you come too close. He flinches back when your fingers nearly touch his. He casts sideways glances when you aren’t looking.

But you notice.

You always notice.

It happens in the training hall.

You’re there with Loki, practicing controlled projection spells when Thor storms in with his usual entourage — Sif, Fandral, Hogun, Volstagg. Their presence fills the room like a gust of arrogance, all laughter and muscle and heavy boots.

“Still playing with illusions, brother?” Thor calls, grinning. “Come train properly. Throw a hammer. Lift something.”

Loki doesn’t look up. “Some of us have more refined pursuits.”

Volstagg laughs. “Refined? More like useless. You could conjure a feast and still starve.”

Sif smirks, arms crossed. “He can conjure shadows, but they’re no use in real battle. At least Thor’s brute strength wins wars.”

Your magic flickers in your palm, spell unraveling.

You look between them—four warriors who have never respected the power of what Loki does. Who see his magic as vanity, not strength. They’ve made jabs before, but today it feels crueler. Sharper. Directed like knives.

Loki says nothing. But you see the stiffness in his shoulders. The quiet set of his jaw.

You step forward before you think twice.

“At least he uses his brain,” you say, voice steady. “He wins with thought instead of swinging wildly until something breaks.”

The room falls silent.

Thor turns to you, brows raised in mild surprise. “Lady Y/N, we mean no offense—”

“I think you do,” you interrupt, stepping closer. “You mock what you don’t understand. Magic isn’t for show. It’s not weakness. And if any of you had half the discipline Loki does, you might learn something beyond brute force.”

Sif’s jaw tightens. Fandral shifts uncomfortably. Even Thor looks vaguely chagrined.

Loki doesn’t move. But his eyes are on you now. Intently.

You hold your ground.

“If you’ll excuse us,” you finish, voice colder now, “we were in the middle of a lesson.”

The warriors exchange glances, then file out with awkward nods, their usual bravado softened.

The silence that follows is deep and heavy. You turn, pulse still racing.

Loki is staring at you like he’s never seen you before.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says quietly.

“I know,” you reply. “But I wanted to.”

A pause. You take a breath.

“They shouldn’t speak to you like that. You’re powerful. Brilliant. You—”

“Don’t,” he says, more sharply than he means to. You stop.

“I’m not a hero, Y/N.”

“I didn’t say you were,” you reply, carefully. “I said you deserve respect.”

He looks at you, and there’s something in his expression that’s almost... pained.

“You shouldn’t stand that close to me.”

You blink. “Why not?”

He exhales. “Because you’ll make me believe this is real.”

Your breath catches. The words hang between you, raw and dangerous.

He turns from you before you can answer, voice quieter now.

“You’re... a lady of court. The Queen favors you. One day you’ll marry someone respectable. Someone who isn’t—me.”

“Someone who isn’t a prince?” you ask softly.

“No.” He swallows. “Someone who isn’t this prince.”

And there it is — the truth, laid bare like a wound.

You don’t answer. You can’t. Because if you say the wrong thing, the thread between you might snap.

Instead, you step closer again — slow, deliberate. Close enough for your shoulder to brush his.

“I don’t care what they think,” you whisper. “Or what they expect.”

He doesn’t look at you.

But you feel the way he leans, just barely, into your warmth.

You stay like that, side by side, the air thick with unsaid things. And for now, that’s enough.

---

You are summoned before the Allfather at dawn.

Two guards knock at your chamber door and say only that the King requests your presence. Their expressions betray nothing. Your hands tremble as you lace your boots, and your stomach is stone by the time you reach the throne room.

Odin waits, seated high on his gilded dais. Frigga stands nearby, her face unreadable, her hands clasped tightly in front of her.

You bow low, heart thundering. “You summoned me, my king?”

His voice is cold. Distant. “I did.”

He says nothing for a moment. Just watches you with that single eye, piercing as a blade.

“You spoke out against my son and his companions,” he says, calmly. “Disrespectfully. In front of others.”

You lift your head, confused. “Your Majesty, I—”

“You may think yourself clever,” he cuts in. “But you are not above consequence. I allowed your presence in this court out of respect for your late mother. That grace has now ended.”

The words hit like ice.

“I—please, I meant no harm. I only—”

“You dared to insult Thor, a prince of Asgard, in favor of his brother. And worse, you did so publicly.”

Your heart stutters. He saw. He heard everything.

“My loyalty to Loki—”

“—is inappropriate,” Odin interrupts, voice thundering now. “And suspect. You are no longer permitted within the palace. You will leave by nightfall. You are not to communicate with the royal family again.”

It’s not a punishment. It’s exile dressed in silk.

You turn to Frigga, eyes pleading. “My queen—please—”

Frigga’s voice is soft but firm. “She is young. She spoke in defense of someone she believes in. Surely—”

“I have made my decision,” Odin says flatly.

The finality in his voice is ironclad. There will be no further appeal.

Frigga’s jaw tightens. Her eyes meet yours, filled with sorrow. But she says nothing more.

And so you bow again, this time with your heart breaking inside your chest.

You don’t go to Loki.

You can’t.

Not with what you’ve been ordered. Not knowing it’s your last night within the golden walls you once thought were home.

You pack slowly. Quietly. No servants. No goodbyes.

But as twilight falls, your door creaks open.

Loki stands there.

His eyes rake over you—half-dressed for travel, your spellbook missing from the shelf, your satchel folded on the bed.

He frowns.

“Where are you going?”

You try to say his name, but your throat locks. You look away, and that’s all he needs to know something is wrong.

He steps forward, sharply. “What happened?”

“Loki—”

“No. Don’t lie to me.” His voice rises. “Who sent you away?”

You swallow, tears already rising. “Odin.”

He stills.

“What?”

“He heard what I said. In the training hall. About Thor. About the others. He says I disrespected the crown. I’m no longer permitted near the royal family.”

Loki laughs once, bitter and sharp. “So I’m to lose you because I’m the wrong person to defend.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Yes, it is,” he breathes. “Of course it is. I should have stopped you. I should have warned you what my father is capable of.”

He paces, restless. Like if he doesn’t move, he might collapse.

Then he stops.

“I was coming to see you,” he says, voice softer now. “Because I couldn’t keep pretending anymore. I was going to say it, even if I shouldn’t.”

You stare at him.

He steps closer.

“I love you.”

It doesn’t sound like a confession. It sounds like a surrender.

“I love you,” he repeats, more quietly. “And I tried not to. I tried to be noble. But I can’t stand another day watching you from across a hall, pretending you’re just another sorcerer. Another shadow.”

Your breath trembles.

“Loki…”

“I thought I had time,” he says, laughing again, but it’s broken now. “Time to say it properly. To plan something clever. Something worthy of you. But I don’t. Do I?”

You shake your head, tears falling freely now.

“They’re sending me away,” you whisper. “And I’m not allowed to see you again.”

He steps back, like your words have struck him.

“No,” he says.

You say nothing.

“No,” he repeats, more fiercely this time. “You’re not leaving like this. I won’t allow it.”

“You don’t have a choice,” you say, barely able to stand. “Neither of us do.”

He storms toward the window, magic sparking from his fingertips. “I’ll talk to Mother. To Odin. I’ll threaten—”

“No.” You grab his hand. “If you do anything, he’ll punish you. He’ll hurt you more than he already has.”

He shakes his head, jaw clenched.

“I just got you,” he says, voice cracking.

You pull him in, pressing your forehead against his.

“I know.”

He clings to you. Arms tight around your waist like if he lets go, the whole realm will fall apart. Maybe it already is.

You stay like that until the bells toll the hour. The hour of your exile.

He doesn’t speak again.

You pull back first, trembling. He watches your hands, as though memorizing them.

And then you turn and walk away.

You don’t look back.

You can’t.

Because if you do—you’ll run straight back into him and never leave.

And you can’t afford that.

Not when he’s a prince.

Not when you’re already gone.

---

Loki does not sleep the night you leave.

The moment your footsteps vanish down the hall, the palace feels hollow. He tries to pretend it hasn’t happened. He sits where you last stood. Stares at the place your satchel had rested. Breathes the air as if it still carries your warmth.

But it’s not the same.

It never will be.

He doesn't cry. Not because he isn't shattered — but because the grief settles too low, too deep, for tears. Like stone in his chest. Like ice in his blood.

He doesn’t eat the next day. Doesn't speak.

Thor asks where you’ve gone at breakfast.

Loki leaves the table without answering.

Days pass. Then weeks.

He tries to throw himself into study. Into perfecting spells. Into illusion and fire and silence. But nothing helps.

He stops attending court. Avoids the library. Avoids everywhere you used to be.

When Frigga finds him, he’s in his chambers — the air stifling, windows shuttered, every candle burning too hot.

She sits beside him without asking. She doesn’t offer platitudes. Only a mother’s eyes and quiet understanding.

“I couldn’t stop him,” she says softly.

“I know.”

“I tried. I would have made him see.”

Loki doesn’t look at her. “He never sees me.”

Frigga’s silence answers everything.

When she touches his cheek, he lets her. But he feels nothing. Her warmth is not yours.

“Come back to court,” she urges gently. “Don’t let him take your fire.”

He looks at her then — really looks. And when he speaks, his voice is low and dangerous.

“He took more than that.”

Loki begins to despise Odin.

Not just for banishing you — but for what it reveals.

For how easy it was for the Allfather to cut you away. For how little your voice meant in his grand design. For how quickly love and loyalty were outweighed by appearances and pride.

But what terrifies Loki most is that he begins to believe him.

Not Odin’s justice — but his reasoning.

You are not of the blood. Not a royal. Not a pawn he can use. You were disposable the moment you became inconvenient.

And if that is true...

Then what is Loki?

Whose blood runs in his veins?

He buries the thought like poison. But it festers.

He begins to unravel.

You feel the loss in your bones.

The first few days after your exile are a blur.

You travel to a minor outpost of Asgard’s outer provinces — a quiet, forest-ringed settlement near the eastern fjords. Frigga arranges your passage discreetly. You don’t see her, but a letter arrives, signed in her delicate hand:

You are not forgotten, child. Not by me. May your magic carry you where our laws failed you.

You cry for the first time reading that.

The nights are the worst. You lie awake listening to the wind and wonder if he’s thinking of you. If he feels this phantom pain — this severed thread — the same way you do.

You left without saying it.

You were too afraid that saying the words aloud would shatter you.

But you love him. Fiercely. Completely.

And now it is too late.

You settle in the village as best you can.

The people here know your name, if not your story. They’re kind. Curious. They’ve never met a sorcerer who trained in the palace before, and certainly not one who left under mysterious circumstances.

You take on small magical work — healing charms, weather wards, illusion weaving for harvest festivals.

It is not the life you imagined.

But it is life.

And slowly, the ache dulls to a throb.

But it never vanishes.

You still wear the green ribbon he once conjured for you — tied to your wrist now, fraying at the edges.

Back in Asgard, Loki starts seeing you everywhere.

Not truly — but in every spell he casts. Every half-finished rune where your handwriting used to correct his. Every mirror that flickers with an illusion that looks a little too much like you.

He dreams of you.

Sometimes you speak. Sometimes you don’t. Sometimes you walk away before he can stop you.

Those are the worst nights.

He stops trusting himself.

He picks fights with Thor. He withdraws further from court. When he sees Sif or Fandral, rage curls in his gut like fire, but he says nothing. Not yet.

Frigga continues to reach for him.

But he pulls away. Even from her.

Because you were the one who made him feel worthy. Who looked at him not with pity or fear or expectation — but as someone whole. Someone he could become.

And now, without you...

He doesn’t know who that person is.

Seasons shift.

You grow stronger.

The pain does not vanish, but it becomes a companion — one you carry with quiet grace.

Your magic flourishes without palace constraint. You discover new rituals in the wilds, spells born from root and river. The land teaches you in ways scrolls never could.

Children in the village begin to call you “the silverweaver,” for the way your spells shimmer like thread in sunlight.

But at night, you still sit by the window, gazing toward the northern skies — hoping for a flicker of gold and green. Hoping he might reach for you, even now.

And far across realms, in a tower steeped in shadow and magic...

Loki whispers your name into candlelight.

Every night.

As if that alone might bring you back.

---

Loki is quiet.

Not the poised, calculating quiet that used to mask his cleverness — but a hollow quiet, a kind of stillness that speaks of erosion. Day by day, Thor watches his brother grow more distant. He forgets meals. Avoids mirrors. Sometimes, he vanishes for hours, only to reappear smelling of smoke and magic.

At first, Thor says nothing. For all their history, he’s never been good with Loki’s silences. But this one... this one feels dangerous.

One morning, he finds Loki in the royal library. Not reading. Just standing, unmoving, in front of a shelf where a spellbook used to be. The space is empty now. Loki’s hand rests on the spine next to it, fingers still.

Thor clears his throat.

“You always mocked my dramatics,” he says lightly. “Now you haunt rooms like a ghost.”

Loki doesn’t turn. “Go away.”

But Thor doesn’t.

He steps closer, voice softer now. “You loved her.”

Loki’s fingers curl into a fist.

“I saw it,” Thor continues. “I didn’t understand it at the time. I didn’t respect it the way I should have. But I see now. It broke you when she left.”

“She didn’t leave,” Loki says bitterly. “She was banished.”

“I know.” Thor breathes out, guilt lacing his voice. “And I did nothing.”

That gets Loki to turn — sharply, eyes flashing. “You laughed with them. Mocked me. Mocked her.”

Thor bows his head.

“I did. Because I was foolish. Because I thought it didn’t matter.” He pauses, then meets Loki’s eyes. “But it does. You love her still.”

Loki says nothing.

Thor continues, more gently. “I asked Frigga where she’d gone. She didn’t tell me everything, but she told me enough. I want to make it right.”

“You can’t,” Loki says, voice tight.

Thor straightens. “Maybe not. But I can take you to her.”

Silence. Long. Breathless.

Loki doesn’t dare believe it.

“You know where she is?” he says finally.

“I’ve kept eyes on the outer provinces. Quietly. Just in case.” Thor offers a small, crooked smile. “You’re not the only one who missed her.”

You’re in the woods outside the village, gathering herbs at twilight when you feel it — the magic, sharp and bright, blooming behind you like starlight cracking open the air.

You whirl around, heart stuttering.

Loki steps out from the shimmer of a hidden portal. Slowly. As if unsure you’re real.

You don’t move.

You can’t.

He looks thinner. Paler. His eyes are rimmed with exhaustion. But his face — gods, his face — it still makes something in you collapse.

“Loki?” you whisper.

He doesn’t answer right away. Just walks toward you, step by step, until he’s close enough to touch.

“I thought I’d forgotten how to breathe,” he says, voice thick. “But here you are.”

You reach for him, fingers trembling.

He catches your wrist — gently — and presses your hand to his chest.

“Still beating,” he murmurs. “Barely.”

You laugh, and it’s cracked and wet and full of disbelief. “How are you here?”

“Thor,” he says simply.

Your eyes widen.

“He knew,” Loki continues. “He saw what I became without you. And he... he helped me find my way back.”

You blink fast, tears gathering. “But your father—”

“He can rot in his throne,” Loki cuts in. “I don’t care what he says anymore.”

You stare up at him. And in a breath, everything comes crashing down — the exile, the silence, the ache.

“I missed you,” you whisper. “Every day. I thought I’d never—”

He silences you with a kiss.

It isn’t sweet. It’s desperate, and aching, and hungry. His hands tremble on your waist like he can’t quite believe you’re real. You kiss him back with years of unsaid words and broken nights behind it.

When he pulls away, his forehead presses to yours.

“I didn’t come just to see you,” he says. “I came to take you back.”

You tense.

“I can’t go back,” you whisper. “He’ll exile me again. Or worse.”

“I know.” Loki pulls back, looking into your eyes. “That’s why we’ll do something he can’t undo.”

You blink.

“We’ll marry.”

Your breath hitches.

“Loki—”

“Not in the palace. Not in gold or glory. But truly. Vows. Magic. Soulbound.” His hand cradles your face. “If I am bound to you, Odin will have no power over it. Not without defying ancient rites. Even he wouldn’t risk that scandal.”

You stare at him, stunned.

“I should’ve done it the moment I realized,” he says. “I should’ve fought then. But I’m here now.”

You say nothing.

Just throw your arms around him and nod against his shoulder.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Yes. Yes.”

The ceremony is quiet.

Thor stands witness, dressed not in armor, but simple Asgardian blue. He says nothing, only nods as you both step forward under the canopy of stars.

Frigga is not there, but you feel her blessing. In the wind. In the stillness. In the soft glimmer that dances across your joining hands when the spell begins.

Loki speaks the old words first — the binding vow of his magic to yours, his heart to yours, his soul to yours.

You echo them, voice shaking but clear.

A ribbon of starlight winds around your wrists, sealing the bond. A vow older than kings.

When it fades, Loki cups your face.

You smile through your tears.

And when he kisses you again, the world rights itself.

Later, after Thor has gone, and the night has grown still, Loki lies beside you in the little cottage, holding your hand like a relic.

“You’re mine now,” he murmurs. “Truly.”

You smile sleepily. “And you’re mine.”

“Forever?”

“Always.”

His eyes close.

---

The Bifröst opens in the high dawn light, casting shards of color across the golden bridge. The wind is cold at this height, but Loki doesn’t feel it. He only feels your hand in his.

You step into Asgard again for the first time since your exile, and the moment your feet touch the bridge’s smooth surface, your breath catches.

Everything looks the same.

And nothing feels the same.

Loki doesn’t let go of you. Not for a moment. His posture is tall, regal, but there’s a tightness in his jaw that only you notice — the readiness of a man still expecting his father’s wrath to strike like lightning. But beside him, you walk unflinching.

Because this time, you’re not just a lady of court.

You’re his wife.

And Odin cannot undo what’s been bound by magic and vow.

At the end of the bridge, Frigga waits.

Her cloak is silver today, soft as falling snow, and her face is unreadable as you approach. But when she sees your hands twined, when she sees the thin thread of starlight still woven faintly around your wrist — the magic of the bond — her expression cracks.

Her eyes shine. And then, impossibly, she smiles.

“Mother,” Loki says carefully.

She says nothing at first. Just lifts her hand — and touches your cheek.

“You’ve come home,” she whispers, voice full of emotion.

“Yes,” you whisper back. “Together.”

Her gaze flicks to her son.

“You found your way,” she says.

Loki’s throat works, but no sound comes.

Frigga exhales, a soft laugh, and pulls you both into an embrace.

For a moment, there is no kingdom. No judgment. Only warmth.

Then, from the far archway of the bridge, another presence approaches.

Heavy boots. Gold-lined robes. The weight of rule etched into every stride.

Odin.

Loki stiffens.

Frigga steps back, her hand remaining on your shoulder. She doesn’t retreat. Neither do you.

Odin stops several feet away. He says nothing.

His eye lands on your face — then drops to your joined hands.

You wait for the outburst.

But it doesn’t come.

His gaze flicks to the faint shimmer of your marriage binding. Ancient, lawful, soul-forged.

He can’t deny it.

So instead, he says nothing. Just watches with that unreadable stare.

Frigga is the one who speaks.

“They are wed,” she says, her voice light but firm. “By rite. By vow. And by will.”

Odin’s silence stretches.

“Not under my roof,” he says at last, flatly.

“They didn’t need your roof,” Frigga replies.

His jaw tightens.

Loki finally speaks, voice calm but icy. “You banished her. You cast her out for loyalty. But now she returns not as servant, but as my equal.”

“She was never your equal,” Odin says, low.

“She is now,” Loki replies, eyes sharp. “You can no longer pretend I am yours to command.”

Odin looks at him for a long, long moment.

Then he turns.

And walks away.

No decree. No fury. No blessing.

Just a quiet defeat.

Frigga’s sigh is subtle, but full of decades of disappointment.

Loki watches his father vanish into the distance, the old cape dragging like a shadow behind him. Then he turns to you — and for the first time since crossing into Asgard, his shoulders ease.

“You stood tall,” he murmurs, pride in every word.

“I had you beside me,” you reply.

Frigga smiles at you both. “He cannot touch what is bound by older laws than his crown. He knows it.”

Loki’s hand squeezes yours. “Let him try. I’ll burn down the throne room first.”

Frigga gives him a pointed look. “Let’s not start a war just yet.”

The three of you walk through the palace together, and for once, the golden halls feel like yours. Whispers follow, of course — nobles peering from behind pillars, servants pretending not to look. The rumors run ahead of you, unstoppable.

But you walk proudly.

At Loki’s side.

A prince’s wife. A sorceress in her own right. Not a shadow or a servant or a secret.

Not anymore.

---

At first, the court doesn’t know how to respond.

They bow, of course. You are married to a prince. You walk beside Loki now in green-trimmed gowns and silver circlets, your hand on his arm, your back straight. Protocol demands deference.

But behind the smiles, the court stirs like a nest of snakes.

They whisper. Always just behind you. They speak your name with too much reverence, or not enough. You are not royal, not raised in the line of succession, not bred in the traditions of courtly diplomacy. You are — in their eyes — an interloper. A symbol of rebellion. The lady who loved too loudly.

They speak of you in corridors. In gardens. Over wine.

Did you bind Loki by spell?

Did you seduce him to power?

Why would a prince give up his rank for a former lady-in-waiting?

The speculation coils around every room you enter. You hear the sharp pause in conversations. See the too-wide smiles from noblewomen who used to speak freely with you. Even the servants are cautious, uncertain if speaking with you is offense or obligation.

Loki feels it all.

He doesn’t show it — not openly — but you can tell. His shoulders tense at council meetings. His words grow colder with every cutting aside made in your direction. He starts to avoid the court dinners altogether. Not because he is ashamed — but because he is tired.

Tired of pretending.

Tired of seeing you flinch at the weight of scrutiny.

One evening, late, you sit in the highest balcony of the palace garden — where the stars hang low, and the fountains drown out the city noise. Loki stands beside you, silent, watching a comet trail faintly across the dark.

You speak first.

“This isn’t what I thought it would be.”

He doesn’t answer immediately.

“No,” he says at last. “Nor I.”

You look at him. His expression is unreadable.

“I thought,” you begin, voice quiet, “that once we were together — once it was real — the rest wouldn’t matter.”

He turns to you now, eyes tired but soft. “It shouldn’t matter. But this place…” His voice tightens. “This court has never forgiven me for being different. It was naïve to think they’d love the woman who made me stronger.”

You take his hand.

“So what now?” you ask. “Do we just endure it?”

He hesitates.

Then, slowly, he sits beside you, your fingers still laced with his.

“I have lived a life built on approval,” he says. “On proving myself worthy. To Odin. To Asgard. To every lord and scholar and warrior who looked past me.”

You nod, listening.

“I thought royalty gave me power. But now…” He looks down at your hands. “Now I have you. And they would ask me to pay for that with silence. With shame.”

He lifts your hand and kisses your knuckles gently.

“I won’t.”

You exhale, your heart breaking and healing at the same time. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” he says slowly, “that I would rather live unknown — peacefully, freely, beside you — than wear a crown that costs me everything.”

Tears rise behind your eyes.

“Loki…”

He presses his forehead to yours.

“If you would leave this behind with me,” he murmurs, “I will build us a world of our own.”

You nod. Fiercely. Without hesitation.

“Yes.”

Frigga listens in silence as you both tell her.

Her expression does not falter, but her eyes glisten faintly.

“You are certain?” she asks gently.

“Yes,” Loki says. “We want peace. And truth. Not this.”

Frigga reaches for your hand. Holds it between both of hers.

“I always hoped one day you’d return here,” she says. “That you’d be safe within these walls.”

“You gave me that once,” you whisper. “But Asgard never did.”

Frigga exhales. “Then I will help you.”

Loki looks at her. “You’ll aid us?”

“Of course,” she says softly. “You are my son. She is your wife. That makes her my daughter.”

You almost break at those words.

Frigga leads you to a sealed archive — quiet and old, deep beneath the palace — where records of the lesser realms are kept. She scans scrolls and maps, her fingers sure and searching.

Finally, she finds it: a small realm under Asgardian protection, a quiet place of rolling hills and warm sunlight, where trade is simple, governance is light, and nobility is a formality. The people are kind. The land is rich. It is a place where magic is respected, not feared.

“There’s a manor there,” she says. “Untouched for years. Still under crown stewardship, technically.” She smiles. “But I believe I can lose the paperwork.”

Loki clasps her hand. “Thank you, Mother.”

Frigga’s expression softens. “Write to me. Tell me of your seasons. And if you have children—”

Loki lifts a brow.

“—especially if you have children,” she finishes with a fond smile.

Thor finds you both in the gardens the morning you leave.

He looks unusually serious. His cloak is folded over one arm, not worn, and his hammer hangs at his side untouched.

“I hear you’re vanishing again,” he says, trying for lightness.

Loki smirks faintly. “Running from you, specifically.”

“I thought as much.” Thor steps closer, then hesitates. “Are you sure?”

You and Loki exchange a glance.

“Yes,” you say. “This is what we need.”

Thor nods, jaw tight.

“I envy you,” he says. “Sometimes I wish I could leave all this behind. Be someone other than the crown’s shadow.”

Loki tilts his head. “You’re more than that.”

Thor smiles.

Then he looks at you, and his expression changes — softens.

“Take care of him,” he says to you. “He’s an idiot sometimes. But he’s a good one.”

“I will,” you promise, blinking quickly.

Then Thor turns to his brother.

“And you—” He steps closer and places a hand on Loki’s shoulder. “If you don’t name your first daughter after me, I’ll be offended.”

Loki blinks. “You want us to—?”

“Oh, I expect nieces,” Thor says proudly. “A house full of them. Wild, magical little terrors who’ll terrorize me when I visit.”

You laugh — a full, surprised laugh — and Loki rolls his eyes.

“We’ll see what we can do,” you say, smiling.

Thor embraces you both — a rare, bone-cracking sort of hug — and steps back with a grin.

“Go. Be free. Just don’t forget you’ve still got family here.”

And with that, you leave Asgard.

Not in secret. Not in shame.

But together — arm in arm, bound by vow and choice.

Your new home is far from the golden towers, tucked in the folds of a sunlit realm that greets you like an old friend. The manor is modest by royal standards, but beautiful: tall windows, a warm hearth, a garden grown wild with herbs and glowing flowers.

You breathe freely there.

You rise with the birdsong and fall asleep to Loki reading old texts beside the fire. The villagers come to know you with kindness. Children ask you for illusions. Elders thank you for weather wards. It is not the life of a queen — but it is yours.

And Loki, for all his sharp wit and starlit power, smiles more in these quiet days than he ever did in the throne room.

Sometimes he watches you walk through the garden, fingers brushing lavender and light, and he says nothing. Just watches, like he’s memorizing every movement.

Because he chose this.

He chose you.

And for the first time in all his long, guarded life…

He has no regrets.

[dameronspector]

Challengers: Avengers Edition (Part 2)

Pairings: Joaquin Torres x Fem!Stark!Reader (Established Relationship); Bob Reynolds x Fem!Stark!Reader

Summary: Coming back from a mission, you discover that Bucky has joined a whole new team, lead by a freak like Valentina. In order to get information and protect Sam, you and Joaquin decide to visit Bucky and his new team before taking the next step. But a certain golden boy laid his eyes on you and is instantly head over heels. How will everyone navigate this, especially when you have a boyfriend?

Warnings: Fuff, Banter, Angst, Cameos, Joaquin loves Reader a LOT, Joaquin being a cutie, Poor Bob suffers :(,CAUTION: Mentions of Bob’s Addiction, Drugs and Mental Illnesses, Graphic discussion of Bob's withdrawals from drugs and his past, the Void demeans Bob, SO much Yearning and Longing from Bob, Jealous!Joaquin, Jealous!Bob,Reader is oblivious as hell because she has eyes for Joaquin only, Reader is mentioned to have hair long enough to be let down loose, thats all i think! Let me know if i should add something else!

DISCLAIMER: I’m not trying to infantilise Bob. Just like in the first part, he’s coming down from a high of feeling jealous and borderline possessive, so he’s feeling a little disoriented and ashamed about his actions + his intrusive thoughts don’t help either and that’s why he’s nervous. I don’t believe in infantilising mentally ill people + I have a degree in psychology, so whatever knowledge I have about how people with mental illnesses or addictions react/behave, is all from that, and from observing/dealing with others. Feel free to correct me if I’ve gotten anything wrong!

AN: jealous joaquin and yearner bob is smth serious #tome

The first thing that Bob saw as soon as he entered the launch pad, was you hugging Bucky, his arms around you in a protective and fatherly hug. Bob’s heart was beating faster as he noticed the tender look on your face.

He’s only ever known you as the Stark Heir, the public figure, one of the richest men’s daughter, who also happened to be really attractive and someone who owned her name to the fullest. He’s never known you as the kind, honest, sassy, yet soft woman that you are. And it was clear, that you held a lot of love for Bucky and Sam, both. Trying everything in your power to mend your family back.

You were steadfast, strong, courageous, with a lethal smile and a sharp tongue, that’d kill anyone. (something that Bob would happily let you do to him, he thought.)

Bob almost felt bold enough to approach you.

Almost.

Because then you stepped aside, and Bucky gave a “man” hug to Joaquin. Bob clenched his hands into fists, again.

Yelena stood next to him quietly and just observed him. How his eyes would soften when they were on you, and how they’d harden with annoyance and something else, when he saw Joaquin.

Suddenly, you turned your attention over Bucky’s shoulder. Stopping mid-laugh, you awkwardly gestured towards them.

Bucky beckoned them closer, Bob straightened his spine and put his hands in his pockets, a sudden boost of confidence making him walk towards you without stumbling over his own feet.

Yelena followed in thinly veiled shock. What had gotten into him?

“This is our version of Thor”, Bucky joked, nudging Bob lightly.

"And that's Yelena", he looked at Yelena and pointed at you with a nod, "She wants to talk to you."

Yelena frowned, "Why? So that she could remind me why she's here again? No thanks."

Your eyes widened, "No! Oh god, no. Yelena, I- I'm sorry. I shouldn't have reacted like that. It's been a lot and I..I didn't take it well that someone other than me or my family, was staying here. Sorry. That wasn't cool", you blurted out, a thumb pressing into your palm.

Bob noticed that. A telltale sign that you were nervous. Because he'd do the same, as well.

Bob also noticed Joaquin's hand move up and down your back.

'See how much he loves her? How much she loves being touched by him? The way he can calm her down with just a touch? You bet that was you, don't you. But, oh, you'd have to be controlled first...however will you console her, if you can't even do a single task without fucking it up?'

He swallowed thickly, the confidence disappearing into dust as he heard that slimy and raspy voice in his head again. He wrung his hands together and looked away, the sight and his thoughts, becoming too painful to digest.

Yelena looked at Bucky tentatively, who nodded at her.

"It's...okay. But only because you knew my sister", she lightly stated.

You let out a sigh of relief. It was quiet for a moment before Joaquin decided to break it, unable to hold his thoughts in for another moment.

"Really diggin' those piercings, Miss Yelena. I have 'em too, look", Joaquin exclaimed as he noticed Yelena's ear piercings. He turned his head to show her the small, silver hoops with angel wings excitedly.

You smiled fondly. He loved his piercings and he loved matching with people. Yelena looked at him in surprise before she gently checked his earrings out.

"It's just Yelena. And they're nice. I've gotten my cartilage pierced recently-"

And she began showing her piercings off, Joaquin nodding away attentively. Bucky scoffed at how Joaquin could get along with anybody, at anytime. You chuckled.

Bob felt uncomfortable. Because he'd realised that he couldn't hate Joaquin, even if he tried, because the man was too nice. He had already won over Yelena. Bucky was clearly fond of him, if he let him hug him freely.

And you? The fond look on your face whenever you looked at Joaquin, said it all.

Bob felt his eyes sting with tears.

"Bob?"

He froze. It was you. Your soft, but sturdy voice calling his name for the first time since you got here.

He snapped his head up, blue eyes shimmering in the afternoon sun with the tears that had pooled in them, his hands fussing with the oversized sleeves of his shirt. His breath hitched again, because there you were, the sun making your hair and skin glow, the wind from being so high above the ground, making your hair tousled, that green cardigan bringing out the colour of your eyes beautifully and a sweet smile tugging at your lips, all directed at him.

He was a goner.

"I didn't get to meet you properly. Hi", you'd greeted, a hand sticking out to shake his. Bob looked at the hand and then looked at you, before Bucky's hand shot out to stop you.

Bob winced. She can't even shake your hands without feeling like she wants to die, loser.

Yelena whipped her head around to watch the scene. Joaquin stared down Bob in irritation, whose eyes didn't leave you.

"Uh-sorry, doll. Just, not the hands", he gently informed you, moving your hand away carefully.

Your face melted into understanding, mouth taking the shape of an 'O', as you clasped your hands in front of you.

"Oh- sorry. Well, Hi, Bob. I can still wave, right?", you joked lightly as you raised a hand to wave, causing Bucky to chuckle.

Bob gave you a nervous smile, raising a sweater paw hand to wave back.

"Hi, (Name). Um-Nice to meet you", his deep voice greeted you.

You cracked a smile, "So he talks!"

Bob blushed. Bucky's vigilant eyes caught that immediately and he looked at Yelena, who was looking back at him sadly.

"So...where're you from?", you attempted to strike a conversation.

"I-uh…I'm from Florida", Bob managed to get out, a barely there smile pulling his lips up.

Suddenly your eyes widened, "Quino, he's from Florida as well!", you looked at Joaquin, calling him over.

Bob's smile disappeared immediately. Because, of course, Joaquin was from Florida.

Joaquin didn’t say anything, his eyes glaring at Bob, the tension slowly building up in the air. You looked at the two men with furrowed brows.

“Nice to meet you, Bob. I’m her boyfriend”, Joaquin replied casually with a hand in his pocket and the other hand splayed on your back.

Bob’s heart stopped.

‘Told you… you should listen to me more often, Bob.’

You gave a tight lipped smile at that, looking at Joaquin in confusion before sharing a look with Bucky. Yelena let out a sigh next to him.

“Alright. I think we should leave! Bye, Buck. Keep in touch, please. Bye Yelena and Bob”, you gave them all an awkward smile before pressing the pendant on your necklace, letting the suit cover you fully, minus the helmet.

“Quino, let’s go”, you urged him.

Joaquin’s POV

Your voice was a distant ring in his ears.

All he could focus on, was Bob’s more than obvious infatuation with you.

His stupid, big blue eyes following your every move. A slight glassy look taking over them, that was mixed with fondness and admiration for you. His eyes drinking your features in, like he was committing it to memory.

Joaquin felt his blood boil. Because that’s exactly how he looked at you.

It was no secret that you were an absolute stunner. Gorgeous features, amazing fashion sense, a beautiful smile, you had it all. But your personality made you even more likeable and beautiful. Your intelligence, kindness and generosity was contagious, your sarcasm and wit causing everyone around you to flock you like bees to honey, your protectiveness towards your people was admirable. That was what had made Joaquin fall head over heels for you.

You truly were, an all rounder. And Joaquin thanked whatever entity or force was out there every day, for making him fall in love with you. One thing about him though? He was not a jealous boyfriend. Or an insecure one. Both of you were way too obsessed with each other for all that.

You’d spent the entire time next to him when he was recovering, ignoring your own health to prioritise his. You helped him out with the adjustments in his suits and cheered him on whenever he made something on his own. You keep pushing him and then give him some extra love when he needs it. What was there to be insecure about? He was devoted to you, just as much as you were to him.

But he wasn’t going to tolerate this.

Just because Bob has been through some shit, doesn’t mean he should get a pass to hit on your girl, the ugly green monster roared in Joaquin’s stomach.

And he was annoyed with the starry look in Bob’s eyes everytime he looked at you.

“Joaquin?”

He snapped out of the intense stare down with Bob, Bob’s body language growing even more nervous as the minutes passed, as he looked for Yelena and Bucky for help.

He looked at Joaquin with a grimace on his face, and Joaquin swore, that there were many points throughout the time you were here, when he saw Bob’s eyes glow in a golden light.

Joaquin looked Bob up and down, assessing him closely while Bob shifted in discomfort at being scrutinised so heavily, his body shrinking in shame and something broken, the voice in his head telling him that he deserved this.

Joaquin’s lips twitched in some weird kind of satisfaction, tilting his head to the side before he cleared his throat and put on his helmet, joining you at the runaway.

Bucky quirked an eyebrow at that.

“You good?”, you asked in worry, a hand resting on his shoulder.

He clenched his jaw before giving you a small nod, a hand squeezing your bicep in reply.

Bucky waved while the two of you took off in the skies with Joaquin’s mood turning into something sour, you were confused and Bob was internally dying.

-

“We’re talkin’ once this conference is done. Okay?”, was the first thing Bucky said when he returned back to Yelena and Bob, his voice softened and hands resting on the hips.

Bob ducked his head in shame.

“What was all that, Bob? Joaquin was staring at you weirdly, you were being weird, as well. You need to tell us what’s up, before we come to a conclusion ourselves”, Yelena chided him.

Bob wrung his hands together, pulling his sleeves down to cover them fully.

“I don’t know. There’s nothing. You guys, please go to the conference now, before-before Valentina starts throwing a tantrum, again…”, Bob mumbled and left the pad, deciding to hide himself in the temporary bedroom that was assigned to him. For the entire day, preferably.

“You saw the way he looked at her?”, Bucky asked, watching Bob go inside the tower again.

Bucky knew, very well, what was happening. The glazed look in Bob’s eyes was way too clear for someone as observant as Bucky to ignore. He knew Yelena saw it too, but she was keeping it together for Bob’s sake.

He also noticed Joaquin’s irritation with Bob. The annoyed staring, the non hyper-verbal attitude, the constant tension in his jaw. That wasn’t like Joaquin. That man was sunshine personified.

Bucky hoped this didn’t escalate into something more messy. It would make this whole situation even more complicated than it already was.

“Yeah. Right from the moment she stepped in”, Yelena confessed and looked at Bucky with concern.

They just hoped he’d be alright till they got back from the conference.

-

“What had gotten into you back there?”, you asked as soon as the two of you stepped inside the base.

He’d been sulking and quiet the whole ride back home, which was odd, because Joaquin didn’t do sulking and quiet. He was talkative and bright. This behaviour of his, was jarring and unexpected.

And still, he was not meeting your eyes. Jaw perpetually clenched since you’d been at the Tower, his usual jokes and quips missing. And he was being weirdly possessive.

Joaquin loved showing you off, alright. He was, literally, your biggest cheerleader. He was also the clingiest person ever. But him doing that whole ‘I’m her boyfriend’ thing, and constantly pulling you closer to him, was new. He’d never done that before.

And of course, the unnecessarily aggressive stares and hostile attitude thrown at Bob.

Bob, who was so nervous, that he didn’t even talk to you, unless you made an effort to. To be honest, you felt really horrible for the way you’d treated the team and the way Valentina had manipulated Bob.

From the stuff Bucky told you, and from the information you read in Bob’s files, you were shocked at how much this man had endured. And yet, he stood back up from all that, and now he was an Avenger. He’d risen up from the abuse he faced by his father, his addictions and his own mental illnesses and now he was fighting with a supercharged God and an abyss of sorrow, that both resided in him. You were in awe at his resilience.

You suddenly realised, that his story reminded you of your father’s life, weirdly. So naturally, you felt a little more empathetic towards Bob Reynolds.

When you saw just how uncomfortable and anxious he was, you instantly tried your best to help him, because that’s just how you were. You had a quick mouth, but you were even quicker at wanting to make people feel safe.

“Nothing. I’m alright”, Joaquin mumbled absentmindedly, slowly removing his suit and wings as he made his way around the base.

“Now, that is something a not-alright-person would say”, you joked lightly, falling in step with him and nudging his shoulder.

He sighed and entered the dressing room, slowly hanging his suit up in the designated wardrobe, still not saying a word. You frowned.

“Baby, come on. Talk to me. You’ve been stressing your jaw so much since we got there”, you chided, bringing up a hand to smooth over his jaw.

Joaquin closed his eyes before hanging up his jet pack and leaning back against the wardrobe. His usually calm and relaxed face was scrunched up in annoyance, the creases on his forehead deepening as he furrowed his eyebrows even more.

He stared at his shoes, arms tightly coiled around his torso, making his biceps bulge against the tight undershirt. You held yourself back from launching at him.

“You really didn’t notice anything?”, he finally answered, albeit quietly.

You made a face, “Was I supposed to notice something…?”

Joaquin clicked his tongue, "Babe. He was staring at you like he wanted to eat you. The entire time."

"There were 4 'He's' in there, and one of them was Bucky", you deadpanned, confused at what he was insinuating.

"Bob!", he groaned loudly.

You paused at that, "What?"

Joaquin stared at you incredulously, "You really didn't notice?", you shook your head 'no', a pout set on your lips. Joaquin melted. He could never be upset with you for long.

"How are you the smartest girl in the world, yet so oblivious, babe", Joaquin whined, hands coming around your waist and head thumping against your shoulder.

You made a confused face before wrapping your arms around his back and patting it, "Alright, you don't need to call me out like that. But seriously, what's wrong with Bob? I swear he looked at me like I was gonna bite him."

"Yeah, that wasn't just general anxiety. He was nervous to talk to you, because he has a crush on you!", Joaquin exasperated, standing up straight to look at you. Your arms fell down to his waist.

Suddenly, you laughed, leaning against Joaquin for support. He pursed his lips in surprise.

"No way. There's just no way. I didn't even notice him at first, he-"

"But he noticed you. Right from the moment you set foot inside the living area", Joaquin grumbled, tugging the hem of your cardigan absently.

You came down from your laughter, letting out short giggles until you stopped and looked at him. He was being serious.

"Wait, what? Are you-how did I not notice it?", you mumbled, your eyes squinted in confusion, as you tried to remember any such instance.

You just thought he looked at you funny, because you did create a dramatic scene. But this? This was not on your roster.

"Because you were busy bullying Yelena and Bucky", he quipped, earning a slap on the shoulder from you.

"Ow! What, I'm serious! You didn't even look at him when you entered because you were busy going off at them, but I saw him. He kept his eyes on you, like, the entire time. He was glaring at me whenever I touched you and I swear, babe, I saw his eyes going all golden and shit. He-", Joaquin abruptly stopped his rant, his mouth hanging open.

You quirked an eyebrow, "He what, bird boy?"

Joaquin blushed. A huge splotch of pink appeared on both of his cheeks, his hands busying themselves by caressing your back.

"He looked at you the way I do", he replied so quietly, so shyly.

A bright smile broke out on your face and you poked his pink cheek with a finger, "Are you jealous, Quino?", you cooed.

Joaquin grumbled, leaning away from your hand that was still poking his cheek. You giggled.

"You know there's nothing to be jealous of, right?", you stopped poking his cheek and cradled it in your palm instead, your voice low with sincerity. He nuzzled into it like a puppy.

"I know, of course I know. But still...He-I dunno. Anyways. Are we discussing this with Sam or..?", he chose to change the topic and you didn't press further, for now.

"Bucky won't let any of that conversation out, so we can wait till Sam talks to us himself. I wanna hear his suggestions first. I do think he'll go forward with the case. That's the only way to take down Valentina and Bucky might help us out on that ground as well. We'll definitely push Sam to talk to Bucky, as well", you conceded.

Joaquin nodded in agreement, his brown eyes working overtime as they shined under the yellow light of the dressing room, a stray curl falling onto his forehead.

You took his pretty features in before groaning in impatience, "Oh, come here, you."

And you grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him down to crash your lips on his, causing him to let out a low sound of surprise.

He wrapped his hands around your waist and pulled you impossibly close, molding his lips with yours just as passionately.

-

Bob was not having a normal day.

He had fallen in love and was rejected on the same day itself.

Well, he wasn't directly rejected. But still. He'd lost here as well, just as he had, in every other thing in his life.

'How do you always end up a loser, Bob? You can't even hold a simple conversation. She was right there. Yet, you could do nothing. Nothing as he held her and brought her closer to his body. And she leaned into it. You saw that, right?'

There was that voice again. Him. The Void. The very thing he'd fought to escape from, just yesterday. Bob thought he was finally free. But what did 'free' even mean anymore? Free from The void? Free from The Sentry? Free from Valentina? Free from his own past? How many things would he have to keep in control?

And now, he had another thing to worry about: His attraction infatuation love, for you.

Bob wasn't sure why he was so latched on to you. As he was laid down in a pathetic, fetal position on the bed, hazy memories came up in front of him, the daze of meth and god knows what other psychedelics warping his vision, but he still remembered some of it.

He remembers the flavour of that ice cream he used to have with his mom, back in Florida. He remembers the smell of that cheap deodorant he used to wear, to ward off the stench of weed. He remembers that one Ramones song that used to play on his friend's Ipod in the background, as they sniffed on some powders.

But in between all those hazy memories, he vividly remembers this one clip that he saw on the TV of a small food joint in Sarasota, just a few years before he set off for South-East Asia. The owner was a sweet, black woman, Angela, who would always let him drop by and let him have some food, for free, because he'd mostly spend all of his money on drugs.

It was a rare instance that day, where Bob hadn't used, yet. Simply because his supplier was late. Bob's hands were already shivering, his stomach cramping as he started to feel the withdrawals, his face scrunched up in pain as he desperately looked for something to focus on, instead of that. Luckily there were no other guests at the place today, so he was a little relieved. Angela simply looked at him and sighed, making her way inside to cook something light for him.

She knew his mother, you see. Her heart broke for Annie and Bob Reynolds. His monster of a father made their life hell, and she made sure to do her part of being in the community by helping the two of them out here and there. Slowly, Angela grew fond of the boy, who was always so protective of his mom. And she did her best to help him, even after he took to drugs as an escape.

Bob's shaking hands tugged his ball cap low, the other hand fisting his t-shirt tightly by his stomach as his restless eyes wandered over to the TV mounted on top of the wall.

Trying his best to ignore the sweat sticking to his skin and his vision blurring, Bob focused on the speech that was being played on the TV.

There was a woman speaking on it. She must be around his age, maybe a few years younger. Dressed formally in a sharp power suit, her shoulders held proudly, as she spoke passionately in front of a millions flashing cameras.

Bob's attention was successfully captured.

There was something captivating about the way she spoke. Her voice was clear and assertive, yet soft at the same time, eyes shining brightly even through the low, grainy footage on the screen. Her whole presence screamed power, poise and purpose. It also helped immensely that she was very, very beautiful. Even Bob's withdrawal-addled brain could see that.

He watched her, transfixed, a hand still coiled tightly in his t-shirt, a sheen of spit covering his mouth as he looked at her unblinking, mouth opened slightly. His mind convincing him that if he would've blinked, she'd disappear.

"(Name) Stark. Ain't she pretty?", Angela off-handedly commented as she put a plate of a simple sandwich in front of him, her eyes focused on the TV.

Bob grimaced in pain, trying to focus on your face on the TV and Angela's words.

"She just opened a rehab centre in Phoenix. She's givin' a speech about that. Says she wanted to give back to the community after Tony Stark passed away. What d'you think?"

Bob blinked lazily. His brain was only half-assessing Angela's words. He wanted to scream, that he found you amazing, cool, beautiful and what not. But it felt like his mouth and ears were stuffed with cotton.

Bob's subconscious decided that after watching the clip and hearing about you, he'd commit you to memory. Hoping to read more about you. To see more about you. To know more about you, once he'd decide to get his shit together. And he'd thank you. one day, for being his tether during a terrible, terrible day.

And here he was, a few years later, curled up into a ball on his bed because he did find out about you. He did read about you. And he did see you, right in front of him. Yet, there were no grateful or meaningful words exchanged. Just his weirdly possessive staring and stupid fumbles, later.

He wasn't prepared to be hit by your light, he thought. You shone brighter than the sun, your infectious energy and the impact you emanated was impossible to miss. At first he felt the warmth of it, the need to get closer to you, and then it scorched him, because he'd realised you were out of his reach.

'And because you don’t deserve her.'

Bob's scoff echoed in the empty room. For once, he didn't doubt the Void.

"You're right. I don't", Bob spoke to no one in particular.

Because Bob Reynolds was a damaged man. Abusive father, mentally ill mother, his own list of mental illnesses, drug addictions and now he was injected with a God that he didn't want; he had the whole 'red flag' package.

He didn't want to dim your light by his darkness. He didn't want to weigh you down with his unnecessary baggage. And he was sure, that Joaquin was not a damaged good, like himself.

And yet, a small, hopeful part of him ached. It ached with longing and yearning. To be loved on, to be touched softly, to be looked at fondly, like he matters. He wanted someone to tell him that they're so proud of him, that they love him. He wanted that somebody to be you. You, who gave all of that to Joaquin, who returned it with the same fervor.

The thought made him fist his hands into the bedsheet, the bitter feeling burning his throat again.

"But, am I not allowed to love her, even from a distance?", he whispered into the silence, his voice cracking at 'love'.

Bob Reynolds lay there in the room, alone as always, letting the darkness consume him as he fought with his rational and irrational thoughts, like they were on a war.

-

"We're suing 'em."

That's what Sam had said the moment he entered the debrief room, Joaquin sitting on your right, Kamala on your left, Carol sitting at the front and the opposite side of the table was occupied by Kate and Scott. Sam had called for an emergency meeting, asking everyone who was available to turn up.

You exchanged a knowing look with Joaquin. This was bound to happen and it was the best plan, in your opinion.

"Great! Who's our lawyer?", Scott asked, looking at Sam with a dopey smile on his face, as always.

"I've talked to Bruce's cousin, Jennifer Walters. She's agreed to take on the case and Bruce said she's won a case against Matt Murdock, so", Sam shrugged.

You and Joaquin gave an impressed look to Sam.

"Whoa. Matt's like, really good, guys. He saved my dad from a bank robbery. So if she's won against him? She's great", Kamala quipped, her eyes wide in excitement and throwing a thumbs up in Sam's direction, before she leaned closer to you to whisper, "and, abbu also said that he's handsome!"

You giggled and nudged her, making her smile big.

Sam chuckled, "I bet, kid. Anyways, remember, this case is against Valentina, only. No personal attacks against the team, no sneaking behind my back to talk to them, no posting on social media. I don't want any of you doing that, is that clear?", Sam instructed, looking at you and Joaquin pointedly.

Joaquin subtly squeezed your hand under the table, as you two gave your best fake smiles to Sam. Sam narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

"Question", Kate raised her hand up. Sam nodded at her to continue.

"So, are you gonna talk to Bucky or like, we are gonna directly send them an email or a letter or something", Kate asked in full sincerity.

You perked up at that, "Good question, Kate. Did Bucky call?", you asked Sam directly, Joaquin observing him closely to gauge his reaction.

Sam pursed his lips, a sullen look taking over his face, "Uh, no. No calls. No texts. Not yet, anyways."

"Shouldn't we wait, then? Maybe he'll call soon?", Joaquin urged hopefully.

Frankly, you all wanted the former Avengers to patch up first, and then take down Valentina, together. But they were too busy having a lover's quarrel. You'd done your part from your side, but they were all bound in shackles by Valentina. They were helpless, as Bucky had said.

"I don't think so, Joaquin. We gotta move before Valentina tries somethin' else", he sighed.

Carol, who'd been watching this entire thing silently up until now, spoke up, "I actually agree with Sam. We shouldn't waste time. The government might be way ahead of us."

"Thank you, Carol."

You rushed to make your point across, "Sam, wait. Bucky's gonna be devastated if he finds out through a paper, or the news, that you're suing them. You know how they twist words. Just, try talking to him, please. We both know, that nobody understands this better than you two. Maybe he'd try helping you in this whole thing, you know? I don't want there to be any bad blood between the two of you", your eyebrows were furrowed in distress by the end of it, hands splayed on the table to ground yourself.

"I agree with her, just so you know", Joaquin chimed in.

"I mean, yes, that's- that's true. We don't want another airport fight", Scott joked, referring to the Accords showdown.

Sam frowned and crossed his arms around his chest, closing his eyes in resignation before opening them.

"Fine. I'll call him", he relented. The room erupted in a series of 'Yes'.

"But- but, if nothing good comes outta that call, I'm filing a cease and desist, immediately. It's for their own good", he conceded firmly.

"Aye, Aye, Captain", Scott said dreamily, Kate and Kamala saluting Sam while Carol just nodded absently, already preparing for the next step.

Joaquin looked at you nervously and you nodded at him, praying that these two grown men would actually listen to each other.

"When do we tell him?", Joaquin mumbled quietly while the others were busy leaving the room.

"After the call. We should hear what Bucky said to him first", you quietly replied, chewing the inside of your cheek in thought.

God, you hoped this wouldn't explode in your faces.

-

Part 3

AN: im so sorry for making poor bob suffer 😵‍💫 and please tell me if the story is making sense and like + reblog! love u all <3

taglist: @hearts4barnes @msfirth @spideybrie @parkersjoy @joaquinsgf @wolflikesstuff @frvv @99buttowski @eggyboyoart @superchatnoir07 @wierdlyinlike @peachyrue-777 @makinurbed @abc1234y @ba-space-geek @elyi-o @ph-1isagod @missbrekker @patheticgirl127 @lookitsgrim @spinstertheuncommon @bcystar @yelenaseyeliner @dormammuiivecometo @justeveeeee @lilajoy-ily @spvctor @magikdarkholme @babyreads @paintballkid711 @urfavestan @wyvernthekriger @monselxo @hoe-in-theory-not-practice

Sorry if I forgot anyone or reply if u wanna be removed from the taglist!

[p-artsypants]

I had a craving for an arranged marriage AU, with a little twist. I have like three other scenes in mind, but no plot. So here's a blurb for now, maybe more someday IDK

This is specifically for @thereweredragonshere as I was looking at her art while writing this.

Okay thanks I love you bye

---

Quietly, so quietly, Hiccup shut his front door behind him. Then he began to tiptoe to his loft. He had been out with the Nightfury, Toothless as he named him, all day. Longer than intended. A lecture was bound to happen because of it. 

“Hiccup,” Stoick stopped him, his voice cutting through the silence and crackling fire. 

“Oh! Dad! I uh…I didn’t see you there…” That was a lie. Such a lie.

“Come, sit. I need a word with you.” 

Hiccup closed his eyes in defeat and slinked over, sheepishly standing across the fire pit. 

“Sit,” Stoick said again, his voice stern in a way that left little room for arguing.

So he obeyed, and sat on the bench, with just enough butt on the chair to be considered sitting, but he was ready to dart away at a moment's notice. 

Stoick wasn’t often physically violent with him, just yelling. In the times he was physical, it was just being lifted and rag dolled out of the way like a bad cat. 

“So…” Hiccup prompted, at an attempt to be casual. 

“I’ve been in communication with the Shivering Shores,” Stoick went on. 

Hiccup relaxed a little. This didn’t seem to concern him all that much. Perhaps his dad just wanted to talk about chief stuff.

“Oh, yeah. I saw the courier boat today.” 

“We finally reached an agreement.” 

“Th-that’s good! Great! An alliance? A treaty?” 

“Trade agreement. Fish for supplies. The dragon raids have been harsh this year and we need all the extra supplies we can get.” 

“I-I agree! I mean…I know the other night wasn’t helpful…” he gulped. 

“Which brings me to the second part of the agreement.” Stoick flicked his eyes over and gazed at his son. “The part that concerns you.” 

“Oh…” Hiccup squeaked. 

“We’re joining our tribes in marriage. I made an offer for the Chief’s youngest daughter to be your bride. He accepted.” 

“Did she?” Hiccup croaked. 

“Doesn’t need to.” 

Hiccup felt very cold and sank into his chair. 

“But,” Stoick continued. “There’s a very specific reason for this arrangement. Chief Hofferson’s daughter, Astrid, has become somewhat famous in the archipelago for her prowess in battle. She is the best warrior on their island, bar none. And she’s your age.” 

His eyes went wide. 

“I told Chief Axel that I was concerned for your safety, and thought his daughter would not only be a worthy bride, but a protector for you.” 

“Oh gods…” 

“She said she would be honored to be your protector.” 

He swallowed. “And…my wife?” 

“She agreed to it.” 

That would have to be enough, he supposed. “On paper?”

“All of this was through courier, yes.” 

Hiccup nodded, his throat feeling too numb to swallow. It was likely that over in the Shivering Shores, Chief Hofferson was having this very same conversation with his daughter, telling her that he agreed to the marriage and wrote that she was honored to accept. 

Hiccup didn’t know what she looked like, but imagined a pretty girl throwing a tantrum and destroying furniture.

Perhaps with a weapon, if the ‘prowess in battle’ was true. 

“This is a good thing, son,” Stoick urged. “You’re too weak to swing a sword, you’ve been completely unprotected during dragon raids—”

“I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do.” Stoick became stern. “You are my only son. My heir. The next chief of Berk. And it seems like you’re determined to perish before you get there!” 

Hiccup winced, thinking back on that roar that Toothless had unleashed in his face. That might have been his closest and most intimate brush with death. And that was just yesterday. 

“Besides the dragons, we have the Outcasts and Berserkers circling us and waiting to pounce. You risking your safety with those Thor’s-damned inventions during a dragon raid is one thing, but a viking raid? They’ll be coming for you, looking for you. And Astrid will be there to protect you. Do you hear what I’m saying?” 

“Yes,” he whispered, ashamed. “I’m hearing ‘bride’ but I think you mean ‘babysitter’.” 

Stoick didn’t argue with that. Just tightened his mouth into a grim line. 

Hiccup just further slouched, crumbling in on himself. How embarrassing! He thought there was a chance he’d have an arranged marriage, given his status, but arranged so that he had a bodyguard? 

“When do I meet the lucky lady?” He attempted a quip, but his voice sounded so hollow. 

“Tomorrow. And you’re wed at the end of the week.” 

He made a loud noise of disgust as he keeled over, nearly falling off the bench. “Geez dad…” 

“It's for the best.” 

“That’s so fast!” He argued. “Can’t I like…get to know her first? Go on a hike? Have a nice candle lit dinner with mead?” 

“You can do that in the week leading up to the wedding. She’ll be practically glued to your side.” 

“Oh gods…” 

“She won’t know anyone else here, won’t know the village layout, or the way we do things. You will teach her.” Stoick stood and lumbered over. He poked Hiccup in the chest. “And you’ll be pleasant about it.” 

Hiccup huffed. “I mean I’ll try my best, but I can’t guarantee I’ll be pleasant if she treats me like the others.” 

“You’ll be pleasant. Nothing else.” 

Hiccup swallowed at the tone, shrinking in his seat. “Okay fine.” 

“Good.” Stoick nodded. “Then off to bed with you. They’ll arrive before dinner. I’ll be off in the morning making preparations for their accommodations. I expect you to be there when the ship arrives, looking your sharpest.” 

“Yes sir,” he grumbled, getting to his feet. He shuffled across the room and back to the stairs. 

As he got ready for bed, and laid down to sleep, he thought about this ‘Astrid’ girl. 

His bride. 

A girl had never shown interest in him before, and this was likely to be the same. But he had heard that arranged marriages often worked out well, with the couple learning to love each other. Wouldn’t that be something? A girl that loved him. A girl to come home to. A girl to share his thoughts and ideas with. 

A girl to share Toothless with. 

No. No, that was crazy. No one, not even his wife could know about what he was planning on doing with that dragon. 

But everything else?

Having a companion might be kind of nice, if he could get used to it. 

And if she was the best warrior in the Shivering Shores, then she ought to be able to keep Snotlout and the Twins off his back. 

Eventually, Hiccup fell asleep, feeling some form of optimism. 

—

That feeling didn’t last. 

He had woken up early and spent the morning with Toothless in the cove. He poured his guts out to the dragon, lamenting about how his life was completely out of his control. 

Toothless had simply listened and gnawed on a stick. 

Eventually, he returned to the village sometime after lunch. He couldn’t push it, knowing he was on thin ice as it was. He combed his hair and put on a clean tunic. 

Then he spent an hour pacing in the square, listening for the horn that would sound their arrival. 

People passed and gave him smiles and knowing looks, but didn’t say anything. That was fine. He didn’t want to talk to anyone anyway. He was too nervous. 

All they cared about was the party anyway. 

When the horn sounded, he felt his knees buckle. All the anxiety that had been building hit him like a hammer and he tilted sideways. 

“You okay, lad? You look pale!” Gobber called. “I’ve been watching you for the last half hour. You’re makin’ me dizzy!” 

“She’s here,” Hiccup breathed. “She’s here.” 

“Ah, your blushing bride! Better go greet her then, ah?” 

Hiccup thought he nodded, but he might have just bobbed his head like a chicken, then wobbled off to go down to the docks. 

Stoick smiled when he arrived. “There you are! Right on time!” 

“I’m going to be sick.” 

Stoick clapped him on the back, making him swallow the bile that was rising. “It’s pretty nerve-wracking, I know, but it’ll be fine. She’s probably just as nervous.” 

In a way, that helped. If Astrid was stuttering and blushing through introductions, he could handle it. 

The ships came into dock, and Hiccup stood on his tiptoes to try to see over the high sides. There were several people, but he couldn’t quite pick out who Astrid could be.

The ramp fell over the side, and the party disembarked. There were a pair of soldiers out first, followed by a man who could only be Chief Axel the Arduous. He was large; not as large as his father, of course. But he wore the chief’s fur cloak and pendants, just as his father did. 

Axel grinned widely. “Greetings my friends!” 

“Good tidings!” Stoick grasped his hand in a strong clasp. “You had a pleasant journey?” 

“Yes, very good! Good weather! Good head wind! A good omen from the gods, to be sure!” 

As the chiefs talked, three women disembarked the ship. One was older, likely the chief’s wife, while the other two were teenagers. They were all blonde and blue-eyed and pretty. 

And rather delicate, in Hiccup’s opinion. Not that they weren’t still bigger than him, but he didn’t get the vibe of ‘best warrior’ from any of them. They were all wearing fine dresses and giggling to each other. 

“Stoick, this is my wife, Phlegma,” Axel gestured. “And my two eldest daughters, Ingrid and Sigurd.” 

The two girls tittered as they looked at Hiccup. He saw one mouth to the other, “look at how tiny he is.” 

Not a real ego booster, to be sure. 

“I thought your youngest was to be married?” Stoick calmly questioned. 

“Astrid will be out in a moment, I’m sure,” Axel sighed, a bit exasperated. 

“Poor thing’s a nervous wreck,” Phlegma added. “She’s putting her armor on. She wanted to make a good impression, afterall.” 

Hiccup sighed slightly, reassured that he wasn’t the only one completely psyched out of his mind. 

However, his world turned upside down as a huge figure leapt from the side of the boat and landed on the dock in front of him. It was a valkyrie if there ever was one. She raised to her full height, towering over him by a foot or more. She was almost the same height as his father! 

She was toned, with thick corded muscles in her arms and what was visible of her legs between her spiked skirt and studded boots. She wore studden pauldrons and gauntlets as well. Her body was thick and solid, curvy in all the right places, and no doubt trained to apex danger. 

But her face was soft. Delicate cheeks and a softly rounded chin. A cute button nose with a gentle sweeping brow. Beautiful, explosive blue eyes surrounded by thick gold lashes. All of it was haloed by a swath of sunshine gold hair braided over her shoulder. 

How a creature could be so scarily tough and the epitome of feminine beauty at the same time, he had no idea. 

“What an entrance!” Stoick laughed. 

This new warrior had a calm and cool facade as she answered, “I panicked.” Then she bowed slightly, dipping her head with respect. “Chief Stoick, it’s an honor. I’m Astrid Hofferson.” 

“A pleasure, my dear!” He held out a hand. 

She shook it, and Hiccup could see that her hands were rough, but not big and meaty like his father’s.

“And this is my son, Hiccup.” He placed a hand on his back. 

Hiccup could only grin awkwardly, getting lost in those blue eyes. How was this girl the same age as him? 

“Hello,” she said softly. Then she glanced back at Stoick, seemingly waiting for something. 

Stoick nodded slowly and tried again. “This is my only son, Hiccup…your husband to be.” 

She inhaled briefly at that, and let out a soft, “Oh.” Her exhale was slow and she whispered, “I see.”  

Hiccup cast his gaze to the ground as he held his arm. This girl was just as disappointed as everyone else was, and he hadn’t even done anything yet. 

“Is that how you would greet your betrothed?” Axel asked. 

“Oh come on dear, she’s nervous,” Phlegma argued back. 

But apparently Axel’s words stirred something in Astrid as she took a quick stride forward and reached out and took Hiccup’s hand. Then she leaned down and pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek. 

“D-Duh?” Hiccup blurted, smartly. 

She smiled at him, a dusting of pink on her perfect cheeks. “Hello darling.” 

“H-h-hi,” he stuttered out. “I’m Hiccup.” 

She gave a nod. “Astrid.” 

His feet felt like they were made of stone as he stood there, stock still and staring. And Astrid continued to hold her smile, but her eyebrow started to raise. 

“Son,” Stoick patted his shoulder. “Why don’t you show Astrid around the village?” 

“What? Oh! Yes! Of course! The village! My village! Where I–where we live, where you will live also…ha!” He spoke a bit too loudly, and he could feel his face burning. 

Astrid just tilted her head slightly to the side as her eyes widened, but her grin got bigger. Was she annoyed and trying to hide it? She hadn’t let go of his hand yet though. “Okay, lead the way.” 

He gulped, and looked over to his father. 

“Go on,” Stoick whispered, making a shooing motion.

“Uh…th-this way…” he said, pulling her along by the hand. 

Once they were a little ways away, Stoick and Axel resumed their conversation, but they were so loud, Hiccup could hear. 

“You weren’t kidding, Stoick! He’s a fishbone of a boy! Astrid’ll take good care of him!” 

Hiccup’s shoulders drooped and he turned his face away from his betrothed, ashamed, embarrassed. 

Astrid didn’t seem to notice though. “What’s that?” 

He glanced up where she was pointing. “Oh, that’s the Kill Ring, where we uh…kill things. Mainly dragons.” 

“You’ve killed a dragon?” Her voice was curious, not skeptical, which was refreshing. 

“No no, not me personally. I…I couldn’t kill a dragon.” 

“Hmm,” she nodded, accepting this answer. 

She was calm, cool, and collected. Apparently that’s what nervousness looked like to this hulking goddess. 

Still holding her hand, he led her over to the arena, trying to think of something to say, but being too nervous to do so. Thankfully, Astrid just patiently held his hand and looked around, taking everything in. They crossed the bridge and came to stand at the edge of the arena. 

Two people were sparring inside. Astrid let go of his hand to grasp at the chains of the dome. “Who are they?” 

“That’s Snotlout and Tuffnut. Snotlout’s my cousin, and Tuffnut has a twin sister, Ruffnut.” 

“Friends of yours then?” 

“...not really, no.” 

She smirked. “Good, because their technique is dog shit.” 

Hiccup sputtered a laugh, unable to help himself. This drew the attention of the boys in the ring. 

“Hey Useless!” Called Snotlout. “Who’s the babe?” 

Hiccup flushed in indignation, but Astrid answered instead, cooly. “Astrid Hofferson, though I’ll be Astrid Haddock at the end of the week.” 

“No way!” Snotlout laughed. “That’s your bride to be!? I would have thought Stoick would have found someone in your weight class at least!” 

Hiccup hunched his shoulders. 

Astrid just scoffed at the ring, took his hand, and led him away. “I can see why you aren’t friends with them. He’s kind of an asshole.” 

“No ‘kind of’ about it, he is an asshole. Sorry you had to meet him first. The rest of Berk isn’t as terrible as that.” 

“It’s fine, Hiccup. There were boys like that on the Shivering Shores too.” 

Things were going okay, he thought. Could be better, but Astrid was taking a lot really well. She seemed so mature and cool, it made him extremely guilty. 

“I’m sorry,” he blurted. 

She merely raised an eyebrow. “For what? You didn’t do anything.” 

“Sometimes that’s enough…but uh, f-for getting you into this arranged marriage. It’s probably not what you wanted to do with your life. You could be a great warrior, but…now you have to babysit me because my dad thinks I’m so useless I can’t even breathe on my own. So…sorry.” 

To his surprise, she smiled at him and ruffled his hair. “First of all, did you request me as your bride? Did you ask your dad to make the contract?” 

“No.” 

“Thought so. So nothing to apologize there for. Second, I’m the youngest of my father’s daughters. As a daughter of a chief, it’s almost guaranteed I’ll be in an arranged marriage, so that wasn’t a surprise. But as the youngest, I probably would have been married to a much older man, maybe even a widower. He would have expected me to be barefoot in the kitchen and popping out babies the rest of my life.” 

Hiccup stared at her, nodding slowly as her logic made sense. He’d heard of stuff like that happening. 

“Because I’m so tall, I decided to pour all my free time into training, with the hope that my future husband would see I was a worthy warrior and I wouldn’t be trapped in the kitchen. It was a long shot, but worth it to me.” 

His eyes widened. “So, you kind of got what you wanted. My dad picked you for me because of your skill, and not your status.” 

“Exactly! Plus, you’re the same age as me, and you’re the heir! I’ll be chieftess someday! That’s not something I thought would happen to me.” 

“Well,” he sheepishly shrugged his shoulders. “I can hope I’ll be chief. Some people in town might think differently.” 

“Regardless, I’m happy.”

“Even though I’m so small? I can’t pick you up, Astrid. You’ll have to lean down to kiss me during our wedding. Isn’t that…embarrassing?” 

She shrugged. “I’ve been teased about my height my whole life. Boys called me ‘Treetop’ back at home, and said I’d never get a date because men didn’t want a woman taller than them. I always assumed my husband would be shorter than me.” 

“...and I kind of figured my wife would be taller.” 

She grinned. “So see! We’re on the same page!” 

He chuckled. “I guess so.” 

“Come on! Show me around! Introduce me to your friends!” 

He blanched. “Ah…yeah, my friends…”

[elizabethsnuts]

So I don't know if you've seen spy kids 3, but basically there's a scene where the mum has to go on a mission with her baby because she has no baby sitter and she just carries her in a baby carrier. The scene is low-key badass. Anyway, I was wondering if you could do something like that for winterwidows daughter. Like they have no one to babysit her and she has to go on the mission with her parents.

P.S. I love your work.

Family Mission

WinterWidow x Daughter!Reader

Summary: Natasha and Bucky have no babysitter for you so they have no choice but to bring you on a mission to take down a HYDRA base.

A/N: Thank you for all the support on my work! It really means a lot to me that others enjoy reading it. It was my one year posting on tumblr a couple days ago, happy late tumblr birthday to me!

———

The morning sun filtered through the Avengers kitchen, casting a warm glow around the room where Bucky was finishing his coffee. Natasha, who was already dressed in her black tactical suit, was adjusting the baby carrier strapped to her chest, inside the carrier was you, gazing up at your mother with wide, curious eyes, cooing softly.

Bucky approached the two of you, his metal arm glinting in the sunlight. "Are you sure about this, Nat? Bringing Y/N along on a mission?"

Natasha gave him a reassuring smile. "We don't have much choice, do we? We can’t just keep her here by herself. Besides she’ll be looking at me the whole time."

Bucky leaned down to kiss you on the forehead. "Alright, we’ll keep her safe."

———

You all quickly boarded the Quinjet, where Tony was pacing the floor. Steve and Clint were gathered around a large holographic display of their mission target: a HYDRA base nestled in the Siberian wilderness.

Tony glanced up as Bucky and Natasha entered, you looked over to Tony with your little legs swinging in the carrier. "Well, look who's here. And they brought a little guest." His tone was a mix of amusement and surprise.

Steve raised an eyebrow. "Y/N? Are you sure about this?"

"We don't have a babysitter," Natasha said with a hint of defiance. "We'll manage."

You were secured in your carrier, staring at the flashing lights and buttons inside the jet, your tiny hands reaching out to grab at the air. Natasha couldn't help but smile at your innocence. Bucky sat beside the two of you, keeping a watchful eye on both his family and the surroundings.

The Quinjet hummed as it sliced through the sky, descending towards the snow-covered landscape of Siberia. As they approached the drop zone, Tony ran through the plan one last time. "Alright, Natasha, Bucky, you're with me. Clint, Steve, Thor, you take the north entrance."

The team split into their assigned groups. Natasha and Bucky, with you securely strapped to Natasha's chest, moved stealthily through the forest. The snow crunched softly under their boots as they approached the base's southern entrance.

You played with the little beanie on your head, giggling quietly as you touched the fuzzy pom-pom. Natasha looked down and smiled at your happy mood, though her face had a hint of worry.

The team were able to hack into the security system, disabling the cameras and unlocking the doors.

"We're in," Steve whispered through the comms.

"Okay, Malyshka," Natasha whispered, adjusting the sound-dampening headphones over your little ears. "Time to be a good girl for Mama and Daddy."

You giggled and waved your tiny hands around as if you were part of the mission. You had no idea what was going on but you liked going on an adventure with your parents.

The three of you slipped into the shadows, Bucky’s eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of movement. Natasha moved silently, her skills honed from years of time in the Red Room. Your presence, surprisingly, didn’t hinder her. Instead, it seemed to sharpen her focus, giving her a greater purpose which was to keep you safe.

Inside the base, the corridors were eerily quiet while dimly lit. The team had done their job well, creating diversions and taking out patrols. Bucky and Natasha moved methodically, their silent communication seamless.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Natasha whispered to you, her lips curving into a smile.

As the central control room became closer into view, you began to babble softly, your eyes wide with curiosity. Natasha glanced down and smiled. "Almost there, Dorogoy," she whispered.

Bucky placed a small charge on the door, and they waited for the soft beep indicating it was ready. With a nod, the door blew open, and they rushed inside.

Alarms blared throughout the base. HYDRA reinforcements were closing in fast. Natasha and Bucky moved swiftly, taking down enemies with a coordinated dance of skill and precision. You in your carrier, just watched Natasha with a smile on your little face, your tiny hands clapping at the flashes of movement, oblivious to the danger.

With the last of the Hydra agents taken down, Natasha and Bucky quickly began gathering data from the computers. Steve’s voice crackled over the comms. "Status?"

"All clear," Natasha replied, her fingers flying over the keyboard. "We’ve got the data."

Navigating through the maze of corridors, they reached the exit quickly and ran back into the snowy forest.

“Mama!” You giggled, your little fingers tangled in her hair as flakes of snow hit your little pink cheeks.

Natasha laughed and kissed your head. “You did your first mission! You did so well!”

———

Back on the Quinjet, as they soared towards home, Natasha leaned back in her seat, exhausted but relieved. You, now sleepy, nestled against your mother's chest, your tiny hand gripping Natasha's suit.

"You did great today, baby," Natasha whispered, kissing the top of your head.

You babbled sleepily and closed your eyes, now feeling all warm in safe in Natasha’s arms. You loved the little adventure you had today.

[violetstark3000]

Floor 23

this is my first fic lmk what you all think!!

pairing: bucky barnes x stark!reader (Y/N) word count: ~4k summary: Y/N Stark was taken by Hydra at nine years old and experimented on — now she's back, powered, confident, and moving into Avengers Tower with a past no one quite understands. She shares a floor with Bucky Barnes, the quiet super soldier who trains her, teases her, and looks at her like she’s more than just a ghost from her father’s past. There’s no angst — just slow burn tension, found family, super speed reveals, rooftop heart-to-hearts, spicy training montages, and one very unforgettable Stark party. warnings: canon-typical violence, spicy content (18+), mentions of past trauma (Hydra), suggestive language, emotional vulnerability, fluff, smut (clearly marked), soft!bucky, strong!Y/N, comfort a/n: this one is for the girlies who love the classic avengers dynamic, protective men with metal arms, and casual girls with quiet strength. this is a no-angst zone <3 timeline: post-Ultron AU, everyone lives, everyone’s hot.

The Avengers had faced world-ending threats. Aliens. Armies. Interdimensional rips in time.

But somehow, nothing had ever shut them up quite like Tony Stark saying the words:

“She’s my daughter.” It wasn’t a punchline.

He stood in the center of the common room, coffee in hand, jaw set just a little too tight.

“She was taken when she was nine. Hydra,” he said. “They used her to get to me. And I didn’t even know.”

The silence in the room was sharp. Uncomfortable.

“I found her six months ago. It took this long to… get her out. Fully. Legally. Safely. And now she’s coming here.”

“To live?” Steve asked gently.

“To stay,” Tony said. “If she wants to.”

Before anyone could process that, the elevator doors chimed.

And then— She stepped in.

Y/N Stark didn’t walk into the room like someone being reintroduced to a world that forgot her. She walked in like she already knew everyone was looking and didn’t mind one bit.

Faded jeans. Converse with ink scribbled on the rubber. A cropped navy hoodie with “Stark Industries” printed in lowercase across the chest. Her duffel was slung over one shoulder, a beat-up set of wireless headphones hanging from her neck.

The first thing she said?

“So this is what happens when you ghost your dad for eleven years. He gets famous, builds a robot army, and moves in with Captain America.”

Sam cracked a smile.

Tony exhaled. “You’re late.”

“I’m not late,” she said, stepping further into the room. “You just started early.”

Then she stopped in front of him, dropped her bag to the floor, and looked him in the eyes.

Tony looked back.

A moment passed.

Then he opened his arms.

“Come here, kid.”

She didn’t hesitate. Not even for a second.

She walked right into him and let his arms close around her shoulders like they’d done this a hundred times before—even though they hadn’t. He held her like he wasn’t sure he’d ever get another chance. She didn’t cry. She didn’t freeze. She just leaned in and rested her chin against his shoulder and said, “You owe me like ten birthdays.”

“I owe you everything,” he muttered back.

When they pulled apart, Tony turned to the rest of the team like he was seeing them for the first time. “Everyone, this is Y/N. She’s funny, smarter than me, probably stronger than me, and knows how to pick a lock with a paperclip. Be nice.”

Thor was the first to approach, all broad shoulders and unshakeable friendliness. “You are much smaller than I expected.”

“And you’re taller,” she replied, “but only vertically.”

Thor blinked. Then let out a booming laugh. “I like her!”

“Same,” said Natasha, giving her an approving once-over. “You talk like him, but less annoying.”

“Give it time.”

Steve smiled, offering his hand. “Welcome to the Tower.”

Y/N took it. “Thanks. It’s a bit cleaner than Hydra’s decor.”

Silence.

She didn’t flinch. “Sorry. Was that too soon?”

“No,” Wanda said softly. “Not too soon. Just honest.”

Y/N gave her a real smile at that.

It wasn’t long before the group fell into easy conversation—Tony explaining her powers vaguely, Sam asking if she could fly (she couldn’t), and Bruce appearing from the lab just long enough to give her an awkward wave and say, “Glad you’re here.”

Only Bucky didn’t say anything.

He stood a little off to the side, arms crossed. Watching.

Y/N met his gaze once. Didn’t look away.

He didn’t either.

Later That Day – Floor 23

Y/N followed her dad through a private elevator with “Stark Access Only” engraved into the panel.

“I built this floor for you a while back,” Tony said, unlocking the door. “Before I even found you again. Just… in case.”

Y/N stepped inside. The suite was wide and open, warm wood floors and oversized windows spilling afternoon light across the couch and bookshelves. One hallway led to a bedroom. Another led to a second door.

“Who’s in there?” she asked.

Tony scratched the back of his neck. “Technically… your neighbor.”

“Technically?”

“You’re sharing the floor with Barnes.”

She turned to face him.

“You’re telling me that after eleven years in a Hydra lab, you’re putting me next door to the Winter Soldier?”

Tony held up both hands. “He’s different now.”

“So am I.”

“That’s why I think it might work.”

She stared at him.

“I’m not saying you have to like him,” Tony added. “But I trust you. And honestly? I think he could use someone who isn’t afraid of him.”

As if summoned by awkward timing, the other suite’s door opened.

Bucky Barnes stepped out. Hoodie. Sweats. Barefoot. He looked like someone who’d just woken up from a nightmare and found out he still had to be awake.

Y/N didn’t move.

Neither did he.

Tony gave them both a quick wave. “Alright. I’m gonna go back to the lab and pretend this isn’t the weirdest thing I’ve ever set up. Play nice, you two.”

The door closed behind him.

Y/N shifted her weight, casual but alert. “So… we’re roommates. That’s hilarious.”

Bucky crossed his arms. “Not roommates. Same floor. Two doors. Big difference.”

“Noted,” she said, stepping past him. “I call the good window.”

He said nothing. Just followed her with his eyes as she hauled her bag toward the bedroom.

When she opened the door and saw the soft lighting, the clean bed, the empty bookshelves—her chest ached in a way she didn’t show.

From behind her, Bucky said quietly, “You need help?”

She turned, eyebrow raised. “With what? Lifting emotional baggage?”

His lips twitched. Just barely.

“I’m good,” she added. “But thanks.”

And she meant it.

Y/N woke up to the muffled hum of the city far below, filtered through the massive windows of her new room. The sunlight spilled softly across the floor, illuminating the little mess she’d made unpacking. Her jeans were draped over a chair, the duffel bag left unzipped near the bed, and a half-empty bottle of water was perched on the nightstand next to an old Stark Industries baseball cap. She was still adjusting to how… normal it felt. That is, until the quiet ping from the intercom reminded her she wasn’t alone here. “Good morning, Miss Stark. JARVIS is online and awaiting instructions.” Y/N grinned, swinging her legs over the bed. “Hey, J. How long have you been waiting?” “Since you last disconnected at approximately 3:42 a.m.” She rolled her eyes. “Night owl, remember? Anyway, bring up my playlist and put on something chill. And maybe order some breakfast? You know, human things.” “As you wish.” For the first time in a long time, Y/N felt like she could breathe. She liked it. Not just the tech, the luxury, or even her dad’s presence. But the quiet acceptance of a place that didn’t feel like a cage. Later that morning, after a breakfast JARVIS insisted was “balanced and Instagram-worthy,” she headed out of her room to explore. She bumped right into Bucky Barnes in the hallway, arms full of random boxes—some labeled “Fragile,” others just scribbled “Y/N’s Stuff.” “You again,” she said, raising an eyebrow. He shrugged. “Thought you might want help.” “Please.” He smirked, setting the boxes down. “I’m kidding. Thought you’d say no.” “I’m good,” she insisted, but he could see through it. The truth was, she didn’t like asking for help. Hydra had taught her independence was survival. But here? She was learning to lower her walls. Together, they moved the boxes into her room, and he stayed long enough to assemble a chair and hook up her gaming console. “Don’t think I won’t destroy you at ‘Street Fighter,’” she warned. He laughed softly, a sound that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m counting on it.” That evening, the team gathered in the common room for their usual downtime. Steve was telling a story about the old days, and Thor was rummaging through the snack cabinet in search of Pop-Tarts. Y/N sat near the edge, quietly observing, when Sam nudged her. “You’re kinda quiet for a Stark.” She smirked. “I’m just… sizing you all up. You’re weird.” “Fair.” Natasha gave a knowing look. “You’ll fit right in.” “Only if I can steal your stuff in the fridge,” Y/N quipped, earning a small smile from Nat. Bucky caught her eye from across the room and raised an eyebrow. She shot back a teasing grin. The comfortable banter was a new feeling for her. Like this strange, found family was exactly where she belonged—even if she wasn’t ready to say it aloud yet.

One afternoon, the Avengers were hanging out on the Tower’s rooftop garden, trying to enjoy a rare break. Steve and Bucky were reminiscing about missions past, Tony was tinkering with a gadget, and Wanda was quietly meditating near the flowers. Y/N leaned against the railing, scrolling on her phone. Suddenly, Steve threw out a challenge. “Alright. Who thinks they’re fast enough to beat me and Barnes in a race?” Bucky smirked. “You’re on, Cap.” Tony looked over from his workbench. “This is gonna be good.” The team quickly gathered at the starting line—a strip of rooftop lined with potted plants and benches. Y/N stood to the side, arms crossed, amused. “Don’t leave her out,” Sam said. “She looks fast.” Steve glanced at her. “You wanna try?” Y/N shrugged with a grin. “Why not? I’m already here.” The countdown started. “Ready?” “Set?” “Go!” Before anyone could blink, Y/N was gone. A blur of movement that left Steve and Bucky staring, mouths slightly open. She was halfway to the finish line before Steve and Bucky had even taken their first strides. “Is she—?” “Faster.” Y/N crossed the finish line, slowing to a casual walk as if she’d just taken a stroll. Tony whooped from the sidelines. “That’s my kid!” Steve and Bucky trailed behind, breathing hard, eyes wide. “I didn’t see that coming,” Steve admitted, shaking his head. Bucky wiped his brow. “Yeah… she’s faster than either of us.” Y/N grinned, brushing a lock of hair from her face. “You guys okay back there?” Sam laughed. “You just beat two supersoldiers like they were standing still.” Y/N shrugged. “Guess I’m not just a Stark.” Wanda approached, impressed. “That was incredible.” Y/N shrugged again, but the smile was soft. No one knew the full extent of her powers yet. But maybe, just maybe, they were starting to. Y/N was starting to realize that living in Avengers Tower wasn’t nearly as chaotic as she expected. Or maybe she was just getting used to the chaos.

Her mornings were still slow, with JARVIS gently nudging her awake by dimming the lights and playing her favorite soft tracks. The AI had developed a knack for reading her moods—if she was cranky, JARVIS lowered the volume; if she was restless, he’d suggest a walk on the roof.

“Hey, J,” she said one afternoon as she sat cross-legged on her bed, scrolling through mission reports on her tablet. “You ever get tired of being perfect?”

“I do not experience fatigue in the human sense,” JARVIS replied smoothly. “But I do enjoy your sarcasm. It keeps things interesting.”

Y/N smiled. “Well, don’t get used to it.”

Later that day, she found herself wandering into the common room just as Bucky was finishing up his morning workout. He looked up, hair damp and muscles still moving from exertion.

“Hey,” she greeted, dropping onto the couch a little too casually.

He gave a tired smile. “Hey.”

For a moment, neither said anything. Then Y/N reached into her bag and pulled out a half-eaten granola bar.

“Want half?” she offered.

Bucky raised an eyebrow but didn’t refuse. “Sure.”

They shared the bar in comfortable silence.

“You don’t talk much,” Y/N observed.

“Depends on the day.”

She nodded. “Me too. Hydra taught me a lot about silence.”

“Yeah?”

“Sometimes it’s the only thing that keeps you alive.”

Bucky looked at her then, really looked. “You’re different than I thought.”

“Different good or different bad?”

He smiled, small and genuine. “Different good.”

That night, she joined the group in the kitchen. Wanda and Natasha were debating the merits of spicy food versus comfort food.

“Natasha can’t cook,” Wanda said, rolling her eyes.

“She burns water,” Natasha shot back.

Y/N laughed. “Sounds like you’re in good company.”

Wanda looked over at Y/N. “You’re fitting in fast.”

“Only because I’m sneaky,” Y/N teased. “And because you guys are actually decent.”

Tony popped his head in, holding a tray of cookies.

“Try these. I’m taking credit for all of them.”

Y/N took a bite. “Not bad, old man.”

The warmth of the kitchen, the laughter, the mess—it was the first time in a long time Y/N felt like she could be herself without armor.

Later, she caught Bucky in the hallway.

“Training again?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “You wanna join?”

Y/N smirked. “You trying to show off?”

“Maybe.”

“Challenge accepted.”

As they moved to the training room, Y/N felt something shift. She wasn’t just Tony Stark’s daughter anymore. She was Y/N. Stronger. Ready.

Tony Stark throwing a party was a bit like a fireworks display — bright, loud, and impossible to ignore. And when the occasion was his daughter finally stepping back into the world he’d built, well, you knew the Tower would be overflowing with Avengers, allies, and anyone with a good excuse to sneak in. Y/N stepped out of her room on Floor 23, already wondering if she could survive a night surrounded by Tony’s “friends” — people she mostly knew by reputation or by what her father had described in rushed phone calls that were more apologies than explanations. The music was loud, the kind of pulsing, electric mix that made the floor vibrate under her boots. She felt a familiar zing of nerves but also a strange warmth, like maybe this was the kind of chaos she could get used to. Tony was in full dad mode, wearing sunglasses indoors, holding a drink, and running around making sure everyone had what they needed. “Y/N!” he called from the kitchen. “You made it. Come meet the important people who matter.” She smirked. “You mean the people who kept your tech from self-destructing?” He laughed, waving her over. The crowd was a mix of familiar faces and new ones. Steve was charming someone near the buffet, Thor was explaining something about Pop-Tarts to an increasingly confused Sam, and Natasha was… well, Natasha was leaning against the wall, looking unimpressed but secretly enjoying herself. Bucky stood near the edge of the room, arms crossed, eyes on Y/N like she was a flame he couldn’t quite look away from. Y/N caught his gaze and gave a small, playful raise of her eyebrow. Tony nudged her. “Go on. Say hi.” She stepped forward and bumped into Sam, who grinned. “Hey, Y/N. Heard about your superspeed.” Y/N shrugged. “It’s a good party trick.” Thor suddenly approached, holding a plate stacked high with Pop-Tarts. “You must try. They are delicious.” Y/N took one, bit it, and made a face. “Too sweet. I’m more of a black coffee and sarcasm kind of girl.” The night rolled on in a haze of laughter and storytelling. Y/N found herself drawn to the quieter corners, and somehow that always seemed to lead back to Bucky. Finally, the music shifted. A slow, steady beat filled the room. Tony clapped his hands. “Alright, everyone! Dance time. And yes, Y/N, you have to dance. No excuses.” Bucky’s eyes found Y/N again. He took a step forward. Y/N smirked but didn’t move away. “Dance with me?” he asked quietly. The room seemed to blur. She nodded. They moved to the center of the floor, the noise fading into the background. Bucky’s hand found hers — steady, sure. Y/N let herself relax against him. For the first time since she arrived, she wasn’t the daughter of a genius billionaire. She was just Y/N. And Bucky? He was more than the Winter Soldier. He was something soft and real. The music slowed, and so did their breathing. No words needed. Just the quiet certainty of a dance, a glance, and the start of something new. The party had settled into a hum of laughter and scattered conversations when Y/N found herself standing in front of Bucky’s door.

She hesitated for a heartbeat.

Then knocked.

Bucky opened it, his usual guarded expression softening the moment she stepped inside.

The room was dimly lit, personal, with photos pinned to the wall and a guitar resting in the corner.

Y/N glanced around and then up at him.

“Nice place,” she said, kicking off her boots.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “It’s home.”

They settled onto the couch, not quite touching but close enough that silence felt natural.

“I’m glad you asked me to dance,” Y/N said after a moment.

Bucky’s eyes met hers. “Me too.”

They talked—slow, easy conversation about things neither usually said out loud.

Her voice softened when she spoke about Hydra, about being gone for so long.

He shared quiet stories about his past, about finding purpose again.

No pressure. No grand declarations. Just two people finally letting their walls down.

When Y/N leaned her head on his shoulder, Bucky didn’t pull away.

For once, the night was theirs. Then he kissed her like he’d been waiting — like every missed glance, every sparring match, every smirk had been building to this. She kissed back like she’d been searching for something and just found it. There was no hesitation anymore.

His hands slid slowly, reverently, around her waist, drawing her in until she could feel his heartbeat against her own. Her fingers found the edges of his shirt, tugging it upward, and he let her. Their mouths never left each other as the fabric disappeared piece by piece. Her hands roamed over his chest, feeling the heat of him, the scar tissue, the muscle — and he let out a quiet groan against her neck that made her heart stutter.

She whispered his name and he froze, forehead pressed to hers. “Tell me to stop,” he rasped, voice strained.

“I won’t,” she breathed. “Don’t even think about it.”

And that was all it took. He kissed her again, harder this time, walking her back until she hit the mattress and fell into it with a soft thud. He followed, his body blanketing hers with warmth and tension and need. Every movement was deliberate, every touch a conversation. There was a tenderness in the way he peeled away her layers, kissing the skin he uncovered, trailing his lips along her collarbone, her shoulder, her chest — and when her shirt was gone, he just stared for a second, eyes soft and hungry all at once.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, barely a whisper.

She pulled him down by the necklace at his throat. “Then do something about it.”

They moved together like it had always been inevitable — months of tension unraveling all at once. He took his time, mapping her body with hands that had only known violence and now wanted to memorize softness. She arched into him, breath hitching, head thrown back, and the way he looked at her made her feel like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

When he finally pushed into her, slow and deep, she gasped his name. He kissed her temple, her jaw, her lips — every part of her he could reach — while they found a rhythm that felt like coming home. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t clumsy. It was honest, raw, and overwhelming in the best way. Her nails dragged across his back, his grip tightened on her thigh, and their bodies moved like they’d done this a hundred times in dreams.

And when she came undone beneath him, head buried in his shoulder, he wasn’t far behind, whispering her name like a prayer.

They lay tangled in the sheets afterward, chests heaving, slick with sweat and barely touching because it was too much and not enough.

He pulled her against him, pressing a kiss to her hair. “You okay?”

She looked up, cheeks flushed, eyes bright. “More than okay. You?”

He smiled — a real one, rare and warm. “Yeah. You ruined me.”

She laughed softly, burying her face in his chest. “Good.”

The next morning, the training room buzzed with energy.

Y/N was already warming up when Bucky walked in, a determined look on his face.

“Ready to get your ass kicked?” he teased.

“Oh, you’re on,” Y/N replied with a grin.

What followed was an intense, breathless hour of drills, sparring, and sprinting.

Bucky was relentless, pushing her to her limits.

Y/N matched him move for move, her powers giving her an edge, but Bucky’s experience kept her honest.

They laughed through the exhaustion, exchanged sharp jabs of sarcasm, and shared those fleeting glances that meant more than words.

At one point, Y/N surprised him by pulling off a move he hadn’t seen coming.

He shook his head, impressed. “Okay, Stark. You’re full of surprises.”

She smirked, wiping sweat from her brow. “You have no idea.”

By the end, they were both dripping, breathless, but the atmosphere was electric.

They’d tested boundaries—not just physical, but emotional.

And neither wanted to stop.

In the days that followed, Y/N’s presence became a new constant.

She joined Natasha and Wanda for late-night strategy talks, offering sharp insights and a steady voice.

With Steve and Sam, she ran drills and shared stories from her years in hiding, slowly earning their respect.

Tony hovered in the background, proud but trying not to smother.

JARVIS was her unofficial partner in crime, managing everything from playlist curation to subtle tech pranks.

Bucky found himself often at her side, whether it was cooking disasters in the kitchen (courtesy of Natasha’s famous inability to cook) or quiet walks on the rooftop.

During one particular evening, Y/N and Bucky caught Thor debating the merits of Pop-Tarts versus pancakes in the dining hall.

“Pancakes are fluffier,” Y/N argued, crossing her arms.

“But Pop-Tarts are eternal,” Thor insisted, brandishing a tart like a weapon.

Bucky chuckled. “I’ll take the fluff, thanks.”

The team laughed together, sharing moments that weren’t about missions or powers but about being a family.

Y/N realized that even after everything she’d been through, this—these people—were her home now.

[maeintree]

the crown keeps moving ₊˚⊹ ── l. laufeyson

when the heir to asgard starts pulling away, old tensions resurface. he's not ready. his father doesn’t care. and the crown keeps moving forward, with or without him.

pairing/s: loki x queen!reader (established) warnings: canon divergence (loki becomes king by abdication of thor), heavy dialogue, political intrigue, father-son conflict, royal court drama, legacy angst, arranged marriage, crown tension, jötunn lore, power imbalance, sharp language, emotional hurt/comfort author's note: i've been out of writing for so long because of so much stuff happening and i honestly just stopped because i felt insecure of how i wrote. but now, i really don't care. i hope to whoever this comes up to you, you enjoy it. xx. w/c: 6.4k

This was usually a shot in the dark.

Heimdall couldn’t (or, wouldn’t) find him. That alone said enough.

Your son had never been particularly fond of authority, least of all yours. And with Loki now seated on the throne after a stunning display of diplomacy and deceit that neither you nor the council had managed to fully unravel, your son had become increasingly difficult to track.

The boy was slipping. No, not slipping—choosing.

And now he was here. On Midgard.

You stepped over a gutter, already regretting the decision to wear these so-called boots—thick-soled, clunky things that trapped heat and bent your gait into something unnatural. The jeans itched at the seams. You missed your robes, your leathers. You missed breathing air that wasn’t full of fried meat and synthetic perfume and rubber.

You hated Midgard.

It wasn’t a realm. It was a mess. Everything was buzzing or blinking or yelling. There was no silence. No grace. No reverence for anything except money and men who exploded things for sport.

Maybe you just hated.. New York. 

But your son loved it. Or rather, he loved what he could be here. 

No expectations. No legacy trailing behind him. No one whispering his name like a question mark at the end of a bloodline.

Just a boy with magic in his veins and his father’s grin on his face. Free to disappear into the back rooms of smoke-filled clubs, or charm his way into the penthouses of politicians’ daughters, or start bar fights with rednecks who didn’t know any better.

He wasn’t here to learn. He wasn’t here to grow. He was here to feel. To touch. To indulge. And maybe to have more bastards than you might admit. 

You paused outside a building with red lighting in the windows. Music pulsed faintly from beneath its foundation, bass-heavy, numbing. A line of mortals waited to get inside, their bodies exposed to the night air in scraps of sequins and synthetic fabric. Why do they torture themselves like this? 

You felt eyes on you. The kind of stare that wasn’t admiration or threat, but confusion. You didn’t look like them. Not exactly. Your hair was too neat. Your posture too straight. Your face too still.

You ignored the stares.

He’d be somewhere like this. Not the popular clubs, not the polished, glossy rooftops the Avengers flocked to after a long day of “saving the world.” He’d go underground. Where there were shadows and soft mouths and quick hands. Somewhere he could vanish into sex and smoke and pretend, for a night, that he didn’t come from anything at all.

And the worst part?

You understood.

That’s what made it difficult. You understood the hunger he had, for anonymity, for freedom, for pleasure. For the kind of recklessness Loki had once worn like a cloak.

He was his father’s son.

Which meant he was not safe.

You glanced up.

No signage. No symbols. Just the thump of bass bleeding through brick, and a bouncer standing with arms crossed, watching you like he couldn’t decide whether to flirt or run.

You stepped forward, your chin lifting slightly. Composed. Unbothered by the sweat-thick heat rolling from the doors behind him.

“I’m looking for someone,” you said, calm, clipped, exact.

The bouncer didn’t even look up at first. “Yeah? So’s everybody. Keep it movin’, lady.”

You didn’t blink. “He’ll be the only one in there who doesn’t want to be found.”

That made him pause. Just for a second. Like the words hit somewhere deeper than he meant to let show.

He looked up at you fully then, brow raised. “You one of those?” 

You didn’t answer. Just stepped forward.

The bouncer leaned back, gave a low whistle through his teeth.

“Vali’s at the whorehouse,” he muttered, half amused, half pitying. “Good luck with that one.”

The heat hit first—humid, sticky, and loud.

Inside, the place was packed. Bodies everywhere. Sweat in the air. Music so loud it rattled in your chest, something electronic with a pop hook you couldn’t make out over the bass.

Strobe lights flashed hard and fast, cutting across the crowd like searchlights. Everyone was dancing, or grinding, or too drunk to know the difference.

From behind you, someone shouted—

“Hey, why does she get to go in? What about us?”

And somewhere in this chaos, your son was doing exactly what you feared.

Why on earth did you let Loki stay with him again? 

You stared at the clock on the club’s wall like it might start making sense if you glared hard enough.

It didn’t.

Some blinking digital mess of numbers—1:42 apparently—glowed red against fake wood paneling. 

You muttered under your breath, tugged the strap of your ridiculous “watch” one last time, and walked.

The hallway was dim, walls covered in fake velvet. A man at the end—some kind of bouncer—held up a hand. How many “bouncers” does this place need?

“Ma’am, those rooms are—”

You looked him in the eye, already too tired to argue.

He blinked once, stumbled slightly, then stepped aside like he’d changed his mind mid-thought.

You walked past.

The first door you opened, someone shrieked and threw a bottle. The second, there was too much movement to bother explaining. You closed it quickly.

By the time you reached the last room, you already knew.

The air reeked. The bass of some Midgardian music pulsed through the walls like a heartbeat in heat. You didn’t hesitate. No knocking. No warning.

You just turned the handle and walked in.

And there he was.

Váli.

Stretched carelessly across a bed that wasn’t his, like he owned the whole fucking building.

The sheet was tangled loosely around his hips—barely. His torso was exposed, pale skin marbled with shadow where the streetlight bled in through the half-open blinds. Muscle carved sharp across his shoulders, his abdomen lean, his collarbones dusted with faint blue veins like old ink. Scars dotted his left side—quiet things, healed-over and half-forgotten.

His arm was slung across his face, as if the light offended him. One leg hung off the edge of the bed, foot bare, the other bent at the knee. He looked like someone trying not to care.

And failing.

His raven-dark hair was a little longer than the last time you'd seen him. Mussed. A curl clung to his jaw.

Beside him, a girl sat up fast. Mascara smeared under her eyes, mouth still swollen from kissing. The sheet clutched to her chest like it could somehow shield her from the reality walking through the door.

“Who the fuck are you?” she snapped.

You didn’t look at her. You barely even blinked.

You reached—not for a weapon, not yet—but for the thread of seidr beneath your skin. It answered like breath to lungs, like it had been waiting.

The Midgardian clothes disappeared in a shimmer of silver and frost. The turtleneck, the jeans—they folded into nothing. Replaced by your leathers—Asgardian black, panel-stitched and trimmed in deep green, light but regal, sharp at the waist. The vambraces coiled up your arms. The air around you cooled a fraction. 

That felt amazing.

The girl gasped, grabbing her garments.

She didn’t argue. No one ever really did. She scrambled out without shoes.

Silence fell.

Váli finally moved, dragging his arm off his face.

And when he saw you, he blinked once. Not in shock—no, he was never that foolish—but in quiet, biting realization.

“Mother,” he said dryly, voice still sleep-hoarse. “What a surprise.”

You looked at your son. He still hadn’t moved. Just looked and squinted at you like you were interrupting something boring.

“Usually,” you said, stepping closer, “your father is the one who comes to collect you. And yet. Here I am.”

He didn’t reply.

You exhaled, short and sharp. “Thor returned from Vanaheim tonight.”

That got him to sit up, slowly, the sheet gathering around his hips.

“And?” he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair.

“And,” you snapped, “Asgard is watching. Everyone is watching. And where is the heir? Where is the prince?”

You gestured around the room. It didn’t need explaining—used glasses, a wine bottle on its side, a discarded bra near the wall.

“Here,” you finished. “Sweating through mortal linen and pretending he’s not some god.”

His jaw flexed, but he didn’t speak. You kept going.

“There are more than enough brothels in Asgard. If that’s all you came for—fine. We have them. Discreet ones. Ones that don’t smell like damp carpet and desperation.”

He looked up at you, face unreadable. “I didn’t come here for sex.”

You stared at him for a beat.

“Then what?” you asked, voice low. “What is it this time? What exactly is so impossible about being home while your uncle—who hasn’t stepped foot in the golden city in two centuries—is welcomed back like a son? What’s so hard about being present for five hours of your immortal life?”

He looked away.

You stepped closer. “I had to leave a council meeting. I had to lie. And do you want to know the worst part?”

He didn’t respond.

You leaned in. “No one was surprised you weren’t there.”

That landed. His shoulders shifted, eyes falling to the floor.

You straightened. “Get dressed. You’ve got less than an hour. We’re leaving before dawn.”

You turned, hand already on the door.

“Why didn’t Father come?” he asked quietly.

You stopped.

“Because he’s king now,” you said. “And unlike you, he showed up for it.”

The flash of the Bifrost faded behind your heels, and the wind of Asgard hit your face like a balm—clean, thin, cold. A realm that remembered how to breathe properly. Finally.

Heimdall stood at the bridge, hands behind his back, gaze already locked on yours. Too calm. Too unreadable.

“Welcome back, My Queen,” he said, nodding. “And Prince Váli.”

Váli brushed past you in silence, walking ahead with the practiced indifference of someone who knew every eye was on him and chose not to care.

You didn’t follow immediately. You stepped toward Heimdall, kept your voice low, sharp.

“I don’t know what bet you two have,” you said, voice even but unmistakably sharp. “But I am your queen, Heimdall. And the next time my son disappears for two weeks and you conveniently can’t see him? You will tell me where he is.”

Heimdall’s jaw ticked. “It will not happen again, Your Majesty.”

You watched him for a beat longer, until his eyes dropped—just slightly—in guilt.

Then you turned and walked.

The palace doors opened before you like breath held too long. The guards lining the hall immediately dropped to one knee, hands over chests.

“My Queen. Prince Váli.”

The echo of your steps stretched across the floor like a quiet warning. Váli didn’t respond, didn’t even glance at them. You could feel the tension coming off him in waves.

You didn’t break stride. Through the gold doors and into the private dining room.

And there they were.

Loki lounged at the end of the table, a half-finished plate in front of him, sipping something dark from a silver cup. Your daughter—Idunn—sat beside him, legs tucked beneath her, a basket of sewing in her lap. Her fingers moved through green silk like it was second nature.

She looked up first.

“Ah,” she said with a grin. “Come back from Midgard, older brother? Did you have fun?”

Váli stopped walking.

His jaw clenched. “Fuck off.”

“Mind your tone,” you said calmly, without looking at him.

“Not in front of your sister,” Loki added lightly, not bothering to look up from his plate. “We do try to set a baseline of civility in this house.”

Váli ignored both of you, stepping around the table and dragging out a chair farthest from them all. He dropped into it like the weight of the Bifrost still clung to his boots.

Idunn raised a brow. “That bad?”

“Idunn,” you warned.

She held up her hands. “I’m just saying. He looks like he fell in a river.”

“I look fine,” Váli muttered, stabbing a piece of bread off a plate he hadn’t been invited to.

Loki finally looked up.

His eyes flicked to you, then to his son. “Were you difficult?”

Váli didn’t answer.

Loki sighed and set down his cup. “You know, when I vanished, it was at least interesting. You? You vanish and get caught in some back alley with mortals and no shoes on. Where’s the art in that?”

Váli glared at him. “Did you bring me back just to mock me?”

“Mock?” Loki echoed, mockingly. “Never. I’m concerned. That you’ve turned out so—” Loki chuckles “—predictable.”

“Enough.” You cut in before Váli could rise from his chair. “I didn’t drag him back for theatre.”

Loki tilted his head, then looked at Váli again—longer this time. “Thor’s here.”

Váli scoffed. “Great.”

“Try again,” you said.

“Great,” Váli repeated, flatter.

Idunn bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

Loki smirked, but it faded. “He asked about you. I told him you were… busy.”

“I was,” Váli said dryly. “Midgard’s women don’t seem to get bored.”

“Váli,” you said.

“No, let him talk,” Loki replied, voice still light but eyes harder now. “Let’s see how far the prince can dig.”

Váli shoved his chair back, standing. “You want to scold me? Fine. Scold me. Just stop pretending you care when all you really want is a puppet that behaves.”

Loki stood too, not quickly, but with purpose. “You think I don’t care? I know exactly what it’s like to have no one expect better of you. I’m trying to do better with you.”

“By humiliating me?”

“No,” Loki said, voice low now. “By not letting you rot. By making sure you don’t become what they always said I was.”

There was a pause.

Then Váli muttered, “Too late,” and turned for the door.

You caught his arm before he could pass.

“No.”

He stopped.

Your voice was calm. Quiet. But final.

“You don’t get to walk out. Not from me. Not from your father. Not from this.”

He didn’t look at you, but he didn’t pull away either.

“Sit,” you said.

And slowly, he did.

Loki watched you both, then sat again himself. Idunn went back to her sewing like nothing had happened.

The door creaked open before anyone could speak again, and you didn’t have to look to know who it was.

“Is that my favorite niece I hear giggling like a brook?” came Thor’s voice, loud and warm and far too cheery for the hour.

He was through the door in seconds—broader than ever, hair longer now and tied back in thick braids that swung over his shoulders as he strode in like a storm in summer. His armor was still dusted with Vanaheim soil, and the faint clink of his greaves echoed through the chamber like a heartbeat.

Idunn squealed with delight.

“Uncle Thor!”

She tossed her embroidery aside and ran to him. He didn’t hesitate—just scooped her into his arms and spun her around once, twice, her laughter ringing through the hall like music. Her feet barely hit the floor before she was tugging something from behind her ear.

“A flower crown,” she grinned, pulling a half-woven loop of pale yellow and green from her sewing basket. “It’s not finished, but you need something ridiculous.”

Thor laughed, huge and unbothered. “I am honored,” he said, bowing low as she placed it over his braids. It sat askew, too small for his head, but he wore it like a circlet of gold.

Loki looked like he might roll his eyes into the next realm.

“Váli,” Thor said, turning now, that same grin stretching across his face. “Still brooding, are we?”

Váli gave a sharp, reluctant nod of respect. “Uncle.”

“Why so uptight, hm?” Thor asked, walking to the table and clapping a heavy hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You look like someone told you the ale’s been watered down.”

“It has,” Loki murmured into his cup.

Thor chuckled, then looked between you all. “What’s happened? You all look like a trial just ended.”

You exhaled through your nose and sat again, not quite bothering to hide the weight in your posture. “He disappeared for two weeks on Midgard. Slipped Heimdall’s sight. Ended up in a brothel.”

Váli snapped upright, incredulous. “Really? Tell the entire nine realms, why don’t you?”

Thor’s hand dropped from his shoulder.

Loki sipped again, entirely unfazed. “She did.”

You looked at Váli calmly. “If you wanted it kept quiet, you should’ve kept yourself quiet.”

Idunn had taken her seat again but was watching intently now, the flower thread forgotten in her lap.

Váli muttered under his breath, “I didn’t ask to be dragged back like a criminal.”

“You’re not a criminal,” you said. “You’re a prince. Which makes this worse.”

Thor cleared his throat. “Is... this what I walked into, then?”

“Yes,” Loki said.

“No,” you said at the same time.

Thor blinked, slightly lost. “Should I—?”

“Sit down,” you told him gently.

He obeyed, flower crown still crooked, braid catching in the back of the chair.

Silence fell again—less tense now, more awkward. Thor cleared his throat.

“Well,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “At least he’s back.”

“Mm,” you hummed. “For now.”

Váli didn’t say anything.

Thor had just finished gnawing on a heel of bread when Loki finally set his cup down.

“Well,” he said, drawing out the word. “There’s a feast in the works. The kitchens are full, the halls are being set, and apparently the musicians are rehearsing in the West Courtyard. All in honor of our prodigal brother’s return.”

Thor grinned. “You didn’t have to do that, brother.”

“I did,” Loki said. “It was the only way to keep the council from making you sit through three hours of policy updates on..” A sigh comes out. “Vanaheim trade routes.”

Thor laughed. “A feast is the better torture, I’ll admit.”

Loki tilted his head, that quiet, long-smile playing at his mouth. “A king suits you well, brother.”

“And you,” Thor said, catching his gaze across the table, “wear it more easily than I ever could’ve imagined.”

Loki raised a brow—and flicked a peanut at him.

Thor caught it in his mouth midair without blinking.

Idunn clapped her hands once. “Again!”

Loki ignored her. “We’ll eat in the eastern wing tonight. I want the royal court in green, nothing too stiff. We aren’t parading, we’re celebrating.”

You were already rising from your seat. “I’ll have my attendants meet us in the antechamber.”

Thor stood too. “I should see to my men.”

Idunn followed, pulling the tangled threads of her sewing basket into her arms. “If there’s music, I want to pick it.”

“You may,” Loki said, already waving her off, “if it’s not tragic and doesn’t last nine minutes per movement.”

You touched Váli’s shoulder lightly as you passed. “Come. We need to—”

“No,” Loki said, suddenly.

You stopped mid-step.

“He stays,” Loki said, voice even. “I’d like a moment with my son.”

You met his eyes—calm, unreadable—and after a beat, gave a small nod. Then turned and walked out with the others.

“Come now, my love,” you said gently, reaching for your daughter’s hand. “Shall we braid your hair—”

Your voice softened into a murmur just as the guards closed the door behind you.

Váli didn’t move, slouching in his chair, one leg lazily crossed. “So,” he muttered, “we’re doing the fatherly wisdom thing now?”

Loki didn’t answer.

He turned toward the servants at the edge of the room. “The tea,” he said. “Leave it. Then go.”

The servants bowed, placed the silver tray down, and slipped out without a sound.

The room was quiet again.

Loki took his time, pouring the tea into two matching cups.

“Sit properly,” he said without looking up.

Váli sighed dramatically and leaned forward.

Loki passed him the cup. “Drink it.”

“I’m not poisoned, you know.”

“If I wanted you dead, Váli,” Loki said with a dry smile, “you wouldn’t wake up in a brothel.”

That shut him up—for a second.

Loki settled back in his chair, watching him. “You need to stop stressing your mother out.”

“She’s fine.”

“She is not,” Loki said, sharper now. “And frankly, neither am I.”

Váli scoffed. “It was two weeks. I’m not a child.”

“No,” Loki agreed, “you are not. You are a prince. And despite your best efforts to behave like a stray cat with a drinking habit, you are being watched.”

Váli drank his tea, not looking at him. “Then maybe stop watching.”

“I don’t watch because I have to,” Loki said. “I watch because I know. I know what it’s like to vanish into the underbelly of a realm that doesn’t love you. I know what it’s like to think that pleasure will fill the void. But you are not me. You were raised in a palace, by two parents who did not lie about where you came from.”

“Must be nice,” Váli muttered.

“It was meant to be,” Loki said, more quiet now. “But you’ve taken that gift and twisted it into entitlement. If you want to run, then run. But do not expect silence when you return.”

Váli tapped the rim of his cup with his nail. “So, what, this is a royal guilt trip?”

“This is a royal warning,” Loki said. “You are not a boy anymore. If you want to disappear, I will let you. But next time you crawl back, do not expect your mother to find you before I do.”

Váli glanced up at that.

Loki leaned forward slightly.

“Do not think me soft, simply because I became a better man than the one who made me.”

Silence. The kind that weighed.

Váli finally looked down, quieter now. “It wasn’t just for fun.”

Loki didn’t blink. “What was it, then?”

“I don’t know,” Váli admitted. “I felt... restless. Like everything here is already decided for me. And Midgard... doesn’t care.”

“No,” Loki said, “it doesn’t. And that is not freedom. That is apathy.”

Váli didn’t respond.

Loki stood.

“We feast tonight,” he said, turning toward the window. “Show up like a prince, or don’t show up at all.”

He paused. “And cut your hair. You’re starting to look like your uncle.”

The feast was already underway when Váli reentered the great hall.

He stood in the archway for a moment, newly shorn hair brushing just under his ears, still damp from a rushed rinse. He was in his court tunic—green, like his father’s—and his boots had actually been polished. He looked younger without the length. Less wild. But also less certain of himself.

You spotted him instantly.

And your mouth tightened.

“What did you do to your hair?”

He walked past you without answering.

You didn’t let him get far. “Váli.”

He stopped, shoulders raised slightly like he already regretted coming back.

You stepped in front of him. “You didn’t need to listen to him. It was a jest.”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”

You looked at him harder. “You are not here to mirror anyone, least of all to prove something.”

“I’m here,” he said simply, “and I’m dressed. Isn’t that enough?”

He walked off before you could reply.

Behind you, the great doors thundered open again, and the crowd erupted into cheers.

You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

Loki entered in his full regalia—robes cut in black and green, embroidered with gold threads so fine they caught the firelight like stars. His hair, usually left loose past his shoulders, was pulled back now into a neat knot, sharp and deliberate. The crown rested just above the bun, black metal woven with emerald detailing, not overly ornate, but unmistakable.

A king’s crown.

You stared at him from across the hall.

He walked toward you slowly, face calm, the weight of the room moving with him like gravity. Everyone was watching. Fandral, Volstagg, and the rest were already halfway into their cups, roaring about boar and song, but Loki's eyes were only on you.

“You let him cut it?” you asked quietly when he reached you.

“It was warm,” he said simply. “And I thought it might be nice to see his ears again.”

You stared at him.

“Don’t encourage him,” you said under your breath, glancing toward Váli across the room.

“I told him to cut it, not butcher it,” Loki muttered back, dry. “He took it as a divine command.”

You shook your head. “You are—”

“—remarkably attractive this evening?” he offered, smiling sideways.

You opened your mouth, ready to scold, but the look in his eyes made it falter. He wasn’t teasing—not entirely. The compliment was quiet, meant only for you.

Your gown shimmered in the torchlight—deep green velvet, your hair wound up in thin braids woven through with small silver fastenings. You’d worn your formal cuffs, too—symbols of your house, of your station. You looked every bit the queen you didn’t always have time to be.

Loki reached for your hand, brushing his lips over your knuckles. “You are... breathtaking.”

Before you could respond, Idunn reappeared between you.

“Ugh,” she said loudly. “Do you two have to be like this in public?”

You gave her a pointed look. “You’re not even supposed to be here. You should’ve stayed seated until—”

But she was already gone—darting off toward Thor, who caught her mid-run and swung her into the air again like she weighed nothing.

Loki let out a sigh through his nose. “At least one of our children knows how to enjoy a party.”

You turned toward Váli.

He hadn’t moved.

He sat near the end of the long table, posture too straight, fingers locked loosely around a goblet he hadn’t touched. Around him, Fandral was laughing loudly, red-faced, throwing back more ale while regaling someone with a tale that probably wasn’t true. Across from him, Hogun was nodding along, uninterested but polite.

Váli looked like he wasn’t even in the room.

You touched Loki’s arm. “He’s not well.”

“I know.”

“He’s trying.”

“I know that, too.”

“You could—”

“I am trying,” Loki said quietly, eyes still on him. “More than anyone ever tried for me.”

You both watched him for a moment longer.

Then Loki turned to the crowd, raised a hand, and the music swelled.

“Eat, drink, sing,” he called, voice carrying across the stone and silk. “Tonight, we are together. And that alone is reason to celebrate.”

The cheers answered back instantly, mugs raised and voices loud.

But Váli didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Just sat there, while the world turned and the hall roared with life around him.

The hall outside your chambers was quiet now. The feast had died down hours ago. Even the laughter from the guards had faded into soft murmurs and echoing footsteps. It was the kind of silence you only got after wine, music, and exhaustion had finally let go of the palace.

Inside, Idunn was already fast asleep—curled up across the wide settee with one arm dangling off the edge, still half in her formal gown, her hair coming undone in tangled braids. You tucked a blanket around her shoulders, brushed a strand off her cheek.

“She didn’t even try,” you muttered, softly amused.

“She never does,” came Loki’s voice behind you. “Just like her mother.”

You left the room quiet, stepping into the adjoining chambers, where the wind from the open balcony fluttered through sheer curtains.

Váli stood outside alone, leaning on the edge of the stone balustrade, the dark sky washing his face pale blue. He wasn’t moving. Not in the way someone watched stars or took in the view. He was just there. Still. Contained.

You didn’t call to him.

You let him have it—whatever silence he needed.

You crossed to the opposite side of the room, into the cool air, standing near the open window. The sky stretched endlessly in front of you. Silver clouds. Thin stars.

The fabric of your nightgown shifted as Loki came up behind you, quiet as always. His hands slipped around your waist before you heard him speak. The way he touched you was slow—deliberate. Not rushed. Not playful. Familiar.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmured into the curve of your shoulder. “Gods, I’ve been so busy.”

You felt his lips graze your skin—your shoulder, then up the side of your neck. His breath warmed your jaw.

“So busy,” he whispered. “From my queen.”

His hand slid lower, over the soft folds of your gown and down toward your thigh.

You reached back to stop him—gently—and turned your head just enough to catch his lips in a quiet, searching kiss.

When you pulled away, you kept your voice low.

“It’s time, isn’t it?”

Loki rested his forehead against yours.

There was a pause. Then a sigh.

“Thor spoke with me after the feast,” he said. “Vanaheim is... getting louder. Their nobles want assurance. One daughter. Eight brothers. No marriage alliance. It’s starting to look like an insult.”

You nodded once.

“And how exactly do we explain giving up our daughter to settle a kingdom’s temper?”

Loki drew in a slow breath. “We don’t.”

“What does that mean?”

“We shift focus.”

You stiffened slightly, pulling back enough to look at him.

He hesitated.

Then: “Váli.”

“No,” you said immediately, stepping away from his arms. “No. Loki, no.”

“Just listen—”

“He won’t do it,” you said. “He won’t.”

“He might.”

“He won’t.”

Loki’s voice stayed calm. “They’re asking for strength. They’ll respect bloodline, not temperament. And he’s still—”

“He’s barely holding together now,” you snapped. “You want to throw him into a marriage with a woman he doesn’t know, to keep Vanaheim calm? He can barely be in the same room with Thor without looking like he wants to disappear.”

“I know that,” Loki said. “But if it’s not him—”

“It’s not Idunn,” you said sharply, then quieter. “She’s too young. And too... her. She doesn’t know how to navigate court. She still talks to her embroidery, and Thor.."

“I know,” Loki said again, slower this time. “Which is why it has to be Váli.”

You exhaled, hard.

“And what happens when he finds out we’ve been discussing it without him?”

“He’ll hate it,” Loki said simply.

You turned to him. “And you’re fine with that?”

“No,” he said. “But I’m king. I don’t have the luxury of waiting for everyone to feel ready.”

The wind pushed against the curtains again.

Out on the balcony, Váli hadn’t moved.

“He’s not going to agree to this,” you said. “You know that.”

Loki walked toward you again, quieter now.

“He doesn’t have to agree,” he said. “He just has to show up.”

You stared at him for a long time.

Then whispered, “You sound like your father.”

Loki flinched. It wasn’t a wound, but it hit.

“I’m trying not to be,” he said softly. “I’m trying.”

You looked away again, out into the sky. The stars were still there. Distant. Quiet.

“How long do we have?”

“A week,” he said. “Maybe less.”

You exhaled.

And then, more quietly: “He’ll never forgive us.”

Loki stepped beside you, hand resting lightly against your back.

“No,” he said. “But maybe he’ll survive it.”

The council chamber was colder in the morning.

No fire. No wine. No servants. No distractions.

Just the two of you, adding to one. Who is currently late.

You stood near the long table, dressed in muted green court robes, your hands folded calmly even as your jaw clenched.

Loki sat at the head, crown already in place, dark robes tailored sharp as glass. His expression was unreadable. Controlled. As always.

The door opened with a dull thud.

Váli entered with slow steps, still tugging on the sleeve of his tunic. His jaw was tight, eyes a little bloodshot. He strided in confidently.

“Really?” he muttered, glancing around. “The council chamber? This feels dramatic.”

“Sit,” Loki said.

“I’d rather stand,” Váli replied without pause.

Loki didn’t blink. “It wasn’t a request.”

Váli gave a half-laugh, dry. “Oh, we’re doing that today.”

You took a breath, stepping forward slightly. “We brought you here because this isn’t something to discuss in front of others. This isn’t—”

“Let me guess,” Váli cut in. “Some realm needs a favor, some old king has a daughter, and now I’m the solution. I marry her, there’s a feast, some empty promises, and everyone’s happy.”

He continues. "Isn't this Idunn's job?"

"Do not speak ill of your sister, Váli." Loki grunts.

You hesitated. Just for a second.

That was enough.

He laughed once—ugly. Bitter.

“Oh, you’re kidding,” he said. “That’s really it? That’s why you came to Midgard yourself? Not because I was missing. Not because I could’ve been dead in a ditch. You dragged me out of that realm because I’ve got just the right face to whore out for political stability?”

“Watch your tongue,” Loki said sharply.

But Váli didn’t stop.

“No wonder you didn’t send guards,” he spat. “Would’ve been too cold. And you—” he turned to you suddenly, voice rising, “you woke me like you missed me. Like you gave a shit. The whole time, this was it?”

You took a step toward him. “Váli, that is enough—”

“No, it’s not,” he shouted. “Because this is a fucking pattern. I vanish for two weeks and you show up when it’s convenient. You don’t come to find me. You come to use me.”

“You will not speak to her that way,” Loki said, rising to his feet.

Váli turned on him. “Why not? You do.”

The words hit.

Your breath caught. Loki’s face didn’t change—but something shifted in the air.

“What did you say?” he said, voice low, tight.

“You treat her like she’s a piece of this fucking palace,” Váli snapped. “Something that serves a purpose. Like me. Like Idunn. You think that crown gives you the right to decide where we go, who we become—”

“I am your king,” Loki roared, stepping forward now, voice thunder through stone. “And she is your queen. You will not speak to us this way.”

Váli didn’t back down.

“No,” he growled. “You’re my father, and you barely know how to be that. You sit on that throne and pretend this family’s not breaking while you talk about strategy and bloodlines and positioning like it’s not tearing everyone apart.”

“You are not a victim,” Loki snapped, voice edged and rising. “You are not some lost boy wandering the woods, Váli. You are a prince. Spoken of in halls you’ve never even seen. You carry a name carved in realms beyond this one. Do you really believe this life is a punishment?”

Váli didn’t flinch. His jaw clenched. “It’s a fucking cage.”

Loki’s gaze turned cold. “It is a birthright.”

“Then you can have it,” Váli shouted, stepping forward, fire catching in his chest. “You wanted it so badly, didn’t you? The crown, the throne, the halls and titles—you burned the world for it. So take mine. Add it to yours. Wear both.”

Loki froze. For half a breath, the room stilled with him.

Then, lower—quieter, but far more dangerous:

“You think I wanted this?” he said. “Do not speak of crowns as if they are gifts. I bled for what I have. I was cast out for it. Mocked. Used.”

Váli shook his head, eyes sharp. “And now you do the same to me.”

“I am your father.”

“Then listen to me.”

They stood across from each other, fire and frost locked between them.

Loki’s stare didn’t break.

But Váli pressed forward, bitter now, his voice thinner, tighter: “You don’t listen. You never have. You speak like a king, but you hear nothing. You sit on a throne you once called a lie—and now you pass it on to me like it’s some kind of honor.”

“I am trying,” Loki said, low and steady, “to prepare you for what comes next.”

“No,” Váli cut in. “You’re preparing me to be you.”

There was a pause. Thick. Loaded.

And then—sharp and deliberate:

“You’re a coward.”

The word hit like iron.

Loki didn’t react. Not outwardly. Not a twitch. But behind his eyes, something shuttered. Quietly, violently.

Váli wasn’t finished.

“You always have been,” he said. “You ran from Odin. You lied to Mother." He chuckles bitterly, gesturing to you.

"You tore through realms because you couldn’t bear being smaller than Thor. You want me to inherit a throne, but the truth is—” he laughed once, bitter and breathless, “—you’ve never worn one without looking like it might swallow you whole.”

Still, Loki didn’t yell. Didn’t rise. He turned, slowly, walking to the tall window lining the council chamber, the silence deafening in his wake.

“I came here to speak with my son,” he said at last, voice calm and terrifying. “Instead I found a boy pretending to be a man.”

Váli’s chest heaved. His hands were clenched. But he didn’t speak.

And Loki didn’t turn.

“Leave, if that’s what you want.”

Silence.

“Go ahead.”

But Váli didn’t move.

Not yet.

That was when you stepped between them. Quiet. Controlled. But your voice shook—just enough to give yourself away.

“Váli,” you said. “Please.”

He looked at you.

And for just a moment, something cracked. Guilt flashed across his face—brief, aching. But it vanished just as fast.

“I’m not marrying some stranger because Vanaheim wants to play a kingdom,” he said. “I’m not putting on a smile and waving like this is normal. I won’t do it.”

“You don’t have a choice,” Loki said—still facing the window. Cold now. Absolute.

Váli blinked. “What?”

Loki turned back, slowly. “You will marry the girl they’ve chosen. You will secure the peace. And you will do it with pride.”

“I said no.”

“And I said,” Loki stepped forward, voice low, “you don’t have a choice.”

Váli’s eyes burned. “Then you’re not my father.”

A beat passed.

Loki’s face didn’t move, but his voice dropped.

“No,” he said. “Right now—I’m not.”

And with that, he sat again. No flourish. No order. Just one glance—dismissive, surgical.

It hit harder than any raised voice could have.

Váli looked at you again. One last time. There was something pleading in his eyes—like he was daring you to stop this. To choose.

But you didn’t.

You couldn’t.

And then—he turned. And walked out.

The chamber doors closed behind him with a sound that echoed like finality.

For a long moment, you didn’t move. Neither did Loki.

He sat back in the chair, still crowned, still composed—but his hand flexed slightly against the polished wood of the table, like it took everything in him not to shatter something.

You crossed the space between you, slow and steady.

When you reached him, you didn’t speak. You didn’t accuse.

You just reached up, gently, and cupped his face.

He flinched—just slightly. Not from you. But from what he was holding back.

You took his face in both hands.

“Look at me,” you whispered.

He did.

And then, softly: “Is this really the right choice? Are you sure?”

There was a pause.

And Loki, steady, breathing through his nose, said: “Yes.”

You closed your eyes.

Exhaled.

And dropped your hands.

You didn’t argue. You didn’t plead. You stepped back.

One, two paces.

Then turned.

And left.

The great doors opened again, spilling in the cool Asgardian air. Your gown brushed the marble. Your footsteps echoed.

Behind you, Loki remained seated.

Crowned. Composed.

Alone.

i love the thought of loki being a stressed out king with kids. :)

[donteverblameash]

The MCU movies, but I explain them vaguely, unhelpfully, and they read like clickbate YouTube videos.

Under the cut because there are so many of these freaking movies.

Captian America: The First Avenger: Art kid turns into theatre kid after taking steroids and throwing frisbee.

Captian Marvel: Nick Fury makes the first and last good decision in his career by adopting his alien daughter.

Iron Man: First billionaire in the universe deemed redeemable.

Iron Man 2: Tony Stark and the chamber of bad life decisions, ft. Pepper Potts and James Rhodes.

The Incredible Hulk: Not Mark Ruffalo almost dismantles government on anger alone.

Thor: Jock turns soft after eating poptarts and finding love. His brother dies, but don't worry, he'll be back.

The Avengers: Idiots come together to both save and destroy a city.

Thor: The Dark World: No one cares. Brother comes back, dies again, Jock cries. (Emo brother will return.)

Iron Man 3: Billionaire somehow redeems self further and learns the meaning of self. Drops awesome catchphrase to be used later.

Captian America: The Winter Solider: Theatre kid intrudes on innocent man's life with his favorite red-headed assassin to bring down brunette assassin who is actually his old boyfriend.

Guardians of the Galaxy: The original found family destroys foes with the power of friendship and good music taste.

Guardians of the Galaxy Volume 2: Asshole father is asshole father and tries to intrude on found family. Is defeated by the power of friendship and good music taste.

Avengers: Age of Ultron: Idiots come together to both save and destroy a country.

Ant-Man: Marvel finally learned what a good dad is and made said good dad the most relatable dude on earth, ft. ants.

Captian America: Civil War: Idiots solve nothing, meerly destroy themselves as they bare knuckle box in a Waffle House parking lot.

Black Widow: Doomed sisters and their mentally unstable parents destroy us with love and Don McLean.

Spider-Man: Homecoming: Young man's problems are just beginning, and I relate too much.

Black Panther: One of the first sensible heroes after Carol Danvers actually tries to fix things.

Doctor Strange: Yes, that is his real name. Defeats villians by annoying them. Absolute powerhouse.

Thor: Ragnarok: Jock, anger issues, emo brother, who is once again alive, and angry woman fight angrier woman due to rapid onset daddy issues.

Ant-Man and the Wasp: Scott continues to be a good dad and saves the day with much cooler bug themed superhero.

Avengers: Infinity war: Idiots come together to both save and destroy the Earth.

Avengers: Endgame: Idiots come together, save the universe, and make us sob and question why we watch these movies at all. Billionaire uses catchphrase.

Spider-man: Far from home: Young man's suffering continues at the hands of man who's too grown for this shit.

Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings: Mean dad beats up son with bracelets.

Eternals: Makes for a good bedtime story.

Spider-Man: No Way Home: Young man is treated like shit by the entire city, and life is ruined, and no one can even care.

Doctor Strange and the Multiverse of Madness: The mulitverse... goes mad.

Thor: Love and Thunder: Awful things happen but no one can take it seriously because the dialogue sounds AI generated.

Black Panther: Wakanda Forever: Marvel gets bored of torturing Peter, so they torture Shuri instead.

Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania: I'm pretty sure there's a message here, but it's disrupted by dialogue that sounds AI generated.

Guardians of the Galaxy Volume 3: Found family power of friendships so hard they disband with good music taste still intact.

The Marvels: Kamala Y/NED so hard the actually BECAME an Avenger.

Captian America: Brave New World: Innocent man from before not so innocent anymore. Adopts a kid and punches the president.

Thunderbolts: New Found family on the block defeats personal demons and causes civil disputes.

[rocknroll7575]

X-men

Marvel rivals

Jaune’s character interactions part 2 please

You asked, and here it is! Enjoy!

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Jaune: Should I be worried that you're up to something, Loki?

Loki: You have nothing to fear from me, for now we are on the same side until we can figure out who's responsible for this mess

Jaune: Alright, but keep the tricks to a minium and we'll get along just fine

Loki: I make no promises

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Thor: Ah! Arc! It's good to have a fellow warrior at my side!

Jaune: Thanks, Thor... Glad to know you're not angry at me for what happened with Hela

Thor: I do not blame you, She corrupted you and tricked your mind.

Jaune: Still... I can't forgive myself for what happened

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Jaune: Namor ain't giving you trouble, is he?

T'challa: He and I have come to an understanding, there is no need to worry

Jaune: Sorry, but Namor's personality is what worries me, it's his way or the highway... or I guess in his case the fishway

T'challa: You have been spending too much time with Spider-Man

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Namor: Why the hostility, Arc?

Jaune: The last time we met, you attacked Wakanda, and nearly killed Scott and me

Namor: That was in the past, I have changed

Jaune: You never change Namor, you just make everyone believe you have

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Hela: Oh, why the long face Jaune? Aren't you happy to see me?

Jaune: No, I'm not... you messed with my mind Hela, you tricked me, you're lucky I don't try and kill you

Hela: Oh, come now, we had some fun didn't we when you were my knight in shining armor

Jaune: I... That was a mistake...

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Peter: I heard about Rogue... I'm sorry Jaune

Jaune: Thanks Peter, I... It's been hard on all of us, especially Wanda and the kids, they miss her the most.

Peter: And what about you?

Jaune: I... I miss her every minute of my life.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Jaune: How are you two holding up with everything?

Cloak: We're doing fine, but I'm a bit worried we might not be able to fix this

Jaune: Don't worry, I'm sure Tony, Strange, and Reed have something in mind to fix this whole mess

Dagger: Hopefully, or else we're all in danger

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Jaune: Any ideas on how to fix everything?

Reed: I'm still working on a plan, but don't worry, we'll get this figured out, Jaune.

Jaune: I hope so, Wanda and I are worried about the kids, we can't leave them alone forever

Reed: I know how you feel, Su and I are worried about Franklin and Valeria as well

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Tony: Have you thought about coming back to Avengers?

Jaune: And live in the city? No way, upstate is where I belong, besides, Wanda would kill me if we moved the kids away from the other's

Tony: Ah, alright, but if you need upgrades you know who to call

Jaune: Haha! Thanks, Tony

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Star-Lord: The Rusted Knight? What kind of superhero name is that, Jaune?

Jaune: Really Quill? This coming from the guy calling himself Star-Lord?

Star-Lord: Hey! It's a cool name!

Jaune: Hey, whatever helps you sleep at night

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Luna: The Rusted Knight! It's so good to finally meet you!

Jaune: Oh wow! You're Seol Hee! My daughters love your music! You mind of I get an Autograph for them!?

Luna: Aw, of course! Anything for the fans!

Jaune: Oh wow! Thank you! Mags and Anna are going to explode with Joy when they get these!

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Storm: Otto's growing up so quick, before you know it, he'll be training to be an X-Men

Jaune: Heh, don't let Wanda hear you say that, she wants him to stay her baby boy for a little longer

Storm: Can you blame her? He's the cutest little thing since the girls were born

Jaune: I'm sure Otto would love to hear that Auntie Ororo thinks he's cute

[tarithenurse]

Don't hide it

Fandom: MCU Pairing/starring: Loki Odinson x/& fem!reader Word count: 1071 Content: Pining, shyness, too much empathy, fluff. A/N: Waiting for a better idea so here’s this in the meantime. Feel free to reblog if you liked it – it’s always nice with new readers. Comments are fuel for more!

Don’t hide it

Following in your friend’s footsteps, you’re grateful that Loki knows you well enough to draw you away from the feast and all the people there. Few will miss him even though he’s a prince and you...well, you’re no one important save for a rich man’s daughter who is too timid to mingle with the upper echelon of Asgard.

After a quick detour past a storage room and the kitchens, Loki and you have gathered ample supplies to last you the night and have gone where no one will look for you: the hayloft above the stables.

Sitting on the soft blankets and furs, you can look down at the stalls with horses who are half asleep or chewing lazily on their fodder.

“Here,” Loki grins as he hands you a bottle of honeyed mead, “there’s lots.”

You’ve managed to snag fruits and cheeses and meats aside from quite a few bottles of the sweet drink.

Allowing the contents of the bottle to soothe your throat, you sneak a glance at your friend who’s doing the same. You notice how his throat bobs with each pull, how his jaw bone could cut glass...and then you have to look away before your thoughts get carried to unwanted territory.

You’ve known Loki since you were five and you’ve been close friends since then. You’ve also, regrettably, developed a deeper attraction to the prince over the last few years – one that you know will never be a possibility. That’s what makes it so painful to be with him: he is the only one who knows you truly...and still you can’t tell him this one thing for fear of ruining a friendship.

“Mother is starting to host more of these balls, it seems,” Loki muses.

I’ve noticed it too. And you know why.

“Of course...both you and your brother are still not betrothed or even in relations with anyone,” you shrug before you can stop yourself.

Loki falls onto his back with a groan. “I shall let Thor have this without competition.” Another groan. “Betrothed. Relations. No thank you.” Then he props himself up by the elbow. “What about you? Are your parents not inviting suitors over for you?”

You grimace at the thought. “I’m sure it will come soon enough.”

“I can imagine it...you being the hostess and the centre of attention.”

Looking about for strands of hay to braid, you don’t notice the darkness in his eyes and he schools his facial expression before you look up at him again.

“I’d rather die,” you sigh.

It’d be torture having to greet one suitor after the other. You don’t feel comfortable around stranger or in the company of many people. That’s why you’d agreed to sneak out of this night’s feast when Loki suggested it.

Keen to change the subject too, Loki studies your features for a moment. He quite likes how you always keep your hands occupied and he’s said so in the past. He’s the only one who seems to like your odd habits.

“Not that I do not cherish our little escapades away from the crowds...but we must see to cure you of your shyness,” he suddenly announces.

“And how do you suppose we do that?” you shoot back.

He shrugs. “Depends what you fear by being near them.”

“It is not fear it is...” You have to search for the right term but come up with nothing. “It’s as though I sense all they feel, all their sentiments. Anger, joy, sadness.”

“Love?”

“Sometimes, yes...but not always.”

Loki takes a swig from the bottle, clearly considering your words. “Then you must learn to shift your attention to their physical presence instead.”

You can’t hold back the hopeless laugh. “How?”

“Imagine them naked.”

You almost choke on the mead, having all too clearly imagined him naked before you – not for the first time but more clearly now.

“Then I think I would be equally shy albeit for different reasons,” you argue once you can speak again, avoiding to meet his gaze.

Falling back on the furs and blankets, none of you say anything for a while. The only sounds are from the large creatures below and a mouse tip-tapping along a secret path on the other side of the hay.

You know Loki is thinking. He always thinks.

“Perhaps...you must simply trust that you are better than them,” he offers softly.

A scoff escapes your lips. There’s no reason to state the obvious and Loki should know as much.

Hearing the rustle of the hay beneath the furs, you sense more than see Loki scoot closer until you are lying next to each other. Then he reaches to cup your cheek, turning your face to meet his.

“I mean it. Why can’t you see it?” he admonishes softly. There’s something you can’t figure out in his voice and his gaze. Something almost painful. “You read people better than anyone I know...and you know me better than anyone...why won’t you trust me?”

His hand is cool on your skin. For a brief second your eyes stray to his lips and a sudden urge to kiss him fill you...yet you do nothing. You just close your eyes and relish the nearness.

“It’s not that I do not trust you, Loki,” you begin to explain, “but you’re my friend a-”

“Don’t take my word for it as a friend. Hear me as...as a man,” he growls, causing shivers to run down your spine and something to bloom in the pit of your stomach. “I see all the other ladies at the feasts yet none of them are as wonderful as you.”

Opening your eyes, you’re met with blazing sincerity. “What do you mean?”

“For someone as emotionally gifted, you truly are dense right now.”

You would have recoiled at his harsh words. Would have served a rebuttal or asked for a clarification once more, maybe. But all of that is lost to you the moment his dips his head down and kisses you.

Fierce. Lips pressing hard together and noses squishing together slightly. You’re too surprised to do anything but grasp of the collar of his tunic, holding you steady in a world that suddenly seems to dip and rotate around the two of you.

You’re both out of breath by the time he pulls back, watching you intently.

“Do you understand now?” he asks quietly.

You nod. Then pull him down for a kiss more.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Come Out and Play 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as non/dubcon, age gap, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your mom welcomes an old friend back into her life that brings chaos with him.

Characters: Thor, Loki

Note: Two silverfoxes for the price of one

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Thor loves thunder. Take care. 💖

You hide away in the room that was once your own. You’re dressed and ready to go but waiting for the chance to flit out. You have a fib ready to go. You’ll tell your mom the landlord called and you had to leave quickly. 

The opportunity hasn’t come yet as the house is lively with noise. You didn’t wake up early enough to get ahead of your mother and her friend. You know he stayed the night; you can see his car through the window. A steel grey SUV with a boxy build. 

As you build your courage, bag in hand, with a plan to dart down and grab your shoes and coat, there’s a knock at the door. Dang. You drop your bag as you mother calls through to you. 

“Honey boo,” she trills, “are you hungry?” 

You huff and cross the room. You open the door only a few inches to see her. You stare back at her blankly. 

“Thor cooked some breakfast for us? Isn’t that lovely?” She preens.  

You weigh your options. There’s not really more than one. If you say no and rush out now, that would be rude. And a free meal isn’t something you should pass up. Not with your rent due. 

You nod and come out into the hallway, “okay, thanks.” 

“Oh, don’t thank me. I know you’ll be polite and let Thor know you appreciate it,” she steps back and waits for you to go ahead of her. “I’m so lucky to have such a good daughter.” 

“Mom,” you grumble. 

“Sorry, I’m just so... happy. I miss you,” she tugs your hair playfully from behind. You feel a little icky as you suspect the true reason for her good mood. Not that she isn’t always chipper. 

“Miss you too, mom,” you throw over your shoulder as you come down the stairs. 

You slow as you near the kitchen, hearing the subtle clinking of dishes. Your mom points you into the dining room and you gratefully accept the detour. 

“I’ll check in on him. I know he was wrestling the coffee machine.” 

You sit at the table as she tromps off into the kitchen. You hear Thor’s timbre and her singsong replies. You can’t make out the words, not until the last. 

“Go, sit,” Thor insists. “I’ve got it all figured out, Seli.” 

Your mother giggles before she appears again. She sits across from you. She’s always been bubbly but she seems bouncier. You’re happy for her. She deserves someone. It’s been so long since your father passed. You always felt a bit guilty for how much she put into raising you. 

“Ah, ladies,” Thor pops in just behind her, “coffee for both? I can always put on tea.” 

You nod and your mom turns, “yes, both of us. Thank you.” 

“Of course,” he grins and your eyes meet for a startling second. 

He stalks back to the kitchen. You wonder if a man his size ever does anything quietly. You tap your fingers on the table as you wait. 

“Hon,” your mom reaches across, “thanks.” 

“It’s fine. I’m fine,” you insist as you still your hands. 

“I know it’s a lot.” 

“He’s nice,” you say. 

She smiles even bigger, “he is, isn’t he?” 

You nod again. You can’t say you really know him. You just love seeing her so excited. 

“Ah coffee,” Thor declares as he sweeps in, “did we require sugar, dairy?” 

“Black,” you confirm, “thank you.” 

“Just some almond milk for me, please,” your mother replies. 

“As you wish,” he bows his head and backs out. 

It’s awkward. Almost as if you’re at a restaurant. It’s a bit too much but you suppose he feels just as weird staying in someone else’s house. Especially with their daughter crashing on the fun. 

He dips out once more and you squirm in your seat. You just need to get through this and you can go home. It might not be very warm there but it’s your own. 

Thor returns with two plates in hand and the cart of almond milk under his elbow. He sets a plate by your mom, and the milk, then reaches across to put the other before you. You chew your lip sheepishly. 

“Oh, thank you, this is so amazing,” your mother squeals, “and it smells delicious.” 

“Thank you,” you echo softly. 

“Full Norwegian. Smoked salmon, scrambled eggs with my secret ingredient, Jarlsberg cheese, and some oat bread toasted.” He announces proudly.  

“Wow, oh my god,” your mom touches her cheeks. “I never knew you could cook.” 

“Well, I had a few kids, had to learn,” he chuckles boisterously. “Now, please, dig in. I’ll just go get my plate.” 

“We can wait--” 

“No, no, it’s best to have it hot,” he insists, “please.” 

You pick up your fork only as your mother does the same. You use the fork and knife to pick apart the salmon. It really is tasty. You take small bites as your stomach swirls uneasily. 

Thor sits by your mother and wiggles as settles into the seat, “so, literature? What year?” He asks. 

“Oh, um...” you peek at your mom, “I finished last year.” 

“Ah, sorry. I think I misheard. That’s great. All set then. And are we going for another degree or out there is the wonderful world of employment?” 

“Erm, well, I work right now at a temp agency. Desk jobs, mostly.” 

“Oh, very interesting. You probably meet all sorts. See different places,” he remarks. 

“When there’s work,” you shrug. 

“Of course. That’s the catch then,” he says. 

“Mhmm,” you hum. 

“She’ll get there. Remember when we were in school and I worked at that pop up shop? Oof. They had me selling overpriced anti-aging cream. I was nineteen. Imagine.” She chirps. 

“Oh yes, I was lucky enough to work for my father’s firm. Well, luck being a relative term. He is a hard ass but I suppose I turned out alright. Now my brother for the matter,” he chortles and shakes his head. “So, just the one then, Seli?” 

“Just my precious bean,” your mom grins and you cringe. She can be so embarrassing. 

“Ah, I always wondered what it would be like to be an only child. You must be spoiled, especially with her as your mother. She’s always been a horrible enabler,” he nudges her and she guffaws. 

“Me? I would day you are a bad influence,” she pushes back on him. 

You muster a smile. Just to be nice. Then you focus on your plate and the food. The quicker you finish, the sooner you can be gone. Alone. 

💜

“I hope I haven’t run you out,” Thor catches you off-guard as you sit to pull on your boots. You pop your head up and wince. You were going to say bye to your mom before you fled but you just can’t seem to summon your usual invisibility. 

“Um, no, I gotta get back. See if they can fix the radiator.” 

“Radiator? Hm, I used to have a fussy one back in college. Actually, my first home was built at the turn of the century, not this one, and it had some rattly ones as well,” he rambles, much like your mother. You see why they get along. “I could have a look. It’s rather cold out, you wouldn’t mind the ride, eh?” 

“Oh, well, that’s fine. My landlord can fix it,” you tie your boots as you mutter at the carpet. 

“That is so sweet,” your mom strides in and you sit up in surprise. It’s almost as if she was waiting to sneak up on you. “Oh, Thor, would you mind? I really hate her on the bus. Did you hear about last week with that woman and her purse?” 

“Mom,” you drone. 

“I don’t mind at all. I’ve got some running around to do. Can’t be too far out of the way. Besides, I can see you’re keen to have me out of your hair already, Seli,” he chortles. 

“No, no, oh it’s been so nice to have you. Both of you! Have you found a place yet?” She asks. 

“Still nothing,” he answers with a tut. “Mother’s a lot like you though. She likes having me around, better when the kids chance to visit.” 

“Oh, I can’t wait to meet them. Won’t that be nice, honey? I think his daughter’s about your age,” she says around him. 

“She’s a year or two back. Still in school,” he intones, “close enough then, eh?” 

“It’s really not...” you begin but see your mom’s smile falter. “Oh, well, thanks, sure. It’s really nice to offer.” 

You stand and both of them smile. “I’ll just get my coat and that,” Thor says. 

He moves around you in the entry way and your mom flutters closer, “oh, honey bun, I’m going to miss you!” She hugs you and rocks you. You’ve never lived in a different city but she acts like she never sees you. “Don’t get in trouble, alright?” 

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Thor jibes as he pulls on his thick flannel coat. 

“Love you, mom,” you murmur quietly. 

“Love you!” She lets you go and pats your head. “You call. Let me know about the heat. Don’t you dare stay if it’s freezing. You’ll catch cold.” 

“Nothing I can’t fix, I’m sure,” Thor insist, “come, I’ve still got a whole list I should’ve done yesterday.” 

You give a wistful look to your mom and a small ‘bye’ before you reluctantly follow after the large man. He holds the door and you step out into the frigid air. You approach the steps warily. He’s still only a stranger to you. 

He frightens you as he puts his hand on your back and dips around you. He reaches the SUV first and opens the passenger door. You look over your shoulder as your mom waves giddily. 

“Drive safe!” She calls out. 

You turn and grab onto the door. You haul yourself up with your bag, an extra push from Thor along your lower back. You quickly swing into the seat and hug your knapsack. He closes the door without comment. 

You buckle your seat belt as he gets in the other side. You stare ahead as your mom gives one last wave and goes inside. You look down at your lap and pick at the zipper of your bag. The engine rumbles to life and you jolt as he reverses out of the driveway. 

He asks for your address as he idles in the middle of the street. You give it and he keys it into the GPS built into the dash. 

As he drives, you watch the houses pass outside the window. The cold makes the silence crisper. The heater blows warmth over you but you feel a shiver creeping nonetheless. 

“Mm, don’t take much after Selina. Quiet...” he muses. 

You nod. It’s the truth you can’t dispute that. 

“That’s not so bad though,” he says. “It means you put more thought into what you say. My brother can be the same way. Yet, he’ll often say too much.” 

You sniff and wiggle your foot impatiently. You’re burnt out from all the social interaction. You can handle your mom, but with his unannounced visit, you’re feeling yourself wear thin. 

He doesn’t say anything else, almost as if he can sense your reticence. You shrink down next to him. Your eyes threaten to close. You feel the how little sleep you truly got. Maybe you would’ve been better off sleeping in the cold. 

Finally, you get to your building. It would be a solace if he didn’t get out with you. You point him ahead to the building as you fish out your keys. 

You show him inside. You’re not used to the company. You’re always alone. Even your mom’s only been there a few times. You don’t like having her over because she just complains about it being too small. You tell her you don’t want to crowd her but she’s just wants to make sure you’re okay. 

“Brisk,” he says as he follows you down the hall. 

“If you can’t fix it, I’ll be okay,” you say. 

“Of course, but if I can, I’d hate to not look,” he assures. 

You unlock your door and let him in. He enters and stops to pull untie his boots. You do the same before you lead him further in. It feels like a violation to have him in your space. You’ve always been very protective of your bubble. 

He finds the radiator without direction. He grunts as he gets to his knees bracing his lower back, “never get old, mouse, or at least stretch,” he chuckles. “It isn’t fun.” 

He takes out his phone and shines it between the slats and bends further to see. He reaches underneath as you shiver behind him. He feels along and lets out an aha! 

“I think we only need to bleed the radiator,” he twists and something creaks loudly. “Just so.” 

He sits up and looks at you, “may be some trapped air. Easy repair but if you don’t know the little tricks, an easy miss,” he explains, “come, let me show you.” 

He beckons you over and flashes the light toward the small red knob, “this is the bleed. You can twist to release then close it back up.” 

“Okay,” you lean in and squint to see it. 

You lift your head, nearly brushing him with your nose and back up. 

“I’ll close it and give it a bit. Do you have the thermostat here? Or is it central control?” He asks. 

“Um just... on the radiator.” 

“Ah,” he cranks the knob tight then moves to the end of the metal heater. He moves the gauge and the radiator rattles. He puts his hands up. “Think I’ve done it.” 

“Thanks,” you wring your hands in front of you. “That’s... thanks.” 

“Oh, it’s nothing.” He gets up with another grinding grunt and some popping in his knees. “Anything else before I go? Maybe a leaky faucet?” 

“No, no, that’s it,” you say but wince. Your mom would be disappointed in your lack of hospitality. Besides, he did help and he’s her friend. You can’t just kick him out. “Do you like tea?” 

“I love tea,” he smiles, “but let me not presume on you.” 

“It is cold in here. I was gonna make it anyway.” 

“Well, then, if it isn’t any trouble, how could I deny the little mouse?” 

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hey there! Wow it's been a long time since I requested something from you!

So! I was thinking the Norse trio (Odin, Thor and Loki) having a human lover that they've kept secret for so long no one even knew about the relationship. The only way others have found out is when they had children with human reader. How others find out is your choice.

Love you! And take great care of yourself!

-It wasn’t that he was keeping you or your children a secret, it was more along the line of he was being private about his personal life.

-You were a human while he was a god, and many didn’t like the idea of a human and a god being together in such a way, but (Love) didn’t care- he loved you- human or not, and without your love together he wouldn’t have his adorable children.

-You knew why he kept quiet about you, and you respected his decision, as he was keeping you and your babies safe, but he always made sure to return to your arms each night, showering the three of you in love and kisses.

-He spent time with the three of you all the time, taking you on quiet day trips, picnics and things like that so your children could run around and have fun, and you got to spend the day basking in your husband’s arms, or with his head on your lap, letting him take a much-deserved break.

-It was a complete accident when Shiva found out about you and your children, after he came looking for (Love) and came across the four of you having a picnic together in the backyard of your home.

-Shiva was easily able to see that the children were a blend of both you and (Love) and while shocked at first, his stunned look quickly melted into a bright grin, one set of hands lifting behind his head while the other set went to his hips as he laughed loudly, “I knew you were up to something!”

-You were a bit nervous, scared if others were going to find out that you and (Love) were married and had children- you weren’t going to risk their safety.

-Shiva wasn’t bothered by the angry glare (Love) was giving him, reaching for his weapon, “Ahh you don’t need to do that- I won’t tell! I’m not going to risk the safety of children.”

-You were surprised as he beamed brightly at you, coming closer as he squatted down as your daughter cooed softly, reaching out to his hand, grabbing it before he teased her, wiggling another hand which she grabbed, only for him to keep doing it, keeping her entertained.

-(Love) looked calmer but you could tell that he was still on edge as he spoke to Shiva, “Why are you here Shiva?” the Hindu god pouted lightly, “Aww don’t you love me~~~? So~ mean!”

-You couldn’t help but giggle, seeing him teasing your husband which earned you a small, but harmless glare as Shiva joined the picnic, letting your children play with his many hands.

-Seeing that Shiva was alright with you made you calm down and in turn (Love) calmed down, but he was still on edge. Shiva was okay with it, but it didn’t mean others would be, and he had to make sure you were safe.

-At least now he had an ally in Shiva, just in case if something happened.

[scarlethexelove]

Not Supposed To Happen

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 2322

Warnings: A bit angsty, Fluff, Angry Wanda, Wanda blinded by anger, It all works out, Pregnancy, Really nothing much.

Pt 1, Pt 2

A/n: Ok so this is part 3 of Love Story and I actually split it into 2 parts so there will be a 4th to round it out. Wanda gets a little anxious and upset at reader. Also I know medically it's so wrong but we just going to blame it on the magic. That works right just blame it all on the magic. This is kind of shitty but whatever.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

The backyard of your house is filled with all your friends and family as you celebrate the twin’s 5th birthday. You can’t believe how big they have gotten. Everyday you look at Az and see a mini version of your wife running around. You watch as Peter is being chased by the twins in the yard. All the giggling and laughing coming from them. MJ is sitting in a chair in the shade as her hand sits on her pregnant belly. Steve, Thor, and Tony are all arguing over who is the best at grilling. Sam and Bucky are standing around drinking beer giving each other lovey dovey eyes.

You chuckle to yourself looking at them. You always thought that it would be Steve and Bucky who would end up together but when Steve got with Sharon you were happy for him nonetheless. Then it was Sam and Bucky pining over each other. Your eyes drift over to see Sharon with Pepper and Aunt May. You watched as Peggy (Steve and Sharon’s daughter) and Morgan joined in on chasing Peter around. You laughed as he got taken down when the two older girls joined in.

Carol, Valkyrie, Nat, and Maria all drinking and enjoying themselves. Nat had a strong arm wrapped around Maria while Valkyrie had one around Carol. You were happy to see everyone happy with someone. Even Bruce had a girlfriend but neither of them could make it to the party. You then felt arms wrap around your waist and an even bigger smile stretching across your face. 

“How’s your leg today baby?” You were leaning on your cane that you have to use some days. After the accident it became clear that your leg would never be the same. Some days when it was hard to move and painful. There was severe nerve damage to your leg but you're happy to be alive and have your family with you. “It’s ok, not much pain, just some stiffness.” Wanda takes her left arm from your waist and snakes it down to your thigh and starts to massage your muscle. A small moan escaping your lips without you even noticing but Wanda does when you feel her smirking against the back of your neck.

“Will you two get a room?” Carol calls from the other side of the yard. Valkyrie slapping Carol against the head. “Kids, there are kids running around.” Carol tries to defend herself. “Sorry, not sorry.” Valkyrie chuckles holding her wife. You chuckle at their display. “It’s just about my leg so no room is needed.” You yell back.

“Do you ever regret it?” Wanda asks softly. “Regret what?” You question what she is asking “Having to retire from SHIELD?” A smile spreads across your face. “Never, I have you and our two beautiful babies. And besides Tony has me helping him when he can’t get through a firewall.” You turn around in her grasp to see her giving you loving eyes. “I love you so much Y/n.” Wanda smiles at you which you return. “I love you more.” You gently kiss your wife. 

“Mommy!”  You hear your daughter yelling for you. You turn back around to see Peter holding Az up high as she wiggles in his grasp. “Peter, I swear to god if you drop my daughter. Wanda won’t be the one you have to run from.” Peter gently sets her down. Az and Billy comes bounding over to you and your wife. You pick up Az in your arms and Wanda picks up Billy. “Uncle Peter said we are going to have a little cousin to play with soon.” Billy said happily as Wanda placed a kiss on his head. “Yeah, you are.” You reply looking between your wife and twins.

“Mommy, Mama, when can we have a younger brother or sister?” Az questions the both of you. You both look at each other with wide eyes. Neither of you had, had the conversation about other kids since you almost died twice around when the twins were born. “Well sweetheart your mommy and I will have to see about that one. We love both of you very much.” Billy folded his arms over his chest pouting a bit at your wife’s words. “I want a baby brother so I’m not the only boy. You asked what we want for our birthday. We want a baby brother or sister.” You're taken aback by what Billy just said but you can’t help but think of how great it would be to have another mini-me of Wanda running around. Billy looked like a spinning image of you when you were a kid. You pulled Wanda in close to you as you both held onto the twins.

“Foods ready!” Tony yells from the grill as the twins struggle to get out of both of your arms. You both set them down as they run towards the food. You hug onto Wanda and whisper in her ear. “I think maybe we should think about having another. I love seeing your mini-me running around all the time. Though it’s your turn this time.” Wanda chuckles as she kisses your cheek. “Well of course it is.”

Both of you know that it would have to be her no matter what. After giving birth to the twins, you were told your chance of having another baby was one in a million chance. The damage done was severe. Both of you smile, looking at everyone enjoying themselves as the party continues.

It’s been 8 months since the party. Wanda is out grocery shopping while the twins are at school. You on the other hand have your face in the toilet bowl throwing up. You were so out of it you never even heard the front door open or the footsteps coming to your bathroom. You hadn’t even heard your name being called out. “Y/n?” Nat’s head peaked into the bathroom as you looked up at your best friend.

“Natty? What are you doing here?” Nat comes over and crouches down next to you. Moving your hair out of the way and rubbing up and down your back. “Are you ok?” She asks with concern written all over her face. “I’m fine. Just been feeling sick the last few mornings is all.” Nat’s eyebrows furrow at your words. “Y/n could you be pregnant?” Nat joked at you. “Not really helping here.” You mumble. “Y/n/n is it only in the morning or other times of the day?” Her face is sympathetic. “Just in the morning. Why do you ask?” You lean your head against the toilet bowl. “Y/n when was your last period?”

You open your mouth to answer but quickly close it when you think back and realize how late you are. “It’s not possible.” You scramble away from the toilet as you run into your room and open the top drawer of your dresser. Nat is close behind you. “Ok gross didn’t need to see your sex drawer.” Nat grimaces. “Haha, not funny Nat.” You look through the draw and find the two vials. One completely full and the other mostly gone. When you flipped over and read the label.  

“Well shit.” You breathe out the realization hits you. “What is it?” Nat asks you. “Wanda used the wrong one.” You turn to face her. “What?” You held up the two vials for Nat to see. One saying that it was fake and the other was the magical sperm for Wanda. “Oh.” Was all Nat could say when she realized what you meant.

You pull out your phone and nervously dial your wife. Hoping that she doesn’t think the worst before you can explain. “Hi baby, do you need something from the store?” Wanda’s voice comes over the phone. “Baby I need you to listen to me before you react ok.” Your voice is laced with anxiety. “Okay.” Wanda says hesitantly. “I need you to grab some pregnancy tests.”

“What they fuck do you mean pregnancy test?” Wanda’s voice is laced with venom. “Baby you said you would listen.” Wanda let out an angry huff. “I’m listening.” You could tell she was gritting her teeth. “You used the wrong one.” You try to explain. “I used the wrong one, right.” Wanda sounded angry, like she didn’t believe you. But before you could answer back you felt another wave of nausea hit you. You threw the phone at Nat as you ran into the bathroom. “Y/n Y/m/n Maximoff, I swear to god you better not – “ Nat cuts Wanda off on the phone. “Y/n would never. Now you need to calm down before you come back here but seriously bring some pregnancy test and maybe some Gatorade.” Nat quickly hangs up the phone as she rushes to your side.

Wanda leaves her cart in the middle of an aisle before running and grabbing some pregnancy test, some Gatorade and a pack of Oreos. She doesn’t want to be mad at you, but her thoughts are racing, not really listening to anything after you said pregnancy test. She checks out the few items before quickly driving home. Once she has gotten home, she rushes upstairs to find you and Nat in the bathroom.

Nat quickly stands placing a hand on Wanda’s shoulder seeing her fuming with rage. You look up with a weak smile, but it drops when you see your wife’s face. Nat grabs the bag and places it next to you as she pushes the angry Sokovian out of the bathroom. “Wanda, you need to calm down.” Nat’s voice raising. “I can’t believe it.” Wanda said her voice was laced with anger. Nat doesn’t want this to escalate; she pulls Wanda towards the dresser, opening the drawer and seeing the two vials you had shown her. She hands them to Wanda. “This is not her fault. If it is anyone's, it is yours.” Nat defended you knowing that you would never betray your wife in that way. Not with the things you have been through and what you two have been through together.

Wanda grips the vials in her hands and looks down at them. She looks at the almost empty one and reads the label. As she does, you're getting up from the toilet and standing in the doorway of your bathroom to your bedroom. “It was that night we got drunk.” Wanda looked up at you. You had a small smile on your face. You push off the doorframe and walk towards Wanda. “You wanted to have a little more fun than just drinking since Nat so kindly took the twins that night. You know how much I love it when you use the fake stuff and decide that night was a great night to use it.” You explained. “And I grabbed the wrong one.” Wanda said lowly looking down at the ground.

You were now in front of Wanda. You placed a finger under her chin and made her look you in the eye.“It was supposed to be your turn this time.” You chuckled. “But how. The doctor said it would almost be impossible.” Wanda’s eyes meeting yours. “Key work almost.” Nat added. Both of you shot her a look before she put her hands up in defense. “I guess you're just that good.” You place your forehead against hers as you look into her eyes. 

Wanda smiles softly at you. “So, are we taking those tests or what?” She says as she pulls you back towards the bathroom. You see the bag on the floor and notice the Oreos sticking out. “Aww you remembered.” You can’t help the growing smile. “How could I? You almost killed Tony and Nat for eating the last of your Oreos when you were pregnant with the twins.” She chuckles. “To be fair you don’t mess with a pregnant woman.” You smirk. “I still have the scar from where you stabbed me with the fork.” Nat adds at the end. “I told you not to eat my Oreos.” You give her a quick quip. “And I learned an important lesson.” Nat raises an eyebrow. “Good now move out so I can pee on some sticks.” You pushed Wanda and Nat out of the bathroom.

A few minutes pass as you wait for the test results to be shown on the different pregnancy test that you took. The buzzer on your phone goes off when the results should be back. “I can’t look.” You bury your face into the crock of Wanda’s neck. She wraps her arms around you as one hand rubs up and down your back. “Everything is going to be ok detka.”

Wanda motioned for Nat to look at them as she held onto you. She moves over picking up the first test. The corners of her mouth twitching up into a smile. She looks at the next one as the smile spreads across her face. Wanda watches as Nat’s smile grows. “Well, it looks like you’re going to have to deal with another Maximoff running around soon.” Nat said excited for you two. You pull away from Wanda and grab the test out of Nat’s hand seeing a plus on the test.

“We’re having another baby?” You look at Wanda who just shakes her head yes. “Good thing two cause this little one is going to have a best friend.” Your face covered contorts with confusion. “What?” You turn around to face Nat. “Well, the reason I had come over here was to tell the both of you that Maria is pregnant. I wanted to tell you two first, but this makes it all the much better. Our kids can grow up being best friends.” You can’t help it when you burst into tears hearing those words. Both women wrapping you in a hug as your happy tears soak into Nat’s shirt.