#ceiling heimdall is welcome to come down here and make himself useful

[woodelf68]

Why Loki first learned that spell to shield himself from Heimdall's gaze. But I think his primary job is to watch for dangers from outside of Asgard, not spy on people in their private apartments, although he probably turns his gaze towards things happening on Asgard itself if there's any potential security issues. But yeah, I can definitely see this worry crossing the mind of the adolescent princes when they reached the age of wanting to explore new bodily urges -- because of their position, I'd say Heimdall was much more part of their lives than say, Niel the farmer's son or Karin the cobbler's daughter, neither of who had ever left Asgard or met the gatekeeper and thus never thought much of him at all.

This is why I imagine growing up in Asgard may have been a bit weird.

[axiomsend]

In a Crowd of Thousands

Loki x Gender Neutral!Reader, set in between Thor: The Dark World and Thor: Ragnarok. Loki is currently pretending to be Odin.

Word Count: 1,744

Contains: Reunions, Threats of Violence, Angst?, Fluff?

Inspiration: In a Crowd of Thousands from Anastasia.

As the child of one of Vanaheim’s two senators, you were expected to make appearances with your mother often- or as often as an 8-year-old would allow. People weren’t exactly expecting you to appear at every signing of a bill into law, but they were expecting to see you at fun things. The kind of events that kids dream of taking a part of, or at least look up at in wonder. This was one of those events: a parade celebrating the over thousand-year peace between Asgard and Vanaheim, cemented when Frigga and Odin were married.

You sat high on a carriage, next to your mother. You were dressed in fine Vanheimian silks, enshrouding your body and making a hot summer that much more unbearable. You began to fuss with the sleeves on your outfit when you took notice of something odd. A small child, extremely disheveled and dirty, staring directly at you from the crowd.

As your carriage moved by, you saw him begin to move, trying to catch up with you. The guards spot him, but they can’t catch him. He is able to dodge them and escape from the crowd into the parade. He begins to run towards you, shouting your name the whole time. Your mother realizes this boy is very persistent and elects to stop the carriage so that he doesn’t get run over by it. You smile at him as he bows. The guards finally catch up to him and take him away, and you wave goodbye to him as he is dragged away kicking. The parade starts up again, and you continue on the rest of your day thinking about that day.

You still think about that day now and then- even a thousand years later. Not much has changed since then- your homeworld is still a democracy, run by two main senators. The only real difference is the people in power- now, one of them is you. It’s your first term as a Senator, though you’ve had a lot of experience in the local politics of your homeworld. Unfortunately, that’s not very helpful when it comes to politicking with leaders of the other Nine Realms. The last time you left Vanheim, and subsequently met any kind of leader outside your own world, was that parade. But now, you're going back.

Five years had passed since Frigga was killed by the Dark Elf Algrim. The peace between Asgard and Vanheim was as strong as it ever was, but the people of Vanheim were weary. To appease your people, and to ensure that the peace remained strong, yearly visits to Asgard were implemented. It was more for keeping up appearances than anything, but you had been warned by your predecessor had informed you this usually came with in-depth philosophical discussions.

You knew something was off as soon as you arrived. You were not greeted by Heimdall. Instead, some man named Skurge had welcomed you. You might have been a child when you were last here, but you distinctly remembered the Bifrost Bridge being more colorful, shining more brilliantly, and having less stuff littering it. By the time you make it to the throne room, you are thoroughly convinced some trickery is afoot. The person pretending to be Odin, sitting atop his throne confirms this.

You can tell right away that it’s not Odin. Your people are one of old magic and trickery, and this is an obvious example of a well-crafted, almost perfected glamour. But you can see through the cracks. The puzzle now is figuring out who is pretending to be Odin- without causing the people of Asgard to panic at the fact their ruler is not who he says he is.

“Greetings, Senator Y/N of Vanheim. Welcome to Asgard. I trust your journey here went smoothly.” The false king states.

You bow your head in keeping with tradition. “Greetings, Odin, All-father, Protector of the Nine Realms. My journey was safe and swift, and I am thankful to have the honor to be in your presence once more.”

“You honor me, Senator, with your respect for my right as King. Come now, let us dine together.” You raise your head again and begin following the false Odin into the dining room.

Thankfully, another part of the tradition is for Odin to eat dinner with the Senator of Vanheim alone upon their arrival in Asgard. Which gives you the perfect opportunity to figure out who is masquerading behind the facade of Odin. As soon as you are alone together, you make your first move: Undoing the magic being done to pretend to be Odin. You are unsurprised to see who it is, but something now seems eerily familiar about him that hadn’t before.

“How did you do that?” He asks, puzzled that he looks like himself again.

“What are you doing, Loki?” Your voice is sharp but quiet, careful not to alert anyone who may be trying to listen to the huge secret you’ve just unveiled.

“What does it look like I’m doing? And you haven’t answered my question.”

You take a huge deep breath and let the air flow out slowly through your mouth so you don’t immediately fly into a rage. You are still a Senator, after all. “If you had studied the magics like you had been told too, maybe you would know the answer. Now, where is Odin?” You begin walking towards him, and he walks backward to keep the distance between you.

“I have no idea.” His answer sounds honest, but you know it’s a lie. He has backed himself into a corner, and you stand in front of him, about the block him in when he teleports to the other side of the room.

“Do not test me, Prince,” You begin, conjuring a gigantic ball of flame, “Where is your father? What have you done to him?”

“Senator, please calm down. We wouldn’t want a diplomatic incident, now would we?” Loki is smirking at you, thinking he’s got you in a bind. But he doesn’t realize he’s already lost.

You glare at him and put out the flame. “See, now that wasn’t that-” His speech is interrupted by you transforming into him, and reconjuring the flame.

“Do not trifle with me, Prince. I would be more than happy to kill you and replace you if it meant no one else must suffer at your hand. Now tell me. Where is your father?”

“He’s in a retirement home on Earth.” You transform back into yourself instantly upon this revelation and put out the flame once more.

“What in his name is he doing on Earth in a retirement home?” Your anger is gone, you are just tired now. Tired of the trickery, and games. And you really just want to eat.

“I put him under a spell. Wiped his memories.” You want to cry. Your first visit back to Asgard and it’s a total disaster.

You hesitate before asking, “How long have you been at this?”

“Five years” You look up at the ceiling and bite your lip to prevent yourself from screaming. When you look back at Loki you stop biting your lip and instead smile, and clap.

Through gritted teeth you shout, “Let’s Eat!” He opens his mouth to say something, but you are done with his nonsense. You cast a spell to temporarily prevent him from speaking. He glares at you, but you ignore him. You sit down next to each other at the table and eat the dinner you had been craving since you arrived.

After you finish the meal, you reverse the spell, and tell him, “You are the luckiest Prince in the Nine Realms, Loki.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s luck. I worked pretty hard to get here.”

“Loki. You do realize that had any other Vanheimian Senator, let alone any other ruler of any of the Nine Realms, found out your secret before me, they would have killed you on the spot?”

“Then why haven’t you killed me, Senator?”

“I’d rather not have to deal with the war that will come after that. Even if I am justified, it would destabilize all the Nine Realms. I will not sacrifice millennia of peace because you decided to rule Asgard for five years.” You reply.

“I am grateful.”

“You know,” You start, and you're not sure why you’re telling him this, “I’ve been waiting a millennium to come back here. And this is what I find now that all this time has passed. A Prince playing at being King.”

“A millennium?” There is a shift in his tone as he asked.

“Yes, a millennium. I keep thinking back to the day my mother and I came here. She was a Senator at that time, and we were in a parade. There was a boy-”

“That was you?” The realization hits him first, and his whole demeanor shifts.

“What do you mean that was me?” You are in denial.

“I was that boy. The one who made you smile and got dragged away by guards- that was me.”

“Are you telling me the day I couldn’t stop thinking about for centuries, that the boy I wanted to come back and find- that was you?” You really wish this was one of his tricks, but it’s not. It’s obvious it’s not. The way he’s looking at you like he’s just rediscovered the love of his life, tells you he’s not lying.

“You couldn’t stop thinking about it either?” He asks.

“I wanted to find you again.”

“So did I.” He chuckles, “It seems ridiculous now. I spent a decade looking for you, but my mother said-”

“Don’t worry, child. You will meet again one day when the fates allow?” You finish his sentence.

“Yes, exactly.” Loki smiles at the memory of Frigga.

“So what now?” You ask.

He reaches out for your hand and you give it to him. “We make up for lost time.” He kisses you, and you kiss him back. It is the kiss of a long-lost love, full of passion and relief. Of a spouse returning from war, years after the war has ended, long since presumed to be dead. As the kiss ends, you embrace each other. You saw each other in a crowd a thousand years ago. And a thousand years from now you will be in crowds together, happily married, with the peace between your realms secured for thousands more.

[howfarethestars]

all the worst we fear

rating: teen (for darker elements in later chapters)

warnings: none

summary: After Thor collapses on an alien planet, it becomes terrifyingly clear that his powers have become out of control. In a desperate attempt to save his life, he travels to the coven where his mother was raised.

“I’m leaving,” Thor said one night, resting the cool rim of his goblet against his bottom lip. He stared, eyes blank, at the stars beyond Heimdall’s observatory, wishing both that he never had to venture into them and that he was among them at the same time. 

Heimdall did not react. Like all things, he’d seen this coming. He simply turned his head to Thor, his amber eyes glowing bright in the light of the realms, and asked, “Do you think you’re ready?”

Thor hated lying to Heimdall. He took a swig of his mead, hoping the liquid fire would dull his senses, make this less painful. He thought back on the training they’d done, the months he’d given up to control his powers. The way he had not controlled them and worried that he never would. “I do.” 

Heimdall clapped him once on the back. “Then go you shall,” he said, smiling without it meeting his eyes. “Just promise me something, Thor.”

The taste of mead was bitter in Thor’s mouth. At least, Thor blamed it on the mead. “Of course, Heimdall. Anything.”

“Just stay safe.”

Thor felt himself smile. “I promise.”

Iron-colored rust coated Thor’s boots. Hot wind rustled his cloak, chapped his already reddened cheeks. Before him lay a vast, orange-tinted desert moon, and he stood above it all. Years ago the sight would’ve filled him with arrogance and pride. Having command over such a space would’ve sent a thrill through him. Now, though, it only brought him anxiety. 

As he brought a canteen to his lips with a trembling hand, he stared down at the settlement below the plateau. It wasn’t much; a loose collection of tents and merchants’ booths huddled together on a dry, cracked lakebed. A circle of squat buildings with low ceilings and wide floors encased a crowded marketplace. Obgi, the lone merchant village on the entire moon, was a lawless place. Royals, whether they’d renounced their thrones or not, were certainly not welcome. So, Thor came in disguise. A ragged cloak rested on his shoulders, and underneath it, he wore the loose fitting slacks and boots that barely reached his calves. 

Obgi, violent as it was, was mild compared to the lands Thor had been traveling for the past few months. In his search for the infinity stones, Thor had traversed the most dangerous lands, nearly been killed in every dark corner of the nine realms and beyond. All for six little stones that were too powerful for this universe to contain. 

Thor could relate to the objects of his pursuits in that way. He, too, was a vessel for a power too great to be confined. His hands still shook with it. Flashes of terrible futures blurred his vision. His nights were plagued by nightmares; whether they were his imagination or his abilities he did not know. Heimdall and he had been training, but it barely made a dent in the amount of power coursing through Thor’s veins. Their methods were a cracked dam, and Thor shuddered to think what would happen if the water breached. 

“See where your power leads?” Heimdall’s strange clone hissed in Thor’s ear, reminding him of what the witch’s visions warned of. The Avengers had come to the conclusion that her visions were only reflections of their worst fears, not true scenes of their futures. But Thor had seen flashes of destruction, of flames and molten rock turning his beloved Asgard to dust. The fear of apocalypse haunted him, hung on his soul like chains. 

Thor shook his head. The market was growing closer on the horizon. He couldn’t seem troubled, or else the merchants—or worse, the thieves—would take notice. In his searching, he’d come only to find the location of the power stone. Of course, the mind stone was on Earth. The reality and space stones on Knowhere. Time and soul were all that were left. They had to be found, and put somewhere safe. Thor didn’t know if he’d be able to rest if they weren’t. 

The marketplace was bustling like a hive of angry wasps. Thor steeled himself, then entered the crowd. Conversations overlapped around him, and he listened for any whispers of infinity stones, mad titans, or gems of unimaginable power. As his shoulders brushed the shoulders of other interested buyers, he let his hand rest on the satchel at his side. In the bag, he carried the knowledge he’d gathered about the infinity stones and the Titan that was looking for them, Mjolnir, disguised as a spyglass, and the journals and ancient writings he and Heimdall had worked with to help him control his seer abilities. 

“Zarg nuts here!” a deep, grizzled voice shouted right at Thor’s ears. 

He jumped, eyes blown wide. In listening for whispers of the stones, he’d forgotten to pay attention to his immediate surroundings. He shook his head, both to clear it and to refuse the zarg nuts. Dragging a hand over his face, he groaned. The crowds grew thicker still as he pushed his way through. It was difficult to hear his own thoughts, let alone whispers of powerful stones. 

“Many…searched far...for these stones...” 

Thor stopped in his tracks, so quickly he might’ve kicked up dust on the ground. People forced their way past him, banging into his shoulders or his knees, depending on their height. Head tilted, he turned his head in the direction the sound had come from. 

“I have here a map. It will show you their locations…” 

Thor wheeled around on his toes. The crowd approached still, not slowing up in the slightest. Getting through a swimming pool filled with cold molasses might’ve been easier than reaching the small, slightly run-down booth a few feet away from the crowd. He stopped just in front of the counter, breathing heavy. It took a few spare seconds to compose himself; he stayed dizzy longer, the warm yellows and oranges of the desert took longer to refocus. The merchant was dealing with another customer, which gave Thor a bit of time to size up the situation. The booth was indeed small, but there were piles of maps behind it, enough to keep an adventurer happy for a lifetime. A smile swept across Thor’s face, but he wiped it away quickly. He had to be careful not to look so eager. The price would skyrocket if Thor appeared half as desperate as he was. 

Thor approached with slow, sure steps, hands clasped behind his back. “What are you selling here?” 

The merchant turned their eyes to Thor, gave him a once-over, and smirked. “All manner of things,” they said, voice like gravel. They swept a webbed hand back, brandishing their wide collection of maps. “What are you looking for?”

Thor glanced at the other customer, who took the hint and stepped away. “Infinity stones.” 

Chuckling, the merchant stepped back. They whistled a foreign tune as they searched through the piles of both aged and new rolls of parchment, cloth, and paper. Finally, they pulled a pristine roll of thick paper from the stack. Turning back, they unfurled it on the counter. The map was beautiful. The infinity stones almost glowed. They were painted nicely, the colors not as faded by time as the other maps Thor had come across. Sadly, Thor was not evaluating the map for beauty, he needed it for legitimacy. In his search for the infinity stones, he’d come across countless false maps. This one was promising, though. It had the locations of the mind, space, reality, and power stones correct. It claimed the time stone was on Earth—a fact Thor highly doubted. The soul stone’s location was listed simply as unknown. Thor slid it back to the merchant and shook his head. That map didn’t show him anything he didn’t already know. 

The blistering heat of the desert vanished in a split second, and a desolate chill set into the air. Thor felt the color drain from his cheeks. He almost cursed. Now was not the time to have an episode. His hands fumbled for the satchel at his side. 

“Sir?” the merchant asked, probably for a second or third time, “Do you want the map or not?”

“No, I’m sorry. I need to leave,” Thor said with urgency. The map had been banished from his mind. What he needed now was to get away from the crowd of ruthless scavengers that would no doubt steal his kidneys if he fell unconscious here. 

The merchant huffed. “If you don’t want it, get out.”

Thor nodded, and stumbled away from the booth. He glanced back towards the plateau. There. He could call the bifrost, go home. He’d lied to himself long enough. His powers were never under control. Now he fumbled through his bag as he forced his way through the congealing crowd. His vision blurred, refocused. The toe of his boot caught a stray rock, nearly sending him tumbling to the ground below. He regained his footing, just as a short creature slammed into him. Fire flashed across his vision, burning in the eyes of demons who wished his death. Thor sucked in a sharp, deep breath. The desert bled into darkness, spots danced across the garnet sky. 

Terror pierced his belly. He glanced longingly at the plateau, but it was no use. He could never make it that far. There was only one option. 

He clenched his fist at his side, and thunder cracked across the air, loud enough to turn the marketplace silent. Thousands of eyes turned sharply to face Thor, pale and shaking in the center of the walkway. The crowd split away from him. 

“Everyone back up,” he commanded with as much authority as he could muster. Thankfully, they listened. He looked up to the sky, where dark storm clouds were gathering above him. “Heimdall, I need you.”

A kaleidoscope of colors exploded from the sky, wrapping Thor in the warmth of the bifrost. Thor sighed in relief; his eyes slipped shut. As soon as the colors bled into the gold of the observatory, his knees gave out beneath him, and he sprawled out on the floor. Mjolnir slipped out of his hand, but Thor could feel her lightning against his palm, trying to heal whatever was so wrong with him. 

Heimdall dropped to his knees in front of Thor, his golden eyes swimming with concern. Thor couldn’t muster the strength to assuage him. 

“Something’s wrong,” he whispered, just as the flames took his vision over and the demons closed in. 

    ——————————————————————————————— 

Once when Thor was young, he and Loki had ventured out into Asgard’s towering forests in search of Bilgsnipe or trolls or some other creature of the sort. Odin had told them not to go past the east river, but being the stubborn boys they were, they refused to listen. Bilgsnipe paid no mind to the king’s decrees, so neither would Thor and Loki. Unbeknownst to the princes, Odin has reason for forbidding them from going past the east river. The earth was uneven, full of crevices hidden by overgrowth. Worthy of extreme caution for grown men, life-threatening for small boys. 

Thankfully, Heimdall had been watching. When Thor inevitably fell into one of the shallow faults, Heimdall was there before Loki had made it halfway back to the palace to get help. Heimdall didn’t remember much—of all Thor’s childhood injuries, this one had been fairly mild. Still, he had needed patching up and bedrest. The thing Heimdall remembered most, however, was Thor’s terrified plea that no one would tell Odin what happened. Even with a fractured arm and scratches all over, his only concern was for no one to tell Odin. 

All Heimdall could think of as he sat by Thor’s bedside, watching him toss and turn in fitful sleep, was that day. It had been a few hours since he’d brought him inside. Thor hadn’t woken, and save for a bit of mumbled nonsense, he hadn’t stirred. 

Heimdall pressed the back of his hand against Thor’s forehead. Still hot and dry from fever. He took a deep breath. as his chest tightened. Internally, he weighed his options. The logical thing would be to go to Odin. With his age and experience, he would surely know what to do to help his son. But every time Heimdall stood to summon the king, he remembered Thor’s fearful begging. 

The other logical option—which was taking Thor to Vanaheim, where his mother had learned her craft—would be difficult without alerting Odin. 

Thor cried out, pulling Heimdall’s attention forcefully back to the situation at hand. A sheen of sweat was starting to form on his cherry red skin. He murmured something about demons. 

With a heavy sigh, Heimdall finally made his decision. 

The walk to Odin’s study was a long one; the king’s suite was separated from the main parts of the palace. Much to Heimdall’s distaste. Several times on his way over he considered turning around, marching right back to Thor’s side. But then he would remember Thor’s pained whimpers, and he found the strength to keep walking. 

Heimdall studied the deep burgundy wood of Odin’s door for a beat too long, delaying the inevitable. His knuckles rapped against it, and the weight of his actions felt heavy on his shoulders. 

The door swung open, and there Odin stood. It was strange to see him look unaffected. Thor was not okay, nothing was okay. Everything should’ve been halted, everyone should’ve been affected until this was fixed and Thor was safe. 

But no, Odin greeted him amicably. “Hello, Heimdall. What brings you down from the observatory?” 

The Midgardians had a saying, like ripping off a bandaid. It meant to do things quickly before you could focus on the pain or effects. So Heimdall did just that, “Thor is sick.” 

Even with Allsight, Heimdall couldn’t read Odin’s expression. His brows furrowed, concern swam in his eyes, but he seemed to reject his own feelings. “What’s wrong?”

“I think,” he said, his voice beginning to waver, “I think you should come with me.” 

   ——————————————————————————————— 

It took Heimdall the entire walk back to Thor’s room to find the words to explain what Odin was about to see. As they closed in on the distance between Odin’s study and Thor’s room, the words found Heimdall’s lips. 

Before opening the door, Heimdall stopped. One hand rested on the door knob behind his back, the other found his pocket. Odin raised an eyebrow, but Heimdall spoke before he could object. 

“Centuries ago you bound Thor’s seer abilities, and hid them away deep inside him,” he began, his heart hammering in his chest. 

Odin’s reaction was a quick, almost imperceptible widening of the eye. Heimdall took a sharp intake of breath. Thor is sick, he reminded himself, Odin can help. 

“Six months ago, those powers were unintentionally, violently awoken,” he continued, “Before today, I had reason to believe his powers were under control. Now, I believe otherwise.” 

Odin was silent as stone and his expression was just as blank. He made eye contact with the door instead of Heimdall, and just when the silence had stretched into something worrisome, he spoke. 

“Is he in there?” 

Pretending to be unfazed by the odd question, Heimdall nodded. Together they entered Thor’s room, and the already tense air grew frigid at the sight of Thor thrashing on the bed. Sparks of lighting flew from his fingertips and danced across his arms as he cried out against unknown terrors. 

Any thought of danger to personal safety was long lost as both Heimdall and Odin rushed to Thor’s side. 

“How long has he been like this?” Odin asked in a hollow voice as he placed his weathered hands over Thor’s still-sparking fingers. His remaining eye shone with tears as he looked at his son. 

Heimdall couldn’t help but find this reaction puzzling. For hours he’d paced and worried and wondered how this would go. Odin’s reaction was the opposite of what he’d expected. Not that it wasn’t a pleasant surprise. Genuine concern for his children had never been Odin’s strong suit and to see it...well, it was strange is all. 

“He arrived through the bifrost hours ago,” he confessed. Odin turned, an eyebrow raised in suspicion, but Heimdall continued. “I must admit I struggled with the decision to tell you about all this. Thor didn’t want you to know.” 

This didn’t faze him either, not as much as Heimdall had expected, at least. There was only a slight tense in his shoulders, and an even more puzzling question. 

“Is the door closed?” 

Heimdall glanced over his shoulder. “Yes, my king.” 

“I, too, have been keeping a secret from you, Heimdall.”

The old king stood from his chair and walked aimlessly towards the middle of Thor’s bedroom. Heimdall twisted at an awkward angle in order to see him properly. 

“Before I reveal this to you,” Odin said, I need you to promise me something.”

Heimdall nodded once. He had never been loyal to a fault, but he would never disobey Odin’s direct request. “Anything.”

“Don’t freak out.”

Before Heimdall could even begin to comprehend the meaning of that blunt and cryptic command, a wavering line of thin green light started to glow at the top of Odin’s head. The magic made its descent, and as it did slowly transformed Odin into…

“Loki,” Heimdall growled

Loki had the good sense to keep his mouth shut for once, but the silence only enraged Heimdall further. He stood and drew his sword in one swift motion. Walking foot over foot, Heimdall tilted the blade towards Loki’s neck. 

“Murderer,” he said, voice low and head reared back in a fighting stance, “What did you do to Odin?” 

“Now, let’s keep a cool head, shall we?” Loki asked. He took a shaky step backwards, hands raised in a show of innocence. “Heimdall, remember your promise.” 

“My promises mean nothing to a murderous traitor,” he spat. His steps had led him so close to Loki that he could see his nostrils flare in fear when Heimdall pressed the tip of his sword against his neck. “Is he dead?”

“No,” Loki said in a voice two octaves too high, and the sword was removed from his throat. “Odin is safe on Midgard. I didn’t hurt him. I only erased his memories of his life on Asgard.” 

“Usurping the throne is no lesser crime than murdering—“

“No!” Thor cried, and suddenly Heimdall couldn’t care less about Loki’s transgressions. 

His sword returned to his side as he ran to Thor with Loki right behind him. Soon they stood side by side, casting two long shadows over Thor. Fat tears cascaded down Thor’s face. His chest rose and fell in shallow and forced breaths. 

“Heimdall,” Loki whispered as though the very act of speaking brought him immense pain. Their heads turned in tandem, and when Heimdall locked eyes with Loki, he saw tears shining there. “He’s dying. Can you not feel it?”

The words were not sharp or piercing. They were a dull force, a devastating blow to his entire body. A chill swept across his skin and burrowed itself under the surface, too. His hand tightened on his sword instinctively, as if he could fight off what was coming with a blade. 

Loki only sighed. He must have taken Heimdall’s silence as an indication that he should keep talking. “When I touched him earlier, I could feel it. The power within him, it’s too strong. He let it get out of control. It’s destroying him from the inside out.” 

Heimdall swallowed to keep from crying. He could break down and lament the unfairness of it all later, but none of that would help Thor. 

“We need to take him to Vanaheim,” Heimdall said. He coughed once, hoping Loki wouldn’t notice the strain in his voice. “I know a witch there, a friend of your mother’s, and a close...a close friend of mine. They can rid him of this cursed power.”

Loki nodded. “We’ll go, then.” 

Narrowing his eyes, Heimdall wondered if Loki only wanted to come so that he could delay any punishment for his actions. But when Thor let out a heartbreaking whimper, Heimdall realized he didn’t care. 

“Can you wake him?”

“Aye.”

“Will you...hide until I can break the news to him? It will be a lot to take in.” 

Loki nodded. “I’ll cloak myself when I’ve woken him.”

A beat passed. Loki met Heimdall’s eyes, soft and concerned. “For his sake, would you like me to stay in Odin’s form?” 

There was a genuine kindness in the question. Heimdall paused; it was a valid question. He glanced back at Thor, who was still covered in lightning and crying. His heart broke at the sight. With a sigh, he turned to Loki. 

“Stay as you are,” he said, “He deserves to know the truth.”

Loki just nodded. “He might wake violently, so stand back. I’ll cloak myself and wait until you’re ready to tell him.”

Heimdall obeyed. Loki’s hands glowed from the inside, turning them a greenish-yellow. A crease formed in his brow as he placed his palms against Thor’s cheeks. Thor instantly stilled.

Heimdall was almost loathe to wake him, if he were going to look so peaceful the moment Loki took his hands away. 

But he would not, and that threat on Thor’s life hung heavy above their heads. 

Loki faded from solid form, leaving Heimdall seemingly alone with Thor. His thoughts wandered away from the moment at hand; Thor looked so much like a child. If Heimdall didn’t know better, he could’ve been asleep in his arms after his fall all those years ago...

With a sharp gasp, Thor returned to them. 

   ——————————————————————————————— 

Fire demons, their glowing orange fingers reaching out to tear Thor to pieces. Fear clawed at his throat as the claws closed in. In the distance, Surtur chuckled at his demise, but he wouldn’t give up yet. He called upon his lightning, as desperation surged through—

Flames melted into golden sheets. In the haze of waking, he could not tell if this was the start of another vision or if the terrors were over. Even when Heimdall appeared in his line of sight, he couldn’t discern. Heimdall, or what he thought was Heimdall, pressed a hand against his face. His hands were cool, nothing like the intense burn of Muselpheim’s magma. His heart skipped a beat—was it over? 

“Heimdall,” he whispered, desperately trying to find his voice. He reached up, arms and hands shaking, to touch Heimdall’s hands, to find an anchor in the storm. “Is this...is this real?”

Heimdall nodded. “It’s over,” he said, “You’re safe.” 

Relief crashed over him. He let out a deep sigh and sunk into the bed underneath him. Home at last, safe with Heimdall. His vision had ended, he was free of the horrors lying within his mind, and he was safe. 

And he would’ve smiled. 

But Heimdall wouldn’t look him in the eyes. 

“What is it?” Thor asked. Thor barely recognized his own voice. He frowned; Heimdall wouldn't answer him. “Heimdall.”

Heimdall swallowed. “Would you like the good news or the bad news?”

Thor smiled at the common phrase. “You’ve been spending too much time watching Midgardians.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Midgardians,” Heimdall countered, the shadow of a laugh in his voice. 

The moment died quickly, smothered by the tension in the air. Thor swallowed. Better now then later, he supposed. 

“I’ll take the bad news first,” he said. He took a moment to push himself up on trembling arms. Stubborn as always, Thor didn’t ask for help when he struggled. Heimdall did anyway. Panting, Thor continued, “Just to get it over with.”

Heimdall nodded. “I was afraid you’d say that,” he muttered. When he took a breath, Thor knew it was bad. Heimdall was a stoic man; his words came smoothly. To see him struggle meant doom. 

“Your life force is too weak to fight off your visions.”

Thor stared blankly up at Heimdall. The pieces wouldn’t click. Maybe his subconscious was protecting him from something he shouldn’t hear, maybe he wasn’t fully awake yet. He could only sit and stare and wish Heimdall would just explain it all. 

Heimdall sat on the edge of the bed. His sturdy hands clasped Thor’s shoulders. “Thor,” he said, his voice growing thicker with every letter, “you’re dying.” 

His chest went hollow, his body grew numb. All his pieces threatened to come crumbling inward, as if he was made of glass. He searched for something to say, something to ask that would make sense of what Heimdall had just said. But nothing came to mind. Nothing but those two words, you’re dying. 

Heimdall’s hand moved from Thor’s shoulders to his neck. Tears blurred his vision again at the intimate gesture. “We’re going to figure it out, though. We have a plan.”

Thor sniffed, forcing back a sob. In the struggle, he locked on a distraction. “Wait, who’s we?”

Heimdall’s face twisted, tongue in his cheek but eyes squinted, a mix of annoyance and happiness. It was a look that Thor remembered well—it was the face he reserved for Loki. 

Heimdall turned away from Thor to stare at what he thought was the wall. “You can come out now.” 

Thor was reminded of watching the Chitari leviathans fall out of the sky; the screech of metal and groan of gears, the crash and smoke that filled the air when it landed on the ground. Thor was that leviathan, tumbling to the ground after his supports had failed and the earth beneath him crumbled away. 

Loki was there. Shimmering in golden light, smirking and stepping closer to him, and he was there. Alive. Not grey and ashen and cold in his arms in the barren wastelands of Svartalfheim. 

Thor wasn’t sure if he was going to cry or scream. 

Like the imp he was, Loki held his hands out by his side and shook his fingers. “Surprise,” he sang, looking not nearly cheerful enough for the inflection of his words. 

Against his better judgement, Thor stood on shaky legs. Heimdall’s objections fell on deaf ears as Thor marched towards his brother. Loki had the decency to look afraid. 

Thor really couldn’t place his own emotions or desires. Anger or happiness? Punch Loki in the face or hug him? He raised his fist without emotion behind the action, then wrapped his arms around Loki’s shoulders as anger coursed through him. 

Loki hugged him back, albeit awkwardly. The embrace lasted a beat longer, then Thor pulled away with his hands still on Loki’s shoulders. To remind him that Loki was still there, or to keep him standing up right, no one knew. Not even Thor. 

“How is it possible?” he whispered, “I watched you die. You died, Loki.”

Loki hung his head, a black curl fell against his forehead. “It’s a long story…”

Thor felt anger bubble up again. “A long story? You let me believe you were dead. I watched you die in my arms, Loki!”

Thor cursed inwardly at the crack in his voice, the tears in his eyes. He hugged Loki again; he couldn’t help it. “Don’t ever do that again. Please, I don’t think I can take it.”

With a defeated sigh, Loki hugged him back. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically genuine. “If you don’t die, then neither will I.”

Thor felt himself smile. “I can do that.”

They pulled away, and Thor turned to Heimdall. “You said you had a plan?”

“We do,” he said with a nod, “We’re going to Vanaheim.” 

The realm of magic, of course. The thought comforted him. The witches there had been studying and practicing magic for centuries; if anyone could help him, it would be them. Still, something weighed heavy on his mind. The elders of Vanaheim could likely help him, but fate had been less than kind as of late. If this were to be his last journey, then his loved ones deserved to know that. 

Loki nodded sagely. “They’ll be able to get rid of your powers, I’m sure.”

Thor flinched as if Loki had struck him. His core ached at the thought. “Get rid of my powers?”

“Well, yes,” Loki said with a flippant shake of his head. He gave Thor a strange look. “Why would you keep them? They’re killing you.”

Although Thor couldn’t fault his logic, he still couldn’t imagine giving up his powers. It was all he had left of Frigga, his last connection to her. How could he ever give that up? 

“I...I could use them,” Thor managed, and his words were not quite a lie, “To protect Asgard. Just as mother did.”

Both Loki and Heimdall were tense, but after they shared a brief, exasperated look, Heimdall nodded. 

“Very well. You will train, then.” 

The tightness in Thor’s chest lessened, and he breathed a sigh of relief. “I must go to Earth first,” he said, “Jane, the Avengers; they deserve to know. Just in case I do not return.”

Loki rolled his eyes at the thought, but didn’t object. 

   ——————————————————————————————— 

It was not hard to tell the Avengers. They were warriors themselves, well accustomed to loss. They’d taken the news well, actually. As well as could be expected. Tony cracked jokes, of course, but with a soft look in his dark eyes that spoke more volumes than words. Steve was heartfelt, inspirational. The captain was all tight shoulder squeezes and quick hugs; his physicality portrayed his emotions best. Clint knew well the uncertainty of a diagnosis, and his empathy was felt in his lingering hug. Natasha was quiet, actually. She did not speak until she hugged him goodbye, and even then it was a fierce, whispered уцелеть. “Survive.” 

All the whispered assurances in the world could not have given him enough strength to tell Jane. Truly, he did not worry for how she would take the news; she was strong, resilient. But, to tell her meant that this was all real. No matter how desperately he wished it to be a dream, it was real. 

He pondered this all while standing in front of her door. Well, “ponder” was one word for it. Really, he was stalling. 

Her door was green. Faded. Chipping paint along the edges. Just go in, Thor. The doorknob was brass, but use had worn it down to a dull grey. Her apartment number was crooked slightly, hanging slanted on its nail. 

Stalling, stalling. 

With a deep sigh, Thor raised his hand and knocked. His stomach was in knots. A cold sweat had started dripping down his forehead. The fear of throwing up was now beginning to replace the fear of Jane opening the door. 

There she was. 

“Thor?” she gasped, her mouth falling open. She rushed into his arms. “What are you doing here?”

Thor gave himself a moment. To breathe, to pretend he was here to visit and nothing more. To remember the way she felt in his arms in case this was the last time she’d be there. 

But her question remained unanswered. 

“I have something to tell you.” 

They moved out of the hallway, then, and onto the balcony. It was spring on Earth. A bright blue sky streaked with thin, icy clouds hung over them. Thor and Jane stood side by side, leaning against the brick railing of her patio, neither speaking. Birdsong filled the silence between them. 

“You have to start coming to visit when there’s no catastrophes to deal with,” Jane joked, just to break the silence. 

Thor shook his head with a rueful smile. “You’re right.”

Jane hummed a laugh, but the humor was missing. She tilted her head, then, and her voice was serious when she spoke. “Thor, what’s this all about?”

“I’m afraid to say it.”

Jane reached out and took his hand in hers, so patient, so kind. “Then I guess I’ll just wait until you’re not.”

Thor took a shaky breath, and leaned his head against her shoulder. She rested her cheek against his hair. Even in so peaceful a moment, he could feel the visions whispering in the back of his mind. He saw Jane with tears in her eyes, her face obscured by a silver helmet, but just before he lost himself in the vision, she squeezed his hand and pulled him back. 

Deep breath. He opened his mouth only to close it before even a syllable escaped. Deep breath again. Just get it out. “Jane, I’m dying.”

Her head shot up. She stumbled backwards, still holding his hand. Internally, Thor kicked himself. He should’ve been less blunt. 

“You’re what?” 

“It’s a lot to explain. We should sit.” 

Jane scoffed. “Yeah, we should,” she said, moving towards the lawn chairs she had set out on the patio. Thor followed her, head down. “You can’t just drop a bombshell like that, Thor. Honestly. Don’t they teach, like, how to break bad news in Asgard?”

Thor’s eyebrows pinched. “Do they teach that on Earth?” 

As Jane plopped into her seat, she groaned. “What do you mean ‘you’re dying’?” she asked, completely ignoring his little quip. Thor sank into the chair across from her. “Are you sick?”

“You could say that,” he said. His hands found each other, and one began to massage the other. “If you want the entirety of it, I’ll have to start from the beginning.”

“I always want the entirety.” 

“Of course,” Thor laughed. He leaned back in his chair. “Have I told you that my mother was a seer?”

Jane nodded. “Yeah.” 

“Well, it seems as though her powers are genetic. When I was very young, she sensed that I had those powers, as well. But, my father-“ Thor’s voice cracked in anger and grief. The next words were hard to get through. “My father was not happy about it, so he...he bound my abilities. And for, well, the rest of my life I was blissfully unaware of them. But, they grew more powerful everyday. And more wild, unkept.

“Remember Strucker’s lab? The girl we found there? Her magic showed me my worst fears, but in her vision...something broke loose in me. Her power unbound the spell Odin cast on me. For weeks, I was plagued with visions of the future. Heimdall helped me control them for a while, but...I was foolish. I lied to him. I told him I was better, that I could control it.”

“But you couldn’t,” Jane finished in a whisper when tears began to slip down Thor’s cheeks in place of the words he couldn’t get out. 

Thor shook his head. “No, and now I can’t stop them from coming. And I can’t break free of them. And we worry...we worry that with every new vision, it will be too much for me.”

With everything out in the air, Thor’s shoulders fell. A single drop of rain landed on the ground in between them. Then another. And another. Until steady sheets of rain were pouring on London. Jane nor Thor moved an inch except to embrace as they grew more soaked by the minute. 

Jane sighed. “I don’t know what to say.” 

“You don’t have to say anything. I just...you needed to know. In case I didn’t make it,” he said. His fingers found her hair, twisted it idly into ringlets. “Heimdall would’ve been better at breaking the news, though. He can be gentle when he needs to be.”

“I’m glad you told me.” She pulled away from him. Even though the rain obscured her vision, she stared into his eyes. “You aren’t going to die, though. I won’t let you.”

“We do have a plan to stop me from dying,” Thor said. The rain tapered off, then. The sun returned as did hope. “My mother’s—and my—powers come from Vanaheim. We’re going there. Hopefully they will be able to help.”

“Okay. Okay, good. Listen, as soon as you get better, you have to come tell me,” she said sternly, pressing her pointed finger into Thor’s chest. She held out her pinky. “You will get better, right? Promise me you’ll get better.”

Thor looped his little finger in hers, and whispered the words. “I promise.” 

The sight of her smile was worth the lie. 

[beccarooni]

Goodnight, Sakaar

It was quiet. Which was surprising, given the green giant sleeping next to him. He’d honestly expected Hulk to be a snorer, or perhaps a talker, but all he got was the faint sound of breathing and the gentle rise and fall of a chest.

The silence left a ringing in his ears, a pounding behind his skull left over from the gladiator ring that made every muscle twinge and was really making sleep difficult at this point. It wasn’t that he wasn’t tired - he was fairly sure he’d never been this tired in his life. But his mind wouldn’t rest, wouldn’t settle, and kept forcing the unwanted to the forefront of his thoughts.

If not for the disc in his neck, he was fairly sure he would be conjuring a storm by now.

He could feel the lightning seethe under his skin, and for a moment idly watched it burn and glimmer across his hand.

Sparkles.

Useless, stupid, sparkles.

That was all that was left of the power that had ripped apart the skies themselves. His hammer, crushed like glass in the fist of his sister. And with it, his power.

Thor pulled the blanket up closer around himself, trying to stifle the soft glow of his hands, and instead turned his gaze towards the stars. Different to Asgard, Midgard, any of the places he’d been. Sakaar seemed to have its own constellations, its own system that moved outside of the 9 realms he’d been raised in.

The 9 realms that could be on fire, by now. Burnt to their core by Hela and whatever army she’d managed to amass.

Stars twinkled above him, and somewhere out there was his home. His kingdom. And it was burning. It was burning and he couldn’t do a thing about it because of a disc.

He moved onto his side, tearing his eyes away from the stars and instead focusing them onto Hulk’s back. The big, green back, rippling with muscle, that somehow reminded him of his other home. Of Midgard. Of forests and leaves and his teammates who’d always have his back when they needed him. It was…comforting, in a way. Granted, Hulk had recently punched him into unconsciousness but he seemed to have calmed down now. Even offered to share his bed, once he’d heard Thor’s groans of discomfort from where he tried to sleep on the floor.

Thor had wanted to protest. Really, he had. But Hulk’s bed was big, and the blankets looked soft, and he’d never admit it but he was hurting. Things had happened in quick succession that had left him feeling somewhat lost, and Hulk was offering him a place of refuge, and who was he to say no, really?

And besides, Hulk wasn’t that bad. He was actually rather sweet, in a rough, naive sort of way. He’d planted one of his capes over Thor’s shoulders as a makeshift blanket when it became evident that one wasn’t enough to cover them both, and told him in no uncertain terms to get some rest.

“Blondie sleep now.” He’d said, patting his shoulder over the garishly patterned fabric. “Feel better tomorrow.”

Well, it was probably tomorrow by now. And Thor didn’t feel better.

His home was burning. The prophecy from two years ago, singed into his mind by the Maximoff girl, Heimdall’s bloodied hands gripping his arms and his voice, grating and sharp, speaking of the destruction he would bring.

You’re a destroyer, Odinson.

We are all dead, can you not see?

“Not asleep?”

Deep tones, mumbled through fleeting wakefulness jarred him out of his stupor, as green eyes poked through the darkness to stare at him reproachfully.

Hulk’s eyes glowed slightly, a faint green shine. Weird.

“No, not quite.” Thor frowned to himself, turning onto his back to look at the ceiling instead. “Did I wake you?”

“Mm.” Hulk nodded, huge hands clamping against a mouth to stifle a yawn. There was a rustling of sheets, and out of the corner of his eye Thor caught Hulk staring at him a little more intently than before. Thick brows furrowed, nose slightly scrunched, Hulk huffed slightly through his nostrils. “Thor stressed.”

He opened his mouth, and was surprised at how quickly he’d wanted to lie. He didn’t like lying, and by all accounts wasn’t particularly good at it. That was more Loki’s field of excellence, after all. But the words ‘Im fine’ seemed to escape him before he could even think about what he was saying.

“Just tired, that’s all.” He offered a smile, reaching out to pat Hulk’s forearm before twisting onto his side, trying to escape the prying green light of his eyes. “I’m sorry for waking you. Go back to sleep.”

“What Thor thinking about?”

A perfectly innocent question. One that he could feel the lie building in his throat - the gladiator fight, perhaps? The grandmaster? The ugly walls? He had options. Ones outside of what was actually running through his head. The white hot fear that his planet was going to die. His people were going to die. And there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

Thor wound the blanket tighter between his fingers, screwing his eyes shut against the faint sparks that danced across his palms. He didn’t want to say what he was thinking about. He didn’t even want to be thinking about it.

But someone had to.

He just hated that it had to be him.

And he would’ve kept that secret, too. If it hadn’t been for Hulk’s hand, touching his shoulder with an almost nervous apprehension. He’d been on the receiving end of Hulk’s force before, he’d seen the extent of his strength. But this…this was new. It was gentle. It was a comforting weight across his back, a reminder that right now, he wasn’t alone. Someone was here, waiting to listen.

He just needed to find the words.

“I’m…scared.” He finally choked out, briefly turning his head to look out to the night sky.

“My people are in danger, and everything the Norns told me is coming true and I don’t even know if I can stop it, let alone how. I don’t…” He trailed off, suddenly tight and crushing against his throat. When his voice finally came back to him, it felt small, fragile, with a small waver to it that Thor tried very hard to banish. “I don’t even have my hammer.”

Hulk was quiet for a time after that. So long that Thor thought for a moment he’d fallen back asleep. But eventually, the mattress shifted, as Hulk pushed himself up onto his elbows, shrugging his shoulders as he attempted to string the right words together.

“Thor…”

Hulk began, frowning, fiddling with his hands in a way that seemed more to belong to Banner than it had his green counterpart. The bed creaked as he shuffled somewhat closer, the hand on his shoulder returning to turn Thor towards him, those emerald eyes boring down onto him like the cameras in the arena.

“Thor strong. Brave. Tough, like Hulk.” He paused tilting his head, one large thumb rubbing small circles through Thor’s armor. “Thor gonna be okay.”

Thor blinked, part of him telling him that this was stupid. He shouldn’t be taking advice from the Hulk. You didn’t do that, you took advice from Bruce, the scientist, the doctor. Hulk wasn’t supposed to contain profound knowledge and he certainly wasn’t supposed to be comforting.

But that didn’t change the fact that he was. Hulk was telling him that he was strong, that he could do this, and by the Norns did he want to believe him.

Thor released his hold on the blanket, flexing his fingers in front of his eyes. No lightning. Just sparks, dancing between his fingertips. Hardly the stuff of legend. He’d battled before, frost giants, dark elves, robots, his brother that one time. But this one…this one was hurting. He didn’t have a team with him, at least not one he was used to. Or, maybe he did. Maybe his team was a big green man who somehow believed that he could save a planet from destruction.

He so wanted to keep his voice strong for this. But it was quiet, practically a whisper, a barely audible sound breaking the silence of the room. “You really think I can do it?”

Hulk breathed out sharply through his nose, tossing his head against the pillow in an attempt at a shrug. “Hulk don’t know what Thor doing. But yes. Thor not that puny.”

A small smile graced Thor’s features, the pressure in his chest feeling just that little bit lighter when he allowed himself a chuckle, pressing his face half into the pillow to at least try and cover the sound.

“Blondie stop laughing! Hulk being serious!” One of Hulk’s hands roughly prodded him in the shoulder, the outrage in his voice only serving to make Thor’s giggling harder to contain.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just…” He sighed, happily this time, and sat up in the bed so he could look at Hulk properly. “It’s lovely that you care. You’re very sweet to say all that.”

“Hulk not sweet! Hulk strong!” Hulk’s frown deepened as Thor clamped his hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking with muted laughter. “Blondie stop it!”

“Alright, alright!”

Thor narrowly dodged one of Hulk’s hands, slamming into the mattress where he’d been laying just seconds ago. He was still smiling, he didn’t think he was ever going to be able to banish that grin from his face, but he’d rather avoid a further pummeling from Hulk if he could. And, besides. It had been sweet. And it had made him feel better. The last thing he wanted to do was make Hulk uncomfortable, even if it was just through compliments.

He held his hands up in defence, moving slowly to pat the green muscle of Hulk’s chest in a show of thanks, his tone sobering slightly as he tried to claw for words that seemed more sincere.

“Truly, you are a creature of wisdom. Thank you.”

Hulk sniffed, tossing his head back against the pillow and drawing most of the blankets with him, staring up at Thor with a soft green glow spilling from between the blankets.

“Thor welcome. Now go sleep.”

“Yes, yes of course. That seems wise.” He stretched out on the bed, letting his eyes shut against the harsh colours of the ceiling, trying to tune out the background noise of Sakaar as he made himself comfortable. “Goodnight, Hulk.”

“Night, Blondie.”

[occasionalfics]

The Ones To Go, 8 (Thor X Reader)

masterlist | the one to stay masterlist | the ones to go masterlist | chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5 | chapter 6 | chapter 7 | 

Summary: Thor just wants to go home. He’s lost so much already.

A/N: You know that post about how much Thor’s lost? I think about that post a lot. It hurts me - physically hurts me. So I tried not to make this too painful. Also I’m a huge sucker for romance and fluff so that’s what I give you, friends.

Also...there are only two more parts after this. I’m real anxious thinking about that for no reason at all.

Warnings: Thor...sad. 

Words: 2,055. Thor so sad I couldn’t even reach 3k for this one. That’s probably for the best.

He’d seen his friends die more than once now. Well, he’d been on Sakaar when the Warriors Three were killed by Hela, but he hadn’t really had much time to grieve them since. So, in some way, it felt like he’d witnessed their deaths first hand as he walked the camp, knowing exactly who had fallen in battle. He saw it all this time. Two of the bravest, most incredible men he’d ever met had fallen - he couldn’t even say their names without nearly breaking down.

He had to save that for the return to their kingdom. Thor reminded himself when he woke up, intermittently throughout the day, and just before he fell asleep just how lucky he actually was.

Thanos had not taken (Y/N). Not entirely. Not in the same way.

Thanos had not taken Loki or Brunhilde or Heimdall.

Thanos was dead.

The Infinity Stones were to be locked away - he’d forgotten where the remaining Avengers had agreed to take them. It didn’t matter to him, so long as they were far, far away from his kingdom and his family.

More than that, he was going to be a father. The Ice Woman had been right - his Queen was pregnant, and though the timing felt all wrong, there was nothing that could make him happier. He assured her, as the days grew on, that they would be ready for their child when they came into the world.

They agreed to stay in Wakanda for the funerals and wakes of their fallen peers. They borrowed clothing for the occasion with T’Challa’s permission, knowing that everything had some cultural significance or another. The Wakandans did their best to respect the traditions of each person’s home - the Americans were sent home in their coffins, for instance - and then a festival was thrown in the city proper. Shuri assured them both that this was all meant to celebrate the lives of the people they’d lost, to lift their spirits and - hopefully - send them all off with a new glance at the horizon.

Banners with the images of the fallen hung from the ceiling of the room the festival was being held in. Thor had to force himself in behind his wife, and then had to keep his eye down. He couldn’t bare looking at their faces - not so soon after their deaths at the hands of Thanos. (Y/N) clung to him all night - not tightly, so she was dragging him, but just gently enough to remind him she was there with him the whole time. She made being in that room bearable.

“Just remember,” she told him more than once, “that in the morning, Dr. Strange will send us home again.”

He nodded every time, attempting smiles regardless of how convincing he thought he was. The night passed off this way - Thor an anxious mess, (Y/N) his rock as they sat and watched the others dance and celebrate the lives they were now able to live. It all seemed too soon, and his wife agreed.

“We’ll grieve when we get home,” she told him toward the end of the night. “And then we’ll prepare a nursery to recover.”

He smiled genuinely at that. It was a sentiment that truly set his heart at ease and made him hopeful for the morning. He put his arm that was wrapped around her against her stomach and kissed her forehead, keeping her as close as he possibly could.

Their procession the next morning was much smaller than it had been when they’d come to Midgard. Doctor Strange was grateful - he wouldn’t have to hold the portal open quite as long - but Thor felt disheartened. For the first time that morning, he reminded himself that his close friends, his trusted family members were going home with him. Bruce, of course, would remain behind, but at least he was still with them, too.

They moved across space and time as if it were nothing, stepping out onto the field that welcomed them with a calming, warm breeze. They sent a guard ahead of them to announce their arrival, so her brother and sister-in-law waited to greet them at the doors of the palace.

Thor felt as though they’d been away for a year, when really it had been less than a week since he’d been back. It’d been less than a week since he’d come to collect the Queen for the war. That was all.

They greeted the Queen’s family with smiles and hugs, but he was too tired to do much else. They would resume their place on the throne tomorrow, after an inevitable court meeting that would, likely, be too early in the morning.

He tried not to think about that - or really, anything - as (Y/N) drew a bath. He watched her from the main part of their chamber as she tested the temperature, poured in salts and oils, and shut the faucet off when the large tub was full enough. She came back to him then, helped him undress - which he didn’t fight, given how much weight his body seemed to bear at that moment - then held his hand as she brought him into the bathroom.

Thor groaned when he slid into the tub. The warm water instantly lifted some of the tension from his muscles, and the scent of the room cleared his mind the way he wanted it to. (Y/N) didn’t get in at first; she moved around the room, grabbing soap and sponges, the heels of her boots clicking against the stone floors. She put the things in her arms on a table beside the tub, then rubbed more oil on her fingers before working the muscles in his neck in slow circles. She pressed her thumbs the hardest, pushing out tension and knots he didn’t even know he had.

“I’m not complaining or anything,” he said just before groaning as she pushed on an exceptionally tight muscle by his shoulder. “But you do know we have servants for this, right?”

She leaned forward so her lips were right by his ear, some of her hair falling into the water around his chest. “I like taking care of you,” she said in a low voice that sent tingles all over his body. “You made sure I was looked over when I was recovering from that fireball. And besides, I like being needed.”

He smiled and turned his head to kiss her quickly. She worked his other shoulder, eliciting more groans of pleasure from him as the toll of war started to physically leave his body. She’d moved onto his arms, stroking them carefully with soap and oil, when he decided the water was cooling too quickly. He wanted her with him in the water like usual.

He needed the normalcy.

“Could you finish that from in here?” he asked quietly, releasing his arm from her grasp only to take her hand in his.

She sighed and smiled softly at him before standing and removing her clothing. They held one another’s eye, even as she climbed into the tub and placed her body against his. It felt like it’d been another month since they’d been so intimate, when it had been only a few days in earnest. Once she was with him, cleaning his face and chest with the soap and sponge, he felt as though he could breathe again.

He’d think about it more later, but he loved the feeling of being at home here. When he’d come to this planet, he’d been angry, conquered, and powerless. Over time, he’d started to see what she’d seen of the place, and now...now it was even more his home than Avengers Tower ever felt.

“You’re going to allow me to care for you this way again, right?” he asked when she’d returned to working his arms. “Because soon, you’ll need all the care I can give.” He gently swiped fingers across her stomach, smiling all the while. The thought of their child growing inside her had been one of the few that had gotten him through the funerals, the festival, and the short journey back home.

She stopped her massaging, put the sponge on the table again, and leaned her whole body against his, throwing her arms around his neck. “Yes,” she said, pressing her lips against his jaw. “Although I’m sure there’ll come a time when you won’t even allow me to leave our chamber and I’ll have to have Loki sneak me out for a bit of fun.”

They laughed together for the first time in what felt like an eternity. The jovial emotion that spread from his heart almost felt foreign, but it was a comfort to know he could still feel it.

“I won’t keep you cooped up unless you need it,” he whispered, suddenly more serious, despite still smiling. “I just want to make sure you and the baby are well taken care of.”

She kissed him, and he was finally able to push out anything that existed outside of that bathroom. For a few more minutes, everything was just the two of them, the floral scent of the bath, and the baby.

When he pulled back to breathe, Thor ran a few of his fingers down her back, earning a slight hum from her. “I love you, (Y/N),” he said quietly, reveling in the smallness of his voice and the world around him.

“I love you more, Thor,” she whispered, putting her head on his shoulder.

He didn’t think that was possible, but he didn’t say as much.

They stayed in the tub until the water was cold, then she drained the tub and they went into the bedroom. They found robes to dry off in, then slid into the bed for the first time in what truly felt like a long time. He hadn’t slept in a real bed in too long, so he was grateful for the plush mattress and cool satin sheets.

He was comfortable with her arms around him, as if he didn’t dwarf her in size. But now that they weren’t in the tub anymore, his thoughts came creeping back. He tried to keep it together, shutting his eyes to the world in an attempt to force himself to sleep. But in complete darkness, he saw their faces. The face of the fifth mind control victim - the one none of them had been able to save. He’d had the trident, and he still hadn’t been able to get the disc to deactivate. He watched them die because he was unable to do his job - and then he’d watched his friends die for the same reason.

His eyes shot open and he breathed hard. (Y/N) was still awake, staring at him with questions in her eyes. But she didn’t ask any of them; she just stroked his cheek and blinked.

After a few minutes she said, “I can try to help you get some sleep,” as quietly as she could manage.

His breathing slowed when he shook his head. “I’ll be okay,” he said.

“Maybe one day,” she said. “But not right now. You need to rest, my King.”

He wished she were enough just the way she were, for this specifically. He wished her voice would lull him to sleep, to a dreamless place where he could escape the terror of War for a few hours. He wished he didn’t need her offering to use magic to get him there. He wished he could go back a few months, to before Thanos, when he was so happy just to follow her out into forest that he didn’t think of looking back.

He sighed and nodded, knowing this was best. For now. He wasn’t even sure she knew how to do it, but he trusted her. He knew she wouldn’t hurt him more. So he let her put two fingers to his temples - a thumb to one, the pointer finger to the other - and shut his eyes again as she concentrated. She didn’t make a sound, but he remembered that she hadn’t had to call forth her heatless light before, either. Maybe her magic was like Loki’s, he thought. He didn’t know if that put him at ease or made him more anxious, but he allowed it to pass anyway.

TAGS (send a message if you want to be added or moved!)

Thor Tags: @thewayilookatbacon @athorable-and-deanlicous @baileythepenguin  

Permanent/Global Tags: @infinityblogger @champion-ofthe-sun @hopefulblazetriumph  @httpmcrvel  @capsheadquaters 

The One to Stay/The Ones to Leave Tags: @mysweetcookie99 @tegan-eva  @kinglyhemmings @markusstraya  @dragoste-lunes @arrowswithwifi @ourdreamsrealized  @demonic-meatball 

[rxdonmyledger]

“Welcome to Asgard”

@borderline-person requested:  Hi, steve or bucky fic (you choose) where he and reader goes to asgard with thor (undercover mission or something) and he thinks reader is beautiful wearing asgardian clothes, he has feelings for her for awhile now and confess to her? Either fluff or smut, thank you so much!!! Love your writing!!! :)

Author’s Note: I hope you like it! I LOVED this requests. If you want, I could do a second part *wink wink* Now I’m writing another piece with Sebastian so stay tuned! Tell me what you think!

Warnings: None. 

Words: 2,622.

“Are you sure, Y/N?” Steve was looking at you, concerned as you packed your belongings on a bag. You looked at him with your brow raised and a smirked on his face. Steve raised his hands, smiling, and moved away from the door, where he was leaning. “I’m just saying…”

“It’ll be fine. Tony and Bruce need that material and Thor is willing to travel with us”

“But…”

“He insisted we could stay in Asgard as his guests” you replied without looking at him and zipped the bag, placing a lock of hair behind your ear. You could feel Steve’s nervousness and you crossed your arms, huffing. “Are you worried Bucky or about me?”

“Both” he insisted with a grin and sat on your bed, making a gesture for you to come closer. You hugged him, smelling his aroma, and his large arms surrounded you like a shield.

Steve was the first member of the Avengers you had met. He was sweet and protective and soon became a brother to you. He would be always there, cleaning your tears when you cried. Kissing your forehead, comforting you in your worst days. He was the one who found you and your powers and asked you to join the team.

You controlled the elements to your liking. Steve remembered the first mission you went to. When the rest of the team got to the intel room, they found Hydra agents hanging from the ceilings from vines, some of them being strangled by the plants. You were in the middle, sitting on the table, filing your nails, ignoring your surroundings. The files were on a USB by your side.

“Y/N?” Tony had asked, his voice muffled by the helmet. You raised your head, smiling brightly at your mates. Bucky, Tony and Steve were there. The two men looked at the latter and the blonde man shrugged, trying to stop his laughs. One of the agents tried to cut the plant but your fingers snapped, making his grip stronger.

After that, your friends couldn’t get used to your powers. Sam still remembered when he trained with you and you stood there, smiling and raised only one hand to invoke a storm that destabilise him. He had watched you after that, fearful. Peter, on the other hand, couldn’t stop being excited around you, asking you questions and begging you to display your powers to him.

“Come on” Steve said, standing up and grabbing your bag with a smile on his features. “It’s the time of your departure. Bucky’s waiting”

According to your mission, you had to get back an unusual material that only existed in Vanaheimr, where the Vanir lived. Thor had agreed happily to accept you two in Asgard, where you would have your own bedchambers. You had offered yourself as a volunteer, but Bucky had tried to stop you, claiming you couldn’t go alone.

“I’ll be surrounded by gods, Barnes” you had replied, mockingly, looking out of the corner of your eye as Tony smiled at your retort. Bucky had pressed his lips on a thin line.

“It’s not…”

“Then, what?” You had crossed your arms, staring at Bucky’s blue eyes as he blushed. You frowned at his reaction and your lips curved into a smirk. “I could strangle someone with a tree, Barnes. And Freyja is loved by nature”

You had winked at him, taking the folder with the files and the information with Bruce’s notes about the material and its uses. You had left the room, leaving an astonished Bucky behind you.

You had met Steve’s friend one morning in the kitchen. It had been a week after you had moved to the compound and you had got used to his silences and his peeks. Steve had told you about their life together before the war and his past as The Winter Soldier. You had heard about him, of course.

Weeks passed and his curiosity kept growing up. Every time you were surrounded by flowers, making them grow. When you used your powers to control the water while Tony was having a shower, making him to freeze or burn himself just to see Peter roar in laughter.

He started to join Steve and you during your movie nights. He would be there, silent while Steve hugged you or lent you his huge sweater. His eyes flicking from the screen to your curled figure, your feet covered with thick socks made of bright colours. You didn’t see it but his lips had curved into a smile before he stood up and disappeared.

After that, he opened himself enough for you to talk to him. You’d enjoy having deep conversation about space, kittens or the things he had missed over the decades. Bucky couldn’t stop spending time with you and one night, he told you everything. By the time he had finished, he stared at your figure, expecting you’d run away.

But you didn’t.

You hugged him and sang him to sleep, to blow his ghosts away. And he cried. After that, he trusted more than he’d trust anyone else before. Even Steve. You’d be there, calming him after nightmares destroyed his dreams.

Your steps were heard on the corridor as you walked towards the garden, where the rest of the team was enjoying a few drinks before you left. Natasha hugged you as soon as you appeared and grabbed your arm, linking it with hers.

“We’ll miss you, guys”

“Oh, c’mon. This is like another undercover mission. You’ve spent a longer time away” you retorted, rolling your eyes, refusing to drink the Asgardian drink Thor was offering to you.

“You better get used to this, Lady Y/N” The god said with a powerful voice, grinning at you.

“I’m sure you can offer us more…”you made a gesture with your hands as if you were thinking the proper words. “Adequate to ourselves”

“Ah, Frosty is here”

You turned and looked as Bucky walked towards you, his metal hand grabbing a bag, similar to the one you had. He placed it near yours and accepted Steve’s beer. His friend patted his shoulder and talked to him.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yeah. You didn’t even know what Game of Thrones was until a few days ago” Sam retorted and you smacked him on his neck, making everybody to laugh. Thor cleared his throat and nodded at you.

“It’s time to leave”

You said goodbye to your friends and walked towards Thor with your bag, taking his hand. Bucky did the same and his metal hand grabbed your fingers. You frowned as you noticed them shaky. Thor made sure you were positioned correctly and nodded to Tony.

“I won’t hurt her”

“You better don’t”

Thor grinned and closed his eyes. You imitated him and suddenly, you felt energy running over your whole body, filling every cell, every muscle, every bone. It was dizzy and you wanted to scream the moment you stopped feeling the ground under your feet, but Bucky’s strong grip made you felt safe.

“Welcome to Asgard” Thor said and you opened your eyes, observing the beauty around you. Your jaw fell open and you twirled as you tried to retain every detail displayed to you. Thor chuckled and started to walk towards the Bifröst, where Heimdall was waiting. The man smiled brightly and made a gesture with his head.

“Lady Y/N” He straightened his back and greeted Bucky, who imitated him. “Lord Barnes”

“I supposed you’d be either tired or excited to investigate the place, so…Tomorrow we’ll go to Vanaheimr” you nodded and Thor made a gesture, moving his hands towards some gates. “I must go to see my mother. Lady Sif will accompany you to your bedchambers”

You turned to see a dark-haired woman strutting towards you two. She had sparkly eyes and a shiny armour. You liked her the moment she smiled at you, shaking your hand. Bucky was still observing the magnificence around you two.

“You must be Lady Y/N. You’re more beautiful than Thor told us” Lady Sif chuckled as you blushed and you followed him, hearing Bucky’s steps behind you. Sif continued talking about Asgard and the banquet that would be celebrated to honour your presence.

“It’s not necessary” you said, feeling burdened and Sif made a gesture with her hand, playing it down. She pointed at a door and looked at Bucky.

“Lord Barnes, your chambers” Bucky smiled politely and stared at you. You shrugged and waved at him, smiling before walking behind Sif.

Your room was enormous. Even bigger than the ones you had seen in Tony’s parties, when they had been celebrated in expensive hotels.  A king-size bed with golden muslin canopies. Several cushions decorated the bed, which had silk sheets. Large windows allowed you to observed the sky and the surroundings of the palace. There was a burgundy divan with a table near it. A golden wardrobe with Nordic symbols and a dressing table by its side.

“Do you like it, Lady Y/N?”

“It’s just…” you tried to say, speechless at the opulence that surrounded you. Sif grinned and helped you with your belongings, answering all your curious questions with patience.

You took a bath with perfumed water and petals floating on it. The starry night, the sound of the wind made you relax and you sank on the tub, feeling the water caressing your skin. Once you dried yourself with a towel, Sif offered to help you with your hair and clothes.

“We brought here some Asgardian dresses, just in case you want to try them” She said as she braided one side of your hair, leaving the rest of it loose. You looked at your reflection and opened your mouth in awe. Sif smiled and waited patiently until you decided.

The banquet was set in the throne room where the laughs and voices talking filled the atmosphere. Thor patted Bucky’s shoulder, laughing at something the brown-haired had said.  Bucky took a sip of his drink, careful of the amount of it. He knew human alcohol would not make him drunk but Asgardian drinks? Definitely.

“Where’s Lady Y/N?”

“I suppose she’ll come in a few minutes” He replied.

Bucky had spent the evening walking in the gardens of the palace, enjoying the views. Once he had seen you on your balcony, hugging yourself and he had craved to be there, his arms around your body, your aroma filling his nose as he buried his face on your hair.

He had been developing a crush since you two became friends. For him, trusting someone was a difficult decision and it took a long time before he did. He only trusted you and Steve enough to tell you his fears. But it wasn’t until a training session with Steve he started thinking that he might be feeling something for you.

“So” Steve had said, avoiding a punch from Bucky, who grunted and kicked the shield. “What about Y/N?”

“What happens with her?”

“You like her” He snorted and Steve straightened his back, his hands on his waist as he smirked at his friend.

He had denied it, but Sam joined Steve and encouraged him to tell you the truth. But he couldn’t. How could someone like you love someone like him? His hands were bloodstained.

“Oh, look at that” Loki said. The man had sat down by Thor’s side. The blonde man had told Bucky that he had helped the Avengers, finally. The man licked his lips and stood up.

Bucky followed Loki’s gaze and felt his mouth getting dry and his jaw falling open. You were wearing an Asgardian dress, purple with a kind-of silver corset with intricate patterns. It fitted perfectly your shape. The sleeves were open from the elbow to the end of your arm and fell on your sides. Your eyes landed on Bucky and your lips curved into a bright smile.

“Barnes, as an advice” Thor whispered with his baritone voice. “Tell her. Or you’ll lose her”

He patted his shoulder and stood up to chat with some of his friends. Loki was now bending and grabbing your hand, kissing it. You chuckled at it and Bucky observed Loki’s smirk on his features. He swallowed hard, watching as you took his arm and listened to him. You seemed really loving the conversation.

Bucky stood up and went to the balcony, taking a deep breath. The fresh air made little to calm his drumming heartbeats against his chest. He swallowed hard and placed his hands on the railing. He could still hear the laughs behind his back. Bucky imagined you laughing with Loki, touching his arm as you leant towards him. It would make him mad.

“James?” Your voice startled him, making him to jump and turn to the doors. You were standing there, the light surrounding your figure. To him, you seemed like an angel. “What are you doing here?”

“I just…needed some fresh air” He said, clearing his throat and smiling at you as you walked to lean against the railing. Your eyes observed the stars and Bucky started at you, feeling his flesh hand sweating. “Were you having fun?”

“Hmm?” you replied, looking at him, frowning.

“Loki seemed…” Bucky cleared his throat again, his metal hand grabbing the iron. “Happy for having you by his side”

You raised your brow and started to laugh. You shook your head while Bucky observed you in disbelief. You bent against the railing, noticing tears running down your cheeks. The man crossed his arms, huffing and that made your heart flutter. He looked adorable. You lifted your hand and caressed his cheek. It was soft. He had got rid of his beard a few days ago, even though you had tried to convince him to keep it.

“Loki is not interested on me” Bucky snorted and you punched him on the arm. “What?”

“Oh, c’mon, you’re the most beautiful girl in there and…” Bucky covered his mouth the moment he realised what he had said and you looked at him, surprised. You felt your face blushing and he blushed too, looking away. “I’m sorry, I…I…”

“You think I’m pretty?” you said with a weak voice, swallowing hard. Bucky cupped your face and took a deep breath, decided it was time to tell you the truth.

“Y/N…you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen and I’ve been in love with you for ages now and I’m a fool for not…”

You stopped him by kissing him, your hands gripping his burgundy shirt. His flesh hand went to the back of your neck while his metal arm circled your waist, pressing your body against his. His lips were plump and soft. You moaned faintly when his teeth grabbed your bottom lip.

“I love you too, James” you muttered when you two separated to catch your breaths and he smiled shakily, observing your body, making you twirl.

“God, you’re beautiful on this Asgardian dress” you chuckled and cupped his face, caressing his face.

“I still hate you for shaving that sexy beard”

“You thought it was sexy?” Bucky mocked, his metal hand grabbing a handful of your ass, making you hiss. You smirked and raised your brow, humming. His nose went up your jaw, biting your earlobe. “I think I could meditate about it…”

“Imagine what would it be for me having it…” you started at him before licking your lips. Bucky’s blue eyes followed the movement and he swallowed hard. “between my legs”

“Oh, doll…” He growled before pushing you against the railing, kissing you again. His hands roaming over your body, making you to whimper. He moved away, hissing as you bit his lip, pulling it softly. “It’s going to be a long night”

[freudensteins-monster]

Bella Notte

@cinnaatheart said: Heya! For the promt meme! Enamour me, with either Darcy x Natasha, Darcy x Bucky or Darcy x Sam :D :D up to you what you wanna do ❤️❤️❤️

I defaulted to Wintershock because I don't feel like my Natasha or my Sam are up to snuff. Hope that's okay. Also... it's definitely not a drabble per the original fic prompt post :/

** In this fic, instead of JARVIS or FRIDAY, I have used an AI called TADASHI. During Age of Ultron, when Stark is rebooting his suit's AI following the creation of Vision/loss of JARVIS, Tony is seen to have a number of AI programs on his desk. He picks FRIDAY as his new AI but there was also one called JACOSTA and one called TADASHI. And being the Big Hero 6 fan that I am I really wanted to use that one, not that he's got much of a personality in this fic. :/ Maybe next time. **

Bucky was happy to learn upon waking that the Sokovia Accords had been dissolved, pending a major overhaul, and that Steve and Stark were on speaking terms again (nothing like another alien invasion to get everyone on the same side) but he was still surprised to be invited to join the Avengers at Stark’s upstate facility. It wasn’t until the man himself called and told him ‘to get your ass over there already. Rogers won’t stop sulking,’ and ‘No, we don’t have to talk about it. You’re sorry, I’m less sorry. Let there be no further talk of feelings,’ that Bucky finally agreed to return stateside.

Per an agreement his Wakandan lawyers had made with the UN, and various military bodies around the world, Bucky would be on house arrest at the facility, unable to step outside the boundaries of the property until such time as his prolific assassination record had been sifted through and he was finally cleared of all charges (his lawyers were optimistic and very, very good). Bucky hadn’t minded as he was tired of running, and the glorified prison would be bearable if he got to properly reconnect with Steve, but when he landed the punk was nowhere in sight.

Bucky blinked in the sunlight as he walked down the quinjet ramp, his grey- blue eyes quickly scanning the large hanger for a familiar face.

“Sergeant Barnes?” a female voice called out. Bucky turned and saw a young woman with wavy brown hair and black-rimmed glasses making her way over to him. “Hi, I’m Darcy,” she smiled, offering him her hand. He took it hesitantly, his eyes still darting about to locate Steve. “I’m sorry, Captain Rogers isn’t here right now. The call came in to save the world early this morning, you know how it is,” she rambled apologetically.

“Not really,” Bucky murmured.

“Okay, well,” the girl, Darcy, sighed. “Since my time is the least valuable of anyone here I have been tasked with showing you around,” she said with a hint of bitterness, though not directed at him. “Do you want the full tour or just the CliffNotes version?”

“I don’t wanna waste your time, doll.”

Darcy’s mouth quirked at the outdated endearment as her eyes dropped to the tablet in her hands.

“You’re not,” she assured him. “Stark is. He thinks I ate all his blueberries, so this is my punishment.”

“Did you eat all his blueberries?”

“That’s between me and my legal counsel,” she replied vaguely, a smile playing on her lips. “Speaking of… I’m supposed to go over the terms of your house arrest, but I’m sure you’ve already read this,” she said, holding up the tablet to show him a screens worth of fine print.

“Basically don’t go anywhere and don’t kill anyone.”

“That does seem to be the jist of it,” she nodded, closing the document. “Come on, I’ll show you where the food is,” she said, leading him away from the hanger to the main building. Along the way she described the function of the other buildings and showed him where the Avengers trained. The residential building was definitely designed by Stark, far too sleek and minimalist to feel homey, but he had been welcomed to stay – free of charge – and it was a hell of a lot nicer than most of the places Bucky had ever laid his head, so he wasn’t about to turn his nose up at it.

“So this is the common area, communal kitchen and dining area. Help yourself to anything in the fridge, and let TADASHI know if we’re running low on anything.”

“Who’s Tadashi?”

“TADASHI is an AI that Tony set up for the facility. JARVIS was absorbed into Vision, and FRIDAY has her hands full looking after Tony, so he left TADASHI with us. But he’s just a baby program, he’s still learning and definitely isn’t at JARVIS’s level yet, not that means anything to you, because you never met JARVIS,” she added, waving a hand dismissively. “Hello TADASHI,” she called to the ceiling and Bucky couldn’t help but follow her gaze.

“Hello Miss Lewis,” replied a stilted voice through the ceiling speakers. The voice spoke English with the slightest Japanese accent, but it was most definitely a digital creation.

“Yeah, he’s a little creepy at the moment,” Darcy whispered, seemingly reading his mind. “But don’t worry, before the year is out I’m gonna have him sounding like George Takei.” Before Bucky had a chance to confirm who that was (pop culture knowledge had not been a priority during his time under HYDRA’s thumb) Darcy had turned her attention back to ceiling. “TADASHI, this is Sergeant Barnes. Sergeant Barnes, this is TADASHI.”

“You can call me Bucky,” he advised both of them.

“Welcome Sergeant Barnes. I’m afraid I cannot update your name in my system without an administrator’s assistance.”

“Thank you, TADASHI,” Darcy said to the ceiling before turning her attention back to Bucky. “Don’t bother,” she advised. “Only Tony can update Avenger files, and if you bring his attention to it he’s going to change it to something stupid. Steve’s only just got Tony to get TADASHI to stop calling him ‘Capsicle’.” Bucky smirked. “So, unlike JARVIS and FRIDAY, TADASHI can’t really predict our needs. His main function is to monitor the security systems and the energy readings from the arc reactor that powers everything. He can relay messages across the facility, and if you let him know when we’re out of milk or if you need a new pair of shoes or something, he can place the order you.”

“Amazing,” Bucky murmured as he glanced up at the ceiling, trailing behind Darcy as she continued the tour.

“Down there is a conference room and some offices, Steve and Maria are the only ones who really use those though. And these here are the apartments,” she announced, rattling off the Avengers names, tapping on the doors, as she passed by. “And this is your room,” she said, pushing open the door. “Steve is just across the hall.”

Bucky stepped inside, surveying the generous if bland space, unconsciously noting access points, defensible positions, and decent hiding places for a go bag or weapons cache. Not that he was permitted any weapons outside the firing range, per his agreement.

“Do you live on site?” he asked conversationally, trying to take his mind off the slightly claustrophobic feeling the empty space was giving him.

“Yeah, downstairs on the south corner. Closer to the science building so I don’t have to walk too far after a science bender.”

“What exactly is it you do here?” Bucky asked, his brow creasing in confusion.

“Umm, I’m kind of like the manager of the science department,” she supplied awkwardly, averting her gaze.

“You run the science department?” Bucky asked, her answer surprising him.

“Not really… sort of…” she mumbled, hugging her tablet to her chest.

“You’re what? Twenty? And you’re running the science department of the Avengers facility? That’s pretty damn impressive,” he added sincerely. “How’d you end up here, if you don’t mind me asking?

“I’m twenty-five, first of all, and, um, I actually majored in Political Science,” she winced, expecting further questions, but Bucky just let her talk. “I was interning for Doctor Jane Foster to earn some hard science credits when Thor crash landed – you know Thor, right?”

“Not personally.”

“Yeah, well, he’s amazing, and his arrival kind of revolutionised Jane’s research. I stuck around after I graduated, because where the hell else would I go? I mean, Asgardians, aliens, portals to other worlds… that’s not the sort of thing you can just forget about, you know?”

“Sure…” Bucky nodded. He had always been a bit of a geek, and not even all the time he spent as a science experiment could dull his interest.

“So when Tony asked Jane if she wanted take up some lab space here, I tagged along. I was supposed to be Jane’s assistant but Tony found her a few lab tech’s who actually understood her work, so I focused on the caretaking aspects of the job, because Heimdall knows that Jane and scientists like her can totally forget about basic human needs when they’re in the zone. Before I knew it I was looking after half the building, making sure they all ate regularly, got some shut eye, and socialised with other humans – I couldn’t get them to talk about anything other than science, but I tried,” she smiled. “And then Pepper Potts herself came up just to talk to me about giving me an official job. So now I look after the entire science department and have a few assistants of my own to help me feed and water the scientists. I also work with TADASHI to keep all their research secure, field correspondence from outside parties, and ensure they have all the resources and equipment they need to do their work.”

“That’s… that’s amazing. It sounds like it’s a huge job… and I’m keeping you from it,” he realised, rubbing his hands against the pockets of his jeans self-consciously.

“It’s fine, really,” Darcy waved dismissively.

“No, it’s not. I’m really sorry, Darcy. Please, you can go back to work. I’ll be fine.”

By the look on Darcy’s face she didn’t believe him but she decided to take him at his word and began backing out of the room. She turned back at the doorway, her expression softening as she watched Bucky fidget nervously, unsure what to do with himself in the strange space.

“Hey, did you… Did you want to maybe come with me?”

“To the science building?”

“No, to the moon,” she teased. “Yes, to the science building. I mean, I’ll be pretty busy but you can check out some of the work going on and I can introduce you to some people.”

“Uh, yeah,” Bucky replied bashfully. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

 When Steve and Sam returned to base later that night they trudged wearily to the residential building. Well, Sam trudged. Steve bounded towards it like a puppy, excited to see his friend again.

“Bucky!” he called the moment he stepped into the building. He was about to ask TADASHI to locate him but the smell wafting from the kitchen held his tongue and made his mouth water. “Bucky?”

“Hey punk, took you long enough,” Bucky smirked from his position in front of the stove, stirring something that smelled absolutely delicious.

“Buck… what are you doing?” Steve wondered aloud. “That smells like…”

“Your mom’s stew?” he smiled. “That’s what I was aiming for. I think I remembered the recipe correctly,” he mused.

“What brought this on?” Steve queried, unable to wipe the smile from his face as he pulled Bucky in for a hug.

“Well, I was helping out in the cafeteria, peeling potatoes and what not, when I remembered my mom’s cooking, and your mom’s cooking, and I thought it’d be nice,” Bucky said with a shrug.

“What smells so good?” Sam asked, appearing behind Steve.

“Bucky’s cooking,” Steve answered.

“No kidding. Barnes,” he nodded in greeting.

“Wilson,” Bucky replied, the oven timer distracting him from the urge to start bickering with the man. “That’d be the bread,” he said, pulling the tin out with his metal hand.

“You made bread too?” Sam asked in amazement.

“I had time,” Bucky shrugged again.

“Buck, what were you doing helping out in the cafeteria?” Steve pestered, still not quite getting his head around what he was seeing and smelling.

“Darcy was showing me around the science building, but she was busy so I thought I’d help out her assistants with the lunch run. And I noted that Michel, the chef, was understaffed so when I was finished in the science building I offered my services.”

“That’s… Buck, we don’t expect you to earn your keep, you know. Tony’s not going to kick you out,” Steve assured him.

“Let the man cook!” Sam chided, eying the bowls Bucky was spooning stew into hungrily.

“What was I supposed to do? Wait quietly in my room for you to come back?” Bucky asked irritably, passing a bowl to Steve. “Sit down, punk. Enjoy your meal. You too,” he added, placing a bowl into Sam’s grabby hands.

Bucky cut several slices of bread and placed most of them on the table between the two Avengers, along with a tub of butter. He took the third bowl and two slices of buttered bread and put them on a tray and made to leave the room.

“You’re not going to eat with us?” Steve asked, almost felling Bucky with his puppy dog eyes.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” he promised. “Just going to take this to Darcy.”

“Darcy?” the pair asked, amused smiles playing on their lips.

“Only here a day and you’ve already found yourself a girl,” Steve laughed, shaking his head in disbelief.

“It’s not like that,” Bucky griped, ignoring their teasing. “She’s working late, and it’s my fault; she wasted her morning showing me around. I wanted to apologise… and thank her,” he said, turning to leave the room.

“I’m gonna be best man at your wedding, right?” Steve called after him.

“Make sure there’s an open bar,” Sam added before the pair burst out laughter.

 Bucky dropped off the meal to a very grateful Darcy and then reluctantly returned to the dining room to endure another half hour of mockery while he ate his own dinner. Once Steve and Sam had stopped laughing they called it a night, both in need of a shower and a good night’s sleep. Bucky did the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen, taking his time as to delay returning to his empty room.

He sat on the end of the bed, deliberating about what to do next. He didn’t want to sleep, not that he was tired, and wasted several minutes inspecting his room from top to bottom. The wardrobe had been stocked with some basics, and when Bucky spied the pair of running shoes in his at the bottom of it he changed into some sweatpants and pulled them on.

 He’d been running laps around the facility for about an hour when he slowed to a jog and made his way back to the residential wing.

“Bucky?”

“Hey, Darcy…” he puffed.

“What are you doing? It’s late.”

“I could ask you the same thing?” he deflected.

“I had work to do. Got caught up and then got a head start on tomorrow. What’s your excuse?” she asked, deliberately putting the spotlight back on him. “You don’t like your room?” she ventured cautiously as they headed into the building.

“It’s nice… but it’s just… It’s too empty, too bland,” he admitted, ducking his head. “It reminds me of every other empty room I’ve been stuck in… just waiting for orders.”

“I’m sorry,” Darcy murmured, rubbing his arm in what she hoped was a comforting gesture. “Just… try and get through tonight and tomorrow you can decorate it however you like, make it a home.”

“With what?” Bucky asked bitterly. “I ain’t got nothing to make it a home, doll.”

“You’ll think of something,” she said soothingly. “And I’ll help you out on the weekend. We can do some online shopping.”

“Don’t put yourself out on my account, doll. You don’t need to go wasting your free time on me too.”

“I want to,” she swore. “Besides, I’m an excellent interior designer,” she declared, throwing open a door that Bucky hadn’t been aware they’d stopped in front of. Darcy walked in and flicked on a light, ushering Bucky inside.

Bucky’s jaw dropped. It was a mess. The unmade bed was a mess of colour, the floor was a mess of clothes, the walls were covered in posters, and books littered every other available surface.

“Well,” Bucky swallowed. “It definitely looks lived in.”

Darcy laughed, “I know, right? Does that mean you’ll let me help?”

Bucky closed his mouth, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “Sure, doll. I’d appreciate it.”

“Alrighty then. Sunday, 11am. You make brunch and I’ll bring Tony’s credit card.”

“It’s a deal,” he smiled, shaking Darcy’s outstretched hand.

He smiled all the way back to his own room, but delayed sleep just that little bit longer by taking a long shower. Eventually he ran out of excuses and lay down on the bed. Immediately he noticed that something wasn’t quite right with his mattress and after a quick search he discovered a housewarming present from Natasha, who was away on a mission in parts unknown; a Glock 26 and an anodized Gerber Mk II knife. Bucky put them back, ensuring they were still in easy reach, and eventually drifted off to sleep.

 Bucky kept himself busy the next day, which was easy between catching up with Steve and helping out in the cafeteria. When the end of the day drew closer Bucky got a bit anxious but then Vision and Wanda returned from their own mission and Bucky decided to make dinner again (lasagne and garlic bread). Afterwards Wanda and Vision excused themselves but Steve and Sam invited him to join them in the common room where they spent a few hours watching movies from Steve’s “things I need to see” list. Eventually they called it a night as well and Bucky reluctantly headed to his room. It was too late to go for a run without looking like a complete weirdo, not to mention worrying Steve, but there was always the gym downstairs, he mused as he reached his door.

He flicked on the light and froze. His plain white bedding had been replaced with a dark blue duvet and light grey sheets, and a silver and grey knitted blanket had been draped over the end. On the wall beside the light switch was a poster from the 1943 Stark Expo, on his bedside table was a framed photograph of him and Steve, and hanging over the bed was a huge photograph of the night sky. He wandered over in a daze, peeling off a folded piece of paper that had been taped to the corner of the frame.

Hey Bucky!

We’re still on for Sunday, I swear, it’s just this was so much more fun than doing a stocktake of lab supplies. :P I hope you like it and I really hope that I didn’t overstep. :(

P.S. Jane printed this out for me. She assures me that this is what the stars looked like the night you were born.

P.P.S. I put your weapons in the top drawer of your bedside table. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to put them back without hurting the mattress, or myself. :P

See you Sunday, if not sooner.

- Darcy

Bucky smiled, turning in a circle to admire the new additions to the room and huge difference they made.

“Uh, TADASHI?” he asked the ceiling, hoping it worked and that he wasn’t just talking to himself.

“Yes Sergeant Barnes?”

“Can you tell Darcy ‘thank you’?”

“Of course, Sergeant Barnes. … … Miss Lewis asked me to tell you, ‘You’re very welcome’.”

 Over the next couple of days Bucky developed a comfortable routine, splitting his time between helping out in the cafeteria and the labs, training with the Avengers, and hanging out with Steve. Sunday came around quickly and Darcy stumbled into the common area in plaid pyjama pants and a band t-shirt, tablet in hand, just as Bucky was plating up a frittata.  

“That smells amazing,” Darcy murmured as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

“If you had a late night, doll, you could’ve slept in. I would have understood.”

“It wasn’t that exactly,” she mumbled, practically worshipping her coffee cup. “My assistants were having trouble getting Jane out of her lab so I went down to try and drag her out. All it took was a promise to split a tub of Ben & Jerry’s and a bottle of wine with her.”

“This is you after half a bottle of wine?” he teased, herding her towards the dining table.

“It might have been a bottle each. Or a bottle and a half, I’m not sure. Shut up,” she whined as Bucky laughed at her. “I’m not hungover. Just… blah.”

He went to sit across from her but Darcy insisted he sit next to her so they could browse websites together. The smell of the frittata drew out the rest of the residents and soon a quiet discussion on desks and armchairs turned into a very loud discussion on the merits of record players and lava lamps. Lava lamps had been Scott’s suggestion, the fledgling superhero had turned up early in morning to steal something from storage - his words - which rubbed Sam the wrong way for some reason and made him determined to win the argument. Bucky couldn’t properly remember the last time he’d had such a great time. He particularly enjoyed the moment when Darcy had almost climbed over him to steal her tablet back from Sam before he ordered a set of overpriced vintage action figures, deeming them utterly essential. Steve had noticed, of course, and broached the subject as they walked to their respective rooms that night.

“So… Darcy’s nice.”

“Shut up.”

 Days turned into weeks and with a fully furnished bedroom the facility was feeling more and more like home. The only thing that made him doubt it was when the Avengers were called out, reminding Bucky that he was still on house arrest and a verdict on his many crimes was still pending.

“The mission shouldn’t take more than a week,” Steve assured him, as they walked out to the quinjet together.

“Yeah, yeah. I ain’t a kid, Steve. Just go already, I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“I swear to God, Steve. I will strap you into that damn plane myself. Go.”

Steve smirked, his eyes looking over Bucky’s shoulder.

“Hey, here comes Darcy. Maybe you can ask her to keep you company while I’m gone,” he teased, hightailing it to one of the waiting quinjets before Bucky punched him in the face with his metal fist.

“…and you’ll email Eric about-”

“The readings from Hawaii. Yes, Jane.”

“And make sure that Dr Walcott calibrates-”

“The thingamabob in Lab 3. Yes, Jane.”

“Oh! And water the plant in my office.”

“Jane, honey, I replaced your dead husk of a plant with a plastic one six months ago.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Jane. When is the last time you remember watering it?”

“Uhh…”

“Exactly. Now, hurry up and get on the plane. Your pilot wanted to leave ten minutes ago and you’re going to hold him up for another fifteen while you do your pre-flight safety check to make sure all your doodads are secure.”

“But it’s important-”

“I know, Jane. Get on the plane, Jane,” Darcy begged, pushing her former boss towards the second quinjet, loaded up with her homemade equipment and two nervous assistants. “Bye Jane!” Darcy waved as the loading ramp closed behind the astrophysicist.

Bucky watched as the first quinjet took off but waited beside Darcy while the second one idled on the lawn. He watched as Darcy’s exasperated expression softened into one of longing and Bucky repressed the urge to reach for her.

“Are you okay, Darcy?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah. Just one of the drawbacks of my new position; I don’t get to go on fieldtrips anymore,” she lamented. “But I don’t miss it, not really,” she said unconvincingly. “Even when we weren’t living out of her van, we were still living on top of each other. My diet consisted of poptarts and coffee, and I threw my back out hauling Jane’s equipment around. And let’s not forget the couple of times I almost died,” she added dramatically.

“But you miss it.”

“Yeah,” Darcy sighed. “I miss the nights when we’d camp out - no beeping machines, no results to record. Just me, Jane, a couple of drinks, and an entire galaxy over our heads. I miss the stars. I mean, out here it’s pretty great, there’s not that much light pollution, but it’s nothing like being out in the desert or Tromsø. Have you ever seen the Northern Lights?”

“A couple of times.” He’d seen them numerous times in fact, travelling in and out of the HYDRA base in Siberia, but he’d never been in a state of mind where he was able to appreciate them. Not that Darcy didn’t need to know that.

“Jane and I got sent to Norway for an ‘urgent consult’ before the Battle of New York, for our own protection or some bullshit. When Thor appeared on the news Jane was angry, worried but angry. And the longer she watched the news the more angry, worried, and determined to get drunk she was. I left her to sleep it off and took a walk outside. There were just all these green lights dancing across the sky. It was so beautiful,” Darcy whispered, gazing up at the sky as if she could still see them despite the sun at her back. It made Bucky’s heart ache. “Anywho,” Darcy muttered, shaking off the daydream as the quinjet engine roared into life. “Back to it, I suppose. See you ‘round, Bucky.”

“See you…”

Bucky wandered back to his room, deep in though. He stood at the end of the bed, glancing up at the stars above it. His mouth curled into a smile as an idea occurred to him.

“TADASHI?”

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

“I need your help with something.”

 Darcy headed back to the residential building at a respectable hour. Without Jane corrupting the other scientists with her obsessive hours shutting down the labs for the night was a lot easier. She was still plagued by nostalgia but Darcy was sure it was nothing a bubble bath and her emergency bottle of tequila couldn’t fix. Until she flicked on her bedroom light and screamed.

“Um… TADASHI?”

“Yes, Miss Lewis?”

“Who the hell has been in my room?” she demanded, glancing about the spotless space like she’d just stepped into the Twilight Zone.

“Sergeant Barnes took the liberty of cleaning your room.”

“Why?!”

“I cannot say. Though he did leave an envelope on your desk.”

Darcy crossed her room, which was so much easier now that the clothes had been cleared from her floor. A quick glance at her wardrobe showed that they had been laundered and hung up. She tore open the envelope and tipped a small remote into the palm of her hand. On the back of it, in Bucky’s precise handwriting, were written the instructions, “Turn off your light and then press me.”

Curious, and more than a little freaked out, Darcy did as she was told. She turned off the lights, pressed the button, and gasped as ribbons of green light were projected onto her ceiling. She moved to the centre of the room, staring up at the dancing lights in complete awe. When her neck began to ache, snapping her out of her reverie, she pulled the duvet off her bed and spread it out on the floor so she could comfortably lie back and enjoy the light show.

“TADASHI?”

“Yes, Miss Lewis?”

“Would you ask Sergeant Barnes to join me?” she smiled.

 The Avengers arrived back at the base six days later in the predawn light. Steve paused outside his apartment, worn out from the mission, but still alert enough to notice that Bucky’s door had been left ajar.

“Buck?” Steve called, peering into the darkness, but no answer came. He flicked on the light and found the room empty and the bed unmade. Steve tamped down the instinct to worry and asked for help. “TADASHI, do you know where Bucky is?”

“Yes, Captain Rogers. He is currently located in Miss Lewis’s rooms.”

“Oh really?” he grinned, flicking off the light and moving across the hall.

“Would you like me to contact him?”

“Nope,” he replied quickly, unable to wipe the smirk off his face. “Definitely not.”