#Young Avengers: Invisible String

[space-mermaid-writing]

Wednesday [IronStrange]

Summary:Tony fights Strange and his weird wizards on a regular basis. So when he is woken up by Jarvis and being told Strange is sitting in his kitchen, waiting to talk to him, Tony just knows that something is not right. What he does not know yet is that it will be a string of very long days.

Relationship: Tony Stark/Stephen Strange

Tags:enemies to lovers, time loop, time shenanigans, hero/villain, hero Tony Stark, villain Stephen Strange, morally gray Stephen Strange, being a villain is a point of view, protecting the timeline, suicide but it has no consequences whatsoever, open ending, hopeful ending, Stephen needs a hug, Stephen and the never ending day, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, eventual smut, all the stuff you love

Ko-fi | Read it on AO3 | Masterlist | Word count: 4.3k | Previous | Next

Chapter 6: Soul-Bonded

Stephen woke up and stared at the ceiling. He was in his Sanctum’s bedroom in his own bed. He hadn’t been fast enough to finish the spell.

How could he forget? He had been too captivated by Tony; too distracted. Now he paid the price for not focusing on the task.

Without the bond, Tony wouldn’t remember, and Stephen had to start anew, trying to convince the Avenger to help him.

They were back at square one.

His fingers stroked the crook of his neck where he had felt a bruise building yesterday when Tony had been too enthusiastic with his teeth.

There was nothing now. No mark. He didn’t feel sore.This body had never been touched this way by Tony. Never tasted him.All that was left was the memory. And Stephen was the only one who had it.

Frustrated, he turned onto his belly and shoved his face into his pillow. He refrained from screaming into it, but just barely.

When he finally got up, his movements felt mechanical. As if rehearsed. His mornings always followed the same pattern. He changed into his robes and went into the kitchen, like every morning. There he met Wong, with whom he had the same interactions as every Wednesday. Stephen could predict everything.

He realized that he couldn't go to the Avenger’s tower today. He wouldn't be able to stand Tony. Not if he didn’t remember. More than that; he was being hostile towards him. Not after what happened yesterday.

Another day off wouldn’t harm anyone.

He should work on a solution, but there was no one left to judge. He was all alone in the vastness of people.

He disguised the cloak as a scarf and left the Sanctum through a portal.

~~

Stephen wasn’t a sentimental man. Neither had he been when he grew up nor later in his career. He wasn’t one for dwelling in the past, for seeking out places or people he grew apart with.

A lot had changed when he joined the Mystic Arts. He became a different man – or maybe he broke down to his core – his essence – the thing that defined him. And he was built anew.

He had found his roots. Partly old traits, partly new.

So, he didn’t know why, but after some wandering around and going to random places, he found himself outside a small town in Nebraska.

It was raining in Nebraska that Wednesday. And he knew if he went to the farm a mile in the north he would find his father outside anyway, looking after the horses.

Stephen hadn’t been here since he graduated college. And then only to pack the last of his belongings. Maybe it had been a last attempt to fix things with his parents too. But that had failed and he had never looked back.

He turned the other direction and walked through a small forest that was close to the lake that had been so very cruel to him; taking what had been dearest to his heart when he was young.

Stephen knew he only tortured himself coming here, but it felt like he deserved five minutes of self-pity.

A spell prevented him from getting wet. It floated like an invisible disc above his head.

The smell of damp forest was something he had almost forgotten living in a big city. It felt rural, earthy on his tongue. The steady pitter-patter of drops on the leaves was calming in a different way.Stephen wasn’t the typical nature lover but he acknowledged the beauty of it.

The path led him uphill to a cliff that bordered the forest. He had an indescribable view over the landscape from there. No houses, no roads, no humans.

He used to go there with his siblings when they were young. It had always been a place to reflect and to be quiet. To be just together.Today Stephen’s only company was the cloak – and Stephen was thankful to have it.

As if it had read his thoughts, the cloak-scarf patted his cheek.

Returning to this place after all these years, made Stephen wonder what would have been if he hadn’t walked away from his parent’s house. If he would have had a similar career, maybe as a country doctor. Or if he would have taken over the farm.He couldn't see himself there, though. Never had been a fan of that life.

But if he had stayed, he might never have lost his hands. Had never found his way to Kamar-Taj.Had the Ancient One seen that possibility?

Thinking back, Stephen always wanted to become a doctor. After what happened to Donna he had just worked on it with more determination. But the event had also been the reason that Stephen and his parents drifted apart. It had made it easy for Stephen to leave.

It had been an event that set a path for many things.

What if it had only been a means to an end?

Anger rose in Stephen, thinking about that. Surely there had been other ways for him to join the order other than losing his sister!

It was pointless to think about it; it was in the past. There was no way to reverse it.

But still, his inner child that never got completely over it, made him question his role in the order now.

Stephen had spoken the truth when he told Tony that the power he held by directing the timeline was something he didn’t ask for nor he particularly wanted. He accepted it as it was – but sometimes he wondered how different his life could have been.

He wouldn’t have met Tony though. That would have been a shame.

Or maybe they would have met under different circumstances. Not as enemies.

In another lifetime Stephen could imagine that he would have brought Tony to this place to enjoy the view. He had missed his chance in this one.

Stephen wasn’t sure if he could go through everything again, explaining to the Avenger what was going on. Pretending not to know the man the way he did. He wasn’t sure if he could even convince the man to join the loop again anyway. Last time had been an exception. One in a million. Stephen didn’t know how he managed to do it. It had been sheer luck.

The sound of an engine disrupted his thoughts and he looked up, expecting to see a plane in the sky. But instead he noticed something way smaller, that was heading straight towards him.Next thing he knew was the Iron Man armor hovering in front of him.

Stephen looked at him in surprise, especially when the faceplate opened and revealed the Avenger.

“Fancy seeing you here, doc. I didn’t take you for the hit and run type.”

The sorcerer breathed in sharply. Could it be?

“Do you…?” he asked breathlessly, because it shouldn’t be possible. They didn’t manage to place the bond in time.

“Yes, I do. Everything.” Tony found it irritating to talk to him from midair, so he landed on the cliff and stepped out of the armor.

He immediately regretted it, because the rain hit his face. So he ducked under Stephen’s invisible umbrella. “Make some room, will ya? Do you know how long it took-…”

Stephen cupped his face and pressed a kiss on his lips, before he hugged the engineer. His hands were shaking badly, taking in the familiar scent of workshop Tony – Soap, machine oil and coffee.

“I thought I lost you.”

Tony felt a little overwhelmed by this greeting.

He had also been glad that when he woke up it was still Wednesday and that he’d remembered what happened. When the wizard hadn’t shown up he had been worried and set out in search of him. Tony was relieved to find him well and uninjured.This reaction just now just held a lot of emotion he decided to analyze later. Instead, he returned the hug and patted the sorcerer's back, because he felt that the man needed it.

He waited until Stephen pulled back.

“Sorry, I…” Stephen wasn’t exactly sure what he was sorry for. A lot probably.

“It’s fine.” Tony cleared his throat. “So… I’m not complaining, but why do I still have all of my memories?”

That was a good question.

Stephen drew from his magic and a big mandala appeared under their feet, moving upwards and through them; scanning them.

Tony staggered; he still wasn’t comfortable with spells he didn’t recognize. “Hey!”

“It’s just a quick diagnostic spell,” Stephen explained, his focus on the faint glowing on their wrists where the bond normally would manifest. “It seems like the bond is still in place.”

Tony saw it too. “But we didn’t do it. You said we had to redo it daily.”

“Yes, under normal circumstances this is necessary.” The sorcerer made a thoughtful face. “The bond can become stronger if repeated frequently over a longer term. That shouldn’t be the case here since the reset is both physical and magical. But apparently it happened nevertheless.”

“Fortunately, or I would be back to square one. What are the consequences though? Are we bonded permanently now?” Tony sounded way less concerned about it than Stephen would have thought. It was more like an off handed question, simply because he was curious.

“I don’t think so. The link is weak and will still fade over time. It just needs longer for it.”

“Good.” Tony took a look around. “Let's go home, okay? I’m not a fan of the rain,” he complained although he seemed perfectly fine pressed to Stephen under the spell.

The sorcerer could extend its radius, but he liked the way Tony lingered in his personal space.

“Yes,” he agreed anyway. “Just… how did you find me? I never talked about this place?”

Tony chuckled as if he had made a good joke. “Please,” he said, stepping back into his suit. “I’ve been studying your signature for weeks, and I own a satellite. I can track you down anywhere on this planet.

In the past his words would have been a threat, but now they were reassuring.

_____________________

Curious, Tony looked around the Sanctum. Somehow it was exactly as he had expected; and yet different.The cloak slapped his fingers as he tried to take a closer look at a crystal ball on a chest of drawers in the hallway.

“Hey!” He glared at the cloak.

“I told you not to touch anything,” Stephen warned him, who had already gone ahead but now turned to face him.

“Why? Is this thing cursed?”

“No, but that’s the drawer where Wong stashes his secret snacks.”

“It’s not so secret if you know about it.”

But Stephen was already moving again. “And don’t talk to the snakes in the living room.”

Tony hurried to follow him. “You have pet snakes?”

“They are neither pets nor do I ‘have’ them. They just live there.”

The engineer decided to store follow up questions away for later because Wong crossed their way, stepping out of a door. As soon as he saw Tony he stopped and scowled at Stephen.

“You better have a good explanation for why Stark is here.”

Tony found it interesting that the man’s first instinct was to scold Stephen and not threaten Tony.

Stephen remained calm. He had had this conversation a few times before.

“I invited him.”

“Care to explain why?”

Tony intervened because he wasn’t one to stand by in any conversation about his person. “We’re currently experiencing a time loop and trying to break it.”

There were various emotions in a short time on Wong’s usually so stoic face; above all he was surprised and alarmed. He scrutinized both men carefully and their lack of urgency seemed to reassure him that there was no immediate danger.

“I’ll take it, you already-…”

“Discussed this with you and the council of elders? Yes, we browsed all libraries known to us. I even consulted Doctor Voodoo, Doom and Mordo.”

Wong’s eyebrows went up. “How did that go?” he asked at the same time as Tony blurted out, “You know Victor?”

Stephen looked from Wong to Tony and answered the engineer first. “Of course I do. He’s a respected member of the Mystic Arts. Why are you on a first name basis with him?”

Tony snorted. ‘Respected’ wasn’t a word he would use in the same sentence as Victor von Doom. And was that jealousy he heard?

“Because he’s a pain in my ass, that’s why,” he answered.

Stephen looked at Tony sourly, not convinced by it.

Wong clapped his hands once to get their attention and back to the topic. “How did the meeting with Mordo go?” he repeated his prior question.

“Exactly how you would think it would go.” Mediocre at best. He noticed Wong’s eyes wandering to the Eye on his chest. “I tried the time stone. It’s no use,” Stephen said before the other sorcerer could even open his mouth.

“That’s highly-…”

“Concerning, yes. But I also had several hundred reruns without any signs of the universe collapsing, so I think we’re good on that end for now.”

“You could go and-…”

“Nope, we tried that. And also that other thing you have in mind. Several times actually.”

Wong pressed his lips together, somewhat irritated.

There was the hint of a smirk on Stephen’s lips; riling up Wong was still fun. He hadn’t done it in a while.

“I’m going to see if any relic shows interest in Tony. He’s a variable that changed since he joined the loop,” he finally explained why the Avenger was in the Sanctum. He gestured to Tony to follow him and they continued their way to the second floor.

“Wait!” Wong called after them a moment later. “He joined you? He wasn’t involved from the beginning? Strange, what did you do?”

“I’ll tell you tomorrow,” Stephen yelled back, because he wasn’t having that conversation right now.

Tony chuckled at his side. “You know, being on this side of these conversations where you know what they are going to say is way more fun.”

The second floor was where the relics were on display. Stephen told him to just walk through the room and look around. He followed a step behind and watched for any reactions.

Tony took advantage of finally being allowed to inspect anything in this weird house that was definitely bigger on the inside, and took his sweet time.

“So, you guys have a council of elders. Are they calling the shots?” It was a casual attempt to make conversation. At least that was what it seemed like.

Stephen wasn't sure what he was getting at and answered evasively. "They have some influence, but technically they respond to the Sorcerer Supreme. And that’s me.”

“I heard that term before. What does it mean exactly?”

Stephen recited from a book, “‘Sorcerer Supreme is a title granted to the practitioner of the mystic or magic arts who has greater skills than all others or commands a greater portion of the ambient magical energies than any other organism on a given world or dimension’.”

That made Tony look up from the showcase with armor parts. “Wow okay, Gandalf. That’s quite the flex. Does that mean you have no boss that might have a solution to this? A manager? A mysterious, wise hermit that gives his answers only in riddles?”

“I did have a mentor.” There was sadness resonating in Stephen's voice. “She would have known what to do. Unfortunately, she died and her responsibilities fell to me." With a nod he told Tony to focus back on the relics and Tony did that.

"Isn't there a spell to consult her spirit?" he asked nonetheless. “C’mon, you literally have magic at your disposal.”

“The magic you have in mind is highly frowned upon and has dire consequences I do not wish to evoke.”

Sometimes the wizard really sounded like he came straight out of a fantasy novel. But Tony didn’t comment on it this time since he was all for not evoking dire, magical consequences. But still… “Are you really telling me you have all this stuff here and there’s nothing that can help? Like a phone to the afterworld. A strand of their hair that will answer simple yes or no questions. Maybe they left a secret diary with answers.”

Stephen rolled his eyes because Tony was talking nonsense. “If there was a personal item of hers she put a lot of her essence into, we might use that. But she only left a few belongings behind and none of them qualify.”

The Ancient One had really lived detached from material. If she really had been as old as Mordo had told him, maybe belongings hadn’t mattered anymore.

The cloak moved around him and he looked down when it tapped on the Eye of Agamotto.

“What?” Stephen asked, because the time stone was no use in this.

The cloak tapped again and it dawned to Stephen what it was trying to say.

Tony watched them. “I like that face. It’s your face when you get an idea.”

“My mentor was the keeper of the Eye of Agamotto before me.” He took the bronze necklace in his palm. “She used it to guard the timeline; and put a lot of time and energy in it.”

Tony was on board immediately. “You think that’s our personal item?”

“In a way. It’s not really personal, but maybe there’s enough of her aura left in it.” He couldn't use the time stone to look into the future. But a phone that didn’t have service could still be used to look at the gallery. Maybe he would find something in it. It was an infinity stone after all. “It’s worth a try.”

Tony agreed and followed the sorcerer to another room. This one was barely furnished and had more of an Asian temple vibe. The floor was covered with bast mats and reminded Tony of a yoga studio that Pepper had once dragged him to. Tony was proud to say that he tried everything at least once, but he had quickly realized that he wouldn’t give yoga a second try.

Stephen sat down in the middle of the room, his legs crossed. Tony was a fan of chairs – it felt like his back was too old for this. But he didn’t want to complain and settled on the mat next to the sorcerer’s, albeit less elegantly.

“This might take a while,” Stephen warned him. Normally when he used the time stone to look into the future, he needed mere seconds to minutes. His body also went into this weird twitching state.For what he was about to do he wasn’t sure about the physical effect.

Tony just nodded, having no idea what to expect at all. He watched Stephen as he opened the necklace with a gesture.

The green stone that rested in it had just a faint shimmer instead of glowing brightly like it would normally do when activated.

Stephen recalled the spell's instruction in his mind, the various components he needed for it, while moving his fingers through the air. He had to draw magic from different dimensions. It wasn’t an easy spell by far; mastered only by few. It was to be seen if he was among them.

He drew a big circle with his hands, before he rested them on his knees – as if he was meditating; his eyes closed. The sensation was similar to astral projecting. He felt the moment he left his body and was now floating two inches in the air, invisible to the normal eye.

At first he thought something went wrong. He didn’t mean to astral project. But when he turned around, he saw the Ancient One’s projection standing on the other side of his body, looking at him. She appeared translucent and very greenish.

“Hello Stephen.” Her smile was as inscrutable as ever.

Seeing her like this; like not a day had passed made Stephen tear up. “The spell worked.”

“Of course it did. I never doubted you.” She sounded like a proud mother.

Stephen stepped past his forward slumped physical body, closer to her. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

“Few things are truly permanent.”

Stephen felt transported back to when he was just a student of the Mystic Arts, seeking answers. And he had no trouble admitting it. “I need your help. We’re trapped and I can’t find a way out.”

“I know.” There was sorrow on her face, but it was gone as fast. Her gaze turned to Tony. “This is a conversation Mister Stark should join.”

She walked over to the man, who had leaned closer to Stephen's body to inspect him, but didn’t quite dare to touch him. The Ancient One took his hand that lingered halfway in the air towards the sorcerer – and she pulled.

“No!” As soon as he realized what she was about to do, Stephen was alarmed. Tony wouldn’t appreciate it to be forced into magic unexpectedly.

But it was too late.

The surprised form of astral Tony appeared while the engineer’s body toppled over onto the mat.

“What the…?”

He panicked when he noticed his own ghost-like appearance and his body lying on the floor deathlike. He gasped for air – and immediately realized that astral projections could not breathe.

In an instant Stephen was in front of him, using magic to manifest his hands on the engineer’s shoulders without reaching through him. “Tony, it’s fine. Your mind left the physical world for a moment, but it won’t do you any harm, okay? I’m here. You’re fine. Everything is fine.”

His voice calmed the man down, but he was still on edge.

“Okay,” he mumbled because he trusted Stephen. Then he noticed the other figure and turned his head to the bald woman who watched them with interest. “Who are you?” His sharp voice could be taken as rude but he was only five seconds away from an anxiety attack and Stephen's presence and his soothingly rubbing fingers on his shoulder were currently the only things preventing that.

The woman didn’t seem to mind anyway. “I am Stephen's former mentor. The one he came to when he needed guidance. Back when he thought he had to fix his hands, and now when he thinks he is stranded in a time loop.”

“Am I not?” Stephen asked her, startled.

“In a way you are.”

The sorcerer had completely forgotten how cryptic her advice and answers always had been and how quickly he got annoyed by them.

For Tony the conversation helped him to distract him from the fact that he was a ghost, and he focused on the lady. She definitely knew something. “Care to elaborate on that?”

The Ancient One was clearly amused about his manner. The way a parent was with an impatient child. Tony didn't like that, nor the fact that he had an unusual amount of respect for her – and didn't even know exactly why.

She turned back to Stephen. “I didn’t have time to teach you how to look into the futures safely, and for that I’m sorry. The timeline didn’t offer it. Which is ironic if you think about what we carry in there.” Her eyes were on the Eye of Agamotto that she had guarded for centuries. Then pulled herself out of whatever thought she just had and stepped between the two men’s physical bodies, looking down on them. “You lost yourself, Stephen. You are too much in your head.”

“I’m too much in this time loop,” the sorcerer complained. “The stone didn’t offer any solution. I can’t even use it properly.”

“And why is that?” She gave Stephen time to think about it; like the patient teacher she was.

“I don’t know.” It frustrated Stephen. “Is it because time is involved?”

The smile was back on her lips. “Exactly. You ask different questions that all have the same answer.”

“What is the answer?”

His eyes met the Ancient One’s. She was waiting, maybe contemplating how much she should tell him. He wasn’t sure what she saw in him – he had always had the feeling that she could look directly into his soul – but finally she gave in.

“You aren’t trapped in a time loop, Stephen. You are trapped in the time stone, looking into the future.”

For a moment, Stephen was too stunned to speak. How could that be? Usually he had a good instinct when he watched the timeline. He knew the feeling and could pull himself out at any time. But this here was different.

“Is this… what will happen in the future?” He wasn’t sure if he had the strength to go through it a second time.

“Everything is possible. But since you accidentally created this loop it is highly unlikely that it will happen in your timeline. As for you, Mister Stark,” she addressed the engineer who was listening to all of this, “I am afraid this potential timeline you are currently experimenting will cease to exist as soon as Stephen steps out of it.”

Tony understood the consequences. There wouldn’t be a happy ever after for him. “Will I… remember? Out there?”

The Ancient One shook her head. “No.” The word was so simple, yet so much empathy swung in it.

Tony breathed raggedly, realizing the implication. He turned away and walked a few steps, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

“Tony…” Stephen wanted to comfort him, to wrap his arms around him, but Tony stopped him by raising a hand.

“Just… give me a moment.”

Stephen stood helplessly next to his mentor. “Why did you tell him?” he asked her. He saw the engineer’s anguish, and it hurt him even more to know he caused this.

“Because you were right that he will help you break out of this.”

[thelorehold]

Sylphrena Moonshadow

Background: Sylphrena is a warrior of the ancient Elven realm of Elarian, a forest kingdom hidden deep within the mystical woods. Born into a noble family, she was trained in the arts of combat and magic from a young age, embodying the grace and precision characteristic of her people.

Appearance: Sylphrena has long, wavy brunette hair that flows like a cascade of autumn leaves. Her emerald green eyes glow with an inner light, reflecting her connection to the natural world. She has a slender yet strong build, with an ethereal beauty that is both captivating and formidable.

Personality: Sylphrena is wise beyond her years, with a deep sense of duty and honor. She is calm and composed, often serving as a mediator in conflicts. Despite her serene demeanor, she is fiercely protective of her homeland and her loved ones. Sylphrena has a nurturing side, often taking on a mentor role to younger warriors. She values knowledge and constantly seeks to learn more about the ancient magics and history of her people.

Skills and Abilities: Sylphrena is an expert archer, her arrows always finding their mark with deadly accuracy. She is also proficient in Elven swordsmanship, her movements fluid and dance-like. In addition to her physical prowess, she possesses a strong affinity for nature magic, able to command the elements and communicate with the forest creatures. Her keen senses and agility make her an exceptional scout and tracker.

Equipment: Sylphrena wields a beautifully crafted longbow made from the sacred yew trees of Elarian, its string woven from enchanted silver thread. She also carries a slender Elven blade, its edge sharp enough to cut through the thickest armor. Her armor is made of lightweight, enchanted leather, providing protection without hindering her movement. She wears a cloak that blends seamlessly with the forest, granting her near invisibility among the trees.

Motivation: Sylphrena is dedicated to preserving the ancient traditions and protecting the sacred lands of her people. She seeks to maintain the balance between nature and civilization, ensuring that the Elven realm remains untouched by outside threats. Additionally, she harbors a deep-seated desire to avenge the destruction of a nearby village by dark forces, believing it to be part of a larger scheme that threatens the entire forest.

[swifteforeverandalways]

Invisible String Chapter Six: Closure

Notes: I meant to post this months ago but got busy with school and everything. Finally got around to posting it though! The long awaited finale to Young Avengers: Invisible String

Tag Squad: @thatgothicgurl

James bolted awake with a gasp, sitting straight up. In the other beds around him, the rest of the Young Avengers were beginning to wake.

“What….what happened?” James asked, confusion clear in his tone.

“О, мое солнышко, ты в порядке? (Oh my sun, are you okay?),” Natasha rushed to her son.

“Я в порядке, мама (I’m fine mama),” James assured his mother as she smoothed back his hair. Steve placed a hand on James’s shoulder before pulling him into a huge hug.

“I’m okay Dad, I’m okay,” James assured his father.

“I love you, son,” Steve said in a strangled voice. James hugged his father back tightly, “I love you too, Dad.”

“Can you tell us what happened?” Natasha asked gently. James rubbed his face, looking over at the other Young Avengers. Billy was being tended to by his mother, father, and brothers, all looking ecstatic that he was back with them. Kitana was leaning against Dylan, with Bobbi and Jade fussing over them and Syndel and Kenshi watching on protectively. Skarlet and Liu were similar, Shao fussing over his two children while Jiaying, Daisy, and Kora watched over Skarlet and Tanya had her son in a tight embrace. Lucian was talking rather calmly with Loki, Thalia, and Lacey, though he watched Dylan with a loving look on his face. Teddy was the only one not with both parents at his side. Kl’rt had a hand on his son’s shoulder, though Monica Rambeau was there talking gently to her ‘nephew’.

“Are the others okay?” James asked, worried for his friends.

“I think they are all just a bit shook up,” Steve said, “As I’m sure you are.” James nodded, rubbing his face again.

“It….It’s weird. It’s like we were living a double life. In the life we had there….we weren’t superheroes or anything. We were just normal people living normal lives,” he said. Steve leaned over, gently kissing his son on the head.

“I wish we could have given that life for you. A chance to be normal,” he said sadly. James shook his head, “As nice as that was….I honestly love this life. Being a superhero. Knowing I can make a difference….And having you guys as my family. Someone once said that normal is just a setting on a washing machine, and I agree to an extent. Normal is also just whatever is regular to a person, and to us being a superhero is normal,” James said. Steve hugged his son tightly as the door was thrown open and Carol walked in angrily.

“Why was I not informed that my son awoke?” she demanded.

“Well, if you were sitting here like the rest of us you wouldn’t have to be ‘informed’ by anyone,” Jade snapped.

“Mom, it’s okay,” Kitana whispered, laying her head on Jade’s arm. Jade ran her fingers through Kitana’s hair gently, though she glared at Carol.

“I should have been informed no matter what,” Carol snarled. Natasha stood, glaring over at Carol. Just as she was about to speak, Monica spoke up instead.

“Carol, cut it out. Once upon a time, I used to worship you when I was growing up. But then I realized that you are nothing but a selfish, self centered bitch. You don’t give a shit about your son, not one bit,” she said.

“Aunt Monica, it’s okay. I don’t really care anymore,” Teddy murmured. Monica looked over at Teddy, a gentle expression on her face.

“I’m sorry, Teddy. I really just hate how she treats you,” she murmured, “You’re my nephew in every way that is important.”

“I know, Aunt Monica, I know. And I don’t care what she does or says. She may have given birth to me, but she isn’t my mother,” Teddy said. Monica wrapped an arm around Teddy, kissing his forehead.

“So how exactly did everything happen?” Tommy asked.

“Oh, I can explain that,” a familiar voice said as the TV-Meister popped into the room. Everyone reacted instantly, drawing weapons. Natasha pulled out her gun, aiming it straight at him. Steve and James both had their shields out, ready to throw them. Wanda and Billy prepped their hex bolts while Clint and Francis each had an arrow notched, bow drawn tight. Tommy tensed, ready to run at a moment’s notice. Teddy pulled out his sword while Kl’rt activated both his The Thing and Human Torch powers, his body becoming encased in stone and on fire. Bobbi and Dylan both had guns drawn while Jade and Kitana had their fans drawn. Kenshi pulled his sword out while Syndel’s hand glowed purple with her magic. Monica’s eyes glowed blue while Lucian, Lacey, and Loki all pulled out their Frost Giant sides, Thalia merely crossing her arms and staring down the TV-Meister. Liu lit his hands on fire while Skarlet pulled her sais out and Tanya pulled out her naginata. Shao cracked his knuckles, pushing Jiaying behind him while Daisy took up a fighting stance.

“Oh relax, I’m not trying to hurt you,” the TV-Meister said.

“Really? Because as I remember it, you tried to kill all of us,” Kitana said sarcastically. The TV-Meister smirked, pointing at her.

“You, you are a funny one. Weren’t too sure how my powers would work on you and the other Mortal Kombat peeps, since you aren’t human,” he said.

“We aren’t actually Mortal Kombat people,” Tanya grumbled. The TV-Meister ignored her and instead turned to the rest of the Young Avengers.

“So, how did you like the world I put you in,” he said cheerfully.

“You put them in the comas? Why? What did you want with them?” Natasha demanded. The TV-Meister shrugged, merely grinning. Shao rushed at the TV-Meister, wrapping a hand around his neck and lifted him into the air.

“Answer her question this instant! What the fuck did you want with our children!” he demanded, power extruding from his voice.

“I wanted to show them how it could be for them, and if they liked it more or wanted this life back,” the TV-Meister said.

“Why?” Kenshi demanded, swinging his sword and setting the blade of it against the neck of the TV-Meister.

“They seemed unhappy, wanted to teach them a lesson,” The TV-Meister said with a shrug before snapping his fingers, disappearing out of Shao’s grasp. Kenshi lowered his sword, sheathing it and looking at Shao, who merely nodded.

“I don’t care what he says, this is our life. Being a superhero is what I chose, it’s my life and I wouldn’t give it up ever,” James spoke up.

“I think we all agree with that, it’s our life. We are superheroes and will be forever,” Billy said as the other Young Avengers nodded in agreement.

“Alright, you guys deserve some dinner,” Wanda said as the group headed out and into the kitchen/dining room.

THE END

[iam93percentstardust]

Stevetony One Shot Masterlist

Your Darkened Eyes (8k): Post-Endgame Steve is seduced by a young Tony and a darker version of himself

Invisible String (7k): Colorblind Tony can’t see the colors of his Strings of Fate

I Know Places (6k): Mob boss Steve kidnaps Tony

Luminous Glimmers on Ocean Waves (5.5k): Merpeople Steve and Tony meet again for the first time in a long time

At Your Feet (5k): Steve and Tony reunite after a mission

Paper Planes and Silent Joy (5k): Paperman AU

But In Dreams (5k): Post-Endgame mourning and Steve finding happiness where he can

Wave a Magic Wand Over This World (4.5k): Tony makes a decision that nearly destroys his happiness

Thanks for Watching (3.5k): Artist Steve meets Youtuber Tony

Speak Now (3.5k): Tony tries to convince Steve not to marry someone else

It's Gotten Too Darn Hot (3.5k): Tony tries to engineer sexy situations and fails

Champagne Problems (3.5k): Steve and Tony break up after a failed proposal and find their way back to each other

A Day in the Life (3k): An average day in a no-powers AU for Steve and Tony

I'd Search the World for You (3k): A soulmate AU set post-Endgame in the timeline Steve returns to

Hey, Stranger (3k): Steve and Tony try to roleplay as strangers

The Truths We Hide (3k): Loki casts a truth spell on Tony

Today Was a Fairytale (3k): Knight Steve and Prince Tony

Three Little Words (To Turn Your World Upside Down) (2.5k): Steve hasn’t caught up with Tony... yet

Sense of Memory and Desire (2.5k): Steve and Tony stare in a perfume ad

What's Mine is (Not) Yours (2.5k): Cat shifters Steve and Tony

I Found a Love for Me (2.5k): Chair smut

Heartbeats (2.5k): Steve hears heartbeats

Models and Other Odd Things You'll Find on Craigslist (2.5k): Steve needs a model, and Tony is available

Picture This (2k): Steve gets an Instagram account

Don't Blame Me (2k): Steve and Tony fuck in a club

Powerful Men (2k): Mob boss Steve and kept boy Tony

If You Love Me for Me (2k): Secret lovers Steve and Tony arrange their own marriage to stop a war

Wanna Hold On and Feel I Belong (2k): Secret relationship in the far future

And I'm Holding On Tight to You (2k): Fire Spirit Tony tries to court Ice Spirit Steve

Lavender and Sunshine (2k): How Tony and Steve celebrate Steve’s birthday

Star Light, Star Bright (2k): Stardust AU

The Benefits of Dating a Billionaire (2k): Steve likes to fuck Tony in his fancy cars

Beyond the Sea (2k): Pre-wedding fluff

Soft, My Love (1.5k): Soft lazy day fluff

Hey Steven (1.5k): Advice columnist Steve and missed connection Tony fall in love over letters

Jasmine and Peaches (1.5k): Royalty double identity porn

You Can’t Be Married (I’m Trying to Set You Up) (1.5k): Natasha tries to get professors Steve and Tony together

An Angel and a Demon Walk Into a Bar (1.5k): Good Omens AU

When I'm Looking at You (1.5k): Steve makes an anxious Tony feel better

Here's to Las Vegas (1.5k): Oops Vegas wedding

Tiny Stark (1.5k): Size kink porn

Wrapped Up in Your Love (1.5k): Tony does his best impersonation of a blanket burrito

Accidentally in Love (1.5k): Natasha tricks Steve and Tony into admitting their feelings

Ask Me Again (1.5k): Post-Civil War AU with established Stevetony

Sweet Dreams (1.5k): Emotional hurt/comfort after Steve has a nightmare

Slow and Sweet as Honey (1k): Lazy, half-asleep smut

Come Back to Me (1k): Post-Endgame AU where one universe’s Steve gives another universe’s Tony a warning

Just Talk to Me (1k): Steve averts the events of Age of Ultron

Triple-A Rated (1k): Bodyguard Steve

I'll Take Care of You (1k): Tony does a skincare routine for Steve

Let's Go See the Stars (1k): Steve and Tony see Rogers: The Musical

Together Again, Again (1k): Movie night fluff for the 10th anniversary of The Avengers

The Other (1k): Vampire Steve tries to convince Tony to let him turn him

Unbearably Adorable (1k): A deaged koala shifter Tony snuggles with grown grizzly bear shifter Steve

For Pleasure (1k): Omegas Steve and Tony share Tony’s heat

Just Breathe (1k): PWP with twink Tony and silver fox Steve

We Begin Again (1k): Branching timeline in Endgame AU

Underneath the Tree (800 words): Tony and Steve have differing opinions on Christmas

Did You Know? (750 words): Married antics

Hoist the Colors (700 words): Pirate Steve comes back for his royal lover

I'll Be Home for Christmas (650 words): Steve promised he’d be home in time for Christmas

Not-So-Ugly Christmas Sweaters (600 words): Steve gives Tony an ugly Christmas sweater

The Christmas Tree (500 words): Tony gives Steve what was supposed to be a jokey surprise

[tillidontneedfantasy]

A Track-by-Track Breakdown of Taylor Swift’s 9th Studio Album: ‘evermore’

“My collaborators and I are proud to announce that my 9th studio album and folklore’s sister record is here. It’s called evermore,” is how Taylor Swift introduces us to this album in its foreword. One might assume a “sister record” would entail b-sides, or tracks that didn’t quite make the cut for folklore, despite Taylor’s explanation that “we just couldn’t stop writing songs.” evermore’s release came at a strange time, upon the heels of the Folklore: Long Pond Studio Sessions film on Disney+, as well as 5 Grammy nominations for folklore. The world still captivated by folklore, it’s understandable why one might not consume evermore as critically. Even as a die-hard fan, I felt some whiplash by this announcement; I am still processing folklore! Hell, I’m still processing reputation!

If this was the Taylor from two years ago, this may have been a big enough fear of hers to hold off on releasing evermore. But as she explained upon folklore’s surprise release, life is too unpredictable now, and there are zero givens or guarantees. So she followed the same path this time (although making sure it fell in line with her birthday weekend). But it’s not just the strategic timing of the release that she’s thrown out the window for now, but also her mindset whilst making records. As she explains in the evermore album foreword,

“I’ve never done this before. In the past I’ve always treated albums as one-off eras and moved onto planning the next one as soon as an album was released. There was something different with folklore. In making it, I felt less like I was departing and more like I was returning. I loved the escapism I found in these imaginary/not imaginary tales. I loved the ways you welcomed the dreamscapes and tragedies and epic tales of love lost and found. So I just kept writing them.”

This is a revelation for Swift, to let the music lead her into artistic freedom, which is what makes evermore such a triumphant return. Truly folklore’s sister record, Taylor wrote evermore with the same creative team: Aaron Dessner of The National (Swift’s favorite band), long-time pal and collaborator Jack Antonoff, Justin Vernon of Bon Iver, and William Bowery aka Swift’s boyfriend, Joe Alwyn (as officially revealed in the Long Pond Studio Sessions). Additionally, former 1989 tour openers and close friends of Taylor, the HAIM sisters, join the crew, along with Marcus Mumford for some dreamy backup vocals.

The production is just as wistful and mesmerizing as it was on folklore, yet the storytelling on evermore is kicked up a notch, expanding on the topics and worldbuilding established in its sister record, with even sharper lyrics and an effective and elaborate use of alliteration. The best thing about Taylor is that no matter what she does, her masterful lyricism is always at the heart of her art, and somehow, she keeps getting better. Once again, I wanted to explore the rich stories she’s crafted in this woodsy universe. This is how I’ve interpreted the album, but I hope you find your own meaning in the songs as well.

1. willow It is fitting that the opening track to folklore’s sister album, where we wade further into the forest that is Taylor Swift’s imagination and storytelling, would center on the type of tree that is a symbol of hope, belonging, safety, stability, and healing. “willow,” one of the few more obviously autobiographical tracks on the album, is a hymn of gratitude for her man (as she wants you to know, yes, thirteen times), Joe Alwyn, and how the invisible string tethering them together pulled her to him in a time when everyone else was counting her out. Though not as present on many of the other songs later to come on this record, you can feel the lightness in her heart on this song as she embraces the way in which the willow has bent, wrecking her plans, throwing her into the water and leaving her happily lost and afloat in his current. The downward key modulation throughout the last two repetitions of the chorus is beautiful and very fitting for Swift vocally, but also sounds like the feeling of finding your comfort and settling into it, basking it in while you wait for the next place the wind pulls you. Best lyric: “Now this is an open/shut case / I guess I should’ve known from the look on your face / Every bait and switch was a work of art.”

2. champagne problems On the second track of the album, Taylor dives back into the fictional worldbuilding she began to explore on folklore. While on folklore high school relationships and dramatics took center-stage, evermore graduates from adolescence to young adulthood, not that it is any easier emotionally on the listener’s heart. “champagne problems” chronicles a rejected marriage proposal between two college sweethearts at their old dorm building. Taylor sings as the narrator, a reflective, self-deprecating young woman who jokes about belonging in a madhouse and dismisses all her turmoil as champagne problems. The term ‘champagne problems’ itself could have various meanings here: their trivial concerns, the fact that their “sister splashed out on the bottle” of champagne that they will not be using to celebrate as they had hoped, or perhaps it could even hint that excessive drinking is a piece of all the ways the narrator is “fucked in the head,” as they said. Although the person she is singing to is the one who got hurt in the story, the hurt in the narrator’s heart is just as palpable and relatable, because you only have yourself to blame when you self-destruct. Best lyric: “’She would’ve made such a lovely bride, / what a shame she’s fucked in the head,’ they said / but you’ll find the real thing instead / she’ll patch up your tapestry that I shred.”

3. gold rush On her YouTube live chat prior to the album’s release, Taylor explained that this song “takes place inside a single daydream where you get lost in thought for a minute and then snap out of it.” The daydream consists of a love story so pure that the town had never seen such a thing; it could only happen in a fantasy for the narrator. How could she possibly have the gall to call them out on their contrarian shit, or end up with her Eagles t-shirt hanging from their door, when they are so coveted by all, and when she cannot withstand the thought of even competing? She sings, “My mind turns your life into folklore / I can’t dare to dream about you anymore,” a sweet little connecting piece to this album’s older sister, effectively convincing herself out of the idea of jumping into the chaos of the gold rush because even inside her own imagination it’s too dangerous. Best lyric: “I don’t like that falling feels like flying ‘till the bone crush.”

4. ‘tis the damn season According to Aaron Dessner, Taylor had written the lyrics for “’tis the damn season” in the middle of the night amidst their Folklore: The Long Pond Studio Sessions recording after a long night of chatting and drinking with their co-conspirator, Jack Antonoff. The lyrics perfectly encapsulate the guttural ache the track evokes. It is a tale of two people who always find their way back to one another in their hometown, which acts as the ever-returning fork in the road. The path taken, back to L.A. in pursuit of her dreams, is the one she chose and continues to choose, but whenever she returns home, she takes a ride down the road not taken, just to get a taste of what could have been, even if just for the weekend. What starts off as an icy homecoming always transforms into the warmest intimacy. The success of this track is aligned with the success of Taylor’s entire career; even with such specific details, it feels so deeply personal to the listener. You know the street you’d drive along late at night laughing, the spot you’d park the car, the person who stars in every what-if. You will never really know if the road not taken is as good as it seems, but that might be ok; sometimes, the fantasy is better than the reality, anyway. Best lyric: “It’s the kind of cold / fogs up windshield glass, but I felt it when I passed you / There’s an ache in you / put there by the ache in me.”

5. tolerate it Inspired by the novel Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier, “tolerate it” is an agonizing track from the perspective of a devoted wife who polishes plates and paints portraits and waits by the door for her husband with a battle hero’s welcome, who at best tolerates all her adoration. There are few things as painful as idolization being met with indifference, when you have all this love to give to someone who just leaves it there untouched. “tolerate it” captures that desperation for the approval you know will never arrive, but you sit and watch, waiting for it just in case you’re wrong, but you know you’re not. Best lyric: “I made you my temple, my mural, my sky / now I’m begging for footnotes in the story of your life / drawing hearts in the byline”

6. no body, no crime feat. HAIM “no body, no crime,” the one evermore song solo-written by Taylor, has the clearest plot from beginning to end. In the same vein as the female powerhouse country classic “Goodbye Earl” by The Chicks, Taylor is out for blood to avenge her friend, Este (named for one of the HAIM sisters). The story goes as such: Este’s husband kills her for calling him out on his infidelity, and then Taylor kills the husband and frames his mistress. The HAIM girls, who are long-time friends of Taylor’s and former touring mates, lend their vocals to reinforce the accusation on the husband and to provide Taylor’s alibi. “no body, no crime” is so far the closest we’ve gotten to a return to “country Taylor,” proving that she is still the master of a killer country tune (yes, pun intended, it had to be done I’m sorry). Best lyric: “Good thing Este’s sister’s gonna swear she was with me / (she was with me, dude) / Good thing his mistress took out a big life insurance policy”

7. happiness Written a week before the album’s release, “happiness” is one of Swift’s strongest and most reflective breakup songs. Although she writes it as though it is recent, there’s a lot of power in knowing that she’s been happily in love for four years, and that she is even better now at doing the thing that has always been best at. She is finally “above the trees,” as she sings, and is able to see it all for what it is, but her character is still in the heat of it all, trying to navigate the stages of grief when a relationship ends. We see the narrator grapple with many of those stages throughout the song. Most striking is the anger displayed in the second verse when she sings: “I hope she’ll be a beautiful fool who takes my spot next to you / No, I didn’t mean that, / sorry, I can’t see facts through all of my fury.” That section is jarring and feels like one of the most honest moments in a Taylor song, the insanely difficult emotional balancing act when we are grieving a relationship. The devastation of loss can distort our perception, and a part of that is the difficulty of understanding how multiple seemingly opposing things can co-exist in our hearts, such as happiness because of someone and happiness after them. But when you leave it all behind and finally find your place above the trees, you can find happiness after someone and also look back and appreciate the happiness they once provided. Both of these things can be true. Best lyric: “Showed you all of my hiding spots / I was dancing when the music stopped.”

8. dorothea Taylor Swift has the uncanny ability to create such developed and well-rounded characters with such little information, which is what makes her storytelling so compelling. In “dorothea,” we learn much about the title character through the narrator’s eyes, and the relationship they once had. The lyric “skipping the prom just to piss off your mom and her pageant schemes” alone tells an entire story in itself. “dorothea” is also the companion song to “’tis the damn season,” just from the other person’s perspective, which helps shine even more light on the story. The narrator of “dorothea” reveres her but wonders if she’s still the same soul in L.A. as she was back in their never-changing town. Whatever the answer, they’re still willing to support her no matter where she is, but she’s always welcome back in Tupelo by her hometown love’s side if she ever just wants to be herself rather than someone known for who they know. Besides, they’re the only soul who can tell which smiles she’s faking. And you can always return to the road not taken. Best lyric: “They all wanna be ya / but are you still the same soul I met under the bleachers? / Well, I guess I’ll never know / and you’ll go on with the show.”

9. coney island feat. The National What really started the folklore / evermore journey was Taylor’s love for The National. Taylor has cited them as one of her favorite bands for many years, and as we know, this led to her beautiful new collaborative relationship with Aaron Dessner. So it would make sense for the track written with the intention of this duet to be so well executed; you can feel the love and care Taylor put into writing this song. In her press for these sister albums, she has spoken about trying to channel frontman Matt Berninger’s writing style. But what actually happened was she just produced her own signature lyricism at its sharpest. “We were like the mall before the internet, it was the one place to be / the mischief, the gift-wrapped suburban dreams / sorry for not winning you an arcade ring over and over,” is a hall of famer Swift-ian lyric. “coney island” explores the confusion, hurt, and self-reflection when a passionate affair burns out fast because you did not prioritize that person. And to top it off, Swift and Berninger’s harmonies are achingly beautiful, transporting you right there in the story, on the bench, wondering, over and over. Best lyric: “Do you miss the rogue who coaxed you into paradise and left you there? / Will you forgive my soul when you’re too wise to trust me and too old to care?”

10. ivy Leave it to Taylor Swift to make a song about an affair sound so romantic, and so sympathetic to the narrator, that you’re rooting for adultery. “ivy” tells the tale of a woman in a lifeless marriage, likening her home with him to the tombstone that the widow in town visits each day. I like to think this is the same wife whose husband was out there building other worlds without her in “tolerate it,” because then that means she found someone who celebrates her love, who holds her pain for her, who blooms all over her; they started it, but she’s fighting for it all the way to the end, nonetheless. “ivy” showcases Swift’s gorgeous vocals and her sharp lyrics, with a melody so infectious it is bound to permanently plant its roots in your dreamland. Best lyric: “Oh, I can’t stop you putting roots in my dreamland / my house of stone, your ivy grows, and now I’m covered in you.”

11. cowboy like me With the beautifully blended backing vocals of Marcus Mumford, “cowboy like me” is an entrancing love story of two con artists who lost at their own game and got conned into forever with each other. She’d gone from swindling old men for their money and fancy cars to falling victim to the danger of dancing with someone who only has eyes full of stars, and she knows she’ll pay for it. “cowboy like me” is one of the most romantic tracks on the record, proving that life never plays out quite as we plan. Best lyric: “Now you hang from my lips like the gardens of Babylon / with your boots beneath my bed / Forever is the sweetest con.”

12. long story short One of the more pop-sounding tracks on evermore, “long story short” is pretty much a summary of the long story behind reputation (2017). The song is filled with various metaphors for her reputation crumbling around her, and then finally putting her defenses down to be with her lover, someone as “rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky.” It is a sweet ode to her boyfriend, and a gentle comfort to her past self that it will all work out. But it is also an oddly relatable example of how we shrug off our struggles and minimize them to just a “bad time,” when the time she is singing about was obviously something that deeply affected her (as will be further explored in the title track); but sometimes it actually feels good to just shrug it off as just a blip in your life, because at the end of the day, you survived, and that’s what counts- even if you’re not keeping score anymore. Best lyric: “Pushed from the precipice / clung to the nearest lips / long story short, it was the wrong guy. / Now I’m all about you.”

13. marjorie Whereas track 13 on folklore was a tribute to Swift’s paternal grandfather, evermore’s track 13 is a tribute to her maternal grandmother, Marjorie Finlay, who was an opera singer in the 50s, and passed away in 2003 when Taylor was 13 years old. “marjorie” is quite possibly the most touching track Taylor has ever written thus far in her career. Grief is one of the most difficult topics to tackle in a song; the genius of “marjorie” is that it is simple, yet not understated. Swift reflects on the profound lessons she learned from her grandmother, about the difficult balances of kindness and cleverness, and politeness and power. She curses herself for not cherishing the moments she had with her, for complaining rather than understanding in the moment how admirable her spirit was, for all the amber skies she’d love but will never see. The chorus, blunt and hard-hitting, reminds us that someone does not have to be living to be alive, to be all around, to be with us. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were singing to me now,” Taylor sings towards the end of the song, right before you hear a sample of Finlay’s opera singing in the background, a truly eye-swelling moment. It is clear that Finlay played a pivotal role in Swift’s own ambitions, as she sings, “all your closets of backlogged dreams, and how you left them all to me.” Marjorie knew she was leaving them in good hands. If you haven’t yet, check out the moving lyric video for the song, where you can see photos and video clips of Marjorie, both throughout her career and in her time with Taylor. Best lyric: “Never be so polite you forget your power, / never wield such power you forget to be polite.”

14. closure On the most experimental track musically on the record, Taylor writes off her need for closure from a relationship of some sort, whether it be romantic or platonic or business, all of which can cause hurt of equal intensity. The subject of the song is trying to make nice with Taylor, and she is just not having it, as it is not coming from a genuine place, but rather to ensure that their life remains picture perfect, or to clear their guilty conscience, or to preserve their own ego. This is a deeply relatable sentiment; as valuable as forgiveness can be, sometimes the person who hurt you just doesn’t deserve it, and all you can do is forgive yourself for blocking their number or shredding their letters. Best lyric: “I know I’m just a wrinkle in your new life / staying friends would iron it out so nice.”

15. evermore feat. Bon Iver To close out the standard edition of the album, Taylor joins forces once again with Justin Vernon of Bon Iver, with whom she collaborated on the Grammy-nominated duet, “exile” for folklore. However, Swift leads most of the track this time, lamenting the difficult time she went through in 2016. The piano and Swift’s vocals are haunting, particularly when she describes this time in her life as “catching my death,” consumed by a pain that she feels will never end. If you’ve ever been depressed, you know what that feels like, and the dark places it leads you. Although she is singing about a time four years prior, it sounds so present, and it is heartbreaking to hear her in such a state. When Bon Iver comes in, the tempo of the song picks up, the piano riff becomes more erratic, like a winter storm hitting you in the face, and he voices all the anxieties of the cost of such a downfall. But through those anxieties, Taylor finds not a cure, but an anchor in love, and then the tempo slows back down. By the end of the song, Taylor has the foresight to understand that although it may not feel like it now, the pain she is experiencing is not permanent (a sentiment my therapist has been trying to instill in me for years). In her Apple Music interview with Zane Lowe, Taylor explained how the lyrics parallel the times we are in currently, and so it feels really special to have the album end with someone who knows how it feels to be imprisoned by your pain gently comfort us with the wisdom that “this pain wouldn’t be for evermore.” I hope one day soon, as we leave 2020 far behind, we can all truly believe her. Best lyric: “I was catching my breath / barefoot in the wildest winter catching my death.”

16. right where you left me (bonus track) The first bonus track on evermore, “right where you left me,” captures a moment so earth-crushing, a piece of you is trapped in it forever. In this song specifically, the narrator finds herself stuck in the same corner of a restaurant where she was told by someone she loved that they had met someone else. “Glass shattered on the white cloth, everybody moved on,” she sings in mourning. We have all experienced those moments that we could teleport back to if we just closed our eyes; the scenery, what you wore, the smell and taste of the season, the very point in your body where it felt like your insides were collapsing. Or that one particular person, who is long-gone from your life but seeing them is like time-travelling back to that person you once were, ready to pick up where you left off. But as much as you want to stay in that moment forever, just in case it changes in your favor, the cold reality is that the world stops for no one. Best lyric: “If our love died young, I can’t bear witness / And it’s been so long, but if you ever think you got it wrong / I’m right where you left me.”

17. it’s time to go (bonus track) “right where you left me” was Taylor’s cry for help to get out of restaurant, and “it’s time to go” is the answer to the call, as she sings in the first line, “when the dinner gets cold, and the chatter gets old / you ask for the tab.” This song is about gathering the strength to leave situations and relationships behind that no longer serve you. She grieves the betrayal of someone she thought to be a twin from her dreams (almost definitely referring to former friend, Karlie Kloss), acknowledges that keeping a marriage together for the sake of the kids often actually has the opposite intended effect (possibly- but not certainly- something she and her brother experienced), and recounts attempting to bargain with someone consumed by greed, only able to leave with herself (absolutely referring to the end of her fifteen-year long business relationship with Scott Borchetta, her former record-label owner). But as painful as leaving all of those situations was, Taylor has gained the wisdom to understand that walking away sometimes takes as much strength as persevering. You can’t stay at the restaurant, or at the mercy of someone else forever; you have to forge your own path, even if it’s in the opposite direction of what you envisioned for so long. And even with all her past success behind her, as folklore and evermore have proved, there is so much more ahead of her. Best lyric: “That old familiar body ache, the snaps from the same little breaks in your soul / You know when it’s time to go.”

In a time where we are all trapped in our homes and in our heads, the folklore/evermore experience has been the sweetest escape. If anything, the creation of these wonderful sister records has taught me that our most powerful tool in times of distress is our own imagination. Even just the ability to close my eyes while listening to one of these tracks and feel the character’s story is a gift. The way I’ve always been able to pick up Harry Potter and escape to Hogwarts when I’ve felt alone and friendless, I can listen to folklore and evermore when I feel scared or hopeless and escape into this enchanted forest Taylor has built, where I can climb above the trees and see it all for what it is. I feel so lucky to watch Taylor’s imaginative world unravel around me. I can’t wait to see what she creates next.

DISCLAIMER – REVIEWER’S BIAS: I would literally die for this bitch.  

[cryptidcasanova]

Only Human

Vampire!Thor x Reader

“It’s only human.” Thor grinned, half teasing, half chastising. “You know that it’s real. So why would you fight or try to deny the way that you feel?”

Warnings: The Hunkiest, Himboiest Vampire you ever did see. Vampirism. Glamour. Blood. Dubious themes.

A/N: I’m so ready for fall. And Halloween. And monsters. And and and I just needed to write a fun vampire story. So here it is! And this one is special for @agentsquid12​​. Bee, you are such a sweetheart. I hope you enjoy it!

Based on this Thorsday Thot I couldn’t get out of my head.

Words: 3.1k

Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics

It was the night of one of Tony Stark’s booming parties and instead of making an appearance you skipped it to go to a dive bar with friends.

You would never be missed.

Your job at the tower wasn’t flashy or exciting. Stuck between Stark throwing money at engineers and physicists and competing with actual superheroes, your job as a biologist was mediocre at best.

The study of life had all but exploded once aliens had invaded New York, but it was more cumbersome than you could have ever imagined.

And the paperwork.

It was with that thought that you knocked back a shot of tequila. You bit back the burn with a lime wedge and noticed something out of your peripheral that wasn’t there before.

There, sitting at the end of the bar, you weren’t the only one ditching the tower for the evening.

The normally loud and advantageous God of Thunder was lounging against a seat at the bar.

The normally loud and advantageous God of Thunder was lounging against a seat at the bar.

He was in dark jeans and a long sleeve, and his hair was pulled back into a low bun at the nape of his neck. He was at ease.

He looked, well he looked normal. There was no cape, no hammer swinging, no loud outbursts. He was stunning.

You caught his eye and Thor nodded in acknowledgement with a hint of a smile on his lips.

You doubted he remembered you.

Out of the Avengers team Thor had been at the tower the least amount of time. He was hardly around between traveling to Asgard and solving one earthly crisis after another.

He had no reason to stay, you supposed.

And before you had any time to dwell on the Asgardian your friends were pulling you back in, ready for another drink. They were completely unaware of who else was in the bar and you held back a smile.

You could have told them about the God in the corner. You could have. But you kept it to yourself.

Something there, dancing in the back of your mind, told you that this was your secret. It was yours to keep.

The night passed easily, joking and drinking the hours away. The girls never did catch on who was sitting across the room, but every now and again your eyes would catch his own.

Thor was there, uncaring and unmoving.

He was at peace with his solitude in the bar, but his eyes sparked something within you every time he caught you staring.

Or maybe he was the one staring. You had felt eyes on you all night.

It was a game of cat and mouse, stealing glances and keeping the rush of nerves at bay.

You weren’t some young girl with butterflies in your stomach, but he did make you nervous. He made you anxious in a good way.

And the warping of the light against his eyes made him look almost hungry.

It was a wicked game to play.

There was something almost dangerous in the way that the most boisterous and cheerful Avenger was spending his time in the low lighting of a dive bar. After all that time he hardly moved, and the untouched beer in his grasp had lost its bubbles.

And then, once the girls were ready to retire, you waved them goodbye at their cab before following your legs back inside. You were going to stay a while.

You were pulled by an invisible string and made a beeline to the bar top instead of the table you were at before. You weren’t surprised to find Thor watching you as you sat next to him.

“You know, this is where I come when I’m trying to get away from work.”

Your jovial grin was met with a lazy, temperate smile of his own.

You could thank the tequila thrumming in your veins to get the nerve to walk on over to him. Better yet, you did it without batting an eye.

Thor turned from the bar, opening his stature to you.

“Should I go, lady Y/N?”

If you were taken back from the sound of your name on his lips he would have seen it in a heartbeat.

“No, no.” You assured him a little too quickly. If he noticed it he didn’t say anything. “Aren’t you supposed to be at some big party?”

He smirked, his eyes not leaving your own.

“Aren’t you?”

His tease was laced with mirth. Your smile mimicked his own.

“Sometimes it is nice to not have to dress up.” Thor offered lightly, turning to see you head on. “Or put on a face.”

Not for a single, solitary moment did you think that he had been putting on a face.

You would have expected the quiet, smoldering expression from his brother, but not from Thor. He was always so charming and warm.

“It must have been a busy week. I can imagine your line of work has gotten rather difficult.” He continued, popping your bubble of watching him. “It is what you do, yes? The study of life?”

He had interrupted your thoughts entirely.

Were you blushing? Or was the heat from the liquor?

You nodded with a bubbling grin.

“You are correct.”

But how did he know?

“What are you drinking tonight, my lady?” He asked gently, changing the subject altogether. “Shall I fetch you another?”

You bit your lip to stop from smiling like a bashful mess. He was ever the gentleman. Could you use another drink?

Yes, absolutely.

“I’ve been drinking margaritas.” You grinned, still feeling the liquor swimming through your veins. “How about you? Is this not a good beer?”

You tapped on the side of his beer glass. It had remained untouched, the head bubbling down to nothing.

“I used to have an affinity for ale,” He exhaled with a smirk. “But now I prefer the stronger stuff.”

His hand grazed the counter before reaching into his pocket. Pulling out a thick, curved flask to prove his point he looked at the barkeep once before looking back down to you.

The bartender didn’t notice.

With a pop from the corked lid Thor let out a hefty exhale before bringing it up to his lips.

The heavy stare he had on you was broken by a playful wink.

After a long, drawn out sip from the flask he flashed a cheshire expression. His lips were faintly painted in the dark, rich liquor.

You weren’t sure if it was the drink or the lights overhead, but Thor’s eyes looked darker than before.  His eyes were glued to your own as he offered the flask to you.

“It is much better than the stale beer.” He ensured, leaning in.

He was so large that he could have been a moment away from closing you in against the bar.

Slow, salacious thoughts muddled your mind.

“So how about it? Just a taste.”

His honeyed words melted into your skin and his knees bumped against your own. Your fingers were tingling, blindly caressing his as you took the flask.

It couldn’t hurt, you bargained. His words resonated within you.

Just a taste.

You tipped the flask back gently. The drink was thick and rich, like a bitter wine. The lingering metal taste made your nose scrunch up, but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

In fact, after the first sip you found yourself going back for more.

You were so distracted by the taste you didn’t even register the way that Thor brushed his fingers across your cheek.

And then he gently pulled the flask from your grasp.

He was watching you again with a satisfied grin, brushing his thumb across the stray liquor on your lips. Thor was purposeful as he dragged it back to his own, his tongue lapping at his finger.

Your eyes had moved, following the trail of his tongue against his teeth.

Damn.

Was it getting hot in there?

You exhaled, letting the feel of the liquor burn through you.

You felt good. So good in fact. Your body was buzzing.

That must have been some strong stuff.

The margarita was long forgotten as you turned back to the God of Thunder. He was watching you with a newfound vigor.

“It was good?” He goaded lightly.

You agreed easily with a nod, leaning against the bar. “Very good.”

His hum of content made you preen.

You leaned in closer. Just a little bit, you thought, but your body had other plans.

As did his.

And then before you registered the tug in your chest you were almost on top of him. Thor’s earlier words reverberated through your head and sent a flare of heat through your body.

Just a taste.

Maybe he wasn’t talking about the drink. He steadied you, pulling you flush against him so that you were out of your own bar stool and into his lap.

Oh, he definitely didn’t mean the drink.

A surge of confidence swept through you. You needed to get closer to him. You wanted to taste him. And so you took the lead, kissing the God of Thunder with all of your might.

His low groan sounded more like a growl in your ears and you smirked against his lips. He wanted this as much as you. Maybe even more.

His tongue scavenged against your own, and the lingering taste of the wine sent you into a frenzy.

Thor’s hand was cupping your face and the other was flush against the small of your back. You weren’t going anywhere.

And it was only when he pulled back did you realize you were out of breath. Thick and heavy, air was coming back to you in slow waves. How long were you two entwined?

Thor looked pleased and not even the least bit winded.

But his lips were bruised and pink, and he licked his lips when he found you staring.

No one could blame you. He was beautiful.

He was almost too beautiful.

It was alarming. Something was wrong.

You noticed that his eyes weren’t only darker, but they were sharper too. All of his features were. Thor was strong and broad and unbelievably attractive. He always was. You could just see it a different way now.

The lights overhead looked a little brighter. You could hear the low buzz of the fluorescents overhead.

Closer still, you could smell his cologne. Thor smelled like rain storms and rust.

You never noticed it before.

That was some strong stuff.

Your heart was pounding in your ears.

“I-” You hesitated, looking around the bar.

Reason came back, and embarrassment had riddled through you. You kissed Thor. You kissed a prince.

You kissed him like a fool in the middle of the bar. And you wanted to do it again. If that wasn’t an HR problem you didn’t know what was. So you tried to pull back, but his grip was sturdy.

“I’m sorry, Thor. It’s getting late.” You tried to reason. “I better go.”

But he didn’t let you go. His hand was still there, strong and hard against your back.

A peal of thunderous laughter made your skin prick in an unexplainable warmth.

“Are you running away, my lady?” Thor asked gently, stroking circles along your back.

You took a moment to compose yourself. You knew that you really didn’t want to leave. He must have seen the battle waging war behind your eyes.

“Then why would you fight or try to deny the way that you feel?”

The question danced on Thor’s tongue so casually that you had to shake away the urge to melt into his arms. He was just that close, close enough to steal away at your senses again.

“And how would you know how I feel?” You asked in a whisper, bracing your hands on his shoulders.

Your cat and mouse movement was only met with the slow, cheshire grin that dissolved any comfort you felt in his arms. You had never seen him this way. This wasn’t the Thor you knew at all.

“I know more than you think.” He grinned again, brushing a hair from your face. “Let’s go home.”

The tug in the back of your mind was stronger now, and it wasn’t until you found yourself back at your apartment, locking the door behind you that you came back to your senses.

You didn’t remember leaving the bar or calling a cab. You didn’t remember walking up to your third floor apartment.  

You couldn’t recall fishing in your purse for your keys or inviting him in, but Thor was there, offering you another one of his jovial grins.

“Thor?” You asked carefully, trying to make heads or tails of what happened.

You turned on the light next to the door and physically groaned. It was too bright. You turned it back off as quickly as you could.

Your head felt dizzy, and before you could lose your footing he was there again, holding you tight.

Thor was gentle and strong, and you let your eyes close for a moment.

He smelled so good. It comforted you, and you felt when he pulled you up and into his arms. You felt it when Thor kissed the crown of your head.

In the dark he led you past the kitchen and into the bedroom, and set you down at the end of the bed.

“Thor, what happened?” You dared to whisper, taking off your shoes one at a time.

You were moving with hesitance. Thor watched you carefully as you brought a hand to your face. You were worried, and he could feel it.

“I must apologize, Y/N. I forget how quickly the effects set in.”

You blinked at him once with a frown.

The effects.

A tremor of disdain went down your back as you stared at the Asgardian.

Even in the dark you could see him perfectly clear. If you focused hard enough you could have counted his eyelashes or the amount of stubble on his cheeks.

It was unnerving to say the least.

“I think you should leave.”

Your words were not as confident as you hoped.

You could feel the shallow rise and fall of your chest and the blood pumping in your ears. Your adrenaline must have been kicking in.

But Thor didn’t make any attempt to move. In fact, he took a step towards you and crouched down to eye level.

“I don’t think that will help, Y/N.”

His hand gently rested on your knee and he stroked it affectionately.

You hated it. You hated just how quickly you were sinking into his little touches, how nice it felt.

But you shook your head.

“I’ll wait it out.” You insisted. “I’ll go to bed. I must have had too much to drink.”

You tried to rationalize it.

You must have been having a bad reaction to mixing the wine and tequila.  Not only that, but it was late, far later than you should have been out for. You had worked long hours all week long, and now all of it was stacking up against you.

Thor stole your attention from the sound of your name from his lips, and then he leaned in so that you were nose to nose.

“Sleep won’t help either.” He brushed off against your lips. “Here, let me help you.”

His voice was low and you could feel the rumble of his words reverberating against you. Thor settled between your legs with a vision of his own as your eyes snapped up to him.

His hands, always warm to the touch, were colder as they firmly held to your thighs. He was pushing you back against the bedspread and you held your breath as he hovered over you. You were trapped in the center of the bed.

The cunning smirk on Thor’s lips rivaled that of his brother’s and you stood before a man you were seeing with new eyes.

Yellow, glowing eyes.

“Thor -”

“I like the chase my lady, I do, but I have been on the hunt for a long time.”

And he kissed you again. The initial shock was swallowed up as he captured your tongue, teeth against teeth, in a wicked kiss.

His touch was poisonous. You were sinking into him, the tension in your arms and legs dissolving as Thor coaxed sweet groans from your lips.

Your fight was replaced with just how earnest you were to feel him.

He nipped at your lips and you matched his movements, albeit a little too much.

In your excitement you broke the skin. You didn’t even realize you did it until Thor drew back for a breath, a satisfied smirk making its way to his face.

The metallic smell hit your nose and your eyes snapped up to his lips before a faint mewl bubbled past your lips.

Thor watched your confusion erupt into something darker. Something primal.

And who was he to deny you what you needed?

He swiped at the little incision on his lip with his tongue and watched your bewitched expression before lowering himself again. You stilled, but only for a moment as you tasted the familiar elixir he had given you.

It made your eyes roll back in bliss.

You lapped at his lips and his jaw and his neck. You were completely enthralled by him.

“See my lady, you can’t fool me.” Thor pulled back smugly, growling against the skin of your neck. He left slow, intentional kisses there, focusing on the delicate spot. “Your body has other plans.”

A lingering tug on your mind left you blissfully dazed. You were keening up into him, grabbing at his shoulders and back.

In the back of your mind, the last bit holding on to lucidity, there was a subtle disdain for your Asgardian. You knew something wasn’t right.

It took a moment to put the pieces back together.

That wasn’t wine he gave you to drink back at the bar.

It was blood. It was Thor’s blood.

“What did you do to me?”

Your words were hardly a whisper over the thrumming of your heart and the weight of Thor on top of you. You had nowhere to go, nowhere to run.

And when he kissed again at the apex of your neck it was different. You knew it. He knew it. And he hovered above you with a gentle caress.

“Only what was meant to happen.”

The sharp sting of his canines against your pulse was the last thing you remembered before Thor carried you off into the night.

Sunrise wasn’t far away.

[kiki-shortsnout]

28: pulling in someone by the waist for Ironstrange! 💛

‘What exactly are we looking for, Doc?’ Tony asked as Stephen dropped the heavy tomes down on the table. He waved away the dust cloud that billowed in the air, one hand covering his mouth as his eyes watered.

‘Anything that mentions the coming of the end. That was what the demon said with his dying breath wasn’t it?’ Stephen asked as he sat down on the bench beside Tony, taking half off the books and shoving them in front of the man.

‘I thought he said unable to defend? Their powers transcend?’ He wasn’t cracking a joke, Tony was genuinely trying to work out what their enemy had told them while it died.

‘FRIDAY? Can you replay the last few minutes of our slimy friend’s monologue?’ Stephen asked, keeping an eye on Tony as the man yawned, rubbing the back of his hand across his eyes. This wasn’t his usual slump from lack of sleep, Tony was beyond tired, exhaustion seeping from his skin, huge bags under his eyes that Stephen longed to soothe with his touch.

Their relationship wasn’t like that, yet. Perhaps one day once things had settled down enough, but for now, the safety of their planet and their universe took priority. They’d been fighting hordes of demons sent through the cracks of the multiverse, and they knew nothing about the big bad behind them, the source of it all.

SHIELD had been throwing everything they had at it, working around the clock to try and pinpoint the next rift so they could position the Avengers as the front guard, while the Masters of the Mystic Arts kept any other threats at bay, trying to assist in the ways they could, trying to find the cause of the multiverse rift.

Tony had fought valiantly alongside his teammates, and Stephen could see the toll on his body. He wasn’t as young as he once was, his insides mangled after the shrapnel and the radioactive battery shoved inside his chest cavity, but he still fought with everything he had.

FRIDAY projected a hologram onto the table. The demon looked almost like a Kree, but their skin was black oozing tar, with rounded ears and sharp teeth.

‘He’ll kill you all,’ the words bubbled out from his split lips. ‘It’s the coming of the end-’

‘FRIDAY, shut it off, would you?’ Tony managed to string the words together, waving a hand through the projection. ‘It’s the coming of the end…that doesn’t even make sense!’ Stephen could see Tony wanted, needed sleep, watching the way his head kept drooping down towards the table like he didn’t have the strength to even stay sitting, his fingers twitching as if seeing invisible equations he needed to solve.

‘Do you want to go take a nap on the couch in my study? Or I could open a portal back to your bedroom?’ Stephen prompted gently, the flicker of sadness he felt looking at Tony suddenly blooming into a crushing weight. Tony’s eyes were devoid of their usual sparkle and he looked like he wanted to cry, but didn’t have the strength to, his eyelids chafed from where he kept rubbing them. Glancing down at Tony’s forearms he could see the bruises and cuts half-healed, the backs of his hands raw and his knuckles blistered from all the fighting.

‘Nah, I’m good. I can sleep when we’ve taken care of whoever is trying to kill us this time,’ Tony tried to smile, the pale imitation of it knotting Stephen’s stomach, making him hunch over to try and relieve the pain.

He reached out, placing a shaking hand on top of Tony’s. ‘We will find out whoever is behind this. We will stop them.’

Tony flipped his hand over and squeezed once.

‘Yeah. Yeah, we can do this,’ he told him with a tired huff, trying to draw strength from somewhere and failing. Unable to watch the man he’d grown to care about suffer, Stephen looked down at the huge books, steeling himself for what needed to be done.

The sounds of rustling pages filled the space between them, interrupted only by a stray bird cheeping as it called for its mate. Stephen shifted, trying to draw his attention to the wavering words on the page and not the sound of a scrabbling monkey climbing over the temple walls, looking for the offerings of food the students usually left out for him.

There has to be something here, Stephen pleaded with the ancient texts, pushing one aside on the table to reach for the next in his pile. We can’t lose to them, not after we beat Thanos.

Sudden weight crashed into his side and he startled, a mandala forming instinctively in his hand as his body perceived a threat. Looking down, he saw Tony had slumped against him, losing the war against sleep.

Stephen became keenly aware of everything around him, the dry rasp of the dusky air stroking across the stone floors, the faint dings from the brass wind bells scattered throughout Kamar-Taj. Nudging the book aside, he tilted his body a little so Tony could rest comfortably, his hand meandering down to wrap around Tony’s waist.

He might not look like it in the Iron Man suit, and in his expensive business suits, but feeling the trim waist beneath his hand only reinforced Stephen’s idea that the man was fragile, which was ridiculous considering how hard Tony fought, the powerhouse he was. His own perception was warping reality as he encouraged the man closer.

Tony’s body gave up the fight of always being on guard, burning itself out in exhaustion, surrendering to Stephen, knowing he was safe.

Stephen listened to his heavy breaths, felt them against his neck in warm exhales, and he looked down at Tony’s chest rising and falling, the movement lulling Stephen into a sense of calm, spreading out into his body in swirling filaments of tranquility.

Here in the sanctuary of Kamar-Taj, a moment could feel like an eternity, and even without the help of the Time Stone, he manipulated time to slow, elongating and stretching like sticky molasses, giving them both the reprieve they needed.

Stephen could do this one thing for him, he could give Tony a place to rest his head, could hold him and share his burden.

Later they would begin the fight for the world anew, but for now, the world only consisted of the two of them.

***

I hope you enjoyed it! Thank you for the prompt! It was a lot of fun to work on!

[love-peterparker]

In Extremis || Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: After the reveal of Spider-Man’s secret identity and the release of Quentin Beck’s murder video, there isn’t a lot going right for Peter Parker. But he has you. 

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, protests and rallies, mentions of murder, a gun that is never shot, and some hair description for Y/N for plot purposes (but it should still be generic enough).  

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: I’m first a Captain America and Agent Carter fan, and I wanted to recreate what makes their relationship so special, but with Peter and Y/N… ‘cuz I also love Peter Parker. I really loved writing this, and I hope you enjoy it.

Also, thanks to @marvelouspeterparker, @sinisterspidey (she actually has a blurb called I’ll Follow You and it builds off of Spider-Man’s identity reveal) and @stuckonspidey for answering my anon asks for general writing tips and Peter’s character. And @spideyspeaches with her kind words after reading one of the final drafts of this fic. Lastly, a special thanks to @peterbenjiparker encouraging me with this fic and for making me so emotional with her series Invisible String (Read this!... but only if your heart can take it) that I needed to write something. This story has nothing to do with it, but it does make some small generic references to her fic, and I would like to think that Y/N and Peter are soulmates in this story.

***

This takes place in a universe where a FFH-esque identity reveal happens when Y/N and Peter are young adults.

***

This fucking city didn’t deserve him.

Peter rarely admits it, but you say it all the time. When you hit a dead end in the Avenger’s database. When checking for your gun before leaving another safehouse. When reaching for him in the dark of night.

This fucking city didn’t deserve him.

It had been over a year since Peter’s identity as Spider-Man was revealed and the dubious video of Quentin Beck’s murder was released. But it felt like a lifetime.

These two Peter problems were like ivy. They rooted, twisted, and spread. Winding into chokeholds around their victims.

But heroes knew how to play with fire.

Peter’s identity was dealt with in a straightforward fashion. Plenty villains who would do anything to exact revenge on Spider-Man, but they would have to find Peter Parker and identify his loved ones first. And for someone like Peter? Well, it was going to take some time.

To you, Peter was lifegiving. A shining ray of golden hope. You fell to sleep and rose to press kisses into his face. To cherish and hold. To share tears. But to the world, or even New York City? He was a nobody, one who couldn’t even hold a steady job.

You all worked fast while the wicked played catch-up. The Avengers searched and wiped all, but ultimately little personal information Peter had on the internet, as well anything that might connect him to your shared inner circle. Everyone was given an Avenger’s signal watch. And both you and May opted to move as a precaution. May to Brooklyn. You to Avenger’s Tower.

The case of Quentin Beck’s murder was a much more grinding process. Through polished superhero reputations, the lawyers secured an Avenger’s Tower house arrest during court proceedings. An overwhelming amount of evidence in Peter’s favor was gathered. Press conferences were held. Speeches were given. And when it all seemed like it was too much for too long, you and Peter would lie in bed, arms and legs entangled, whispering that everything would turn out all right. Good will win. You just had to keep going.

It was taxing, but not impossible. And just when you all thought you were pulling at the end of the thread with the jury in your favor, the ground beneath you crumbles into nothingness. You spiral and crash into a labyrinth, lush and high-walled. Maybe this was the way out- oh wait, you’ve been here- or have you? You all turn and turn only to face a new dead end. A new set of incriminating videos were released. Spider-Man’s videos took the spotlight, but videos of Wanda and Bucky were also revealed. The streets of New York bustled in whispers.

Can we really trust these heroes? What if these videos are the truth?

And what happens when these powerful people think they are right when they are wrong?

When public protests against Earth’s heroes sprouted and jury members started to disappear, it was clear that the whoever or whatever was behind this had greater motives and powerful allies. It was time to buy time.

Everyone had tried to convince Peter to go into hiding somewhere else. Anywhere else. He had enough super-friends where anywhere was possible. Lay low while everyone else above ground scrambled to unweave this massive web of lies. But Peter was infuriatingly adamant that New York, regardless of her wavering loyalties, was his to protect.

So two months ago, he started bouncing around New York City, investigating when he could, and making polarizing headlines with every swing he took.

You tried to continue as if Peter was still by your side. After being terminated from your junior journalist job for “suspect ties to Spider-Man,” Spider-Man became your mission. You originally attended press conferences and rallies as moral support, but after Peter’s first awkward mumbles of a speech, it was painfully clear that he needed a new voice. The public herself needed a normal person who interacted with superheroes. Who better than Spider-Man’s girlfriend? But after the last kidnapping attempt and the Avengers’ numbers shrinking, it was clear that this wouldn’t last. The world now knew who you were too.

The thick ivy had caught up, and you were on fire.

But to hell with it because there was no universe where you would be leaving this nightmare without him. So the next time you looked in the mirror, you donned short red hair and heavy eyeliner.  

Days were spent questioning possible witnesses. Nights were spent in the light of a computer. And when you could barely drag yourself to continue, moments were spent staring at your beautiful boy’s picture. He needed you.  

You had only heard from him twice since he went into hiding, though there were a few times answered unknown number calls would lead to abstract rustling and distinct web shooter noises. To those, you always whispered “I love you,” before hanging up.

That was until last night, when you noticed small slip of paper in the crack of the window of the safehouse you had been staying at. Only a time and an address were written, in messy, but undeniably Parker script.

You spent the next day visiting arbitrary places in the Bronx, trying to determine if anyone was following you and collecting items in an unsuspecting backpack.

It was a balancing act between comfort and practicalities. An extra stealth suit. A waterproof jacket you both shared. Protein bars. Extra web fluid and a first-aid kit. A hefty wad of cash, just in case. And in the smallest pocket, things to help him in the darkest days to come. Letters from you, May, Ned, and your other friends. A few packs of gummy bears. And a picture of you and him, laughing in Central Park on one of your many dates. Sunlight casting halos on your heads. Bright. Carefree. Brimming with love.

Your heart cried and cried and cried, begging for those days.

But they were gone. And as much as you didn’t want to admit it, so were the people in that picture.

You travelled to the building location and made your way to the rooftop. Rows and rows of white sheets were hung, all whipping in the wind to dry.

A small smile graced your lips. You had to hand it to him. He was smart.

You folded yourself into one of the corners of the rooftop, gun in hand and waited. Eerie silence slowly lulling you to…

You woke up to the soft footsteps, sleepy eyes registering a shadowy figure behind one of the bedsheets.

“Hans?” you whispered, pointing your gun with a finger on the trigger.

“Leia,” the figured replied, equally hushed. The shadow lifted the curtain. It took a second to register, but it was really him. You raced towards each other, quick hold each other, beaming. Today, you existed in the same place at the same time.

“That was so stupid. I can’t believe you got me to do that,” you laughed, pressing your face into him, holding him tightly as if he could disappear at any moment.

“Oh, come on, you loved it!” he quipped. You hummed in appreciation.

“True, but I love you more.” His eyes brightened at your confession, pink dusting his cheeks.

“I know.” You shook your head, smiling at his response before turning your head and taking in who he had become. Gone were the luxurious curls, replaced with a buzzcut. A pair of fake glasses perched on his nose in further attempts to conceal his identity. Hallowed eyes. His skin tinted gray from the stress. You ran your fingers through the fuzz on his head, massaging his scalp. A sigh escaped his lips, eyes fluttering shut, with hands reaching to caress yours.

“You cut your hair.”

“You did too.” His fingers danced in the ends of your own tresses. A sad smile furnished your face.

“It had to be done,” you replied, before pressing your lips to his cheek and gently removing yourself from his embrace to get your laptop. “We need to get started. We’ve found a lot since you left.”

With his head on your shoulder, fingers laced with yours, and your laptop on your lap, you recounted the on-going investigation to him. The deep web that just kept going and going. Your theories and suspects. And when that was done, you kept talking. How Aunt May and his friends were fine but missing him. How the remaining Avengers were fairing. Peter was oddly quiet, sharing only a few thoughts here and there, but you attributed it to his weariness.

As the sun continued to dip, the silences between sentences stretched, but you mustered more words. As if your sentences were the delicate string that grounded him to you.

“Y/N,” he interrupted. You looked at him and hummed in reply. He began playing with your fingers, eyes never meeting your own. “I love you more than I ever I thought I could, and I’m really thankful for everything you’ve done. And you’ve done so much. Like, I don’t know if I would have even made it this far without you, but here you are, and well, you can’t keep doing this.” You cocked your head, before shaking your head, hair rustling.

“What? Peter, we are getting somewhere! I just need to visit the-“ He lets go of your hand, fingers clenching into trembling fists.

“No, no more visits. No more investigating. This can’t be your life. When this started, we thought there was a way out. But it’s been over a year. Clearly whoever or whatever is doing this won’t stop until we’re all gone. This may never stop. I can’t have you throwing away your life for me. Hell, I don’t even know when I’ll see you aga-“

“Peter,” you cut him off, your voice pitched lower in concern, “Where is this coming from? We’re gonna make it. It is just a matter of-”

“I can’t give you what you deserve! I’m Spider-Man, so we don’t get to have a house and two kids! We get this-, this fucking disaster! I live like this because I have to. I don’t get a choice. And you shouldn’t be stupid enough where you are doing the same thing!”  

Your mouth fell open, ready to spit back poison when he looked at you. It was in his eyes. Behind the falling tears and redness was the glint of insecurity that Peter had always carried. This was the child whose parents died. The teenager who didn’t stop his Uncle Ben from getting killed. Who held Tony Stark in his last moments. The man who was on the run.  

The hero who would never stop giving to a world who would never stop taking.

Your thoughts frenzied. If you held on to him too tightly, he would resist. The more he would thrash, determined to save you while slowly sacrificing himself until there was nothing left. Your brain was frozen, so your heart gave you the words-

“Marry me.”  

Peter’s eyes widen before retracting into a tight furrow, scrunching his nose.

“What?! No! Did you not hear anything I just said-“

“I’m not leaving you. I will never leave you. The one thing you never get to doubt in the world is us. So, I’m gonna ask you again; will you,” you took his hand, went to one knee, and let your voice soften as you held his gaze, “Peter Parker, marry me?”  

You both bathed in silence. His chocolate doe eyes boring straight into yours, searching for truth. The thought that maybe you had gone about this the wrong way started to crawl into your mind, but then a smile slowly creeped onto his face, bright red with blush. More salt-water pooled in his eyes. He pulled you into a near lung-constricting embrace, smothering wet kisses into every inch of your face. Mine. Mine. Mine. You could practically hear his thoughts as you basked in each kiss. I missed you. I love you. And oh my god, you’re here to stay.

“What did I ever-, I have no idea know what I ever did to ever deserve you.” A smirked formed on your lips.

“Is that a yes?” The gold stars in his eyes shined at your playfulness. There was the man you always loved.

“Yes, yes, oh god yes. I do, Mrs. Parker,” he said pulling you in for a passionate kiss. And you both stayed there, melting into the ground beneath you. Breathing each other in as moments passed. Tender “I love you’s” flowing generously from both of your lips. As if the world had vanished and all that existed was you and him, and him and you, and this understanding that this, this was a love until death do you part.

Peter was the one to break the string of kisses, leaving you to chase his lips before touching his forehead with your own. His breath hot on your face. “I- , if you go to my lab there is a secret compartment. In my desk. The code is your birthday. I was going to ask you myself, but then, well… this.” You chuckled as he stumbled on his words.

“I’ll get it as soon as I can.” You both leaned in to close the gap again when a cacophony of sirens and lights echoed in the streets below.

Frustration filled Peter’s eyes as he sat up. “Shit. I-, I gotta go. Are you gonna be okay?” You let out a shallow breath, but quickly forced a smile.

“Go get’em.” And with the whip of his webs, he was gone.

You sat there for a moment, taking in the new quiet. Your fingers graced your lips, still warm with the memory of his. A lightness had settled in your chest, and with every breathe you could feel it pulse stronger.

Because no matter what it took, no matter how long the wait, there was two things for certain.

He was going to protect the city. And you were going to save your husband.

[loki-hargreeves]

Once Upon A Dream - Loki x Reader [Ch. 3]

[Previous chapter] ~ [Next chapter]  Warnings: blood, self inflicted wound, angst, mentions of torture, self-deprecating thoughts, sentimental stuff and the battle of New York (action, fighting etc) Word Count: 9,5K  Chapter Summary: You and Loki are finally alone and seemingly no one can bother you. He begins to tell you parts of your past. Nothing good lasts forever, since Erik Selvig arrives with the tesseract and Loki has to set his plan in motion. Turns out that the both of you are fighting for the same thing; freedom, but under very different circumstances.  Author’s Note: This doesn’t follow the exact order of the events in the film. I changed a few things to suit the plot better. Other than that, I hope you’ll enjoy it! Listen to: Once Upon A Dream playlist

THIRD POV

[CH 3 All I’ve Ever Known]

~ And now my memory seems to be failing me

         What once was fantasy is all I've ever known ~

Escaping with Loki, taking his hand and joining his unknown master-plan, was perhaps the most exciting and frightening thing Y/N had done. It was something she chose to do out of her own will, despite knowing damn well it wasn’t the right thing to do. Helping a prisoner escape? Aiding him in something that S.H.I.E.L.D. viewed as a threat? It was so wrong, but it felt so right. 

Perhaps the unlawfulness and rebellious side of it all was what excited her so much. She knew that she was closer to getting the answers she had only dreamt of hearing for so long. Finally, it was her time to shine.

Loki wasn’t a fool. He knew exactly what had to be done in order for them to escape unnoticed -- for now. The Hulk was free and the Avengers were too busy trying to calm the raging beast down, so they didn’t have time to think about Loki or Y/N. Not really. The thought of asking for her help certainly didn’t cross their mind. 

And when they eventually would come to notice that someone was missing, it would be too late. 

              As they escaped the massive helicallier, there wasn’t much time to propose questions. They both had one thing on mind, and it was the get out of there as fast as possible.

Watching from the side as Loki used the powerful sceptre to take control over people’s minds was haunting. He didn’t look proud of as he turned the pilots into his puppets, but it was necessary. The entire time from the moment they left the helicarrier and eventually ended up in the city of New York felt like a heartbeat. One moment she had been working with the Avengers so she could gain her freedom, and now she stood by Loki’s side and she felt as free as a bird. It all happened incredibly fast. 

“Why are we here?” Y/N wasn’t sure if she had spoken until now. Everything was a haze in her overwhelmed mind. 

Loki had been determined to get them on the Stark tower. It stood proud between the other skyscrapers and from up above, they could see the city as far as their eyes would let them. It stretched so far that it was difficult to believe it was real. In every building there were people, the streets were full of cars and it was loud. But not loud enough to disturb them so high up above the ground. It was almost peaceful. 

“It’s the perfect place for the plan,” Loki answered quite vaguely. Earlier, when they had been alone, he had been quite sweet and well focused on her. Right now, he avoided her gaze and failed to stay still for a few seconds. It was clear that he was on edge, but she didn’t know why. 

Was it the plan? 

What was he doing anyway?

“Mind telling me about it?” Y/N felt like she was playing with fire. But at the end of the day, she had risked everything to join him. In her mind, she deserved to know. Perhaps, she could help him fulfill this plan of his.

Loki stilled. He wasn’t proud of what he had to do, but he couldn’t stop now. Even if he wanted it to stop, he wasn’t sure if his body would comply. There were invisible strings attached to him and when he tried to fight it, he felt lost and helpless. Those terrible feelings reminded him of what his life had been recently, ever since he let go of the spear and fell off the Bifrost bridge. In his mind, death would’ve been more merciful than the destiny that followed.

If he didn’t do as planned, he feared he would return to the world of raw pain. Or worse, that Y/N would take his seat in the torturous hell and he would be in the audience. She might’ve not remembered him, but Loki remembered everything. 

“Are you okay?” She noticed that her question pained him. 

“I will be,” Loki faked a smile, hoping that it would relieve her. He knew how stubborn she could be, or how stubborn she had been before. He wondered if he could distract her from his plan by mentioning their past? The thought alone made his heart ache. It felt so wrong to make her remember them when he was going to break her all over again. Surely, she’d hate him for what he was about to do. 

They had time to spare as they waited for the earthly doctor to deliver the final piece to the massive puzzle. Loki put down the sceptre, and when his skin lost touch with it, he felt more relaxed immediately. He faced Y/N who had been following him closely. They stood inside the penthouse where they were sheltered from everything, even if it was only for a brief moment. It was warm, and the place smelled clean. Could he notice the trace of wine lingering in the air?

“I believe it’s time for me to hold up to my end of the bargain,” Loki skillfully geared the conversation away from the big plan to the past. It almost hurt to see the ray of hope shining in her eyes. 

“Really?” She sounded excited. 

Loki gestured for her to take a seat on the couch. If he was in her shoes, he would’ve needed a seat. “It’s a long story.”

They sat down beside each other, which reminded Y/N much of her previous dream. Only this time, Loki was the Loki she knew, not the romantic man who had kissed her tears away. Her heart was beating faster as time passed and she could feel it drumming against her rib cage. This was it. The moment she had waited for for so long. 

“You are not who you think you are. This place,” Loki pointed out of the window, vaguely gesturing at the realm of Midgard, “This realm isn’t your home. You come from Asgard,” Loki finally poured some truth in the mixture of lies she had bathed in. 

She was Asgardian? 

The thought of being from another planet was absurd. It made her lose her breath and she felt small, rather vulnerable. It was unbelievable. If anyone else had told her she wasn’t even from planet Earth, she might’ve laughed it off. But this was someone who knew her. It made sense that she wasn’t even human, yet hearing it was strange. Her skin felt cold and she was trapped. Did it mean she had a family as far away as on Asgard? A past? A vivid life where she once knew joy?

Loki recognized the look on her face. It hadn’t been too long since he had felt like her too. When he discovered his whole life was not but a lie, that he belonged to a race he was raised to hate. It hurt.

In a desperate attempt to comfort her, Loki gently took her hand in his. It had been too long since he had felt her skin against his, and he wished sincerely that it would spark a memory in her of their shared past. 

“We knew each other,” Y/N mumbled, trying to hold onto flashes of memories that passed her mind but to no avail. “How?” 

How could Loki ever begin to explain to her what they had? It was so deep-rooted that he was sure there weren’t words good enough to describe what they had. That’s when he remembered something. He turned her hand so her palm faced the ceiling and they could both see it clearly. Carefully, he put his own palm above hers.

“Have you heard of soulmates?” Loki wondered. By now, he wasn’t a threat or an intimidating enemy of people. He seemed like a nervous man who was about to confess his feelings to someone. 

She had heard of soulmates in her dreams. “I have,” Y/N admitted carefully, wondering if they truly were soulmates. It seemed crazy, like something out of a storybook. But it would also explain quite many things. 

“This might be a lot, but hear me out,” Loki began tracing his fingertips on her skin, running them on her palm which made goosebumps rise on her skin. How could some who fought so harshly be this gentle? 

“I was told from a very young age, that soulmates are two people who are carved from the same branch of the tree of life. From the very beginning, they have been connected. They share the same star,” He explained it with passion in his voice. His hand stilled above hers. When he turned his palm up and placed it next to hers, he revealed something new.

A pattern had appeared on their palms that Y/N had never seen before. They were identical. A star constellation that shone on their skins. She noticed nine stars, but only seven of them shone brightly. The two others were dull compared to the rest. Nevertheless, their palms resembled puddles of magic as the constellations moved ever so slightly. The sight of the stars moving in sync was astonishing. They were beautiful. So many questions began to run circles in her mind. 

“I suppose to answer your question, we’re soulmates. But it has never been quite that simple. Yes, we were lucky to be born and alive at the same time, but life challenged us.”

“What do you mean?” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and faced him worriedly. She swore she saw suffering deep in his expression. Facing Loki and knowing they were soulmates was like looking at him through new lenses. She wished they had the time and the peace to talk things through with time and consideration. But reality was a painful weight on her shoulders. Although they were like this now, it wouldn’t last long. 

“I’ll tell you more of it eventually. To keep a long story short, when Odin found out about us, he wasn’t too pleased. He made it very clear that we weren’t supposed to stay in touch, but,” He paused for a moment as a genuine smile spread on his face, “we never listened to him.”

Loki used his magic to paint a fuller picture. He turned their reality into an illusion so they no longer were in the Stark penthouse. Instead, they were on Asgard. It was a place from his deepest memories, from the time he was younger. Asgard looked as great as ever. The streets were full of people, the sun was shining above their heads and it smelled like fresh bread. There was a bakery nearby. 

Y/N watched in awe as she took in the surroundings. She could remember this place, and she wasn’t sure how. It made her feel at home and safe. 

“Your parents owned a bakery in Asgard,” Loki broke the silence. He stood up and so did she, keeping the distance between them short. If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve believed him if he said they had teleported to Asgard. It looked so real. 

She wasn’t sure what to say. As Loki began walking towards the bakery where the lovely scent came from, she followed. The next thing she knew, they were looking in through the wide window. 

Inside they could see a small family. Once Y/N saw their faces, she recognized them. The woman with the warm smile and orange dress was her mother. She was beautiful, and joy and kindness radiated from her. Beside her, by the oven where bread was being made was a shorter man. He wore an apron and he looked delighted. His voice was deep, although she couldn’t make out what he was saying. Deep down, Y/N knew it was her father.

The next person she saw was herself, but she was much younger. She watched as her child self ran in through the door to greet her parents with a hug. Although she hardly remembered anything of her past, she somehow knew exactly what happened next. She told them about her school day, and then she tasted the new bread her parents had made. She was the one who named it and they sold the bread as ‘sun bread´. 

It was a bittersweet thing to witness. There had truly been a time when she had been this happy and full of life. She had a family that loved her. Her heart swelled in her chest and she missed that. Where were they now? Did they know she was alive? 

“A few years after this, you welcomed a little brother into your family,” Loki let her enjoy the memory for a little longer until he changed it. Suddenly, the bakery was gone. They were at a healer’s place. The only light in the room came from behind the curtains. Despite the dim lighting, they saw well. There was a bed in the middle and the same faces were there. 

Y/N’s mother was holding a crying baby in her arms, as Y/N and her father walked in to greet them. 

Loki didn’t have to say it. Y/N already knew that this was when their family was complete. It was just the four of them but they were content and delighted.  

A memory sparked deep in her mind and it sent shivers down her spine. “That’s Vragi,” She remembered her baby brother’s name. By now, she had tears in her eyes. How could she have forgotten about them?

To hear her say his name surprised Loki. He knew that showing her visions of her past would jog her memory, but he hadn’t expected her to recover any memories so fast. Nevertheless, it made him happy. That was a wonderful sign. 

“Yes,” Loki confirmed that she was indeed correct. “He grew up to be a guard at the palace. I believe he’s still doing well,” He wanted her to know that her brother was still alive. What she didn’t know was that he believed she was dead. Vragi had turned bitter for a while after he learned how the palace treated his sister, but he hadn’t been able to afford losing his job. Loki wondered how he was doing now.

“What about my parents?” Y/N had to know. She turned to face Loki with curious eyes. Her heart felt heavy as she feared the worst. As long as they would be alive and well, she would be happy. 

Loki wasn’t sure how he would tell it to her. Being the bringer of bad news was never fun. “Your mother, she is doing well. She still runs the bakery, as far as I’m aware.”

“And my father?” 

She deserved to know the truth. Loki already knew it wouldn’t make her happy, but he was strong enough to tell the story to her. He took a deep breath and faced her directly. 

“After you were pronounced dead, he refused to believe the news. He went searching for you beyond Asgard’s borders and no one has seen or heard from him since.”

He was gone.

Y/N’s heart sunk to her stomach and she felt physically ill. Had her father died because of her? How was she supposed to be dead? It didn’t make any sense at all. 

The only thing that was clear was her sense of guilt. She wished that her father was alive, but if she would learn he had died while searching for her, she would never forgive herself. 

“H-how...how am I dead, Loki? Why do people think I’m dead?!” 

He wasn’t entirely sure of how he could explain it to her. Was it all on Odin? Was he the one to be blamed, or had Loki a say in it as well? Did she want to be pronounced dead? There were too many loose threads. 

The illusion around them turned dark, until it was pitch black around them. It looked like they had stepped into a void. 

“I don’t know,” Loki admitted after a while. “I think that only you know the truth, Y/N.”

How ironic. She was the only one with the key to the past, and she couldn’t remember a damn thing.

Suddenly the elevator doors opened which startled both Loki and Y/N. The dark surroundings around them fractured like glass and eventually vanished into thin air, returning them to the penthouse. Loki was ready to attack whoever entered the penthouse, until he saw who it was and he relaxed his shoulders. Loki let out a breath of relief as he saw Erik Selvig with the briefcase. Quickly, he gave Y/N an apologetic look for having to end their conversation so abruptly. After all, they were just getting started.

“Finally,” Loki took the briefcase from the man and felt thrilled. If only he could use that power by himself. It was a shame where it was going to after this.

“What’s that?” Y/N wanted to know. For the sake of her own sanity, she tried to ignore everything that just happened. It was something that would keep her up at night, and distract her. In order to work with Loki, she had to put it aside. It wasn’t easy, but she had learned to control her mind when needed.

She was right by Loki’s side as he opened it, just to make sure it was still there. When he briefcase opened, their eyes were met by a bright, blue light. It was almost too bright to look at.

“This is the tesseract.”

Y/N was fascinated by it. Not only was it beautiful to look at, but it contained so much energy. She could feel it radiating off it and she wanted to touch it, but didn’t. It contained so much raw power to touching it would probably not be a great idea. 

That’s what S.H.I.E.L.D. wanted to find. They were ready to put together a team of people like her just to get their hands on it again. Whatever it was, it must’ve been incredibly powerful and one of its kind. 

Loki shut the briefcase and took a deep breath, “I think it’s best if you stay here. We have work to do.” He didn’t want her to see what they were going to do. Besides, there wasn’t much she could do; for now. 

The big plan. Y/N had almost forgotten about it as her mind tried to process everything else. For some reason, Loki didn’t want to tell her what it was all about and it made her curious. How bad it could be? 

Without wasting any time, Loki and Selvig walked to the balcony together. Loki grabbed the sceptre on his way, and he changed. His spine straightened and he carried himself differently. It’s like all he could focus on was his mission and he didn’t even glance back at her. 

By now, Y/N was sure of one thing. The sceptre wasn’t good. Whenever she saw it, people acted strangely. Back on the helicarrier, the avengers had gotten bitter and they fought each other when the sceptre was nearby. Each time Loki held it, his softness vanished.

She was afraid of what was behind all of this. Or who. Who made Loki do this? 

Y/N didn’t even notice that she was spiralling into a dark place until it felt like the world was closing in on her. Quickly, before she would make a fool of herself, she hurried into the nearest room. She yanked the door open, only to see a bathroom and it was good enough. As she closed the door and faced her own reflection, her breath stopped somewhere deep in her throat.

She was free

She had a soulmate

She was Asgardian 

She had a family, and if her father was dead, it was all her fault...

Although she thought she could handle it all, she learned she had only been lying to herself. Knowing all that was overwhelming and she felt so awfully guilty. Tears were threatening to spill from her eyes and it was difficult to breathe. 

“Keep yourself together,” She told herself strictly and tried to take a deep breath. Her body was shaking. It was all so overwhelming and it just had to take a toll on her now, at the worst possible time. When she looked at her palm, the stars had faded. Why were two of the stars dull? Once again, her eyes scanned her reflection on the huge mirror. The outfit she wore didn’t look like her. It was boring and it reminded her of the agents and soldiers who had been her only company for the previous decade. Then she scanned her face, the scars she had, even the one on her neck.

The tracking chip!

How could she have forgotten? There was a chip in her neck that surely led S.H.I.E.L.D. right to them. That was terrible!

“No, no, no, no...” In a panic, she opened the drawers and tried to find something she could use in order to get rid of it. Soon enough, she found a pair of scissors. Although the thought of digging something sharp and cold into her neck was gnarly, the thought of the Avengers showing up there any moment now was worse. 

With shaking hands, she went for it. The microchip wasn’t that deep in her neck, and luckily, she knew exactly where it was too. By locating it with her powers, she tried to reach it with one of the blades of the sharp scissors. When it pierced her skin, she let out a series of curse words. It stung a lot, but it was nothing she wasn’t able to endure. 

Blood started to pool from the small wound and it ran beneath her shirt, which felt uncomfortable, like wet sleeves after washing your hands. The scissors had done their job and she used tweezers to grab it. The microchip was incredibly tiny and grabbing it wasn’t easy. Blood had made it slick and it didn’t want to be held. Perhaps what was worse than the pain were the sounds. The wound was so close to her ear that she heard everything, making her sick.

Finally, after a battle with the tweezers, she pulled it out. After all those years, it was now on her palm. Despite the pain and the bloody mess she had made, she was happy. Having it out of her neck was just another tiny victory of her freedom. With her super strength, she was able to crush it beyond repair. 

                   Loki couldn’t believe he had come so far. The portal opened and a powerful beam shot up at the sky. In a matter of seconds, it cracked a hole into the blue sky and he saw the darkness of the other end of the portal. Although the sight was powerful and captivating, it wasn’t something that eased him. He knew the destruction that would follow from creating the vortex. 

Before Y/N could see it and jump to conclusions, he wanted to find her. She deserved to know what was happening, although it was the last thing he wanted to tell her. It all would’ve been so much easier if it had been true all along, that she was gone forever. But she was there, alive and very real. He felt safe leaving Selvig there alone, to keep the portal open. 

To see the spacious apartment without her in the middle was concerning. Loki picked up his pace and decided to check the rooms. His mind went to the worst possibility at once. Had she left? Had something happened when he had turned his back on her?

He couldn’t say he felt relieved when he found her on the bathroom floor with her hand pressed against her neck. He saw dry blood all over her skin and she looked like she had been crying. 

“I’m so sorry,” Y/N whimpered quietly.

Loki let go of the spear and joined her on the floor in a rush. He was worried for her sake, “what for?” 

She raised her hand and revealed the microchip, that was broken by now. “They must know where we are.”

Loki genuinely felt sorry for her. He didn’t wish for her to carry guilt for that. Besides, they would certainly find them now with the portal that was currently pouring an army into the city. 

“Y/N, they are bound to find us. It’s alright, it’s going to be alright,” Loki wasn’t sure if he even believed himself. Even if he succeeded and did what Thanos had wanted him to do, there was no guarantee that they would be alright after it all was over. But she didn’t need to hear that right now. She didn’t even know about Thanos. 

Loki replaced her bloody hand with his and decided to help. He took a deep breath and focused on magic that was old but well known to him. Healing wounds was essential to someone like him. A green flicker of magic lit the room for a moment. Y/N felt a tingly sensation on her neck as Loki healed the small wound, making it look like it had never been there in the first place. 

Now she just felt embarrassed for letting her emotions get the best of her. 

“Thank you,” She cleared her throat and avoided Loki’s gaze. 

“Are you okay?” Loki wondered. He knew the mindset she was in and it wasn’t healthy. Her entire life was changing and it was something that could break even the strongest of minds. 

As Y/N wiped her dried tears away and took a deep breath, she made up her mind. “Yeah, I’m okay. It just got to me for a moment.”

Loki put his hand on her cheek, which made her look right into his eyes. “We’ll make it,” Loki tried to sound sure of it. “Once we finish this, nothing can some in our way.” 

“I like the sound of that.” 

Despite having no way of predicting the outcome of this battle, she found comfort in his words. That was good enough for the time they had. If only the circumstances were different. Loki would’ve done everything differently, but he had no choice. Time was running out. 

“When you walk out of this room, everything will be different,” Loki tried to find a good way to tell her. He helped her back on her feet and for a moment, they stood there just facing each other. 

Y/N had a terrible gut feeling. 

“My bargain with the person I’m working with isn’t a sight for sore eyes. It’s...something disastrous. But it has to be done,” Loki was careful with his words. 

“Loki, who are you working for?” It made no sense to her that someone as powerful as he was doing the dirty work of someone else. Whoever it was, they must’ve been a nightmare. 

It was clear that this person made Loki uneasy. He looked scared for a moment, but he tried to mask it with a brave front. “Thanos. There are many words I could use to describe him. But I hope that I can put him in my past once this is all over.”

By now, Y/N couldn’t just stand there anymore. Her curiosity got the best of her as she stormed out of the bathroom, only to look through the large windows in the penthouse. What she saw was like a scene from a movie. The city that looked peaceful yet so busy a moment ago was now full of levitating alien creatures, some were destroying buildings and more of them came out from the sky. 

She noticed the portal. The one that the tesseract had created.

“What is going on?” Y/N tried her best to stay calm and think of this from Loki’s perspective. Was there anything he could say or do to justify this? She was in so much shock that she couldn’t even tear her eyes off the sight. 

He appeared right behind her and he too watched as chaos unfolded before their eyes. “The Chitauri army is here. In order to free myself from Thanos’ regime, we made a deal. I bring him the tesseract, and in return, I would get my freedom. But in his terms, my freedom is Earth.” As Loki remembered the torture he had gone through, he cringed. He remembered how the Other had threatened him by saying “If you fail if the Tesseract is kept from us, there will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevice where he can't find you. You think you know pain? He will make you long for something as sweet as pain.” They had tortured him for so many moons, and if that wasn’t pain enough, Loki didn’t want to imagine what they had in store for him.

It was conflicting. At times, Loki felt so confident in this plan. He was eager to follow through and become the king he knew he was, that he was born the be. A part of him wanted to succeed so Thor would feel his wrath. Then again, Loki found himself thinking he was doing something terrible, that he had to make it stop. He didn’t really care for humanity or the realm. To rule it wasn’t on the top of the list of his fantasies. Was it too late to turn back now? Possibly. The longer he thought about it, the less he seemed to know of his own needs and desires. He was simply a man with a mission.

Y/N didn’t know any of that. “What happens if you fail?” She genuinely wondered what could be so bad that Loki would do this in order to avoid.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words got stuck in his throat. Loki wasn’t quite sure, but he knew it was terrible. If he thought the torture he felt through Thanos’ hand was bad enough, then he couldn’t imagine what concoction of terror he had planned for Loki next. 

They faced each other. For a moment, in the middle of the havoc that was destroying everything that people knew to be safe and normal, nothing else existed. They both thought about it, about how much better it would’ve been if they had always been by each other’s side. If they had walked down a different path in life, would they be standing there right now? 

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Loki,” Y/N knew he wasn’t going to answer her previous question. She truly meant that. She had a hatred for people after what they had done to her, but deep down she knew that not all of them were cruel. Hopefully, Loki’s plan wouldn’t risk too much. She wasn’t going to stop it though. 

Both Loki and Y/N noticed a familiar man soaring through the sky, towards them. It was Iron Man, landing on another balcony while keeping direct eye contact with both Loki and Y/N.

The sight of him disarming himself and walking inside sent shivers down Y/N’s spine. She knew that this was only the beginning of something huge.

Loki didn’t want Y/N to get into trouble. Quickly thinking, he wrapped his arm around her waist and kept the other wrapped around the sceptre, holding her so she wouldn’t be able to escape, only as an act. The tip of the spear was pressed against her pulse.

At first, being grabbed by Loki made her flinch. Had he lied to her the entire time? Was he going to hurt her? Then she put the pieces together and realized what was going on. It was all an act.

“Let’s get this over with, shall we?” Loki whispered in her ear from behind. One step at the time they made it toward the bar where Tony was making a drink. How bizarre.

Tony glanced at Y/N, unsure if she was a hostage or an enemy. For now, he couldn’t be sure so he had to assume she was still on their side. having her on the team would be remarkable. Tony had read her report and he knew that it was much better to have her as an ally rather than an enemy. 

“Does she really have to suffer so you can succeed with your shenanigans?” Tony wondered, implying that Loki was ready to harm her.

Y/N tried to look afraid. A part of her was genuinely scared, but for entirely other reasons. Her breath was heavy and she was tense as she felt Loki’s touch on her body. It was almost nice if it wasn’t for the situation they were in. She was playing hostage as Iron Man stood before them. He probably had a plan in his mind and they had to be careful. 

“Please tell me you’re trying to appeal to my humanity,” Loki mocked him. Right now, his voice was so deep and spiteful. Her back was pressed against his chest and she could feel his deep voice vibrating against her back as he spoke. She swore she could feel his heartbeat as well.

“Uhh, actually no,” Tony looked into Y/N’s eyes, and it seemed like he was trying to read her. It didn’t last long, as he continued his conversation with Loki. “I’m threatening you.”

Loki didn’t seem too impressed. Once again, the power of the sceptre made his only ambition to finish this job. “You should’ve left your armour on for that.”

Tony poured something into a glass and took a sip of the drink, acting as if this was an entirely normal situation. “Perhaps. Would you like a drink?” 

“I won’t let her go if that’s your goal. Stalling me won’t help and it certainly won’t save her,” Loki’s words sounded so genuine that if Y/N hadn’t known any better, she would’ve been terrified. 

Tony wondered why Loki hadn’t used his mind-bending powers on her yet. The entire hostage situation was strange. Was she more valuable to him without the brainwashing? He wanted to know. 

“Are you sure?” Tony tried again. He needed as much time as he could get in order to proceed with his plan. 

Loki loosened his grip on her ever so slightly. It would be easy for Y/N to untangle herself from him, but she didn’t need to nor did she want to. She knew that Loki trusted her to act if they met more enemies. She had made up her mind. She was going to stand by his side through the madness that was happening. 

“The Chitauri army is here and you’re having a drink,” Loki wondered why the hero wasn’t out there, working with the precious Avengers. The longer Loki held the sceptre, the angrier he grew. The hatred and pain he felt inside turned stronger and it wasn’t good. The more he focused on all the negative feelings within himself, the less he cared about everything else. 

“Fighting your army would be easier with her,” Tony looked at Y/N. “And we have to stop you.” He wanted free her from Loki so they could fight side by side. Tony could only dream of that. 

“I have an army,” Loki felt the need to make that clear. How could they possibly defeat that? 

“We have a Hulk.”

“I thought the beast had wandered off,” Loki admitted and Y/N silently agreed. She too thought they hadn’t possibly contained the raging beast. It certainly surprised her. 

Tony’s easygoing attitude shifted. He took one glance at the outside world and suddenly seemed more serious. Was he afraid? Did the Chitauri make him uneasy?

“You’re missing the point. There’s no version of this where you come out at the top,” Tony sounded incredibly sure of himself. It sounded like he wanted piss  Loki off, which was a terrible idea. “Maybe your army comes and maybe it's too much for us, but it's all on you. Because if we can't protect the Earth, you can be damned well sure we'll avenge it!”

Y/N felt Loki’s muscles tense as he grew more furious. Tony’s degrading words reminded him too much of Thor and their so called friends. His grip on the spear tightened and Y/N suddenly didn’t feel as comfortable being wrapped up against him anymore. Tony, with the drink in his hand, walked away from the bar and made his way closer to them. That’s when Loki pointed the sceptre at Tony instead of Y/N.

“One more step and you’ll be busy fighting your friends with her,” Loki threatened Tony. 

What did he mean by that? 

As soon as the words left Loki’s mouth, he pushed her to the side, rather harmlessly. Then he pushed the tip of the spear against Tony’s chest, right above the spot where his heart was supposed to be. It all happened incredibly fast. Y/N expected to see Tony turn into a mindless toy soldier, but absolutely nothing happened. How was he safe from the power of the sceptre? The sight baffled her.

Tony expected Y/N to rush to his aid. After all, he had hoped she was truly a hostage and that she was by their side. When he stood there and Loki confused over why his powers weren’t working, he knew it; Y/N was now an enemy. 

Tony looked disappointed. 

“This usually works,” Loki tried to understand how he was immune to such great power. It had never failed him before!

“Performance issues are quite common. I just didn’t think she’d tag along with you, knowing this-” Tony’s witty sentence was cut short when Loki grabbed his throat harshly, nearly crushing his windpipe. Then Loki sent Tony flying across the room. The glass shattered loudly and his drink spilt on the floor. He let out a pained grunt and tried to get up, but Loki was faster. He grabbed Tony’s neck and pulled him up again with ease as if a grown man weighed nothing at all.

Watching their fight unfold was intimidating. It was odd to see Loki so aggressive and angry when he had been so gentle with her. The look on Loki’s face radiated pure wrath. She watched as Loki flung Tony out of the window, just like that. He was falling to his death unless there was a miracle up his sleeve.

Despite siding with Loki, it was a frightening scene. Instinctively she ran toward the now smashed window and she looked down with her eyes wide open. A moment later, something flew right past her, nearly pushing her out of the window as well, and it chased the falling man. 

Y/N turned around to look at Loki who was now enveloped in his own bitterness. Once again, the negative energy didn’t radiate from Loki, but the sceptre. It had completely surrounded him.

“Are you okay?” Y/N wanted to know. She kept her distance. Would Loki actually use the sceptre on her? Didn’t he trust her already?

Loki wasn’t sure why she would ask that. The Chitauri army had arrived and they would both be free very soon. Why wouldn’t he be okay?

“You are not doubting me, are you?” Loki wondered. He cared for her, but he couldn’t have her as his enemy. It would ruin everything. Maybe, just maybe he could defeat the other Avengers, but not her. 

“No, I just-” She didn’t know what to say. Would he be upset if she pointed out how the sceptre affected him? “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

They were yet again cut off. Iron Man flew up to them and he was as good as new. They didn’t have a chance to wonder how he survived the fall as he shot a beam at Loki. 

“No!” Y/N yelled out in surprise, afraid he got hurt. For a moment, she was terrified that he had hurt Loki. Before Tony could hurt him again, she formed energy blasts around her hands. The energy of the sceptre was strong and she was delighted when he learned she could use it to strengthen her own powers. 

Tony was startled by the sight of her powers. His weapon was loaded and he was ready to shoot at Loki at any given moment, but he stalled, “You can still join us, Y/N. Whatever he promised you, it’s likely fake. You don’t have to do this.”

“Why would I want to help the people who kept me locked up for years?! You treated me like a villain!” She roared angrily, surprised by the outburst of emotion. Just a moment ago, she was much calmer but now the pain of her past bubbled in her veins. She wanted revenge even if it was the last thing she would achieve.  “Maybe it’s time for me to play the part.”

Loki had gotten up from the ground. Tony’s attack had barely scratched him, but it had taken him by surprise. He was ready to fight Tony, but he was interested in Y/N’s outburst. It came out of nowhere and he saw power in her that he hadn’t seen in a very long time. The energy around her only grew stronger and he knew the impact she would create would be merciless. 

“Don’t make me do this,” Tony almost sounded disappointed. Was he upset?

Y/N wasn’t. She unleashed the powerful blast right at him, and Tony was sent off with it, flying far away from them. For a moment, the heavy impact confused him. He was roaming back towards the ground for a while, but he saved himself just in time with the strong jets in his suit. Despite avoiding the impact with the ground, Tony had snapped his neck back so fast that it hurt him. For a moment, he felt incredibly light-headed.

Loki was impressed by this. He could only imagine how satisfying it must’ve been for her to get a taste of revenge on these people. 

“That was impressive,” he said it out loud for her to hear. Only then Y/N snapped out of her trance. 

She was shocked by her actions, but it was quickly replaced by joy. It felt so good to stand up for herself, even if the way she did it was wrong. “He deserved it,” Was all she could say. 

The agent suit she had worn earlier didn’t feel right. Although Y/N barely had any memories of her past, she could imagine Asgardian armour, all the gold and the beautiful, vibrant fabrics. With the help of her magic that she was slowly able to use again, she changed her outfit. The dull and dark skintight outfit was gone and she wore new armour. It resembled Loki’s in many ways, but it had her written all over it. A cape of her favourite colour seemingly grew out of nowhere until it cascaded down her shoulders. 

Loki lost his breath for a moment.

How did she recreate it? The last time he had seen her like that was on Asgard well over a century ago. 

When she stretched her arms to see the details of the armour and the suit beneath it, she felt delighted. It just felt so right. Everything fit her perfectly and it looked amazing. Then something strange happened. A flash of a memory from long, long ago surprised her. 

She saw herself in an unfamiliar place, a tall forest full of people. It smelled of smoke and fire, and the irony scent of blood. She saw many warriors in outfits that resembled what she was wearing. They were at war. In her memory, she was fighting someone on the ground. She had defeated her enemy and when she stood up, she saw Loki who was looking at her. The Loki in her memory seemed proud. He had dirt and blood on his face and his daggers were messy, but he looked just wonderful. It all ended as fast as it had begun.

“I haven’t seen you like that in a very long time,” Loki was the first one to break the silence. When had he walked right up to her?

“What do you mean?” 

“Your armour,” Loki glanced at the tiny details on her shoulder blades, “It’s exactly what you wore in battles back in the good old days.”

Even if she didn’t remember everything that happened, it seemed like the knowledge was still in her muscle memory. Somehow she just knew how to change into this gear. It felt so natural.  “Maybe it’s finally coming back?” 

“I certainly hope so,” The sincere and kind Loki was back. They were together and they had a mission to complete. “I really do.” 

“What are we going to do?” Y/N wondered. It was impossible to forget Tony’s threat. All of the Avengers were lurking right around the corner. 

Loki put his hand on the small of her back, guiding her to walk with him to the balcony. There they took in the sight of the Chitauri army. It wasn’t a pleasant sight at all. There was destruction everywhere. Despite knowing the army wasn’t from this planet, it was fitting to humanity. Destruction and chaos was everywhere. 

“We must win this fight. Once the tesseract is with Thanos, I don’t know.”

She felt anxious just thinking about this Thanos person. “I don’t know?” She repeated his words, hoping he would elaborate. 

“My first plan had been to stay here. I didn’t know you would be here too, Y/N. That changed everything,” Loki admitted. The universe had put her on his path for a good reason, but he hadn’t figured out how to move on now. 

A quinjet flew around the building and Y/N saw Natasha’s familiar face. She was flying it with Clint, who was clearly his own self again. A moment later, Thor appeared with his mighty hammer. It looked like they were cornered, but they couldn’t possibly underestimate Loki and Y/N together. 

The sight of their enemies fueled both of them with energy. This was a fight for freedom. Without saying another word, Y/N got into action. She used her powers to leap from the balcony to the quinjet, taking Natasha and Clint by surprise. Loki went the other way to fight Thor, which he had waited to do for a while now. 

Being on top of the jet would’ve been terrifying if it wasn’t for the adrenaline that flowed through her veins. She held onto it tightly so they couldn’t shake her off the roof. 

Through the speakers on the quinjet, Natasha spoke, “You have one chance to abandon Loki’s side and fight with us!”

Were they serious?

Y/N allowed her suffering to form new energy blasts. She directed her power into the ship and when she let go of the energy, her power tore off the wing. Just like that, the quinjet lost its course and it was time for her to find a new ride. As they neared the ground at a dangerous pace, Y/N jumped off the ship. She landed on a stranger’s balcony safely as the quinjet continued its destructive path. 

There was no turning back now. 

                                      Loki had never fought Thor with such fiery hatred before. Not even when they fought back on Asgard. This was different. His negative feelings had doubled, either because of the time spent with Thanos, or because of the sceptre that fed his hatred. The mere sight of his so-called brother was enough to make his blood boil. 

They were throwing punches at each other. Despite how strong Thor appeared on the outside, he struggled to fight Loki. Thor tried to hit Loki with Mjolnir, which Loki gracefully dodged and then delivered his brutal blows. As Loki swung the sceptre at Thor’s face, they both stopped for a moment. Why didn’t Thor fight back?

The moment Loki stalled to wonder what was going on, Thor had Loki pushed against the wall, but instead of knocking him out, Thor attempted to reach the Loki he once knew. 

“Look at this!” Thor wanted Loki to truly see what he had caused. 

Loki didn’t know why he did it, but he listened to Thor. Thor yanked the sceptre out of Loki’s grasp so Loki couldn’t use it against him. He simply stood there and watched as the Chitauri army ruined buildings and spread terror among humanity. For a moment, Loki felt sick to his stomach. This wasn’t what he wanted. He simply wanted to be free from his past, and this was the only way to make it happen. He wished it was that simple, that he could make it stop and not worry about what would happen next. But if he made this stop, surely Thanos would find Y/N. He would find everyone Loki had ever cared about even slightly and hurt them. It would all be on Loki. He couldn’t risk that.

“Do you think this madness will end with your rule?” Thor continued harshly.

His words reminded Loki of why he despised Thor. He always believed he was better with Loki, that Loki wasn’t capable of doing anything right in his life. It was the spark his anger needed to get over the heart-to-heart Thor attempted to have with him. 

“It’s too late,” Loki knew that deep in his heart. The portal was open, and he was so close to delivering the Tesseract to Thanos. If he stopped, and even if Thanos wouldn’t find him, there was no way Loki could walk away from this like nothing had ever happened. “It’s too late to stop it,” Loki explained and he wished he could’ve said it was too late to stop him. But Thor would never understand. 

“No,” Thor sounded hopeful. “We can, together. You, me and Y/N.”

Loki stared at Thor in shock. How did he dare to use her against him? Last time Loki checked, Thor stood like a trained dog by Odin’s side as Odin threatened to banish Y/N merely for existing. Thor had let her walk a path of heartache just to she could look good in Odin’s eye. When Y/N had been pronounced dead, Thor had barely remembered who she was. Thor didn’t give a damn about her unless it was for his benefit. 

“Sentiment,” Was all Loki could say as he used a dagger to push Thor off him. It sunk into his flesh through his thick armour, forcing Thor to take a step back, releasing Loki simultaneously. 

Loki watched as Thor groaned in pain on his knees. He knew it was twisted, but he hoped Thor felt half the pain that he felt. That he regretted speaking of Y/N like he actually cared about her. Loki knew a lie when he heard one. 

Before Thor could get up and fight him, Loki exited the scene. Ever so casually, he walked over the edge of the balcony. He only fell for a split second until he landed on a flying chariot. It was a smooth landing and he was happy to be far away from Thor, even if it would be for a few seconds. 

Right now, he wanted to find Y/N and make sure she was alright. He didn’t doubt her powers, but they were in a special situation. Perhaps Loki’s worst fear was that one of Thanos’ children had arrived in the city for some reason. There was no way he could let them find her. 

As he neared the ground, he saw people running away. Some were screaming, others were crying, some were frozen in shock. They looked at him like he was a monster. 

Loki noticed a child further away, lost or simply otherwise alone. He was crying and calling out for his mother who was nowhere to be seen. The sight made his stomach turn in a sick way. Loki might’ve wanted a glorious war, but not like this. Before a piece from a building could fall on the poor child, he stopped it by using his magic. He grabbed the huge chunk of the building with his magic and pushed it so it landed further away, avoiding the child completely. Instead of smashing the human child, it smashed an empty vehicle. As soon as he was done, he flew away, not bearing to witness the look on the child’s face. He wasn’t playing hero, but he certainly wasn’t there to harm people for fun.

                                           Unbeknownst to Loki, Y/N had been much closer than he anticipated. She returned to the Stark tower merely to find Loki. She wanted to make sure no one tried to close the portal. As much as she disliked the Chitauri, she knew Thanos must’ve been much worse. As she made her way up to the penthouse, she saw Thor. The sight of him made her regret going up there. Yes, she was powerful but so was he. And Thor was Asgardian. She wondered, had they met in the past? Before she could run the other way, Thor noticed her by the elevator and he marched toward her like an angry bull. She froze and decided to stay. Surely, she could fight him and his silly little hammer. 

“You can make him stop this!” Thor pointed at her with the Mjolnir. He genuinely thought she wasn’t on Loki’s side. She assumed he was the type of person to see the good in others, even when it didn’t exist. 

“Why would I do that?” Y/N decided to test him. It was a dangerous game but she wasn’t scared. It was exciting to see the shock on Thor’s face. He hadn’t expected to hear that from her mouth.

Thor had to let the words sink in for a moment. He had his suspicions of her when he first saw her. But so long ago, Thor had been told she was dead. He couldn’t possibly believe she was alive and in the Avengers project, fighting against Loki. 

But now when he saw her like that, in her armour, by Loki’s side via devotion, he was sure of it. It was the Y/N he knew of back then. And she was still connected to Loki. Breaking that commitment would be difficult, if not impossible. Thor knew he had to do this the hard way. 

“Do you really want to hurt these people?” Thor wondered. From what he remembered, she had been sweet and kind. Sure, a mighty warrior in battles but as a person, someone Loki had needed at the time and perhaps she had needed him too, just as much. Y/N had been so loving and Loki challenged her, in the best ways. They truly were soulmates, which was often times fantastic.

When soulmates teamed up and turned against others, it could be catastrophic. 

“People won’t get hurt if you stop fighting it,” Y/N was sure of it. Loki wasn’t here to hurt people for sport. He only had to keep the fight going on so no one could stop him from delivering the Tesseract to Thanos. 

“And then what? They would fall under Loki’s rule. Loki and humanity do not go well together!”

“Humanity sucks, Thor! They are cruel creatures who only care for themselves. Besides, Loki doesn’t want to rule this mess!” She was quick to bark back at him. Perhaps it had been the original plan, but Loki just told her he didn’t know what to do once it would all end. 

Thor seemed confused. If not to rule humanity, why would he start a war? 

Y/N continued, “We both just want to be free.”

“You can be free, if you stop this,” Thor tried his best to win her over with words. 

Y/N didn’t believe Thor for one second. That would be pathetic of her. Her trust had shattered a long time ago. Loki was different because he had something real to back up his words. 

To show Thor that she wasn’t having any of his tricks, she pulled out a weapon she hadn’t touched in a long time. Fishing it out from a pocket dimension, she grabbed it gracefully and smiled. It was her sword that had been her backbone in many situations before. 

“I won’t let you stop him, Thor.”

“And I can’t let you help him.”

“So be it,” Y/N was disappointed that even Loki’s own brother couldn’t understand. She was ready to fight. 

[Chapter 4]

A/N: Oh my god, I can’t believe how long it took me to continue this story. I’m so sorry! This year has simply been unbelievable. But I’m back at it again and I truly hope you can find some joy in this. If you do, I would absolutely love to hear your thoughts, even if you would simply smash your keyboard. Feedback makes my day and hearing from you guys inspires me so much. Have a great day 💚

Also there will definitely be more action and angry Loki in the next chapter. I just wanted some softness before the eventual chaos 👀

TAGS:  @lokislittlecorner @angelicwolf98 @iraniq  @thegirlbeyondtheuniverse @chipmunkchick @chimera4plums @myraiswack @grincheveryday @surprisinglyaestheticinfj @kinghiddlestonanddixon​ @subtlemalice​ @alfoos​ @ayamenimthiriel​ @whimsicalwoodlands​ @strangemcuvlogs @green-valkyrie​  @i-have-arrived-bitch​ @alfoos​ @amwolowicz​ 

[spideyspeaches]

Okay so I have this idea for a series which I may not write who knows anyway here's a lil summary/teaser cause I'm evil-

Y/N L/N- the youngest of all Avengers, had achieved many things in her young life. She could heal people just by a touch of her hand. Until one day, she realised that her powers also had a darker side- a touch could heal others, but soon realised that the invisible string tying her to her soulmate - could kill him. A tug at his heart strings and he was dead meat. It was simple right? Stay away from her soulmate so that there were no strings attached? to keep them safe? Except her soulmate was her best friend- Peter Parker.

I know it looks angsty (it will be. Just a little.) But there will be fluff lol. Tell me if you are interested in reading it 😎

Tagging some moots:

@calltothewild @greenorangevioletgrass @tommyunderoos @geminiparkers @peterspideysstuff @caramelscoffee @ilarbu @rcsydreams @starlight-starks @selfcarecap

[shakespeareanqueer]

Colorblind

Pairing: Stucky x F!Reader 🌈Summary: Bucky and Steve have a beautiful relationship but something is missing. When they touched all those years ago, only half the visible light spectrum opened up to them. What does that mean?

Word count: 2,203 🌈Contents: Blood drawing (so needle), alcohol mention

A/N: This is the fourth day in a row I’ve managed to post work! Hopefully this means I can shift my posting schedule up and get more of my bingos done before the year is out. Anywho, enjoy this one! It’s for MarvelCapsicle’s Writing Challenge. P.S. Sorry I’m bad at ending things.

As usual, I will reblog with links to my masterlist, tagging my permanent taglist (which is open!), tagging MarvelCapsicle, and citing the header photo. 

Bucky and Steve were an unusual pair of soulmates. They met when they were young children, which isn’t so uncommon, but it quickly became clear that the colors they could suddenly see when they first made contact with each other were wrong. Upon meeting one’s soulmate, one’s world turns from black and white to color, but for some reason, there were some colors that Bucky and Steve just couldn’t see. The whole first half of the visible light spectrum, from red through yellow, was invisible, making anything that contained those colors… off. It took them a little while to realize this, as they were so close to one another and their lives were so intertwined. But when Steve couldn’t see one of the main colors of his shield and uniform, one of the main colors on the flag he was meant to represent… that was weird. And Bucky couldn’t see the hue of the star emblazoned on his metal arm, or either of the colors of the Soviet flag under which he served as the Winter Soldier, which was honestly somewhat of a blessing. But nobody knew why until they joined the Avengers.

Everyone had been chatting and having a wonderful time at a party, when it suddenly became obvious to everyone that something about Steve’s vision was wrong. Bucky’s too. Neither of them could see the color of Thor’s cape, or Tony’s suits. They were definitely soulmates; when they had touched, color came into their lives. That is precisely what’s supposed to happen, but it didn’t happen quite right.

Bruce began to formulate a theory and asked Steve to stop by his lab later, when they were both sober. Bucky too if he wanted, but the former assassin was reticent. He rarely interacted with the others that weren’t Steve unless absolutely necessary.

So the next day, Steve went to Bruce’s lab, where he was orientating someone in deep maroon scrubs that to Steve appeared a dark gray. It happened to be you, Bruce’s new lab assistant.

Bruce explained his theory to Steve, that he couldn’t see the first half of the visible light spectrum because only some of his cones had been activated. What happened when people touched their soulmates for the first time was that the cones in their eyes became activated to perceive color, whereas before only the rods worked and could perceive shape, form, distance, etc. Bruce ran several vision tests, and his theory proved correct. What he still didn’t understand was why?

“It’s nothing to do with your eye. Everything about your eye function is normal.” Bruce was pacing the length of the lab, frustrated and intrigued by this challenge.

“If I may, Dr. Banner,” you spoke up. You had been dutifully filling out paperwork concerning your hiring in the corner the whole morning, and when you were done, you had sat and waited for instruction that never came. So you took this moment to interject. “Might my dissertation research help in this scenario?”

Bruce’s eyes widened in realization. “Yes! Yes, possibly. Please, draw some blood.”

You had written your masters dissertation on the existence of a string of genetic code that you called the soulmate gene. The gene coded to tell the eye when to activate the cones. The biology of soulmates fascinated you, especially since you hadn’t met yours yet. Your theories were groundbreaking, but you still hadn’t pinpointed what about contact with one’s soulmate managed to activate the gene. All your thesis did was transfer responsibility of the mystery from one part of the body to another; from the cones directly, as had been the prevailing theory, to the genetic sequence you discovered.

You could analyze DNA from any type of sample, but blood was the purest and least likely to break down under your equipment. So you began to pull out the materials to extract a few vials of Steve’s blood.

“I’m just fascinated by your case, Captain Rogers,” you said cheerfully as you slipped on your latex gloves. “Perhaps your situation will provide insight to my research.”

“Please, call me Steve,” he insisted warmly. “What’s your research on?”

You began to explain, partly as distraction for Steve from the pain of the needle and the extraction. As you told your story, he couldn’t help thinking that you were the most brilliant and well-spoken woman he had ever met. He found you absolutely beautiful too, with the voice of an angel. He blushed, admonishing himself for this line of thinking. He was gay, in a relationship with Bucky, and happily so.

When he and Bucky were kids, there was a pushback against gay soulmate couples. It was commonly accepted that those couples were all platonic soulmates, and all heterosexual soulmate pairs were romantic. This was simply not the case and never has been. There are platonic and romantic soulmate pairs of every combination, especially since gender isn’t binary. Steve and Bucky always danced around the sexual and romantic attraction as kids, publicly subscribing to the narrative that they were platonic soulmates and nothing more. But when they both found themselves in the 21st century in the United States, where gay marriage had very recently been legalized, they finally got to live the life they never dared to dream of as kids. One where they could touch each other and be together in every sense of the word.

Back in the day, it was easy for both Steve and Bucky to accept that they would each marry a woman and remain platonic soulmates forever. They were both attracted to women, after all. At least they thought they were. They were able to convince themselves that they weren’t attracted to men, and when they admitted their feelings to each other, they then convinced themselves the reverse— that they had only thought they were attracted to women due to compulsory heteronormativity and all that. But neither could help the nagging feeling that they really did find women quite… appealing.

“All done!” you chirped, and Steve was pulled out of his reverie. You placed the last vial in the holding rack, pulled the needle from Steve’s skin, wiped an alcohol swab over the injection site, and then covered it with an Iron Man band-aid. Steve couldn’t help but notice how gentle and pleasant your touch was, even through the latex gloves.

Behind you, Bruce was already setting to work putting the samples into the equipment and isolating the genetic sequence responsible for activating the cones. Bruce squinted at the screen. “How curious. You seem to have the sequence duplicated. One copy of the sequence has been activated, the other hasn’t.”

“Curious indeed…” you agreed, glancing over Bruce’s shoulder as you pulled your gloves off.

As Steve rolled down his sleeve and Bruce continued staring at the projection on the screen, you admonished yourself. “I’m sorry, Steve, I’ve been so rude! I’m Dr. Y/N Y/L/N. I know who you are, obviously.” You reached out your hand cordially, and he accepted it.

A trio of gasps echoed through the lab.

“Your scrubs!” Steve exclaimed. His eyes darted around the room. Everything was brighter, and nothing was in grayscale anymore. Except, of course, things that were actually black or white or gray.

“My scrubs!” you repeated his astonished exclamation in an equally astonished tone. “And your hair!” It seemed that while before, Steve and Bucky couldn’t see red, orange and yellow, you could now only see red, orange and yellow or variations thereupon. Most things, including Steve’s eyes, remained in shades of gray.

“The DNA!” Bruce shouted, pointing at the screen. You dashed over to see what he was looking at. “It changed! The second sequence got activated!”

Your face scrunched up in concentration that Steve found remarkably endearing. “Fascinating! The DNA was disconnected from the body and yet it still changed upon contact! What must that mean about its make-up?”

You and Bruce were focused on the screen, but Steve couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. He could finally see you in all your glory, in full technicolor, and that rendered you even more stunning than before in his view.

“So I have two soulmates?” Steve came up behind the pair of you scientists and placed his hand on your back. Even through your scrubs, a shiver ran down your spine at the contact and proximity.

“I guess so,” Bruce responded.

Steve looked down at you adoringly, then his brow furrowed as a thought came to him. “Can you see all the colors, Y/n?”

You shook your head. “Inverse to you, I think. I can only see the first half of the visible spectrum.”

Steve’s expression lit up as something clicked in his head. He grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the door, shouting, “Come on!”

You glanced back at Bruce apologetically, but he just chuckled and shrugged at you. “Guess you’re taking your lunch break a little early.”

Steve dragged you down the hall and up two flights of stairs. By the time you stopped in front of one of the doors on the residence floor, you were out of breath. “Steve, what’s going on?”

Instead of responding, he pounded furiously on the door and yelled, “Open up, punk!”

You heard lethargic groaning and the shuffling of slippers across hardwood. Bucky opened the door, clearly miffed at being disturbed in the middle of a nap and snapped, “What?” When he noticed you, he straightened up and tried to smooth down his hair a little, not quite sure why he should care about his appearance in front of this random, admittedly very pretty stranger, but absolutely, definitely caring.

You were too transfixed by the magnificent streaks of gold running down his left arm, the Wakandan prosthetic replacement for his original Hydra-issued limb. You reached out to trace the shimmering veins with your fingertips, absolutely hypnotized at the dazzling hue that was completely novel to you.

While Bucky would normally jerk away from physical contact with anyone but Steve, especially with his fake arm, he found himself leaning into your touch. While not his own skin and not containing any of his DNA, the arm was programmed with artificial nerve endings his brain couldn’t differentiate from real ones, and he shivered at your feather-light touches.

Steve was watching the interaction with pride blooming in his chest. How Bucky wasn’t shying away from you but was in fact relaxing in your presence, how the infectious curiosity he had already come to love in you was painting an expression on your face he could only describe as ethereal.

Bucky met the gaze of his best friend and lover with a million questions in his eyes. “Touch her,” Steve whispered, reaching for his partner’s right hand and placing it for him over your cheek.

You closed your eyes and hummed at the pleasant sensation that rippled through your being as his callused palm met your cheek. It was the same rush of euphoria through your veins as occurred when you shook Steve’s hand, only somehow even more… satisfying.

You heard a gasp above you, and Bucky’s deep voice murmuring, “Your hair…” His vibranium arm extracted itself from where your fingers were still grazing over his biceps and he ran his metal fingers through Steve’s golden locks.

You opened your eyes and gave a gasp yourself, reaching up to cradle Bucky’s stubbly cheek. “Your eyes…” They were a brilliant light blue dappled with the gray you were so used to painting your entire world. It had signified loneliness for so long, but rippling through the dazzling cerulean in Bucky’s irises, the gray took on a new meaning: completeness.

Bucky chuckled and leaned into your palm. “You think my eyes are pretty, try Stevie’s.” He spun you around, resting both hands on your hips. The cool of the metal on one side and the warmth of his skin on the other seeped through your thin scrubs deliciously.

Steve’s eyes were indeed glorious, equally to Bucky’s but no more so in your opinion. They were also bright blue, though slightly darker, and instead of streaks of gray, they were speckled with bits of green.

When you twisted your head to look back at Bucky, tears were spilling from his eyes but his smile was wide as he gazed in adoration at his boyfriend. “We found our missing piece,” he whispered.

Steve nodded, placing his hands over Bucky’s on your hips. “It’s us three now. Together.” Steve looked down at you with concern and worry tainting the beauty of his face. “If that’s what you want?”

Instead of answering, you reached up on your tippy toes to place a soft kiss on his lips, then turned to bestow the same honor upon Bucky. A blissful smile spread across each of their lips as you pulled away from them.

“I’m Y/n, by the way,” you directed at Bucky, giggling.

He blushed, realizing he was totally ready to get down on his knees and profess his undying love for you, but he hadn’t even considered asking your name.

“James. Bucky,” he responded.

You giggled again. “I know.”

And from then on it was you three against the world.

[leahxx129]

Feels Like Home: The Truth (pt.5/final part) (Hvitserk x Reader)

Alright, so this is the final part to the Feels Like Home series. I know this was promised like 2 months ago but as I explained in a previous post - a break from Tumblr was essential for me. I hope you like the finale. :) Also, I inserted a ‘Keep Reading’ line, hopefully it’ll be visible to all of you.

Summary for pt.5: The raid was a roaring success and finally it’s time for you to explain everything to Hvitserk. The question is - will he be able to forgive you?

Warnings: description of homicide, cursing

Word count: 2.030-ish

Read PART1, PART2, PART3 and PART4.

* Moodboard is mine, images used are not. *

In the end, the raid turned out to be a roaring success. You made it out alive and as far as Ivar was concerned, the treasury’s content lived up to the stories he had heard, and he drained the place to the last coin.

Now, on your way back to Kattegat, you have some newly acquired thralls heat up two kegs of drinking water and fill the wooden tub in your cabin with it. Usually you can wait with the post-battle bath until you get home but this time you wish to cleanse yourself as soon as possible. The hot water makes your muscles relax and you catch yourself falling asleep when a soft knock on your door brings you back to consciousness.

“Come on in!” you signal your visitor to enter after stepping out of the tub and wrapping a cloth around your body.

Hvitserk’s face lights up at your sight.

“You are the only person I know who can conquer a land and still look breathtaking afterwards.” he says, earning a shy smile from you.

“Haven’t your father taught you that it is not decent to lie?”

“He has and I am not lying! Are you questioning my honesty yet again?”

“I would never dare do such a thing!”

You both chuckle and he pulls you into a tight hug. A familiar scent fills his nostrils – could he be imagining it, or your hair does smell like the wildflowers from the meadow?

“Ready to tell me everything?” he whispers sometime later, and you lean away to look into his eyes.

“No. But I made a promise and I always keep my word. Are you ready?”

He nods, then sits down on a chair next to the table and draws you into his laps. Looking into his eyes and knowing what you are about to say makes your chest ache, but you clear your throat and begin anyway.

“Do you remember the feast you had thrown for Ubbe’s birthday, just one full moon’s time before I left?”

“I do.”

“And do you remember how sick I felt during the feast?”

“Yes, I do. You had too much cherry wine so consequently I escorted you home to rest.”

You place a hand on the side of his face and caress his cheek with your thumb affectionately.

“It was not the cherry wine that made me feel sick, my love.” Your voice is laced with emotion, barely above whisper.

He knits his eyebrows in confusion, but it is only a matter of seconds and the wrinkles start relenting as he realizes the meaning behind your words.

“Were you… were you with child?”

You nod and an excited, breathy laughter escapes his mouth. You try to memorize the sound of it as you are uncertain you will ever hear it again once you tell him the rest of the story.

Seeing you don’t share his joy, his happiness vanishes just as fast as it came.

“What is it, Y/N? What happened to my child?”

You get up from his lap, fill your cup and empty its content within seconds. Then repeat the whole procedure all over again, not minding the peculiar look you get from Hvitserk. There is no way you can get through this sober. Once you are done with your second round, you wipe your mouth and continue.

“My father found out I was carrying your child and I have never seen him more furious than that. He respected Ragnar, but he also believed that by making so many enemies, Ragnar created an environment not fit for a child, especially not fit for his grandchild. So he pulled some strings - granted a wish here, asked for a favor there – and ended up shipping me to England in order to marry an ambitious Saxon king.”

“King Willelmus?”

“Yes, him. At first, he was the perfect gentlemen a young girl in trouble such as myself could wish for. But then time passed and he began to reveal his true colors… Remember the strikes in the cell? I carved those with my nails after he’d imprisoned me there. He visited me every day and laughed in my face for believing he would welcome the bastard son of a pagan whore.”

Hvitserk’s face grows more somber with every word that leaves your lips and you can barely resist the urge to throw back another drink.

“Not very long after the imprisonment I delivered the baby, our son, and King Wil-“ your voice cracks and that’s when you realize you’ve been crying. After a few deep breaths you continue “… and King Willelmus strangled him in front of my eyes. A nun witnessed this and when I recovered, she gave me some gold and some silver, and she helped me escape. I travelled all around the world, came to know different cultures and different fighting styles – all in order to seek vengeance one day. And that’s what I did today.”

The silence that ensues screams louder than anyone you have ever heard dying in battle.

“Why?” Hvitserk finally speaks up, not looking at you.

“Why what?”

He elevates his gaze slowly and you can see he’s like a volcano, seconds away from erupting.

“Why did you not come back to Kattegat and tell me whAT HAPPENED?!” he roars the last word, making you flinch. “Was I unworthy of the truth, huh?! Did I do something to deserve being left out of avenging mY OWN SON?! We could have done it years ago and we could have brought many more sons into this world ever since!”

“Hvitserk, calm down and let me expl-“

Before you can finish, he jumps to his feet, knocking back the chair he’s been sitting on and grabs you by the throat.

“Hvitserk… I-I can’t… breathe…” you try to plead with him to no avail. His grip is firm and strong.

“You know, here I thought I was favored by the Gods since they gave me a second chance with you… but it turns out they are just taunting me…” he whispers, his mind still visibly clouded by rage. “Tell me, why did you come back to Kattegat now, really? Was it honestly your father’s death or did you know about the raid?”

Though you don’t say – you can’t say – anything, your eyes give away the answer.

“Just what I assumed.”

Suddenly he lets go of you and you fall to the ground. He is about to storm out the door when you call after him with a hoarse voice.

“Hvitserk! You promised you would take good care of my heart, but now you are breaking it…”

He takes a quick, pitiful glance at you.

“I don’t believe there is anything I am breaking right now. In fact, I doubt there ever was anything I could have taken good care of!”

He slams the door shut so hard it almost falls off.

You just lie there on the ground at the exact spot you fell on and stare into the void, trying to comprehend what just happened. Then a scream makes its way out of your lungs and you begin banging one of your palms against the wooden floor until you feel no pain, just see the blood.

A huge hand covers yours to stop you from doing any more harm.

Bjorn.

You just look at him for a while, not knowing what to say.

“Have you been eavesdropping, Bjorn?” you finally decide on something and a sad, lopsided smile forms on his face.

“No. You and Hvitserk were so loud I believe the whole crew heard it – except maybe for the warriors that were deafened in the fight.”

“I’m not in the mood for jesting, Bjorn.” You try to sound menacing but the tears streaming down your face undermine your plan.

“I know. I’m not here for the jokes, I’m here for the tears.”

He pulls you into his chest, muffling your cries and sobs.

Hvitserk is sitting in the Great Hall, looking at the plate in front of him with no appetite. What is wrong with him? The music is too loud, the cheerful people annoy him and not even the food or the mead interest him at the slightest.

“What is wrong, big brother? Why aren’t you enjoying the celebration? We came back richer than ever. You could at least drink to that!” Ivar’s words shake him back from his own thoughts.

He pulls a face at his little brother, raises his horn and starts drinking from it.

“See? That wasn’t so hard, now was it? The more you do that the less you’ll feel upset about Y/N leaving Kattegat.”

Hvitserk almost chokes on the ale.

“What did you just say?” he questions Ivar while wiping his mouth.

“I said Y/N is leaving. She said she had no business here anymore, so she intends to sail away.”

“It’s true.” Bjorn chips in. “But I think that if you hurry, you might be able to stop her from doing so.”

Hvitserk’s heart has never beaten faster than now, not even when he went on his first raid ever.

What should he do? Should he go after you? Or let you go? What do the Gods want?

Suddenly, Ubbe’s words start echoing in his ears ‘Let me tell you what I see! I see a miserable man drenching in his own self-pity and insecurities and only the Gods know how tired I am of it! Gods, Hvit, do you even understand what is going on here? She was taken away from you, but fate is offering a second chance! Do you know how rare that is?’.

He stands up abruptly and runs out of the Great Hall.

Hvitserk considers himself fit but by the time he gets to the docks there is almost no air in his lungs. And even that little what remained gets knocked out by an invisible force once he discovers that your ship is gone.

“No... no, no, no!” he whispers frantically to himself as his eyes start watering.

This must be a deception. You cannot be gone. Not again.

He feels like the rug has been pulled out from under his feet and he almost tumbles.

What is he to do now? He can’t go back to the feast.

His legs start working before his brain does. After a considerable amount of walking they stop and Hvitserk finds himself in the meadow of wildflowers. 

In the middle there’s you, illuminated by the moonlight, resembling a goddess now more than ever.

“Y/N? Is that you? I-I thought you sailed away.”

You turn around at the sound of your name and your eyes go wide.

“Hvitserk? I-I intended to but I just simply could not. I felt like I needed to be here. But what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at the feast?”

He rushes to you wordlessly, cups your face and presses his lips to yours forcefully.

“I am so sorry for not hearing you out, min elskede!” he says, gasping for air once you break the kiss. “And for all the things I said! I did not mean any of it!”

“No, no, no! Do not apologize! I should be the one begging for your forgiveness because of all the things I have done and all the things I haven’t… I believed for the longest time that a feeble woman like me who couldn’t even protect her own son would never be a worthy wife to you in the eyes of the Gods, and-”

He places his index finger on your lips to prevent you from completing your sentence.

“You were always worthy of me and I was always worthy of you. We were fated to be together. Do you know why I’m certain?” he pulls you closer so that your figure melts into his. “Because this feels like home. It always has and always will.”

You stand there like that, embracing each other in the moonlight for only the Gods know how long.

But time does not really matter, now does it?

You have a lifetime ahead of you and even after that, you will spend an eternity together in Valhalla.

[swifteforeverandalways]

Invisible String Chapter Five: Long Story Short

Notes: Here is chapter five! Chapter six will be up next week!

Tag Squad: @lilmissriottbliss

“What the fuck?” Kitana swore as Teddy offered her his hand and helped her up. 

“I don’t know,” Teddy answered as the front door opened and James, Skarlet, Liu, and Billy ran in.

“Are you two okay?” Billy asked, running to Teddy and throwing his arms around his husband.

“I’m fine,” Teddy assured him as Liu went to Kitana and pulled her into a huge hug.

“You okay?” he asked worriedly. Kitana nodded, kissing him gently.

“I’m fine, Liu. Don’t worry,” she reassured him. Liu nodded, though his expression was still worried. The door opened again and Dylan ran in.

“What the hell is going on?” he demanded, Lucian on his heels. 

“We don’t know, the explosion just happened,” James said, “Skar and I were on our way here and met up with the others on our way.” 

“What was going on in here?” Lucian asked. Teddy looked over at Kitana, who sighed.

“Grandpa called me, telling me to wake up. But y’know, that doesn’t make sense because I already am awake,” Kitana said. Billy frowned, recalling his own phone call that confused him. Before he could say anything, the door was flung open and a figure strode in, dressed sharply in a dark coat.

“Who the hell are you?” James demanded, taking up a fighting stance. The figure laughed evilly, the sound sending chills down the backs of the group. 

“You can call me TV-Meister, and I will be the end of you,” TV-Meister said. As he approached, one of the cabinets flew open suddenly. As if moving by instinct, the group went to the cabinet. James pulled out a silver bracelet, slipping it on his wrist and pressing a button on it. A hard, holographic shield popped out and he threw it at the TV-Meister. Meanwhile, Skarlet grabbed a pair of sias while Kitana grabbed what appeared to be two daggers, but a flick of her wrist showed they were not daggers but instead two Japanese-style warfans. 

“It’s one of you against the eight of us, you can’t win this,” Skarlet said. The TV-Meister laughed and raised his hands, shutting his eyes. Before the group’s very eyes, he began to multiply. First two, then four, then eight of him.

“Now, there is one of me for each one of you,” he laughed. Dylan and Teddy spun to the cabinet and Dylan pulled out a Glock while Teddy pulled out a sword. 

“Man, no cool weapons for me or Billy,” Lucian said disappointedly. Billy picked up an ornate box and raised an eyebrow. 

“Should we see what is in this?’ he asked. Lucian reached over, opening the box. A blue light washed over the two and Lucian’s skin turned a cold blue color, almost like it was beginning to freeze. Billy, meanwhile, began to have his hands glow blue before he closed his eyes, opening them back up to reveal them now a bright blue color.

“Bastards,” Lucian punched the TV-Meister that was near him in the face. 

“Bastards indeed,” Kitana agreed, stabbing the one near her with a warfan. The TV-Meister copies all laughed, teleporting away from the group. James spun to face the copies as Billy stepped up to his right side, Skarlet to his left. Slowly, the others stepped into place behind the other three, flanking them. 

“We will take you down,” James said. 

“Oh will you?” TV-Meister asked, “I bet you don’t even know how to fight.” 

“We know how to fight. And we can take you down,” Liu said. 

“Oh can you?” TV-Meister asked, all his forms taking a fighting stance. James glanced at his friends, who all nodded and rushed at the TV-Meister. Skarlet flipped one of her sais, stabbing it at the TV-Meister, who merely laughed and pushed it away from him. 

“You can’t beat me, none of you can,” the copies all said, their voices blending together in an eerie way. Lucian shivered slightly but extended his hand, creating a sword out of ice and swinging it. The TV-Meister he had aimed at just laughed and teleported away, just behind Dylan.

“Dylan!” Lucian yelled. Dylan spun around, shooting at the TV-Meister. The TV-Meister gasped in shock, stumbling him back as blood flowed freely from his shoulder.

“Seems like you aren’t as powerful as you think you are,” Dylan taunted before gasping as another TV-Meister slammed a fist into his back.

“Back off my brother!” Kitana yelled, barreling at the TV-Meister and knocking him to the ground. The two struggled against each other before Kitana managed to get her warfan between her and the TV-Meister, slamming the point of it into his stomach before flicking it open and bisecting it. The TV-Meister gasped and stood, stumbling back as Kitana also stood, spinning her fans experterly. 

“You battle a princess and it’s time for you to learn respect,” she said before throwing her fans at the TV-Meister. One struck him in the neck, the other near the stomach. As the bottom half of his body fell, Kitana kept the fans spinning before calling the bottom one back to her, the head of the TV-Meister still on the top fan. As the bottom fan returned to her, Kitana jumped in the air and kicked it, sending it straight into the skull of the TV-Meister’s head. 

“Damn girl, you brutal,” Lucian said. Kitana rolled her eyes at Lucian as Skarlet smirked and threw one of her sais at the TV-Meister that was near her.

“You missed,” he laughed as he dodged the sai.

“Just wanted to distract you,” Skarlet replied as lifted her right hand, making a fist as she did. The TV-Meister gasped and fell to his knees as blood began pouring out from his eyes, nose, and mouth. The blood floated into the air and made what appeared to be five spikes, hardening and almost turning crystalline. Skarlet made a downward motion with her hand and the spikes fell, striking the TV-Meister first in the middle of his chest and then both arms, followed by the right and left sides of his chest before the final one struck him in the head. Skarlet pushed back her hair, breathing heavily.

“Two down, six to go,” she said. 

“We can take them down,” Lucian said.

“Oh, can you?” one of the copies of the TV-Meister that was left sneered. 

“We will,” Billy said before throwing a blue hex bolt at him. The TV-Meister ducked before Billy’s eyes turned blue and he held out his hand.

“In the air, in the air, in the air,” he chanted. The TV-Meister lifted into the air and Billy slammed his hand down once, twice, three times. The TV-Meister followed the slams, his body getting slammed into the ground thrice. With an almost evil smirk, Billy lifted the TV-Meister back into the air along with two large tables, slamming them together with the TV-Meister between them. The TV-Meister fell, unmoving.

“You bastard,” one of the TV-Meister copies snarled and rushed at Billy. Teddy jumped in between them, and caught the TV-Meister, throwing him off to the side. 

“You won’t touch him,” Teddy said before pulling out his sword and swinging it, cutting the TV-Meister’s chest clean open and leaving the heart and lungs exposed. Closing his eyes briefly, Teddy transformed into a tiger before pouncing on the TV-Meister and ripping his throat open, crushing his heart in his powerful jaw.

“Halfway done,” James said, spinning his shield briefly. As a TV-Meister copy rushed at Kitana, Liu intercepted him and punched him square in the jaw, knocking him down. The TV-Meister stood, stumbling slightly. 

“You will never touch her again,” Liu said dangerously before throwing a barrage of punches at the TV-Meister. Liu then lit his fists on fire and threw four more punches, each powerful enough to burn straight through the torso of the TV-Meister. One last punch was thrown, completely incinerating the torso before Liu turned to Kitana and pulled her into a hug.

“I’m fine, Liu, don’t worry,” she murmured. Liu merely held tightly to her. 

“Gross,” Dylan teased the two. Kitana rolled her eyes fondly at her brother as another TV-Meister snuck up behind him. Lucian noticed and spun, throwing ice at him. The TV-Meister gasped as the ice began crawling up his body, forcing him to hunch over with his head stuck out still.

“Don’t ever try to hurt my Dylan,” Lucian growled before making a pickaxe out of ice and swinging it down, easily decapitating the TV-Meister.

“Looks like you don’t have anywhere to go, you’re outnumbered,” James said. The two copies of TV-Meister that were left looked around, trying to find an escape. Dylan rushed back over to the cabinet and pulled out two battle staves. With a twist of his wrist, the staves buzzed to life with electricity and Dylan shoved them against the TV-Meister’s neck, electrocuting him before Dylan pulled out his gun and shot the TV-Meister point-blank in the head, killing him. 

“Now, just me and you,” James looked at the copy of the TV-Meister who was left.

“You can’t beat me, I’m the real one. The rest were just copies,” he laughed. 

“Let’s try it, then,” James said. The TV-Meister rushed at him and James lifted up his shield, blocking the attack instantly. James then tapped his bracelet, the shield retreating as he turned to the TV-Meister and began punching him. The TV-Meister stumbled back and back again before James tapped his bracelet again, shoving the shield into the face of the TV-Meister.

“Looks like your time in the spotlight is over,” James said as he uppercut the TV-Meister with his shield before hitting him in the chest with it. The TV-Meister fell before everything went dark.

[anonthenullifier]

To Avoid a Scene

Vision and Wanda meet for the first time after Leipzig.

AO3 link

The uneven cobblestones cause an odd pressure against his soles, the rounded bumps jutting up at varying angles and depths creating a sense of uneasiness in his usually confident gait. His ankles react immediately, stabilizing him, and Vision discovers that the whole experience is charming in its simplicity, a new sensation he has not encountered before.  The alley he traverses is narrow, rows of brightly painted houses snuggled close together, the colors random and appealing, some of the stucco sides trimmed with ornate patterns, while others have murals of royalty and piety. Vision reaches out a hand, trailing it over a basketball sized stone built into the wall of one of the houses (or perhaps the house was built around the stone, a philosophical debate only time travel might solve).

 A group of young men round the corner, their presence instantly setting his body into a quiet terror, the disguise he’s wearing is new, only tested three times in public back in New York. Vision shoves his hands into his pants pockets, shoulders lifting defensively as he tucks his chin down, and he inches closer to the wall.  The men don’t seem to notice him, or if they do there is no indication they think anything of his presence. He is almost clear of the group when one of them veers off, distracted by his phone, and Vision tenses as he fights the urge to phase his body through the man. Instead he allows their shoulders to bump, jostling the stranger slightly. “Przepraszam*.”  Vision’s apology is quiet, worry about his accent being too off or his pronunciation horrific tempering the sureness that typically instills his voice. The man, thankfully, continues without another look and Vision releases a breath.

The alleyway gives way to a square, the same types of buildings, these colors perhaps more diverse and bright with their red shingled roofs, line the perimeter. In the middle of the square, atop the smaller, more even brick foundation, are white tents housing tables and chairs, lanterns hanging on posts next to each table while other, smaller string lights twine around the rods at the ceiling of the tent. It is serene, almost like a painting, the colors blending into a surreal and comforting conglomeration of twinkling lights and happy voices. An accordion player adds to the overall ambience, the music moderately paced and carefree, creating an almost fairytale-like quality.  

Among all of these lights somewhere is Wanda. 

It has been exactly 38 days since the Raft breakout, 38 days of relative silence in the compound, Tony occasionally conversing with him, mostly concerning Rhodes and finding Steve, but those moments are fleeting. Tracking down the rogue Avengers was not easy, nor did he necessarily follow the Accords’ protocol to locate them in Wakanda, particularly the part that stated once he found them he had to turn them in. Somehow he missed that step, instead amending his own internal protocol and contacting T’Challa. From there he received little news, thinly veiled comments suggested the fugitive teammates were fine but nothing truly substantial. He had attempted more pointed inquiries about Wanda, yet those were never answered. That is until he received a heavily encrypted and straightforward message - Warsaw, Rynek Starego Miasta, 23rd of June, 21:00, disguise required - W. He immediately destroyed all evidence of the message and then proceeded to convince Tony to allow him to follow a lead on Steve’s whereabouts. 

There are many things he hopes are connected to this invitation. First is that it means she had actually received his own communications. Second, that what he said in them was enough to convince her of his intentions, or lack of intentions to turn her back over to General Ross (another convenient breach from the Accords that should concern him, but silence and 38 days of thinking has changed his perceptions on the rigidness of loyalty to laws). Third, and this is perhaps the thought that causes the greatest increase in his pulse, the arhythmic beating of his heart deafening when he considers the possibility, perhaps she has missed him too. 

Vision methodically meanders around the perimeter of the tents, ocular sensors reprogrammed to specifically search out Wanda (and all the other fugitives). The facial recognition software was fine-tuned and updated courtesy of Stark for the purpose of being better able to find their teammates, though he doubts this meeting was the intended outcome of the upgrade. An invisible rope loops around his chest, squeezing the excess air from his lungs when he finally locates her, his heart drumming so quickly it clashes horribly with the rhythm of the accordion player in the square.  His hands seek an even deeper refuge in his pockets, fingers clenching nervously as he approaches the blonde-haired hostess standing at the front of the tent, who smiles at him, “Dobry wieczór**.”

“I-“ Natasha, during the time when they were all together, before the Accords, always insisted on having a working knowledge of any language required for a mission. This did not mean being conversational but at least being aware of the tasks involved and having enough of a vocabulary to function within the constraints of the mission.  Vision, unfortunately, did not factor in to his language acquisition that he would be meeting Wanda at a restaurant, he had assumed their meeting would be more clandestine. What he is never, ever, under any circumstance supposed to do in an undercover mission (not that he has actually been on such a mission but he has attended all the trainings) is betray his foreignness to the area. It’s a good thing Natasha is not here to see his utter failure. “I um, am meeting a friend.”

“Ah okay,” the woman smiles politely, transitioning into English while waving her hand towards the tables, “enjoy your meal.”

Vision offers a grateful smile and a “Dziękuję***” before winding slowly through the maze of diners until he sees her sitting at a two person table in the corner.  

A term he comes across often in reading books of varying styles and genres is having one’s heart in their mouth. It never quite made sense to him since it is anatomically impossible and quite an exaggeration and yet, currently, if not for his reliable physiological assessments that say otherwise, his heart is beating so furiously that it feels as if it has journeyed upwards to writhe anxiously on his tongue. He is overwhelmed at the sight of her, not fully convinced she is actually at the table, his mind attempting to rationalize that he may be hallucinating. The woman has strawberry blonde hair and is wearing warmer colors than he’s ever seen on Wanda. Yet the way the lantern next to the table illuminates her face, highlights her defined cheekbones and the gentle curve of her lips, glistens off the rings adorning her fingers, leaves little doubt that it is actually Wanda.  Then she makes eye contact with him, the sly smirk on her face further cements it is her and he isn’t consciously aware of his feet continuing to move until he reaches the table. 

“Wanda…” her name trails off, his voice caught between ending at her name or continuing on to inform her it is him, given his vastly different appearance.  She, in her typical fashion, rescues him from this awkwardness. 

A tight smile accompanies her, “Hi, Vision.” The message was clear on the time and place, thus it shouldn’t be a surprise she can logically conclude the blonde haired man standing in front of her is him, but he is still amazed at the seamless acceptance of his disguise.  Wanda studies him with a detached sort of interest, one not nearly as warm as before the Accords. “Your mind feels different from everyone else.” The explanation is acceptable, the notion she sensed him with her powers stirs a longing inside him, a desire to feel the touch of scarlet in his mind, lose himself in the serenity of her presence. “You can sit.”

“Yes, sorry.” Vision’s hand trembles slightly as he pulls out the chair and lowers himself down. 

“That’s,” she points a finger at him, moving it up and down in the air, “a new look for you.”

One of the hardest normative behaviors to understand after he was created was the use of humor; the timing, the content, the tone, and the delivery all requiring numerous factors to determine the efficacy of the joke. He practiced so much with Wanda (she was the most willing to help him and he enjoyed her laughter the most) that he finds it comes naturally now, without thought. Vision pointedly plucks the polo he’s wearing.  “I attempted to study Polish fashion in order to fit in.”

His victory is a minuscule smirk and an even less perceptible shake of her head before the amusement vanishes from her face, replaced by a reserved seriousness. “How does it work?”

Vision had not expected to need to speak so openly about his powers in such a place, his eyes reluctantly leaving Wanda’s face to assess the attention of those around them . No one seems at all interested in their conversation, far too lost in their own. So he turns back to Wanda and proceeds. “It is an integration of Mr. Stark’s,” she bristles at the name, something Vision would normally and politely point out, only he does not bemoan her it now and so he continues, “latest nanotechnology and my molecular manipulation. We have found the nanotechnology helps to stabilize my abilities for longer durations and also when I am caught off guard.”

“You’ve never lost your clothing by being surprised or,” she shrugs, head bobbing in time with her thoughts, “ever, actually, regardless of how long you were in them.”

“This is true, but the effort for a complete shift of appearance is significantly greater and requires a constant level of conscious awareness. The nanotechnology serves the role of my awareness, essentially.”

The waiter comes to the table, silencing Vision’s next thought, and places a white porcelain mug (that sits on a matching little saucer) along with a plate containing what looks to be a mix between an apple pie and a cake. The man turns towards Vision, “Dla ciebie****?”

Much to Vision’s appreciation, given his clearly poor preparation and the fact his mind cannot focus on anything other than the way the lantern casts shadows on Wanda’s face, Wanda saves him. “On nie jest głodny*****.”

A polite annoyance instills the nod of understanding, the man bowing slightly towards Wanda, “Smacznego******.”

“Dziękuję,” the friendly smile tugging the corners of her mouth up falls once the man is gone and it is just the two of them once more, “I assume you aren’t hungry.”

“Correct.” Vision is uncertain how to enter into the conversation he knows they should have, the polite, surface level words pleasant so far but he understands the wounds of their actions are far too deep to be alleviated by pleasantries. Yet, watching her wrap her fingers around the mug, lifting it to her face where she inhales the aromatic steam, a soft smile on her face, makes him want to remain right at this level of camaraderie. “You have a new look as well.”

She takes a sip, eyes watching him over the rim of the cup. “Yeah, Nat requires a new hair color every two weeks, new clothing needs to be cycled in periodically.” Another sip and still her eyes won’t leave him, something of a challenge forming on her face. “Luckily she said we can repeat colors once we run out of options.”

“Perhaps you will not need to do so for long.” The comment escapes before he can reel it back in, betraying the thoughts he’s had almost hourly since the airport. Vision understands (mostly, at least) the complicated relationship and clashing of ideology between Tony and Steve so he is well aware of the naivety of the statement. As is Wanda, whose demeanor slides from distantly warm to frigid, her eyes narrowing.

“Oh? You think we’re going to cave, agree to sign the Accords?”

Vision’s hands rise up slightly, palms facing her in hopes of conveying his apologies at the muddied intention of the comment.  “No, not at all-“

“Is Ross rescinding them then?”

“No, I-“ 

The cup clinks defiantly against the saucer, her body bending forward as her voice lowers, likely to keep her anger hidden so the people around them won’t begin to take notice of the disruption to their pleasant evening, “Then why say it?”

If it was 45 days ago, Vision would consider reaching out, employing the tactile comfort he had only recently become more comfortable using with Wanda, but he knows it would be a mistake to do it now. There is an invisible but defined boundary between them, one he will not cross in fear of losing the potential of future meetings. This line is not just physical, clearly his words have set off alarms already. “Because I-“ the truth of his loneliness is undeniable though he isn’t certain if that will invoke more ire or if it would be well met, perhaps even reciprocated, “it is so different now.”

A commiserate nod goes along with her dry, “Very different.” 

The silence that encases their corner is bloated with all the words that need to be said, the truths of their actions and all that has befallen them. He even practiced his apology on his flight, stumbling over the growing list of regrets including his persistent guilt over keeping her at the compound, his decision to leave her on the tarmac to check on Rhodes, his inability to garner security clearance to see her at the Raft, and his cowardice in not shirking the rules earlier to get to her. None of that comes out though, the silence punctured only by the scrape of her fork and the distant disembodied conversations of the happy people around them. When he finally finds something to say it is embarrassingly empty. “What are you eating?”

“It’s szarlotka - apple pie.” 

A sense of deflation occurs at the answer, at the depth of conversation they are having. His hopes of deep understanding and reconciliation dropping away as the silence crawls back in. “Why did you wish to meet?”

Wanda puts the fork down.”Why did you try to contact me so many times?” So she did receive them.

“I-” Vision feels the eyes of the world on him, whether it is true or not, he always feels watched and judged. “Can we go somewhere more private?”

Her “No” is unflinching and then it morphs into a weapon, “I chose this place because you don’t like to make a scene.”

The depths of his missteps have haunted him, every decision that led them to this restaurant closes in on his mind as he realizes the severity of their severed trust. “I have no intention of sending you back to...” He can’t say it, not after the security videos he watched, after seeing the torture they put all of his teammates through, the worst of it always reserved for Wanda. “Please believe me.”

Wanda studies her nails, rubbing at the chipped polish on the tip of her thumb, returning to her prior question with a little less anger and an increased sense of desperation. “Why did you try to contact me so many times?”

This is the moment he has wanted, needed to experience, has spent hours and hours ruminating about what exactly he will say and how she will respond and whether she will smile at him and take his hand like she used to or if she will stand up in disgust and walk away, lost to him forever. A third option exists now, a possibility that she responds apathetically and then tells him it was nice to see him, the way old friends do in movies when they know this is the last time they will meet, too different now, too far along diverging paths for anything more to happen. Vision has no control over her reaction, something he has told himself over and over again. He only can control his own self. “Because I miss you.” She doesn’t stand in anger. “Because I have spent every minute since Clint came to the compound thinking about all of the harm I have caused you. I am ashamed of my behaviors and of the consequences I did not realize they would have.” Her face is not filled with apathy, instead it is a brimming with melancholy. “I needed to apologize to you.” It is a pathetic version of what he had scripted, less eloquent and verbose, having prepared separate apologies for each transgression. Except he can’t seem to remember his words around her, a factor he should have included in his calculations. 

“Thank you.” The weight of those two syllables is immense, the start of his atonement evident in the way she says it, without anger and without annoyance. 

The other factor in his prior correspondence attempts had been to assess her well-being, something he believed he may be able to do now given her less guarded tone. “How have you been doing?”

Immediately her countenance shifts, returning to a cool detachedness. “I’m surviving.” As she always does, her resilience awe-inspiring. “You should probably leave now.”

Vision has a feeling of his heart dropping down into his stomach, which is not true but he can’t seem to make his mind think otherwise. “Why? Was it something I said?” 

“No.” A fleeting curve pulls her mouth up. “I have to do a video check in with the others soon.”

“May I walk you back?” As he asks the question he is already aware of the answer. One brief conversation is not nearly enough to repair what has been done. If she already was worried for her safety, him knowing her actual location is too big of a danger. 

Wanda confirms his thinking, “No. I’m going to sit here by myself a bit longer and then see if I can get back safely.”

“Wanda I-” no doubt she believes there is an ambush, that he is the bait used to bring about her complacency before the others surround her and take her back. If meeting him at the restaurant was to avoid a scene, she will remain in public as long as she can. The best he can do is attempt to allay her fears, “I promise, no one else knows you are here.”

The stare she gives him is heartbreaking, stitched with threads of pity and skepticism. “I trust you, Vision,” words that fish his heart out of his stomach, giving it wings to flutter in his chest, “but I don’t trust Stark. How do you know he didn’t track you?” 

Immediately he thinks Because I trust him and is glad when he does not actually say that, because even if he truly believes Stark would not do that, he cannot say it with 100% certainty. All of them have been greatly affected by falling out of the Avengers. Suspicions and tensions are high. While Vision was corresponding with T’Challa, he and Tony had many carefully worded and suggestive conversations that always left a bitter taste in Vision’s mouth and a fear that Tony somehow knew. What if the upgrades with the sensors are relayed directly to Tony? What if he has been listening the entire time? Vision did a full body scan prior to coming and found nothing of concern. But it could be in the nanotechnology, it could be in his communicator, Tony could be waiting down the street to arrest Wanda. “I don’t.” A tight, forgiving line closes her mouth. “May I at least remain in the skies to ensure nothing comes for you?”

“I can’t really stop you from doing it.”

For the first time in a long time he genuinely smiles, an action she almost mimics completely. “I should go then.” Wanda nods, watching as he stands. This is where he should apologize once more, wish her luck and a safe night. “How did you know I had a disguise?” 

“I didn’t.” A whirlpool of questions swirls in his mind, unsure which one to pluck out. A pressure on his fingers calms the storm, his gaze turning down to see her lightly gripping his last two fingers, the disguise fading from the skin directly under her touch. “But I had a feeling you’d find a way to see me.”

Vision knows if he allows the surge of joy in his heart to rain from his eyes that it will cause a scene, so he tamps his hope and provides her with what he intends to be a friendly tone. “Good night, Wanda. May our paths cross again.”

The softness of her “Goodbye, Vizh,” remains in his mind for the rest of the evening as he hovers above the city, keeping a careful watch. 

*Przepraszam = Excuse me

**Dobry wieczór = Good evening

***Dziękuję = Thank you

*****Dla ciebie = For you

*****On nie jest głodny = He is not hungry.

******Smacznego = Bon appetit

[dreamlikeafangirl]

A Christmas Carol

Summary: Loki can’t stand Christmas. You can’t stand Loki. But everything might change when he is forced to visit a Christmas market with you.

Prompts used: 113 (I’m good to go), 90 ([I] felt that winter wind blow cold), 55 (With you), 50 (Hand in my hand)

Pairing:  Loki x gender neutral reader

Warnings: just festive fluff I guess  

Words:  5,3k

A/N:  My first fanfic on here, yay! Please feel free to point out any mistakes I made so I can improve my English :)

 „I can’t believe it.“ You said. “It’s Christmas Eve, and I am alone on my way to the Christmas market. How is this happening?” Angrily, you threw your hands up. “They all let me down, even though they know how much I looked forward to it! Some friends they are.”

Your enraged breath created little clouds in the cold air when you continued walking along the street. You faced the ground underneath your feet, mumbled a few more unflattering words, and then took a deep breath. “Pull yourself together, (Y/N). It’s Christmas, the time of giving and forgiving. Let them stay home. I can have fun by myself, thank you very much.”

It was no secret to your fellow Avengers that Christmas was by far your favourite holiday. That’s why they had promised to join you to visit your favourite Christmas market many, many times. However until today, December 24, there had always been something in the way; important missions, meetings or training. But now it was Christmas Eve. Everyone had a day off, and therefore time for the market – right? You wished.

Clint, the Hawkeye, visited his family over the holidays and his best friend Natasha, Black Widow, came with him. In a last-minute-decision, he also took Wanda, the young Scarlet Witch. And naturally, Vision had followed in Wanda’s footsteps, so he was gone, too.

The same applied to War Machine Rhodey, who was also across the country with his family.

Then there was Iron Man Tony, who had declared loudly and dramatically that he would be spending the entire day with his fiancée Pepper and only her and God help the person that bothered them.

Steve, Bucky and Sam, aka Super Soldier, Winter Soldier and Falcon Soldier, had all volunteered to spend time with veterans and their families.

And lastly, Thor, to everyone’s complete surprise, had caught a heavy cold on one of your last missions. Nobody, including Thor himself and his wickedly smart stepbrother Loki, had known that could happen to Norse gods. But nevertheless, Thor was forced to stay in bed on the greatest day of the whole year. Bruce, part-time-scientist and Thor’s best friend, part-time green rage monster, was in charge of him. But spending Christmas Eve bringing Thor warm soup and enduring his never ending rants of self-pity? Even going to the Christmas Market all alone sounded better than that.

 -

So you’d taken off, had left Avengers HQ and were now on your way to the next bus station. After checking the timetable (luckily the next bus would arrive in just a few minutes), you sat down on a bench by the station.

Finally, you were able to completely calm yourself. It was Christmas, the happiest time of the year. You were going to have a great day at the market, it did not matter with (or without) whom you were going to spend it. The Avengers didn’t know what they were missing.

It was only then that you noticed something weird. Being an agent, your senses were pretty well trained and it confused you that this was the first time you had this odd feeling. Your intuition told you that you weren’t as alone as you had thought you were.

You looked around and saw nothing. Nobody. Empty streets, empty sideways. “Aw, what the hell?” You muttered. You really weren’t in the mood for an ambush right now. Even though you could, of course, easily level a few robbers. But you hadn’t stretched or warmed up today, after all, it was a day off.

“Please, will you finally stop talking to yourself?”

You spun around. Where was this voice coming from? You still couldn’t spot anyone. “Show yourself!” You demanded loudly and hopefully in the right direction. Your muscles tensed and you clenched your fists, ready to defend yourself.

“Calm down.” The disembodied voice spoke. It sounded even more annoyed than the first time. “It’s me.”

“Ugh.” You began to figure out who it was – the only person you knew who turned himself invisible simply for the fun of it. “This isn’t funny, Loki.”

With a flash of green light, Loki appeared next to you, seemingly out of thin air. He chuckled softly. “It was for me.”

You scoffed and got up from the bench. “Douchebag. What do you want?”

Loki rolled his eyes. “Your friends seem to feel guilty for letting you go all alone. So my brother and Bruce insisted I kept you company.”

You groaned again. Thor and Bruce had send Loki to accompany you? Really? Him of all persons? You decided to have a very serious talk with them about that when you got back.

“Thanks, but I don’t need a chaperon.” You said, waving him away with your hand. “Bye.”

“Trust me, dearest (Y/N), I don’t like this any more than you do. But it is happening.” He said.

“There is no need!” You saw the bus coming. The time to get rid of Loki was running out quickly. “Really, Loki. I’m good to go alone. Thanks again.”

Loki crossed his arms. “I thought you didn’t want to go alone.”

You looked at him. “How do you … ?” Then you remembered. “Right! You made yourself invisible and eavesdropped on me.” I stressed the words in an attempt to make him feel bad about his idiotic behaviour. Judging by his cheeky smile, you didn’t succeed.

“You were the one talking to yourself. I had to listen to your whining.” Loki spoke, imitating my tone of voice.

What an absolute a-hole! Speechless, you turned towards the bus and stepped inside, not caring if Loki followed you or not. You couldn’t believe this was happening.

 -

Loki had lived on your planet for quite a while now. Apparently he was a danger for Asgard and his throne, so to avoid being executed he had to move to earth, into Avengers HQ. You could tell he hated it. Hated the living conditions and the human society with its rules and values (including everything that had to do with Christmas). Hated having to be with the Avengers all the time. Hated to actually do good things when he joined you on missions here and then. But Thor had to have an eye on him almost 24/7, that was the only kind of freedom Loki got. And yes, it sucked. But it didn’t make him likable or his behaviour okay.

Being an Avenger, you were often around Loki. And just like your teammates, you had your unspoken quarrels with him. It didn’t matter that he was kind of good now. He’d still attacked your hometown New York with aliens. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t from earth; him being rude and completely oblivious to any human customs was still annoying as hell. It also didn’t matter that he was really attractive, you still didn’t like him one bit. That’s why you never talked to him if not necessary. And you had decided to keep it that way for today.

So you stayed quiet during the whole bus ride. It wasn’t very hard, you were still pissed.

When your stop came up, you got up from your seat and walked towards the nearest door, Loki did the same.

“Get lost.” You started a last attempt to make him leave.

He sighed. “I really want to, but I can’t.”

You got off the bus and a gust of cold winter wind blew you right in the face immediately. You shuddered and pulled your beanie down to cover your forehead.

Meanwhile, Loki eyed the Christmas market which was now right in front of you. It was a big square confined on three sides by tall houses and a church in one of the corners. In the middle of the place stood a giant Christmas tree next to a big decorative Christmas pyramid. Even though it was only early afternoon, everything was illuminated by bright lights. The place was crowded with groups of people, strolling by the many festively decorated stalls, drinking hot beverages and generally enjoying themselves and the time they spend with their loves ones. Everything oozed joy, happiness and Christmas spirit. Loki definitely hated it.

“You’re cold, let’s make this quick.” He said.

You didn’t even bother explaining to him that being quick didn’t make sense at an event like a Christmas market. You were too mad at him. How could a person be so barefaced? This was your visit to the Christmas market – on Christmas! And were you going to let Loki ruin it? Not a chance. That strategy would not work on you. You wanted this time, and like you’d told yourself earlier, it didn’t matter who you spend it with. Screw Loki and his dislike for anything human-y and nice. He had been annoying you from the start, now it was time to give back.

You turned towards him, a flashing smile on your face. “You can go anytime you want, you know.”

He just closed his eyes and sighed in defeat.

 -

The Christmas market was every bit as beautiful as it had been in the last years. The market stalls radiated warmth and the smell of pine cones, punch and marzipan. Some of them played Christmas songs from the 80s and 90s that just towed the line between annoying and iconic. All these strings of lights were the most beautiful thing you’d seen in a long time. People chattered, the sky was a bright white. The wind hadn’t slowed down, but you didn’t care anymore. Your senses were overwhelmed, but in a good way. In a holy-crap-I-missed-Christmastime-so-much-way. It didn’t even matter that Loki’s presence resembled a dark shadow following in your footsteps, his eyes full of quiet impatience.

After you’d crossed the whole square, you stopped by a table. It was time you got something to drink. “I’m going to get some mulled wine, you want some too?” You asked, kind of throwing your no-talking-policy overboard.

Loki wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Mulled wine?”

“Yeah.” You replied, internally rolling your eyes at his immediate aversion. “And Loki, if you never try anything new you’ll never–”

“I’ll take it, (Y/N).” He interrupted you.

You raised your eyebrows sceptically. “Really?”

Instead of answering, Loki just sat down at the table and crossed his arms in an expectant manner.

You shrugged, turned around and went to get two cups of the deliciously sweet, heated wine. You’d seen Loki having discussions with your teammates several times. Giving up this quickly was very unusual for him. Had he accepted the offer just to satisfy you? To shut you down? You shook your head. Whatever. Even if so. You didn’t care.

When you returned to the table, Loki looked as grumpy as ever.

“Here.” You handed him one of the cups of mulled wine you just bought. “Wine a bit, it’ll make you feel better.”

His eyes shot up to you. “What did you just say to me?” He asked sharply.

“Woah.” Even though you weren’t exactly afraid of him, you took a step back. “It was just a joke, a play on words.”

He didn’t look convinced.

“Wine – whine.” You explained. For a god, and a smart one for that matter, his brain seemed to work pretty slowly when it came to puns. But you didn’t make the mistake of saying that out loud. However there was something else you just had to get out: “Besides, Loki, even if it wasn’t a joke, you told me earlier that my talking sounded like whining, so it’s only fair.”

Loki raised the cup of wine to his lips and drank. You noticed that this was already the second time of him not answering to something you’d said. And it made you grin widely. Had you really been able to freeze that silver tongue of his? You were so going to tell the rest of the team.

You drank your own wine standing up while looking around at the people passing you by. The beverage was just delicious. And another reason you loved Christmastime. Too bad that drinking this stuff was considered weird during summer. You could drink it all year long.

When you were done, you turned back around to Loki. He was slowly putting down his emptied cup, his eyes closed, and a light smile on his lips.

You blinked in surprise. A smile. He was smiling. Not that you had never experienced that before. No, Loki was often smiling. Just always sarcastically. Or maliciously. Never had you seen him smile out of joy. Not until today.

You pushed lightly at his shoulder. “Stop having so much fun, Loki!” You chuckled.

He opened his eyes and the smile faded. You almost regretted teasing him, but then he looked at you and said: “That tasted surprisingly well. It was not nearly as good as the wine in Asgard, but, for Midgard …”

You tilted you head, now making the same expectant expression he’d done earlier.

Loki rolled his eyes, but the smile returned. “Thank you, (Y/N).” He finally said.

“You’re welcome.” You answered, very pleased with yourself. “Now give me your cup, I’ll return it. And afterwards … if you want, we can get out of here. Go home.”

He handed me his cup. “We don’t have to leave yet.”

“Really? I thought you didn’t like it here.”

“I never said that.”

“Not with your words.”

He sighed. “Fine, I didn’t like it at first. But with you, it’s almost bearable.”

You laughed, and then turned around to return the cups, leaving Loki with these last words. “With me it’s ’almost bearable’, huh?” You said to yourself, giggling. You felt your cheeks turn red with happiness, and you didn’t know if it was because of Loki’s hidden compliment or because you now knew you could stay even longer at the market.

 -

“Can I ask a question, Loki?” Now that you were exploring the Christmas market together, with him not just following you but actually walking beside you, you didn’t want the two of you to remain quiet. You hated uncomfortable silences. So you’d decided to start a conversation.

“Certainly, (Y/N).” He answered.

You had never noticed how soft and velvety his voice was. For a second, you almost forgot your question. “Do … do your people celebrate Christmas as well?”

He looked at you. “The Æsir?”

“U-hu.” You nodded.

“The Æsir are not my people.” Loki spoke. You could tell he was trying to hide the bitterness in his voice, but it wasn’t working well.

“Sorry.” You said quickly, even though you weren’t sure what exactly you’d done wrong.

But as quick as the topic had come up, Loki dropped it. “The folk in Asgard celebrates a festival called Yule.” He told you. “I believe it to be similar to your Christmas.”

“Yule.” You repeated the word. “Sounds beautiful. Tell me more.”

He sighed. “It’s a winter holiday celebrating faith, family and love, what more do you need to know?”

You bit your lip. Faith, family and love. From what you knew about Loki, he had little of either one. No wonder he hated Christmas. Or Yuletide. You looked at him, but his eyes were full of defiance rather than sadness. You decided not to bring it up. You didn’t know him well enough for that. Instead you said: “Anything else? What’s different from our Christmas here on earth? ”

“Hm, let’s see.” Loki looked at the sky, thinking. “Well, for once, the presents aren’t brought by an overweight old man.”

“Hey.” You gave him a playfully serious look. “Not a word against Santa.”

“Your ‘Santa’ looks like my adoptive father, Odin.” Loki grimaced. “Only the eyepatch is missing.”

You laughed, even though you’d never laid and eye upon Odin. “Does your adoptive dad also have a flying sleigh with eight reindeer?”

Loki shook his head. “No, but he does have an eight legged horse.”

You stopped walking and forced him to stop, too. “You’re kidding. Eight legs?”

“Exactly.” He seemed surprised you doubted him.

“No. That’s not possible!”

“Actually, Sleipnir is my offspring, (Y/N).”

You started laughing out loudly. “I don’t believe you, Loki.”

“I’m serious!” He asserted.

“Shut up!” You almost snorted with laughter. “There is no way, an eight-legged horse is your – how did you put it? – ‘offspring’.”

Loki sighed. “I guess I should call myself lucky to get this kind of reaction.”

You wiped away a tear. Loki’s story was too absurd, it could never be true. “So, then, if not Santa, who does bring the presents in Asgard?” You wanted to know.

“Will you believe me this time?” He asked.

“Depends.”

“Okay.” He sighed again. “It’s a goat. The Yule goat.”

You tried your absolute hardest to remain a neutral face and voice. “And, this Yule goat, is he your offspring too, Loki?”

“You offend me, (Y/N).” He said dead serious, looking into your eyes.

Then you both broke out into laughter. You hadn’t laughed this hard in a long time. Your eyes started to tear again and your belly hurt. But these things faded to the background when your gaze met Loki. You had never seen him laughing out of joy before, either. He was bending his head slightly backwards and one of his hands was pressed against his chest. Every sliver of spite, every hint of annoyance had vanished from his eyes and his features. He looked like a whole new person, a healthier one, a happier one. He wasn’t just attractive anymore, he was good-looking. Plus his laugh was one of the most pleasant sounds you had ever heard. You were completely in awe.

It took you a few seconds to notice that Loki had stopped laughing and was now looking at you with an awkward expression on his face. “Are you alright, (Y/N)?”

“Uh, yeah.” You stuttered. “I … I just had an idea. I’ll be back in ten minutes, Loki, just wait here, please.” And with that, you quickly turned around and practically ran away into the isle between the two nearest market stalls. Away from Loki and your embarrassment. You had probably stared at him with glassy eyes for who knows how long. The mere thought made you cringe. What would he think of you now? And in the same heartbeat you wondered since when cared what Loki thought.

 -

The sky had already darkened when you were finally ready to leave the Christmas market.

You and Loki had both gotten another cup of mulled wine and you had introduced him to roasted almonds which (surprise!) he liked more that he’d previously thought he would. Then the two of you had inspected a good portion of the many market stalls selling all kinds of festive odds and ends. And you’d explained the Christmas pyramid to Loki and in that context also the whole story of Baby Jesus’s birth. He found the tale just as ridiculous as I had found the one about the Sleipnir, eight-legged horse.

But by now, it really was time to leave; even you had to admit that. You guided Loki back towards the bus station, which was overcrowded with people. Apparently this was a popular time to leave the market. “Oh, no.” You sighed. “I doubt we will all fit into one bus. We’re going to have to wait for the next one or even for the one after that if we want to get home.”

“Or” Loki took your arm. “We could walk. It’s not that far.”

You tilted your head. It was starting to get pretty cold pretty fast. And despite what Loki said, the way home was not only a short hop. But waiting for the bus? At least walking would keep you warm. “Alright.” You decided. “Let’s go.”

Turned out you were wrong. Even though you had chosen a swift speed, you immediately started to freeze. Shivering, you wrapped your arms around yourself.

“How are you not cold?” You asked Loki to distract yourself. You had noticed a while ago that he was only wearing an opened black coat over a thin grey sweater with a green and gold scarf decoratively draped around his neck. Nothing to cover his head and no gloves. Yet the cold didn’t seem to bother him at all.

You, on the other hand, had put on your warmest hoodie underneath your winter jacket. You wore your favourite woollen beanie and on your hands your thickest gloves. They were buried in your pockets as deep as possible. And you were still freezing cold.

“I do not get cold.” Loki said and shrugged. “After all, I am a Frost Giant.”

You were surprised. You hadn’t known that about him, but then again, until today you had never really cared for Loki. “That’s why you said that the Æsir weren’t your people.”

He nodded. “Now if you start asking questions about how the folk in Jötunheimr are celebrating Christmas …”

I cut him off, laughing. “I wasn’t going to.”

“Good.”

“For a giant, you’re kinda small, Loki.”

Okay, technically, Loki was a tall person. He was certainly taller than you, taller than Bruce and even taller than Cap. But you had seen humans larger than him. And that, in your opinion, made him small, at least for a self-proclaimed giant. And then another thought crossed your mind and you grinned. “Thor is taller than you!”

Loki stopped walking and turned towards you with a suddenly outraged look, pointing his finger. “Why did you have to mention Thor, (Y/N)? I swear, next time I–“ He interrupted himself. “Stop shaking.“

“I can’t.” You answered, your teeth chattering. “It’s really f-f-freaking cold. Can we w-walk again?”

You continued walking on the sideway. Luckily, Loki had forgotten his anger about being compared to Thor. He seemed to be more concerned about your wellbeing, his eyes never leaving you. Strangely enough, it made you feel like you were melting under his eyes. Even though the only heat you were feeling was the warmth of your bright red cheeks.

“C-can you please stop s-staring at me?” You asked after a few minutes as you felt slightly embarrassed by his behaviour and the lack of talking. “Or is the c-c-concept of freez-z-zing that f-foreign to you?”

“It isn’t.” Loki answered. “I just want to be able to catch you should something happen.”

Your breath caught in your throat. What did he just say?

“My brother and your friends would kill me if I let you get hurt.” He continued. “After all, they sent me to have an eye on you.”

Oh. Yeah, you were stupid. What the hell was going on with you? A few hours ago, there had been few things you loathed more than this guy’s face, and now? You could have looked at his face all day. And so, you did exactly that: you turned your head and looked into his eyes. “That excuse gets old, you know.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Excuse?”

“You know what I’m talking about. You could have had one of your illusions to ‘have an eye on me’.” You said. “You’re smart enough, Thor and Bruce would have never noticed. You could have made it stay invisible the whole afternoon, and I too wouldn’t have known.”

Loki laughed nervously. “That’s an allegation, (Y/N). I would never betray my brother like that nor would I invade your privacy.”

You nodded sarcastically. “Oh, sure you wouldn’t. You chose to spend this afternoon with me at the Christmas market, just admit it!”

Loki shook his head. “Even if I did, I–”

Fortunately for him, in that exact same second a large truck rushed alongside the two of you. And not only did the motor of the vehicle make ridiculously loud noise, but it also left you and Loki in a cloud of stinking exhaust gases.

“So, do you regret it?” You asked once the dust had settled and could remove your hands from your nose.

Loki shook his head after a few seconds of thinking.

“You seem to get used to our earthly customs, because anything else would have been rude.”

He ignored your comment and said: “Now it’s my turn. Why’d you run away from me earlier? What was that idea of yours?“

“You want to know if that was also just an excuse?” You smiled sweetly.

Loki sighed. “(Y/N), are you aware of how obnoxious you are acting?”

“I’m just giving you a taste of your own medicine!” You argued.

He laughed, but not happily. “You remind me of Thor.”

“Are you insulting me?” You couldn’t help but raise your voice.

“Being compared to your friend Thor should hardly be and insult to you!” Loki said just as loud.

“It was to you, and you’re his brother!”

“So what why did you run away from me?”

“I was buying you a Christmas present!”

Loki went silent.

You gladly did the same. You were freezing too much to really follow what just happened anyways. Also you were out of breath and it didn’t feel good, because the air was ice-cold.  

“You bought me a present?” Loki asked.

You coughed and pressed your hands to your chest. Your lung was feeling like it was being pierced with a thousand knives every time you took a breath.

Loki’s eyes changed from surprise to concern. “(Y/N), are you feeling alright? Look at me!”

You would’ve loved to, but tears clouded your vision. You squirmed and gasped for air. It felt like your own breath was choking you.

You felt Loki’s hands on your back and shoulder, steadying you. “Breathe, (Y/N)!” His voice was near your ear. “Just breathe, slowly.”

It took you a little longer to collect yourself. But finally the pain wore off, so you could wipe away your tears and catch your breath. Loki was still holding you, which was a good thing, because your knees felt week. “Thank you, Loki.” Was the first sentence you said when you regained your ability to form words.

“Let’s get you home, (Y/N).” He simply answered.

For the remainder of the way, Loki let you lean on him, your hand in his hand. He held you as if he feared you could slip away from his grasp.

 -

Half an hour later, you were lying in your bed in Avengers HQ. You had tucked yourself under a warm blanket and Bruce was bringing you hot chicken soup.

“Please don’t you get sick too, (Y/N).” He said when he sat down the bowl on your bed stand.

“I won’t” You promised with a weak smile. “I’m just tired. I – we – walked around a lot.”

Bruce scratched the back of his head. “I still feel bad about sending Loki after you, but he was the only one available. Did you have an okay day with him?”

“I did.” You were still smiling.

Bruce nodded. “I’m glad. Get better, (Y/N).”

“Thanks. See you tomorrow.”

You left your bed only once that evening, to return the empty bowl to the kitchen and make yourself a hot chocolate. On your way back you saw Loki sitting alone in the living room, reading a book, his forehead resting in one of his hands. His eyes didn’t seem to be focused on the pages at all, but maybe that was just you imagining things.

 -

The next day was Christmas Day. You woke up early and tiptoed to Loki’s room, his present in your hands. You had figuratively and literally lost sleep over the question of when would be the right time to give it to him, since he didn’t have a Christmas stocking like all the others. Eventually you had decided on leaving it at his door, secretly, so that he would notice it when he left. A handover without personal contact. And definitely not in front of the other Avengers. That meant the least amount of embarrassment for you.

You crouched down in front of the door carefully. Everything was quiet, it didn’t sound like Loki was awake yet. So you carefully placed the present on the ground. It was a Yule goat, made out of straw, about the size of a shoebox. Sometime yesterday during your conversation with Loki about Yule, you had remembered seeing a market stall selling traditional Scandinavian Christmas decoration. Then, after, well, running away from him, you’d gone back there and bought the goat.

After delivering the present it was time for breakfast with your friends before everyone would empty their stockings. Bruce and Tony were the only ones in the kitchen yet, but that wasn’t the first thing you noticed after you’d entered. The first thing you noticed was Tony’s bright red Christmas sweater – the ugliest one you had ever seen. Christmas spirit at its finest. You loved it.

“(Y/N)! Merry Christmas!” Tony shouted when he spotted you and ran to give you a hug. He squeezed you tighter than usual and laughed a little louder as well. Was he drunk already? Probably. He was Tony Stark after all.

“Woah, good morning!” You chuckled and took a seat at the big table.

In doing so, your eyes crossed with Bruce’s, who had just wrestled the breakfast champagne bottle out of Tony’s grip. He looked exhausted already. Poor man. Yesterday it had been Thor, now he needed to take care of Tony. You gave him a sympathetic look. “Hey Bruce. Merry Christmas.”

However before Bruce could react, a tall figure sat down next to you. You turned around and looked right into a familiar pair of eyes.

“Uh, Loki, good morning.”

“A good morning, indeed.” He said with a broad smile.

You laughed awkwardly. “How comes?”

Loki leaned forward, his face only inches from yours. “Earlier, a little Yule goat came by my door and brought me a present.” He whispered.

Thor, who had apparently arrived alongside with Loki, settled himself next his brother. “Really?” He asked with his booming, yet at the moment a little husky voice. “A Yule goat?”

Loki shot him a murderous glare. “Eavesdropping is considered rude on this planet, brother.” He spoke sourly.

Normally, you’d now said something like ‘I really am a good influence on you, huh?’ And it would have ruined the moment.

You really had acted obnoxiously yesterday. Not everything needed to be said out loud. Sometimes it was enough to know. And right now, it was enough to know that you had made Loki a tiny bit of a better person.

“Thank you for the present, (Y/N).” He finally said.

“Do you like it?”

“Very much. It … it makes my room feel a little bit like home.” You met Loki’s eyes, and they smiled, he smiled.

And you smiled back at him. “You’re welcome. Merry Christmas, Loki.” Then, you leaned in and gave him a hug, wrapping your arms around his chest. It had been a completely spontaneous action, a kind of reflex, but you were glad you decided not to fight it.

You felt him taking a deep breath. “Merry Christmas, (Y/N).”

-

 It was like a little sun had risen inside of Loki on this day. A light that fought away the bitterness. You could hear its warmth radiating in his voice every time he spoke, saw its glow in his eyes when he looked at you. You even felt the heat through his skin whenever he gently took your hand – which, from this Christmas Day on, would happen increasingly often.

[i-larb-you]

Behind the Glass Wall

I got inspired when I went to the Marvel exhibit at the Franklin Institute and this is what happened.

You can also read this on AO3 here.

***

I’m fine, Peter says.

“I’m fine,” he tells May.

“I’m fine,” he assures Pepper.

“I’m fine,” he says to Happy.

“I’m… getting better,” he answers when Morgan asks. He can never lie to her.

But his tongue has become so accustomed to the words they fall right off before he can think about it. They are stale, tasteless in his mouth. They make him want to claw his heart out from behind his ribcage and place it behind a wall of glass instead.

There are times he’s not lying. He’ll read Morgan a bedtime story with stupid voices that make her giggle during his visits to the lake house. He teases May when her cooking comes out less than stellar and offers to run to Mr. Delmar’s new bodega. He laughs so hard he spits out his chocolate milk at lunch with Ned and MJ. There are times he thinks that maybe things will be okay, that maybe he really is getting better.

And then he’ll see the street art, the graffiti, the many thousands of drawings and paintings still proudly displayed in homage to the man who saved the universe, and the façade he’s built will come crashing down yet again.

Everyone at Midtown thinks he’s doing it for attention. They don’t say anything, but he knows they do. Or they would if half of them hadn’t also spontaneously stopped existing. That’s what most people his age lie about now. They pretend it doesn’t bother them that they lost five years of their lives or that they’re suddenly older than their siblings. Peter always thought Class of 2019 sounded ridiculous, but Class of 2025? It makes his brain hurt in more ways than one.

School itself has just become so monotonous for Peter. Sit in an uncomfortable chair, listen to an underpaid and overworked teacher drone on about a concept they know the students won’t care about but they’re required to teach, eat bland cafeteria food and endure a whole hour of kids yelling back and forth across the tables. Not to mention the constant threat of a sensory overload every goddamn day. If his senses were dialed to an eleven before, they’re at a twenty, minimum. And that’s on a good day.

Add in the worst nightmares he’s ever had in his life, and yeah, Peter’s doing just fine.

You have to be fine, his brain says. Other people have it so much worse than you. Just be like everyone else for once and suck it up.

“Peter?”

Pepper’s voice jolts him out of his thoughts and his head shoots up, eyes wide. It takes him a moment to remember where he is, and only when he sees the faded old couch, the wooden staircase leading upstairs, the faint outline of Gerald behind the shades in the window, does he let himself relax. He’s not anywhere he shouldn’t be. He’s safe. He’s home.

After a second, he realizes that Pepper’s looking at him.

“Y-Yeah, sorry, I kind of zoned out a little,” he says, trying for casual and ending up with a notch below slightly suspicious. “What’s up?”

Pepper raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment on it. “Morgan’s waiting for you outside.”

Shit.

Peter shoots to his feet and he’s out the door before Pepper can even finish, calling over his shoulder, “Thanks for reminding me!”

It’s a warm day, rare for this time of the year. The trees surrounding the house are all green, but across the way, the leaves look like a rippling fire every time the wind blows. Pretty soon the birds will be giving one final symphony before heading south and according to Morgan, the whole lake will freeze solid, just as it has every year she’s been alive.

As he steps off the porch and walks down to the lake, he can’t stop replaying the conversation in his head, second-guessing everything from his words to his tone of voice. Could she tell? Did she hear how his voice trembled, how it was just a little too high?

Stupid, stupid, stupid, his brain screams. You call that being fine?

He finds Morgan at the edge of the dock, waiting patiently just like her mother instructed. Where most kids probably would have jumped into the water already, Morgan just isn’t capable of not following directions. Of course, she has her moments like every young kid does, but when it comes to safety, like staying on the dock until an adult (or Peter) is there to watch her swim, she does exactly what she’s told.

She definitely did not inherit that from her father.

“Hi, Petey!” she calls with a wave. He’s been at the lake house for almost two days and Morgan still greets him with the same enthusiasm that she did when he first arrived.

“Sorry it took me so long, Mo,” Peter says, brushing some hair out of his face. “You can head in now.”

Squealing with delight, Morgan skips across the length of the dock, grabs Peter’s hand, and drags him to the little beach off to the side. Peter leans against the edge of the boat and watches as she splashes and dives and makes waves that travel all the way out to the middle of the lake. The water has to be cold, but Morgan doesn’t seem to mind.

She’s going to grow up without a father.

The thought comes unbidden to his mind and Peter almost visibly recoils.

She’ll find out someday, his brain whispers, and if a brain could sneer, his would be. One day Morgan will know that Mr. Stark chose you over her and then she’ll hate you, just like everyone else.

Peter’s stomach does flips. He covers his face with his hands and counts to ten, twenty, thirty, to calm himself down, to make the voice go away. When he lifts his head, Morgan is looking back at him, her big brown Bambi eyes full of concern.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

I’m fine, he starts to say, but the flat taste of the words makes him stop. He can’t lie to Morgan. Instead, he says, “I’m… getting better.”

Morgan apparently deems that an acceptable answer and returns to her imaginary battle against the monster she insists lives at the bottom of the lake.

Maybe Morgan won’t grow up with her dad around, but she has Pepper. She has Pepper and Colonel Rhodes and the blue chick from space and Hawkeye’s kids and Peter. God, if there’s one thing Peter will absolutely make sure of, it’s that he’ll be there for Morgan Stark. Not just because he knows it’s what Mr. Stark would have wanted, not just because of the guilt that eats away at him every time he looks at her, but because he’s the best big brother in the world to the best little sister in the world and that’s his job.

Still, for the rest of the weekend, Peter can’t quite meet Morgan’s eyes.

***

After the relative peace and tranquility of the lake house, going back to school on Monday is a shock to Peter’s system. Voices bounce off the walls, carrying down the halls from teachers in classrooms on the second floor and students yelling in the cafeteria and two kids getting high in the bathroom down in the Math wing. Bodies he does not know touch him, invading more of his space with each step he takes. Peter winces as locker doors slam shut and books scrape against the metal shelves inside.

Quit complaining, you big baby, his brain says. You’ve literally been to space. You can handle a little noise for one day.

His skin burns under the collar of his shirt and the tops of his sneakers dig into his Achilles tendons like a knife waiting to carve him open, but he agrees with the voice for once. He went to outer space. He can deal.

The day crawls by. One class after another, lectures upon lectures upon lectures. Peter’s all but dragging his feet by the time eighth block rolls around. He settles into his seat at the back of his last class and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands, holding back a yawn. He’s so tired he can hardly remember which subject he has right now—a particularly bad nightmare had him up and awake well before dawn—but he’s in the right room so he doesn’t care.

Peter puts his head on the desk as other students trickle in. MJ sits down next to him and gives him a nod of acknowledgment before burying her nose in her book again. Peter doesn’t pay attention to anything other than keeping his eyes open and not giving his teacher a reason to write him up.

When the bell rings, Mr. Ryan lifts his hand up to get everyone’s attention.

“I’m gonna be honest with you guys,” he says, “I feel like crap but we’re short on subs, so I have to be in today. I really don’t feel like teaching so we’re just going to watch a movie that only kind of has something to do with history and pretend we learned something new today. Sound good?”

Everyone agrees wholeheartedly.

Mr. Ryan has Jen in the front row help him set up the computer and projector while the class whispers amongst themselves. Peter hears all about what Owen and Kirby did over the weekend and how stressed Tabatha is for Dr. J’s Chemistry test on Thursday and where Althea got her Homecoming dress, which is apparently a gorgeous sea green. Their words roll in one ear, out the other.

Someone turns off the lights. Despite his best efforts, Peter’s eyelids droop dangerously low. He struggles to lift them, but it’s a losing battle.

He falls asleep.

For a while, it’s all just black. No dreams, no nightmares. Only that weird in-between stage where he knows he’s asleep and he’s just waiting to fall deeper into the pull of unconsciousness.

Then he finds himself in the ruins of the Avengers compound upstate, surrounded by fires and debris, but everything is quiet. There are no gunshots or screams. The whole place seems deserted apart from him, no one fighting for their lives or for control of the gauntlet.

Peter glances around in confusion. He knows he’s dreaming. He’s had nightmares that have started out eerily similar before. There has to be a reason his subconscious is making him come back here.

He finds his reason in the form of a small gathering of people, just past where the swimming pool used to be. Peter doesn’t want to go toward them, but he feels himself being tugged forward, like an invisible hand with a string wrapped around his torso. It pulls and pulls until he’s right next to them and he sees the scene that’s been burned into his memory—Mr. Stark, right side blackened and scarred beyond recognition, slumped against a pile of rubble; Colonel Rhodes standing a few feet away, tears painting his dusty cheeks; Pepper kneeling in front of her husband, her hand on the arc reactor, assuring him that it’s okay, they’ll be okay.

Peter wants to curl into a ball and never come back out.

But this time there’s someone new. A tiny someone, whose small body had initially been hidden behind her mother’s.

“Morgan,” Peter breathes.

But when she turns to look at him, it’s not with concern or compassion. She no longer looks young and innocent, carefree, with just a hint of baby fat still on her angelic face. She’s much older, older than Peter, even. Her eyes are full of broken promises and disappointments and so much more that Peter had hoped she would never have to experience. In her features is an anger, a loathing that makes Peter flinch.

“You stole him,” she hisses, accusatory and hostile. “You took him from me. It’s all your fault.”

Peter opens his mouth, though he’s not sure what he could even say to that, but the words won’t form on his tongue.

“You’re the reason Dad’s dead,” says Morgan, and she’s right. She’s right, she’s right, she’s right. It’s all his fault, all his fault. “That’s his legacy, Peter. Not me, not Mom. You killing him.” Then she drives the final nail into the coffin: “I hate you.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

His heart shatters into a million tiny pieces and Peter just wants to sweep them up and put them behind that wall of glass. He moves toward her, raises a hand to cup her face like he does now when she’s scared of the monster under her bed, but a different hand latches onto his wrist. Peter looks down to see Mr. Stark clutching onto him, gripping him so tightly it hurts. His expression is dead, which is even worse than any emotion it could hold.

“Why?” is all he asks before he goes limp again, his fingers still curled around Peter’s wrist.

“I’m sorry!” Peter screams. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark! Morgan, I-I’m so sorry!”

“Peter?” someone calls from a thousand miles away.

Peter just shakes his head, trying and failing not to collapse in on himself with a sob. Tears drip off his eyelashes as he screws his eyes shut. He can’t look at them, can’t face them again knowing what he’s done.

That someone’s voice is a lot closer this time as they shout, “Peter!”

His head shoots up from the desk, eyes wide open and brimming with tears. Heart racing, the words fall from his lips like a stone in the open air with no end in sight. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Arms circle around him and just hold him, rocking back and forth. There’s a voice in his ear shushing him. Not trying to quiet him, trying to calm him. His chest heaves as another sob rips from his throat.

Peter glances up for a moment and he freezes all of a sudden. Just like that, his apologies die in his throat that’s already closing up and the crying stops and he just stares in horror at the SMART board.

“Tell him about the dance-off to save the universe.”

“Like in Footloose, the movie?”

“Exactly like Footloose! Is it still the greatest movie in history?”

“It never was.”

Kevin Bacon grins at whatshername and Peter’s chest constricts and he can’t breathe. He’s falling apart again, being torn away piece by piece, inch by inch, until all that’s left is dust, dust, dust. Quill’s voice rings in his ears, his quiet “Oh, man,” bouncing through his head until it’s the only thing occupying any space up there.

Peter pushes at the arms and they retract. He needs air, he needs space. Not that kind of space. The space where he can actually breathe and his heart isn’t a jackhammer in his chest. His eyes dart around the room, brain working on overdrive to find the fastest exit.

Front door—too far away, too many bodies to pass through.

Back door—blocked by desks and a panic-stricken Mr. Ryan.

One option left.

Peter doesn’t even think as he jams his backpack onto his shoulders, shoves open the window, and kicks. Shouts ring out behind him. His foot connects with the screen in a solid hit and it pops right off. He stands up on his chair and scrambles over the counter and out the window, dropping the ten or so feet to the ground below. As soon as his feet hit the grass, he takes off running, sprinting across the lawn and the football field and down the street, as if he can escape from his memories and the mountain of guilt inside him that way.

***

Hardly a month after the battle at the compound, after the snaps that brought everyone back and saved the universe, an anonymous group of New Yorkers erected an Iron Man statue outside of Central Park, the first of many throughout the city. It stood tall and proud, a reminder of the man himself, of the confident and suave hero the whole world loved and mourned.

Peter always tries to avoid it if he can. For one thing, looking at it only deepens the wound in his heart and widens the hole in his life. For another, it just bothers him. He knows the real Iron Man, the real Tony Stark, and he knows that the whole ‘confident billionaire’ act is just that—an act. He learned firsthand that Mr. Stark wasn’t this unshakable wall of a man with no fear that the public and the tabloids made him out to be. Mr. Stark had lots of fears. Some he shared. Some he didn’t. But he taught Peter, in words and actions, that there was nothing wrong with that. That even superheroes could be afraid.

As he stands in front of the statue now, hood up to block the light rain that’s begun to fall, Peter doesn’t feel much like a superhero. He feels small, weak. Like the sixteen-year-old kid he is.

Everyone has a lot of questions about the future. Who’s going to take over the job the Avengers left behind and defend the Earth from new threats? Who’s going to step up and lead the new generation of heroes now that the old is gone?

Who will be the next Iron Man?

They ask him this, as Spider-Man. Ask if he will be able to fill Tony Stark’s impossibly large shoes. If he is going to be the next Iron Man.

He stares up into the stone face standing guard over Central Park. As much as Peter loves Iron Man and the man behind the mask, he doesn’t want to be Iron Man. Doesn’t want that responsibility. He wants to be Spider-Man, the one and only.

You can’t always get what you want, his brain hisses.

Peter’s shoulders are hunched over, weighed down by the burden the rest of the world has placed on them. Even if he hadn’t been the one to kill Tony Stark, he knows he is, to some extent, part of Mr. Stark’s legacy. Not as much as Morgan, obviously. But enough to be significant. Enough to be a possible footnote in the biography of Mr. Stark’s life.

Enough that it’s too much.

Too much expectation and too much pressure and too much for an anxiety-ridden, nightmare-prone sixteen-year-old kid to handle.

What’s so special about you anyway? asks his brain. You’re nothing. You’re just a stupid kid with the shittiest luck in the entire world.

Peter turns away from the memorial and walks down Fifth Avenue, ignoring the weight of his phone in the pocket of his hoodie. He turned it off after he finally calmed down from his nightmare-slash-panic-attack, when the incessant vibrating got on his last nerve. May’s smiling face and Ned’s ridiculous picture just embarrassed him even more than his little episode.

Rain falls harder on his hood. He should head home, he knows that. At the very least he should call May and tell her where he is, how long he’ll be out, but he can’t bring himself to talk to anyone right now. He doesn’t think he has the capacity for words, let alone the energy.

You’re pathetic, his brain screams, and Peter can’t really argue with that.

***

All told, there is no punishment. He explains to May, in as little words and details as possible, what happened at school, and she just nods, giving him that sympathetic smile he’s come to hate. There’s nothing wrong with him. At least nothing he can’t handle on his own. He’s not some stupid, helpless little kid anymore.

Except you are, his brain reminds him.

The rest of the week passes without incident, though not without its annoyances. Ned walks on eggshells around him. MJ keeps an eye on him from a distance, like she always does. No one in his History class can pay attention on Tuesday because they’re all too busy watching him, waiting to see if he’ll have another freak-out. Mr. Ryan comes up to him after class that day and asks, albeit a bit awkwardly, how he’s doing, if there’s anything he can do to help Peter.

Peter looks at Mr. Ryan with dead eyes and a dead expression to hide his very not dead heart and gives him his classic line: “I’m fine.”

When the weekend arrives, Peter feels the tension ease from his shoulders the closer he gets to the lake house. He’s come to relish these trips, to appreciate every minute of quiet he has with Pepper and Morgan. In the back of his mind, he wonders how much longer he can hide the bright red label of blame he’s put on himself, how much longer he has until they agree with his brain and cast him out of their lives for good. But when Morgan runs up to him and smashes into him with the biggest hug she can muster, and when Pepper sits with him late at night after another nightmare and regales him with stories about some of the dumb stuff Mr. Stark did when he was younger, Peter manages to push his worries aside for a little bit longer and just enjoy the moment.

Peter lets out a sudden oof as Morgan lands on top of him on the couch.

“Whatcha doin’?” she asks, all smiles and curiosity.

“Nothin’ much, little munch,” Peter replies, matching her casual tone.

Morgan giggles at the nickname and lays down on Peter’s stomach, face pointed toward the ceiling. One of Peter’s arms comes to rest across her tiny body. Morgan takes his hand in her own and plays with his fingers, making them dance to a beat in her head. They’re quiet for a while. Listening to each other’s breathing.

Then, in her small, innocent voice, she breaks the silence. “Mommy said you made Miss May scared the other day.”

“She did?” Peter’s brows furrow.

Morgan nods and Peter can feel her head move against his chest, feel her hair scratch at his neck.

“What else did she say?” he asks.

“That I should give you lots and lots and lots of hugs when you come to visit,” she says, and as she does she flips herself over so that their stomachs are flush and their noses are inches apart. Morgan tries her best to put her arms around his body. They don’t quite make it past the point where his skin meets the leather of the couch, but it’s the thought that counts. She rests her head on his chest. “Daddy always says I give the bestest hugs.”

Peter can’t help the laugh that bursts out of him, and he wraps his own arms around her in return. “Well, he’s right, Mo. You definitely give the bestest hugs.”

After another small stretch of silence, Morgan tells him, very matter-of-factly, “You’re my favorite big brother.”

“I’m your only big brother,” Peter reminds her.

“That’s why you’re my favorite, though,” she says. She lifts her head to look at him and her voice drops to a fake whisper. “But don’t tell anyone else.”

Peter laughs again. “I won’t, I promise.”

“Guess what?” she says, still in that theater whisper. “I love you 3000.”

Morgan settles her head back on his chest and Peter watches as it rises and falls with his breaths. Something in his heart bursts open, breaking down the glass wall he’d tried to hide it behind, filling him with so much love and awe for this tiny person on top of him, who trusts him and loves him in return, even despite the flaws his brain constantly reminds him of.

“I love you, too, Morgan,” he responds, and he means it with every fiber of his being.

“Are you all better now?” she asks quietly.

Peter pauses for a moment, weighing the question in his head.

“No,” he answers truthfully. “But I think I will be. Eventually.”

And for the first time in a long time, he really believes it.