#grabs thor's cape

[worstloki]

Love the concept of Jotun Loki seeing the Tesseract and immediately bonding with it as it is just like him (blue)

[ineffablelara]

I have some issues with his portrayal in s1 but knowing that if he wasn't raised by the most toxic family of the nine realms, being made to feel inferior his entire life and forced into a competition for a throne that he had no chance of winning against the fucking god of thunder he would be just the purest soul ever, a loving guy who just wants to enjoy his life and to make friends by being his silly self makes me feel things...

It's not fair that he had to go through so much pain, through so much humiliation during his whole life, he just wanted to be loved, he just wanted to belong, to have someone else he could be silly and passionate about life with 🥺

The fact that Loki canonically is a good singer and dances when he’s happy, loves theatre, likes human literature and reading astronomy books, enjoys fashion, and likes eating healthy little snacks. 🥹

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Adore You 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Thor Odinson

This AU is called Watcher Anonymous and will include different series for different characters. This is our introduction to Thor and Luna.

Summary: good intentions often lead to bad ideas.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Thor jerks up as his knees threaten to give out. He hasn’t slept. He’s stayed there, watching her through the slats, her gentle snores lulling him. He’s had to resist his fatigue as much as the urge to go lay next to her. 

He rubs his eyes then scratches his nose as he holds onto the cross bar for balance. Clothes hang around him, brushing around his figure like a cape. His head slumps as his gaze slips between the wood and clings to her. 

She stirs slowly. She groans and rubs her shoulders as she turns onto her back. She sits up cautiously and closes her laptop. She yawns behind a cupped hand before she turns her legs over the side of the bed.  

She’s facing him as she begins her morning stretches. He knows those are part of her treatment. He helps his mother through hers sometimes. They are careful and held for a while to keep the joint from jarring. She stands and completes the regimen, moving stiffly as she searches out her slippers. 

As she leaves the room, he lets out a deep breath. He should have left by now. He doesn’t know why he didn’t. He just couldn’t bring himself to. He likes being so close. Still, he’s not stupid. This is a dilemma. 

He needs to sneak out and he’s not a small or subtle man. His brother loves to call him an oxen-headed lummox and he hasn’t often proven him wrong. He can hear her in the kitchen. If he can just get to the hallway and maybe hide in the bathroom until she’s back in the bedroom... 

She comes back. She’s sluggish as she rubs her temples. She goes to grab her phone on the night stand. She checks it for a bit then sets it down again. 

She goes to the dresser and pulls out a shirt. She examines it then switches it for another. She lays that on the bed then comes toward him. He gulps. She’s going to open the closet! 

He clutches the door and the frame as his heart races. She grabs the handle and pulls. The door doesn’t budge. He keeps his grip firm as she grunts and frowns. She shakes it and tries again. She’s not very strong, not compared to him. 

Her hands slips and she shakes it out, cradling her knuckles. He’s not helping her condition. If she’s anything like his mother, her wrists are achy. 

“What the hay?” She mutters and tries again. 

He steels himself and lets go. The door slides open and she huffs but quickly swallows it up. His eyes go wide and he shows his palm, trying to shrink himself. 

“Wh-wha-” She stammers then inhales. 

He panics and charges out. He grabs her and smothers her scream with his hand. He hushes her as she babbles and latches onto his thick wrist. He overwhelms her easily and urges her back to the bed. He sits her down and she folds without resistance. 

She stares at him with round eyes. He can feel her breath, so shallow, terrified, of him. 

“Wait, wait,” he begs in a grizzly tone. “Pet, please, I’m not going to hurt you.” 

She squirms and pushes on his forearm. He hates how he can feel her pain in the weakness of her touch. He doesn’t want to add to that. 

“I promise. Please. Just don’t scream,” he pleads. “I only... you left your door unlocked.” 

Her brows raise higher and her eyes glisten. No, she’s going to cry. She’s terrified of him. It’s not supposed to be like this. 

“Please, let’s talk,” he says. He shifts his hand slowly and waits. 

She gapes at him. He peels his palm from her mouth and stands. He clears his throat. 

“Alright, let us be calm,” he girds. 

She screams. Not for long. He quickly catches it and pushes her onto her back. She writhes as he pins her to the mattress. He whimpers and sits next to her as he hisses at her to be quiet. 

“Look,” he pets her head, trying to calm her trembling. “I don’t mean you harm. Yes? I only mean to help. To take care of you. I could... bring you your coffee? Fold your laundry?” 

She stills and blinks. Her hands curl around the crumpled quilt. She whines. 

“We’ve started off poorly,” he frowns. “Luna, I’m Thor.” 

She twitches at her name. A tear pebbles at the corner of her eye. He wipes it away gently. 

“I... you didn’t lock the door and I thought that could be dangerous so I came to lock it for you then I got... trapped?” He explains, his words not sounding how he likes. “I was going to leave...” 

She squeaks and tense against the bed. He grimaces helplessly. She’s so scared. She’ll scream the first chance she gets. 

“You need pain killers. Yes, those will help. I hope I didn’t make anything worse,” he touches her arm and she flinches. “I promise, I wouldn’t ever hurt you, but I need you to listen and not scream.” 

She stares. Her tear trickles down her temple and he sighs. He didn’t want it like this.  

He stands and brings her with him. He takes her to the dresser and opens a drawer. She shaking violently. He finds a sock and balls it up. He doesn’t want to do it, but he has to. Just until she can hear him. 

He stuffs the fabric into her mouth then secures it with the belt for her robe. He puts her back on the bed and ties her wrists with the shirt she left there. He grabs another for her ankles. She shudders and sniffles as she fights tears. 

“Hey, hey,” he caresses her face, “I mean it. I’m not a bad guy. I want you to be comfortable. Happy. Here, I will... oh,” he stands and clutches his head. He looks at her. This isn’t right. 

It’s not supposed to be like this. 

[georgie3116]

*Steve talking to Wanda as Natasha sneaks up behind them*

Steve: I heard that Natasha has a crush on Bucky.

*Natasha grabs a surprised Steve*

Natasha: *Angrily* Who told you this?

A terrified Steve: it was Tony!

*Forward to Natasha holding Tony by the throat*

A choking Tony: … It… It was Thor!

*Forward to Natasha grabbing Thor by his cape*

A petrified Thor: It was Banner!!!

*Forward to Natasha angrily cornering Bruce*

A crying Bruce: I.. IT WAS CLINT!

Natasha: Fucking knew it.

[fandxmslxt69]

One and Only

Prince!Loki x f!asgardian noble!reader

Warnings: um none. maybe a few grammar errors or weird sentences, some suggestive content (mentions of sex like once) Reader is mentioned to be wearing a green silky dress, and Loki is sort of wearing his suit adjacent to the one in Avengers + His horns.

A/N: Dearest lovely @fictive-sl0th - first of all, thank you for organising this amazingly fun Secret Santa event for us- it's been so much fun and I'm happy that it's my first event on Tumblr! Secondly, I truly hope you enjoy this little thing Camille- your prompt was so much fun and I hope I did it justice!

Synopsis: Loki is forced to find a bride, and things take a turn when a familiar face shows up.

Prompt: King Odin wants Loki to marry so he orders him to pick a bride during the annual yule ball. (He’s not amused haha) But things take a spicy turn when you show up and turn out to be a coveted noblewoman instead of the tempting, mysterious villager you pretended to be during all your earlier accidental encounters. In the end Odin gets what he wants ;)

Word count: 2.7k

“It’s time to do something useful. You will find a bride as soon as possible, Loki. With my heir off playing dress up on Midgard, I have none but you to wed off,”“Now, I’m sure Thor will come back with a nice bride-” 

“Asgard will NOT have a mortal woman as its first bride. Not now, not ever. It’s decided. This year’s Yule ball will be to find you a bride. Only Asgard’s finest, most eligible women will be up for a chance at marriage with you,” 

Loki grumbled to himself as the maids fussed over him. This was useless. Loki had no desire for marriage for another few centuries. His mood went from poor to sour to downright depressed and cynical as the days counted down to Yule. He thought perhaps someone would talk some sense into Odin, and yet there was a sinking feeling in his stomach after Odin declared his choice that told him he didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. 

One of the maids tucked too hard on his cape, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Watch it,” he snapped. The maid muttered a quick apology, but before he could get another word in, there was a knock at the door before Frigga stepped in. 

Loki felt himself relax as she walked into his room, taking her time to look him over as she walked closer. “I’ll take it from here,” She addressed the women softly. They nodded and hurried out the door, but Loki couldn’t help letting out a groan while watching them hurry out. “I’ve scared them out of their minds,” “Now now,” Frigga stood beside him as she smiled at him in the mirror. “I’m sure Ingrid understands the stress you’re under,” Loki grumbled again under his breath. “I will find her later, to apologise,” Frigga hummed as she fussed at his clothes. He was wearing his finest Asgardian leather, the colours of the armour were a deep green and a rustic black only leather could give off. Frigga had ensured the suit stayed in the best conditions, even going as far as ordering the gold arm plates remade to be in perfect condition. He looked like the perfect image of the Asgardian prince. Regal and poise, and impeccable fashion taste. Even his head piece was polished thoroughly, and it lay on his bed, waiting for him to pick it up and wear it. His signature horns. His signature dress. 

He’s just missing that signature Loki grin. But he had no intention of giving anyone that smile. It was already someone’s. He had no desire to share it with another. 

“What are you thinking about?” Frigga had stopped fussing over him and stood behind him, watching him intently through the mirror.

“Nothing,” He lied quickly. 

“Nothing?” He nodded. “Exactly. Nothing,” She hummed, turning around to grab his horns from the bed. “Very well. I do hope we get to see that girl you’ve been sneaking off to see. Perhaps she will be a good fit,” He nodded, the words not registering until a few seconds later. His eyes widened, and he spun around to look at her. “What? What girl?” He closed the distance between him and his mother, grabbing his horns from her. “There is no girl. There’s never been a girl. What are you talking about?” 

Frigga raises her eyebrows. “Right…”

He nodded, carefully placing the horns on his head. There is no girl. Not anymore. 

She won’t even be there, so what’s the point?

“I don’t think there is anyone for me,” The words fell out of his lips before he could stop them.

Frigga’s eyes softened. “My dear boy, if I can see everything you hold, I know someone out there can too,”

Yes, he thought. She can, but what about everyone else? Odin? What did he think? The thoughts only soured his mood even more. “Perhaps we should go now,” He said curtly, holding his arm out for his mother. Frigga smiled softly, an edge of sadness in her eyes. 

“Very well,” She said, hooking her arm around his as they left his room.

*                                                               *                                                               *

Asgard’s usually plain ballroom had transformed itself to fit the spirit of Yule. Decked in only the most lavish of decorations, the ballroom glittered and sparkled as people settled in, women dressed in their finest robes and men in only their best attire. Loki stood by his mother and Thor as Odin drilled on, giving thanks to those who came, and promising a dance to every woman from Loki before he was to pick his bride. With every word he spoke, Loki felt a shiver run down his neck. He had no desire to be here, but this was not the first time he had been forced to forget about his own feelings and opinions, so he knew how to power through the night. 

You stood in your own corner with your mother, who made comments at everyone she could get her hands on. You only rolled your eyes or muttered a word in conversation, your mind too preoccupied. You had no idea how to feel about coming. At first, you had no desire to go. Why, all of a sudden, was Loki wanting to get married? Had he not told you, mere days ago, that he had no intention to run his life? It’s silly, it’s not like you were in love with him (maybe a little) or betrothed to him, but it still felt like a small dagger to your heart. Then, you thought perhaps he had a change of heart. Or perhaps it was his mother’s idea. Perhaps you even had a chance. He knew you, at least. He flirted with you, outside of this castle at least. And then you remembered that he only actually knew you as the girl he ran into at the village. And suddenly, bile rose up your mouth and you threw your invitation out. 

But naturally, your mother wasted no chances to shove you with any respectable man, and a prince is as respectable as they come- and there was nothing in the Nine Realms that could have stopped her from going to the Yule Ball. So here you found yourself, in your finest green silks (unintentional) and the best pieces of your gold as your mother fussed over every piece of hair out of place. 

You watched Loki from your corner as he danced with the first few women. He had a polite smile on his hands, and a few times you heard him laugh at something one of them would say, and your gut twisted and your lunch made its way up your throat. The laughs brought you back to your own secret encounters with him, nights you spent wandering the village and exchanging stories. You remembered the first time you made him laugh so freely, and it unlocked a new desire in you- to make him laugh for eternity. 

Perhaps that was a little too obsessive at the time. But you couldn’t blame it on yourself. Loki was the kind of man who wormed his way into the heart and nested there forever. Once he was in, there was no way to flush him out of your system. Certainly not after knowing what lay beneath his clothes and his….various talents. A blush crept up your neck just at the thought of those sensual nights with him- frantic, urgent and allconsuming. 

When he laughed with his new partner, something hard set in your gut. Maybe you didn’t have the best chance at winning this, but Norns, you were going to make sure he knew those laughs were yours first. 

You handed your glass to your mother, ensuring that your dress was in its best condition, and  fixed the draped piece of fabric over your shoulders. You could feel all eyes on you as you walked as elegantly as you could to Loki as the song ended. “Your Highness,” You interrupted politely, and the woman shot you a dirty look. “Am I have your next dance?” Loki began to say something before he fell silent, his eyes widening a fraction as they took in your face, and then trailing down your body. He made a noise at the back of his throat as he reached for your hand, motioning with the other for the songs to recommence. “Of course,” He said, although it sounded strained.

You smiled, stepping closer as he pulled you up against him, your bodies moving in sync to the music, your name fell from his lips in a stunned whisper. 

“What are you doing here? Did you sneak in?” Loki asked in disbelief. 

You laughed quietly. “No, Your Highness, I got my invitation like everyone else here,” He frowned, that pretty sculpted face of his scrunching up. “What? But…I thought- you’re just-” “A simple village girl?” You finished for him.

He paused, then looked almost offended. “Darling, simple is an offensive word to use to describe yourself. Nothing about you is ‘simple’,” Your heart skipped a beat, and those butterflies erupted in your stomach again. “Thank you, Your Highness,” “Oh quit that,” He said as he spun you around. “You say it like you don’t know me,” 

“Perhaps I don’t,” You replied.

“You know me better than all the others in this room,” He leaned in, smiling softly. “How in the Nine Realms did you get here, darling?” You bit your lip, trying to fight back the stupid smile from spreading across your face. “I told you, I got my invitation. I came here with my mother,” He hummed. “So, you are not a villager,” He frowned slightly at his own stupidity. How had he not asked before- in all your recent encounters? Perhaps the mystery that came with you was too addictive- the ability to leave behind all masks and remain bare to a complete stranger was…a safe haven, he supposed. You did know more about him than anyone else attending tonight. Secrets he’d never shared. Jokes he never told. Books he had no one to talk with. No one but you. You held so much of him, and he thought he held so much of you- but how much of it was real? You giggled. “No, I am not,” “Hm. Cheeky. It seems I have been fooled,” “Not…fooled. Simply….misguided. An inaccurate conclusion. I assure you though, I had no intentions of deception. I stand true to every other word I said,” You added, as if you could read his face, as if you could hear the worries and doubts in his mind. “But you never said you were noble,” You shrugged. “And you never asked,” A smile tugged at his lips, an odd sense of comfort settling in him. You were still…you. “No…I suppose I never did,” He leaned in then, dropping his voice to a whisper, “You look ravishing tonight, though. How have I never seen you in such a fine colour?” 

You blushed really then, looking up to meet his piercing eyes. “You look quite good in that colour yourself, Loki,” 

He chuckled, offering no other reply as you continued to dance. Soon, the song ended, and you stepped back from each other. Before you could turn to leave and potentially cry and laugh your heart out, he took your hand and leaned down, placing a soft kiss on it. He looked back up at you, and Norns, how gorgeous he really looked- all smirks and piercing eyes and those horns. “I hope to have another dance soon, my lady,” You nodded quickly, your mind short circuiting as another woman came up to ask for his next dance. You stepped back, before speed walking back to your spot by your mother. Of course, she shot a billion questions an hour, but you only ignored her, eyes focused on the man dancing at the centre of the room, glowing brighter than even the sun. 

Time passed, and you had no idea how many dances Loki went through before other pairs began to join. You danced with a few, but really your mind kept wandering back to Loki. 

When was he going to ask you that second dance? Was he really going to? 

Maybe he had somehow telepathically heard you, because just as you finished your dance with a nice gentleman, Loki stood from his seat at the front- having taken a break from dancing- and made his way back to the dance floor. 

The entire ballroom held its breath, and you stupidly turned around as if to make conversation with the person closest to you, or even run. Before you even had the chance to utter a sentence to a poor woman whose face looks pale with fear, your name rang loudly throughout the ballroom, coming from none other than the most handsome prince you had even laid eyes on. You turned around slowly, face tilted up to meet his eyes. “Your Highness?” He held out his hand, a smile tugging at his lips. “May I have another dance?” Everything felt deathly still as Loki led you back to the centre of the floor, and the music started again. You danced and you twirled across the floor, hand in hand with Loki as he grinned widely at you. He didn’t grin like that at anyone tonight. Maybe you were reading into the situation too much, but your heart melted just from his smile and the way his eyes held such pure joy as you danced through not one, but two, but three songs. By the end, you were breathless, partly from dancing, but partly from his fixing gaze and the overwhelming urge to kiss him. Even after all the times you’ve met, you were always consumed with the need to kiss him, to touch him, to run your hands through his hair and trace every line of his body. He was addictive, and while you had always thought love took its time to settle in, some part of you always knew that Loki might just be it. 

You were nearly drowning in the colour of his eyes, and that soft, bright smile he wore for you. Your face hurt from how hard you were smiling at him, and you were so close- just a little higher and your lips could connect with his. It was almost trance like, how soft his lips looked were hypnotic, and the way he eyed yours with a desperate need only encouraged you. You leaned up, he leaned down a little, arm wrapped around your body, lips almost touching and-

“Ahem,” Odin stood from his throne, and you felt the spell shatter. Damnit. 

“I believe,” Odin paused, his eye landing on you and Loki, who jumped apart from one another like you were set on flames. Your cheeks were flushed, avoiding the eyes of everyone, and Loki stared right ahead at Thor, who you noticed was smiling widely and making incredibly disturbing faces at his brother. “Prince Loki has found a bride,” 

Loki’s eyes flickered to you, his mouth opening to argue with Odin. Probably to argue- to say that he hadn’t even asked for your opinion, to add that marriage takes time, or should be considered and debated. 

Maybe you were foolish, or a little too desperate, or maybe it was the magic of Yule that possessed you, but you simply smiled and gave a little bow to Loki. 

“You-,” He swallowed, looking around nervously. “You would accept? If I asked you to be my wife?” 

You smiled widely. “Would you wish for me to be your wife?” A pause, then a small nod. “I don’t think there is anyone else I’d like to share my jokes with,” Your heart was pretty much exploding in your chest. Your hands were definitely shaking, and you thought you might just pass out right then. “Well, lucky you, because I only want your jokes, and I only want your smiles and your laughs to be mine. I…I would be honoured, to be your wife, and to call you my husband, Loki,” 

Sounds of cheer echoed around you, and Loki’s face broke out into the widest grin you had ever seen as he looked at you like he had just handed him the world. “I had no idea you were obsessed with me,” He said, though you could barely hear his words over the sound of festivals. 

“Maybe a little,” You replied, and his grin only widened. 

“Well, I’m obsessed with you a lot,” He tugged you closer to him, sealing your lips in a kiss.

Tags: @joyful-enchantress @mochie85 @muddyorbs @holdmytesseract @sailorholly @lady-rose-moon @cultofcarter @coldnique @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @smolvenger @loz-3 @catsladen @lokisgoodgirl @acidcasualties @divine-knight-hand @quirkiest-turtle @glitchquake @nyxlaufeyson @fandxmslxt69 @holymultiplefandomsbatman

[ashdreams2023]

Ok I read your rules that you do any version of loki soooo. I was wondering what if male reader got into the void with loki [ male reader and loki are couple ] reader also sees other versions of him he and loki,he notice kid loki went up to loki and reader and said: kid loki: why do you guys wear rings?

Loki and Reader: Cuz were married

Kid loki:... m-m-married...😳 *kid loki blushes*

Note: Let's say in thor 1 male reader was loki only friend and he fell in love with him same goes with male reader and abult loki and reader forgot they were friends back then,and find out that kid loki has a crush on reader (obiusly) they push courage to kid loki to confess reader which work out well *insert cute fluff* .

Somewhere alone kid loki confesses his love to reader, reader accepts it also share how he feels to him also kisses him in the cheek.

Kid loki: Look I know we've been friends since we were younger,and I just want to say that I.........I like you.. Whenever your with me my heart just goes crazy..so.. I like you. Don't make me repeat it again,and would you like to be my boyfriend?

Kid male reader:...*blushes* Loki I also like you too, I was just waiting for you to confess and you did already I liked you ever since we were younger your smart,brave,and kind. And yes I would like to you to be your boyfriend.

*Reader kisses kid loki cheek ♥︎*

Kid loki: blushes madly

Kid male reader: Loki?...

Kid loki: blood run from his nose

Kid male reader: OH MY GOSH LOKI! ARE YOU OKAY?!

If you can if thats ok? :>

Again sorry this took ages but here you go

Loki x male reader

I really like you

"When you said you’re gonna go and find yourself I didn’t think you meant literally" you half joked when the group of Loki’s appeared.

Your husband sighed in utter defeat "Why does things keep happening to me? Am I being punished my love?"

You shrugged sticking out your tongue then got closer to the caped individuals.

"Hey there! So you’re the guys who’ve been keeping my Loki busy while I was gone ha?"

Classic Loki laughed "Oh? It’s you, I haven’t seen your face in…centuries"

The others chimed in quickly, they looked you up and down curiously.

All almost feeling nostalgic at the sight of you, while your Loki felt protective and held your hand into his.

Although you felt a pair of eyes staring at you and realized it was the youngest, kid Loki, the innocent little prince.

"You look like you have a question little prince" you smiled at the boy which made him blush slightly and grabbed the edges of his Tunic top.

"Yes I…why do you have matching rings?"

Your Loki chuckled softly and lifted your hands together "Because we are married"

Kid Loki blushed harder and looked speechless, he fiddle more with his tunic before finding the right words to use "Does that mean…my {name} likes me back?"

You blinked at him then hummed, it slipped your mind but you and Loki were close since you were little when you were just a warrior in training.

It made you almost smirk but you chose to use your words wisely instead "say, how about we help you with that, we’ll go and give you some support to share your feelings"

"What if mine doesn’t like me like that…" the kid pouted while looking down at his feet.

The other Loki’s laughed, beastful Loki took charge this time and answered "Loving {Name} was one of the most Devine things I’ve experienced in my life and I won’t change it for the world kid…so take our advice when we tell you confessing is better than dying and knowing you never got to tell them you care"

You had to admit that little speech did make your heart squeeze a little and it sure made kid Loki look more confident in this idea.

So it happened, you traveled back with the kid and your Loki, back to when time was still young and you see a smaller version of yourself swinging a sword in the air and striking a training dummy with sweat dripping down your face.

Kid Loki stood there for a moment, watching from afar with tenderness and loving innocence.

"Did you really look at me that way when we were children?" You asked your Loki who scoffed then looked to the side with pink tinted cheeks.

It was endearing to say the least.

"Hi! Can you stop for a minute I need to talk to you!" Kid Loki called your younger self.

"Sure whats up?"

You could make out the words "I like you" and how your younger self had his eyes go wide before holding kid Loki by the shoulders and kissing both his cheeks and matching his blush.

"I like you too! I’ll do my best to be the best boyfriend! Promise!" You shouted.

Your Loki rolled his eyes and smirked at you.

"Didn’t know you loved me this much either"

"Don’t push it prince"

[notforyounorme]

Gilded • Prologue

Dark Thor x female!reader x Dark Loki

This is a dark fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given! Please DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you in any way. This is fiction, but can be disturbing to some readers. These warnings are not exhaustive, read at your own risk.

Series materlist | main masterlist

Warnings: none (for the prologue)

"The more I try to understand Midgard, the more it seems to confuse me." A thunderous voice sounds from behind, startling the young woman. The plate in your hand drops to the floor bursting in tiny pieces. "I did not mean to startle you, my lady." The man chuckled from behind you.

You turn her head slightly in his direction. His golden hair flowed down in waves on his shoulders, his signature red cape replaced by a dark blue hoodie. "Thor! I'm sorry. I was just— deep in thought."

"No need to apologize, my lady. You just stay still, the shards seem to be everywhere."

You nod, following his figure with her eyes as he walks over, broom in hand. Your hands reach out to grab the platic as he hands it to you. The broom bristles hit the floor as you attempt to make a move to sweep the shards into a pile, but Thor holds out a hand to stop you, shaking his head slightly. He then proceeds to sit on his heels and starts picking up the bigger white pieces scattered across the black kitchen tiles carefully gathering them in the palm of his left hand. "How have you been? Asgard treating you well?" You ask as he turns to throw the pieces in the bin hidden behind the cabinet on his right. Eyes falling on your frame after he tilts his head in your direction.

Thor turns back on his heels as he keeps his eyes on yours. "I am jovial that my people have accepted the change so expeditiously. My coronation is set in a weeks time." He stands, dusting off his hands on his jeans and holds out a hand. The gesture makes you raise a brow at him before understanding that he wants you to hand him back the broom. His lips turn up slightly after the corner of his lips as you hand him the plastic back.

"You must be thrilled to finally lead your people as king." You stares at him as his sweeps across the floor, his eyes scanning the pieces as they are swept into a neat pile. How out of place this looks for a future king. He nods as he steps in front of you after disposing of the last shards. "Thank you."

"Not a problem at all, my lady. Oh! Speaking of the coronation in Asg—" Before Thor can finish his sentence another voice interrupts his words.

"There you are! Have you—" Loki strides into the kitchen with his head held up high, demanding a certain type of authority with his prenuptial. He looks from his brother to you as Thor steps away from you to turn to look at Loki. "Oh, never mind. Pardon me, am I interrupting you, dear brother?" He voice holding a tone that could only be described as indifferent as his eyes narrow and a smirk ghosts his lips. He knew exactly what he just had done.

"I was about to ask the Lady." Thor grins in Loki’s direction before turning back to the said woman standing next to him.

"Ask me?" Your eyes swifting between the two brothers in expectation, eyebrow raised. “What Migardian thing can I explain to the two of you today?” You ask the brothers, a small giggle leaving your lips as Thor laughs and Loki looks at her with a disbelieving sneer.

“I will have you know, dear mortal, That I-.”

“Brother.” Thor interrupst him, his tone demanding. "Well, you see, my lady. I was—"

"We. We were wondering." Loki objects and Thor glares in his direction.

"Right. We, we were wondering if you would like to be present." Thor smiles at you with hopefull eyes.

"Present where?" You look at the blond god with confusion in your eyes, your right brow raising slightly again as they knit together on your forehead.

Loki clears his throat as speaks your name and shakes his head with a roll of his green eyes. "What the oaf is trying to say—"

"Oi! I'm not an oaf."

"Of course not." Loki says to his brother with a sarcastic undertone in his voice. "As I was saying. We would like to invite you to join his coronation. To have you, dear pet, present and of course show you the wonders of our phenomenal home, now that father is not present anymore."

Thor glares at his brother. "Loki." He threatens. "He was still our father, have care how you speak of him."

"Oh, well, at least he can't hear it." Loki girns mischievously. “And he was not—; Never you mind.” He sends you a wink as he holds his silver tongue before gesturing his hand to his brother for him to continue.

Thor sighs as he turns back to look you in your eyes. "Don't mind his words, Lady." His voice low, the sound reminding you of rumbling thunder. "But we would be honored to have you join us in Asgard."

"I— I don't know what to say." You stammer. Eyes wide in disbelief, shock sending sparks over your back as excitement fills your blood.

"How about a thank you, your highness, I would be honored."

"Brother." Thor glares at Loki once again before turning back to you. "Think about it? Not too long, we would have to leave tomorrow at noon." He takes your hand in his.

"You will have my answer by tonight." You tell the Asgardian gods. Slowly rescinding your hand from Thor’s.

"I will await your answer in patience." Thor tells you as he steps in the direction of the door. "Don't take too long though." He winks before grabbing his brother by his arm and dragging him out.

"I beg your pardon, unhand me at once, brother." Loki swats at Thor's hand with a scoff and you chuckle at his reaction. "But yes, pet, please don't take too long with your answer." He says over his shoulder, green eyes catching your eyes.

"I won't." And with that your yet again alone in the spacious room. You chuckle to yourself as you continue to unload the dishwasher.

“Will you stop pacing! You are getting on my nerves. More then usual. And that is saying something.” Loki groans as he massages away his worries with two fingers between his brows. “She will accept.”

“And what if she doesn’t, brother? Mmm? What will happen then.” Thor stops his pacing abruptly, hands in fists at his side. His eyes roaming across the room before landing on his brother and he sneers as thunder claps outside. “She is taking a awful long time. Most mortals would be honored to be blessed to see our Asgard.”

“Now, now, brother. Being vain is more up my alley than yours. She WILL accept, not to worry.”

Thor doesn’t answer, he only turns on the balls of his feet and continues his stomping across the room. Slight rumble of thunder is heard outside before the room lights up with the flash of lightning.

“My, my, Thor. She will accept our generous invitation. She is a smart mortal.” Loki tells his brother as he cranes his neck to look at him. He holds back a sigh as he lets the words sink in himself. You are a smart one, right?

Thor growls at his brother and stomps back over. He grabs the front of his black overcoat and hoists him up his feet. “She should have been here by now.”

Loki, unfaced by his brothers anger, grabs his hands and rips them off of him. “Sit down, you oaf, and calm yourself.”

“But she-.”

A knock interrupts Thor’s words. “Am I the one interrupting something now?” There you stand, leaning against the door frame of the common room. “For two Gods, the both of you are hard to find.”

“Lady Y/n.” Thor sighs as he smiles at you, yet it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, the thunder outside now slightly reduced.

“Thor, Loki.” You nod as you step into the room. You eye both brothers curiously before folding your hands infront of you, a habit of nervousness. “I came to tell you of my decision. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

“No apologies needed, pet. Please, would you like to sit down?” Loki gestures to the seat in front of his, the leather fauteuil looks inviting as sitting on the floor.

“I’m okay thank you, after all, I would have to continue packing.” You from the fauteuil at him.

Loki’s eyes narrow as does his brothers. “You’re leaving?” The question is heavy on his tongue.

Your brows knit together and you turn to look at the floor, trykng to hide the smile trying to creep on your lips. “I am.”

Thor steps closer to you, his hand reaching up for you arm but he holds back. “What made you decide that.” His lips are in a tight smile as thunder slowly rumbles again outside.

“I— I mean,” you can’t get words out of your mouth, how could they be so daft. Instead you choose to look Thor in the eyes. You give him a pointed look and it takes him a second before a grin breaks on his face.

“Ah, I see, my lady.” He says as he plays along. You both turn to look at Loki who is trying to hold back a sneer. “It is understandable, isn’t it, brother?”

“Oh, is it now?” Loki glares at his feet as he takes his eyes from his brother to you, taking in the smile on your lips. A cheeky grin appears on you lips and his frown turns into a smirk.

“I would love to join you for Thor’s coronation. I would be honored.”

“I would say so.” Loki says with an undertone you can’t quite explain. He tuns to Thor. “It seems the mortal is smart after all.”

“You thought I wasn’t?” You ask while folding your arms disapprovingly. “How dare you.”

“How dare you trying to trick a trickster.” Loki turns up his chin as Thor laughs. “Well I must take my leave now. Have a good night.” And he walks off without another word. You frown in his direction as he disappears around the corner.

“Well, my lady, I am honored to have you with us in Asgard. But packing would not be necessary though. We can provide you with whatever you need back home.” Thor tells you with a generous smile, his eyes light up when he takes in your smile.

“Oh! I hope you don’t mind, but I’m already nearly finished. I would like to bring my essentials if that’s okay.”

Thor pats your shoulder before sliding his hands down your arm and taking your hand. “Take whatever you need, my lady.”

He squeezes your hand before you rescind it and nod your head. Turning on your heels as you make your leave. “Tomorrow at noon, correct?”

Thor smiles. “Tomorrow at noon.”

Hello darlings,

This is my first time writing on Tumblr and hope the story peaks your interest. I do want to warn you that reading this is at your own risk as it will contain dark elements from now on. This fic is after all a dark one. If your not comfortable with that, please don’t continue reading the rest of the story when posted.

I hope you enjoyed this prologue as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Xx

[alexendria-rose]

Endgame🖤

Doctor Stephen Strange X AvengerReader

Summary- Five years after returning from the blip. Y/n didn’t remember what happened. She was gone for what it seemed like five seconds after fighting in Wakanda. What was going on?

Warnings: Y/n knows Stephen already (I know he’s not an avenger in end game) sad endgame vibes. (Also Y/n is an assassin like Nat)

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“Y/n just go! Tony and I will handle this!” Stephen says as they walk out of the Sanctum watching people crash and run away from whatever was up in the sky. Stephen grabs Y/n’s shoulders looking at her.

“You need to get the rest of the avengers together, I believe in you, go!” He squeezes her arms gently before turning around and leaving her by herself knowing she’ll see him soon, that everything was going to turn out right. Oh boy was she wrong.

Y/n gasped at the air around her eyes wide as she looked at her surroundings, what happened? She looked around her to see some of the Wakanda warriors around here but not nearly as much. Where’s thanos? Where were the others? Bucky runs up to Y/n.

“What’s going on what happened?” Bucky says his eyes wide as he held his gun tightly to his chest.

“I-I don’t know. I felt like I blacked out for five minutes.” Y/n gulps running her hands over her face. That’s when she saw rings opening all around her. Stephen. He walks through the ring his eyes scanning all the people until he lands on her. “Stephen!” She yells running up to him immediately tackling him in a hug. “What is going on. What’s happening? Did we lose!” She couldn’t even bare gasping for air as she tried to get some sort of explanation. He pulls her back from the hug his hands resting on her shoulders locking eyes with her.

“I need you to listen to me. We don’t have long. Thanos succeeded. We’ve been gone for five years. They need our help though. Thanos is back. That is all I have time to explain.” His says his voice soft and gentle as he looked at her. Her eyes were wide. 5 years? 5 years! She didn’t let him see the panic in her eyes except she just nods slowly. He just grins. “Atta girl.” He grabs her hand noticing all the other sorcerers explaining to people and getting them to go through the rings. Stephen walks through gripping onto her hand as they walk through the portal. Her eyes widen seeing all the people walk through as well taking in the destruction that was already caused. She sees Steve grinning at the people who came back. Her eyebrow slightly quirking at him holding Thor’s hammer. (She knew it.) Stephen looks at her and smiles.

“That asshole is going to pay for what he did.” He smirks softly letting go off her hand before letting his cape allow him to fly up. She just chuckled pulling out her guns.

“Oh hell.” She mutters noticing thanos army starting to attack, but she just runs towards the danger immediately. She starts attacking Thanos army, Stephen by her side immediately his back against hers as they help each other out. One of them runs up to Stephen and she immediately turns around blasting his head off, another one on her right she kicks the thing in the stomach before shooting again.

“Did I ever tell you that you’re incredibly sexy.” Stephen chuckles using his magic against the aliens in front of him. She glances back shooting another one. Her aim perfect.

“Oh shut up.” She grins but gasped as an another alien dodged at her; she swiftly moves out of the way letting multiple bullets hit it in its back. She chuckles. “Really thought it had me.” Stephen chuckles deeply.

“I’ve missed you so much.” He laughs. She notices Clint running away with the gauntlet trying to get it somewhere. She starts hearing a horn play her eye’s immediately looking towards the truck.

“Take the gauntlet to the truck!” Steve shouts. She nods running up to Clint.

“Give it to me.” She shouts instead he just nods handing her the gauntlet, Clint immediately getting into action by shooting and attacking some of the aliens to help her out. She dashes towards the van, the gauntlet in one arm and her gun in her other hand. They all run up to, her aiming at their heads as she makes her way through. Fuck. Out of bullets out course. She groans taking out her daggers. Spider-Man or should she say Peter flies over her.

“Miss Y/n I’ve got it from here!” He exclaims, she smirks throwing the gauntlet in Peter’s direction. Him catching with ease. She runs into the aliens stabbing them and kicking them down to follow the kid to make sure he gets there safely, she looks up watching the ships above start shooting down, she dodges the shots trying to make it to Peter. She sees him fall onto the ground holding the gauntlet close to his chest, noticing a certain something going through the ships, she couldn’t help but watch. She watches the bright light going towards Peter noticing it was indeed a woman. Who was that? Y/n runs over to Peter helping him up.

“Well hello Peter Parker. You have something for me?” She asked smirking softly. Y/n tilts her head a questionable look placed on her face. “The names captain marvel.” Y/n hums looking her up and down. Peter looks towards the crowd of aliens running up to them.

“I don’t know how you’re going to make it past that.” He says nervously. Y/n smirks; watching Wanda and all the woman coming up. Where’s Natasha? She wondered. But she discards that from her mind focusing on what’s at hand. Y/n just grins taking her daggers out.

“She’s got help.” Y/n says the woman looking at her grinning. They all start walking towards the group watching the aliens charge towards them. Wanda blasts them with their magic them following swiftly behind. Y/n groans as the they rush towards her, she stabs them swiftly moving around so she doesn’t get crept up behind. She gets blasted down to her ass a smile creeping up realizing captain marvel made in to the van, but soon frowning watching the gauntlet fall beside the van. “Fuck.” She whispered under her breath. She watched Tony running up to it but quickly get tackled by Thanos. She looks over seeing Stephan handling water to make sure it doesn’t whip us all out. She looks between the two but sighs happily seeing that Thor got in the middle. She runs over to Stephan. “You look like you’re struggling there.”

“Oh shut up.” He groans but a small smile playing on his lips. He looks towards the fight between Thanos and now captain marvel before giving Tony a look and lifting a finger at him. Y/n squints her eyebrows.

“What is going on!” She exclaims. Stephen looks down.

“The only thing we can do.” He whispers under his breath. Her eyes snapping towards the fight, her eyes widening as Tony held the stones getting ready to snap.

“No!” She exclaims, she tries to run over but Stephen grabs her waist with his free arm holding her tightly.

“It has to happen.” He grunts but she just watches Tony snap his fingers and her heart dropped watching the energy suck it out of him, but also watched as the Thanos army started turning into dust. Her eyes welling up with tears realizing they just won but at what cost? Tony’s life. She watches as Tony eyes start to lose the light in them. Her heart clinching at his lifeless eyes, she wiggles herself out of Stephen’s grasp rushing towards Tony.

“We’re going to be okay…” Pepper says her face trying to be strong for him. “You can rest now.”she whispers. Y/n runs up them placing a hand on Tony’s shoulder trying to not let the tears come out.

“She’s right… it’s time to rest.” Y/n gulps wiping the tears that were starting to spill. That’s when he was gone, his wheezing had stopped, his breathing had stopped and all Y/n could do in that moment was grab pepper holding her shoulders tightly to her chest as she started to sob. Y/n heart dropped sniffling lightly as she ran her hands through peppers hair.

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Y/n looked at herself in the mirror looking at the black dress that hugged her body. Her eyes were red and swollen from the crying. She couldn’t believed she lost Tony and Nat. It felt like it was just yesterday that everything was good, no Thanos, no aliens, no avenger breakup just them together eating at the compound after going on a mission. She looked around the Sanctum bedroom knowing she owed Stephen for gracefully letting her stay her since their compound was destroyed due to their battle with Thanos. She hears a soft knock on the door, she wiped the tears that were starting to fall quickly.

“Come in!” She mutters softly flattening her dress to make her look more presentable. She door opens revealing Stephen dressed up in a suit.

“Are you almost ready?” He whispered gently moving his way across the room to her his hands tucked into his pockets.

“Yeah unfortunately.” She sniffles lightly grabbing her purse from the floor. Stephen inches his way towards her before cupping her face.

“Are you okay?” He asked, she looked down at his hands. Stephen has always been a flirt with her, but never this close unless he was trying to get her to focus on the situation. She hitches a breath trying not to let the tears fall.

“No, they were my family. The only family I had, and now they’re gone, they’re gone and I couldn’t do anything.” She sobbed. “Especially Nat, we grew up together in the red room. She was like a sister Ive always wanted and now she’s gone.” She bites her lower lip to stop the tears, she was stronger than this she knew Nat wouldn’t want her to feel this way.

“They saved us, they saved us so you could come back, so we can all come back. Do not blame yourself. It needed to happen.” He wipes her tears with the pad of his thumb. “You are such a strong woman y/n but it is okay to mourn for them.” As soon as he said that she fell into his grasp tugging on his suit as she cried into his chest feeling the emotions she tried to shut down, tried to hide but she couldn’t hide from him. Stephen is the only person she could open up to in this situation cause the two people she loved and adored was gone.

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It’s been a few months since the unfaithful day of Thanos attack. The world was trying to be the world again. Trying to build up what was once gone. The compound was finally rebuilt thanks to pepper but y/n didn’t want to leave Stephen’s side. She would constantly get nightmares of her past lately not realizing losing people would trigger her brain, but she was happier at the Sanctum. She helped Stephen whenever she can, she stepped down for being avenger for the moment so she could find herself again and be the happy girl she once knew. Nat would’ve wanted that for her and as well tony would too.

Y/n sat by the fireplace reading a book trying to distract her thoughts when Stephen entered the room with a huge winter jacket on. She crinkled her nose looking at him with confusion written on her face.

“What the actual hell are you wearing.” She laughed softly placing her book on her lap.

“Winter downstairs. Wouldn’t recommend going down there.” He chuckled deeply removing the coat placing in on a chair. He continued to look at her a soft look placed on his face. She tilted her head.

“You know, the compound was just built recently and I know I’ve extended my stay long enough; so I was thinking of going back.” She mumbled her finger trailing along the book her eyes following the movement of her finger. Stephen groans a bit rubbing his face.

“No.” He states his eyes locked on the way she was tracing the book but she quickly looks up at him with his statement. She laughed softly.

“No?” She questions standing up from the chair crossing her arms. “I don’t think you have an opinion on the matter.” Stephen rolls his eyes at her sass.

“You’re not ready yet.” He mumbles moving his way slowly towards her- his eyes piercing into her own.

“I cannot stay here forever.”

“Why not?” He snaps; his body mere inches from her. He slowly reaches out to grab her hand, his scarred one rubbed against her soft grip. She furrows her eyebrows her eyes trying to read his face.

“Because I cannot burden you Stephen.” She mumbles softly.

“You do not burden me.” He grumbles out moving his hand out of hers before using that same hand to place on her cheek. “I need you here.” She chews on the side of her cheek confused on what was happening.

“What do you mean you need me?” She asked her eyes moving towards his hand.

“Oh my god you’re so dense Y/n.” He groans before bringing his head towards her- his lips immediately catching her lips into a passionate soft kiss, her eyes widen at the contact, not sure what to do but when her brain starts to comprehend she flutters her eyes close allowing her lips to kiss him back. Her arms wrapping around his neck, his hands dropping down to her waist. He pulls back his eyes still closed placing his forehead against hers. “That’s why I don’t want you to leave.” She opens her eyes to look at him, his eyes already on her scanning her face.

“I’m not an easy person to love Stephen.” She whispered softly, her big doe eyes pleading with him to let her go but part of her knew she didn’t want that.

“I’ve heard I’m a great teacher.” He smirks softly rubbing his nose against hers. “Let me teach you, please.” She giggles softly looking down.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Good.” He says his lips softly placed against hers again.

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[mysecretlittlelibrary]

Shades of Green

Pairing: Thor x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: nothing really just jealous Thor

Genre: it’s pretty floofy

Summary: Thor does not appreciate another man chatting you up

***

 "Y/n dear you need to go and get ready before people start arriving." Frigga tells as you help her finalize plans for tonight's ball. Thor and Loki have returned two days ago from some quest Odin sent them on and Frigga has insisted on a party to properly welcome her sons. 

"Are you sure you don't need any more help, my queen? I don't mind staying to-"

"Nonsense. I have everything under control. This party honors your betrothed, you need to look like you belong at his side. So go." She shoos you away before you can protest again so you make your way back to your room to dress for the party. Your gown is a sharp red, matching that of Thor's cape, long and draping over you flatteringly. It cascades around you at your feet in a way you think may be inconvenient in a crowded hall but Frigga seems confident it will not cause any issues.

It doesn't take you long to get ready but Frigga was very clear about you joining the festivities at a specific time so you have to wait for her cue before returning to the hall. By that time the celebration is practically in full swing, all that's missing is your lover and his brother.

You circle the room in tandem with Frigga, mingling with guests wherever she is not, charming everyone you speak to with ease until Odin demands the room's attention. Frigga joins him at the front of the crowd and together they announce Thor and Loki with words of praise and pride.

You smile brightly watching Thor and Loki flank their parents in front of the crowd blushing when the former catches your gaze and winks at you. The entire room erupts at the sight of them and they're swept into the swarm of people as soon as they finish their greeting.

"Y/N!" Thor's voice booms even over the sea of voices and the upbeat music. It's hard to pinpoint the direction it's coming from but soon his arms are wrapped around you, pulling you towards him swiftly. "Oh how I've missed you, my lady." He sighs before kissing you which you return immediately. He may have returned two days ago but it seems the work never stops for your prince, he's been busy from the moment he came back as such you've only seen him in passing since he's been home.

"And I've missed you." You tell him with a giggle once you break the kiss.

"I'm sorry I've not had time to spend with you these past two days-"

"Nonsense Thor, you have responsibilities. I understand. It's not like I sit around waiting for you to spend time with me you know." You wink at him.

"Do you not?" He smiles.

"If I did I'd be rather bored most days and boredom breeds chaos." You muse and Thor laughs.

"Growing up with Loki I am certainly no stranger to that." He says.

"Thor my friend! You must tell us of your latest travels! I have a million questions!" One of Thor's friends Hogun claps Thor on the back to grab his attention. Before Thor can even answer, Hogun is already leading Thor off and Thor shoots you an apologetic look that you meet with a smile mouthing that you'll find him later. A glance through the crowd allows you to find Loki amongst a group of giggling maidens all seemingly vying for his attention. You make your way to the group looping an arm through Loki's and shooting the girls a smile.

"Apologies ladies, I'm going to steal Loki from you all for a bit." You say kindly. A couple of them toss you looks that you pointedly ignore as you tug Loki away from his fan club. 

"Something the matter y/n?" He asks with a concerned frown on his face.

"Not at all, I just haven't seen you since you've been back which is ridiculous."

"You should see the to-do list Father has me and Thor on since we've gotten back. It feels like it's getting longer every day. Honestly, this party is the first break we've had." Loki shakes his head.

"Yeah you seem quite occupied."

"Absolutely and Thor complains about not seeing you all the time. You have spoken to him, right? I expected him to be glued to your side."

"We've spoken, but his friends grabbed him to discuss your adventures."

"And he let them?" Loki jokes making you laugh.

"You two will be pulled in many directions tonight I'm sure." You smile.

"Yes well, I can count on you to rescue me right?"

"Come now Loki don't pretend you aren't loving the positive attention here."

"It's strange."

"You deserve it, but if you really want to escape a conversation of course I've got you." You tell him.

"Brilliant." He nods.

"Excuse me." A voice calls and you snap your head in the direction of the sound.

"Hello." You say, both you and Loki sizing the stranger up.

"I don't mean to interrupt, welcome home your highness, but I simply couldn't risk missing an opportunity to introduce myself to a beauty such as yourself." The man smiles. Loki stifles a laugh at the obvious line and you have to stop yourself from making a face at him.

"Thank you, and you are-?" You ask, not hiding the confusion in your voice.

"Khristofer Eriksson." The man says with a bow. Loki can barely contain the smile threatening to split his face as he watches the interaction.

"Khristofer. It is- nice to meet you." You say.

"The pleasure is all mine, my lady. May I be so lucky that you might share your name?"

"You are- quite a character. My name is y/n."

"A name as gorgeous as the owner of it."

"You're rather forward." Loki muses.

"Is there any other way to be?" Khristofer smirks.

"Perhaps with the betrothed of a prince, you'd do well to watch your words." Loki suggests.

"Betrothed of a prince?" Khristofer looks at you.

"Thor." You smile.

"Really? Interesting that he's left you alone." Khristofer hums.

"Not alone." Loki says.

"He and Loki are the men of the hour. Everyone will be vying for their attentions all night. I know it's my attention he wants more than any of this." You shrug casually.

"You sound quite sure of yourself." Khristofer says.

"Thor makes it impossible to doubt him." You smile. Loki is again fighting a smile at the underlying warning in your tone. This, your ability to subtly take on challenges is exactly how he grew to like you enough to now call you friend, to be happy you're marrying his brother.

"Smart man, it would be a shame for someone to be able to turn your head away from him." Khristofer says with a slight smile.

"I think you'll find I'm not so easily swayed."

"Then, would you be so kind as to gift me a dance?"

"A dance?"

"Just one. Harmless enough." His smile tells you otherwise but there's a challenge in his words and if you are to survive as a member of Asgard's royal family you will not allow this man room to see you as weak.

"I'm feeling charitable tonight so one dance I'll allow." You say matching both his tone and the daring look in his eye as you place your hand in his waiting palm. Loki watches with faint amusement as Khristofer leads you to the dancefloor, but only for a moment. When the man's hand settles on your back Loki finds his brother.

"You've left your betrothed alone for too long brother." Loki says interrupting Thor's conversation with a group of partygoers.

"Who is she with?" Thor's gaze has hardly left you since he was dragged off by his friends. He did watch the unfamiliar man walk up to you and Loki but as his brother was with you he worried less until he watched the man lead you to dance.

"He calls himself Khristofer. The man attempts to woo her. He's failing but- seems rather determined." Loki informs Thor.

"She accepted a dance." Thor observes.

"He's been challenging her. It's a battle of wits between them."

"What do you say, brother? Should I intervene?"

"I certainly would."

"Very well." Thor nods. He politely dismisses himself from the group he's a part of and crosses the room to where you're dancing with Khristofer.

"Y/n." Thor's hand at your back abruptly stops Khristofer's movements.

"Thor, hello my love." You smile at him, stepping out of Khristofer's arms and closer to Thor. 

"Your highness." Khristofer addresses him but Thor barely spares him a glance.

"Finally escaped the adoring fans?" You joke with Thor.

"I hope you don't mind me cutting in. It hardly seems fair that someone else should enjoy the pleasure of dancing with you when I have not." Thor smiles.

"Thor this is Khristofer Eriksson. He is- I actually do not know much about him. He spoke to me and Loki for a bit and then he asked for a dance. I was feeling generous." You say.

"And for that I thank you, lady y/n but now I'll leave you in the hands of the prince." Khristofer says with a bow before walking away.

"A dance, my lady?" Thor asks.

"Of course, my prince." You smile allowing him to pull you into his arms and lead you across the floor.

"That man." Thor mutters.

"Hm? Khristofer? What of him?" You ask.

"Who was he?"

"Well I'm not sure. As I said he didn't share much. Not that I was particularly interested enough to ask."

"Loki told me he attempted to woo you."

"Loki told you?"

"Yes. What is he talking about?"

"You know I think you look good in all colors my love, but perhaps green is not your finest shade." You giggle.

"Y/n." Thor says in warning making you laugh more.

"Oh he was just running his mouth Thor, honestly I can hardly remember what he was on about. Some nonsense about you leaving me alone, but I handled it." You say, amusement clear in your voice. "I can't believe Loki left that part out."

"I'll admit I was a bit too distracted to think of asking him for details."

"Distracted?" You ask with a knowing smile.

"You were dancing with a stranger. Why wouldn't I be distracted?"

"I had no idea were such the jealous type, my dear prince." You chuckle.

"I normally wouldn't class myself that way but it would seem things are different with you my darling." Thor hums. You smile as you lay your head against his chest while you continue to dance. It's silly for him to worry about such things but your heart warms at the thought that he cares so much.

***

[kirikorik]

Adam’s Death

Bucky Barnes/femOC! (Aveline). 18+

Part 1! Part 2! Part 3! Part 4! Part 5! Part6! Part7! Part8! Part9! Part 10...

Summary: Maybe if he had turned away, pretended not to recognize her, everything would have been different. Maybe then she would have lived a long life — not with him, but at least a living one. But Bucky doesn’t know how to turn away. Doesn’t know how not to search for her in the crowd, not to grab her hand trying to remember everything… Maybe he could have saved her. Maybe next time he’ll make it in time and she’ll survive. Maybe next time… Aveline was destined to live three lives:as the sister of America’s hero, as the daughter of a great engineer, and as Hydra’s legacy.

Warnings: Angst, Drama, Blood and Violence, Jealousy, Love, Age Difference, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Slow Burn, Suicide, 1930s, 1940s, Reincarnation, Unrequited Love, War, Sexual Content, Miscarriage, Complicated Relationships, Friends to Lovers, Sexism, Child Soldiers, Love/Hate, Blood, Trauma, Psychological Torture, Grief/Mourning, First Time, Developing Relationship, Cruelty, Sexual Inexperience, Masturbation, Character Death, Feelings.

"Renunciation"

“The past clings to us like shadows, but sometimes it comes alive in the faces of those we never hoped to see again.”

Date: 2008. Canon: 2010.

Avengers Tower, New York. The air in the briefing room is thick with the smell of coffee, the metallic ozone of overheated gadgets, and a faint trace of something burnt. A massive table is buried under folders, tablets, torn-up maps, empty cups, and someone’s gloves. A recorded hologram of Fury flickers with an annoyingly monotonous tone, but no one — except Natasha and Steve — pays much attention to it.

In the corner of the room, sprawled heavily on a worn leather couch, Thor fondly cradles his hammer — his fingers idly tracing the handle, twirling it. He looks worn out: a fine layer of dust and ash coats his armor, his hair is tangled from battle, and his cape is singed in places — but the god of thunder seems unbothered. Thor lazily watches Clint, who’s struggling to get comfortable in a chair, clearly irritated and at a loss with where to put his quiver.

Tony, as always, leans back carelessly in his chair, feet kicked up on the table. He lazily chews on gummy bears. His grey t-shirt is smudged with soot, a dark crust of dried blood on his temple. His gaze shifts thoughtfully between the screen and his daughter sitting beside him.

Aveline, curled up in her chair, absentmindedly bites the corner of her lip. Her blond hair is tied into a messy knot, with a few random clips glittering in her bangs. Her cheeks are smudged with paint, though she only holds an ordinary pencil. Tony notices this from the corner of his eye, furrows his brow, but says nothing. He’s used to her being odd. After all, she’s his daughter.

On her lap lies a sketchbook. She’s drawing everyone in the room. Quickly, confidently. The lines are precise, detailed — like a seasoned artist’s. Stark watches her page a moment longer than he meant to. A tightness creeps into his chest: that’s how his sister used to draw. The same lines, the same focus, also far too skilled for her age. Memory jabs sharply at his ribs, but he pushes it away. The past belongs in the past. And if not — well, he’ll chalk it up to Aveline inheriting her aunt’s talent along with her name.

Tony presses his lips into a grim line and rolls back in his chair. Sometimes he wonders why his daughter looks so much like her. Sometimes he notices faint gestures, intonations, expressions — and something twists painfully inside. But he never lets himself dwell on it for long. Just like now — Tony quickly shakes the thought. Not the time for memories.

“Hey, I mean, I’m no expert, but that’s suspiciously good for a seven-year-old,” Clint suddenly says, peering over Aveline’s shoulder. His tone carries a teasing note, but there’s a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “Like, creepily good,” he adds, nodding to himself.

Aveline ignores him. She sits with her legs folded on the chair, swinging them lazily in the air. One hand holds a half-eaten chocolate bar — a gift from Natasha — the other glides her pencil across the page, glancing now and then toward the towering panoramic windows where evening New York glows. The city’s lights reflect off the glass in vibrant flashes. Beyond the thick panel, the city lives loudly, but in here — it’s silent.

“Although,” Clint smirks, crossing his arms over his chest, “if you’re doodling me, could you maybe bulk me up a bit? Just for realism’s sake.”

Aveline raises an eyebrow high, slowly looking up at him, squinting mischievously:

“If I wanted to draw something unrealistic, I’d give you superpowers. Or at least decent sunglasses — unlike the ones you’ve got.” She clicks her tongue.

Thor is the first to burst out laughing. Even Natasha, usually unreadable, lowers her papers and hides a smile behind her coffee cup. The soft desk lamp casts gentle shadows on her face, making it look almost relaxed and light.

“Ooh, harsh critique coming in hot!” Clint throws his hands up, though his eyes are laughing. “Straight to the ego — yeah, you’re definitely a Stark.”

“Did you ever doubt that, Seagull?” Aveline bats her lashes innocently and bites off another chunk of chocolate. “Well, if you’d like, I could give you a shield like Stevie’s. Might help.”

“Please don’t,” Rogers cuts in. “One of those is more than enough.”

A new wave of laughter ripples through the room. Steve smiles, but his gaze returns to Aveline. The glow of the screen nearby softly lights her face, highlighting familiar features. He watches her tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear without thinking. A simple motion — but his heart tightens. He’s pulled back, to the ‘40s, to a cramped kitchen where his sister — his Aveline — tucks her curls behind her ear just like that, sitting by a canvas or a kitchen table, reading a book and scribbling notes. Exactly the same.

Memory doesn’t lie… does it?

Ever since he first saw the girl, something cracked inside him. Time seemed to blur. Steve tried to chalk it up to coincidence, but every time Aveline Stark laughs or frowns in thought, he hears his sister. Sees the shadows of those he’s lost. Sometimes he even smells it — coal, a stove, that old wooden table with its chipped legs and a lid carved with three initials...

It’s impossible — he tells himself that, over and over. His sister’s been gone for over half a century. But sometimes… when Tony’s daughter smirks, argues, or just stares silently out the window — it feels like he’s home again. For a moment. And that moment tears him apart.

“Mini-Stark! And for the record, my nickname isn’t Seagull — it’s Haw—” Clint snaps, then trails off. “Wait, you didn’t get that wrong, did you?” He clucks his tongue, lips pursed. She said it on purpose, not by mistake.

“Well, that’s what Dad calls you,” Aveline shrugs innocently. And Tony mimics her shrug right beside her, as if he’s got nothing to do with it. A heavy sigh rises near the panoramic windows.

“Loki slipped away. We got that the first time,” Steve says, looking off to the side. “So why are we hearing this for the twentieth?”

“Because One-Eyed Drama King loves his theater,” Tony quips, pulling out his tricked-out smartphone, still lazily chewing gummies and passing a few to his daughter with a wink.

Next to him, Natasha folds her arms. Her calm voice cuts through the air:

“Or maybe it’s because our genius, playboy, philanthropist turned the hangar into a ping-pong arena?” She levels him with a sharp stare, perfectly echoing his own words from earlier.

Tony rolls his eyes:

“What is this, nickname appreciation day?” he arches a thick brow, theatrically scanning the room. “Sorry, Romanoff, I just hate wasting time,” he snaps, turning his attention back to his gadget, then throws a glance at Steve. “Why don’t you tell us something fun, American New Hope? Like — do you even have one photo where you don’t look like a living propaganda poster?”

He raises his phone, its screen filled with news articles about the devastation in New York — and every single one of them has Steve’s face front and center.

The room comes alive again with light teasing, cozy bickering. Avelina giggles, her ringing voice seems to fill the space with warmth. Steve turns toward her over his shoulder, and for a moment, his gaze softens. That feeling… it’s almost like hope. Almost. But he knows too well — hope can be cruel.

This isn’t the first time it’s happened, not even the hundredth. He catches himself staring at the girl too long, trying to understand what exactly is bothering him. The first time he saw Avelina, he forgot to breathe. Stumbled, couldn’t get a word out. Standing before him was something achingly familiar. Of course, he was quickly informed that she was Tony Stark’s daughter, but from that moment on…

Steve pushes the thought away. Thinking about his sister is too painful, too terrifying. Even if she and Avelina share the same name, even if they look like two drops of water — it can’t be her. Avelina Rogers is dead. This is not her. And yet sometimes… something warm and aching clutches at his heart when the girl laughs. But he tells himself: hope must not be fed.

Clint leans back in his chair with a quiet sigh, smirking, playing with his tongue against his cheek like he’s holding back an especially witty joke. In the dim light of the room, holographic screens flicker, scattering the shadows, and somewhere in the corner, the ventilation system begins to hum softly…

“Oh, by the way! Been meaning to ask!” the archer exclaims, lazily stretching out his legs. “Stark, do you have a photo of you with those… baby suspenders? You know, when you carry a kid around in a kangaroo backpack?” He squints, watching everyone’s reactions, and knocks over his quiver with a loud crash, sending papers scattering across the table.

The room freezes for a moment. No one moves, no one gives anything away. But precisely because everyone holds still waiting for a response, the silence becomes palpable — it electrifies the air as everyone processes what they just heard.

Tony slowly lifts his eyes, blinks once, then again, and dramatically places a hand on his chest — as if from unspeakable shock.

“First of all, are you seriously expecting an honest answer? Planning to raise tiny special-agents?” A pause. “No?! Then bow and arrows, I’m stunned! You really think that I —” he sweeps his gaze over everyone, as if demanding confirmation of their sanity, “— would carry my child in one of those ridiculous kangaroo backpacks?”

“Oh, I’m sure you did,” Steve smirks, relaxing just a bit, letting himself enjoy this light moment of friendly banter. But his gaze, passing over the laughing Avelina, catches on something else — a flickering shadow.

“No, no, and again — no!” Tony makes a broad, nearly theatrical gesture with his hand. “I am a man of high technology, a walking star of propaganda posters! If I had to carry a child, I’d do it with a mini jetpack or something of the sort,” his voice is too fast, too lively — enough to make anyone suspicious, to plant a seed of doubt.

“But dad, you’re lying!” Avelina declares loudly, putting her drawing aside. Her eyes flash with genuine outrage, and a triumphant smile spreads across her face. All eyes turn to the girl. For a moment, silence reigns, broken only by the soft tapping of rain starting on the windowpane.

“What?” Tony frowns, like he doesn’t get what she’s implying.

“We do have a photo of you carrying me in a kangaroo backpack!” Avelina proudly lifts her chin.

Clint perks up and leans forward:

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Avelina nods confidently, hopping off her chair. “Mom showed me!”

“PEPPER!” Tony throws up his hands theatrically. “Family betrayal! Did you hear that?!” A tall, fair-haired woman enters the room holding a tray with juice and something sweet. Her soft gaze immediately envelops the younger Stark protectively.

“Don’t start, Tony,” Potts tosses offhandedly. “You looked like the happiest person in the world back then.”

Avelina jumps up to her mother, peeks at the tray, beaming, and asks to show the photo to everyone. But then JARVIS’s impeccably polite voice chimes in:

“Sir, if I may, I believe you are referring to this image?”

“No, JARVIS, don’t you dare—” Stark tries to stop his voice assistant.

But it’s too late. The next second, the screens around the room light up with the photo: Tony with a baby in a bright red carrier against a backdrop of twinkling Christmas lights. His face — pure, undiluted happiness. And he looks far too content for someone trying to deny the whole thing.

“Damn…” Clint exhales in awe.

“That’s what you call a kangaroo backpack?” Thor rises curiously from the couch.

“Clint, what, you want the baby store brand too?” Stark snaps, glaring at the archer.

“You look like the sweetest dad in the world,” Natasha laughs, already pulling out her phone to capture the image for keeps.

“I refuse to comment on this,” Tony mutters, covering his face with his hand.

And Avelina just laughs, coming closer and wrapping her arms around his shoulder:

“But you’re the best dad in the world!”

Tony lets out a loud sigh, chuckles, but gives in. He picks up his daughter, settling her on his lap. His arms are warm, steady, and the girl leans into him a little tighter, sinking into her father’s embrace.

“Well, can’t argue with that…”

Avelina squeals again when he tickles her. Her giggles are contagious, making everyone in the room fight off smiles. Clint lowers his head, lost in thought, a trace of melancholy crossing his face.

Steve casually says the younger Stark’s name while asking Natasha something. And Avelina flinches. As if someone just ran a cold hand down her spine. It doesn’t hurt — but it leaves a trace. The Captain’s voice sounded so… familiar. Achingly so.

The tone — like a dream that slips away just as you try to hold onto it after waking. Avelina blinks, shaking off the strange, persistent feeling, but it lingers. She frowns, unconsciously placing her hand over her chest, as if searching for something important that should have been there. But under her fingers, there's only the soft fabric of her shirt. Nothing else. And no one notices the gesture.

No one, except Steve Rogers.***

Date: Summer, 1940.

Brooklyn hasn’t yet cooled down from the daytime heat. The air is filled with the smell of heated asphalt, mixed with dust and the fumes of cars. In the alleys, a stagnant stuffiness smolders, which even a light breeze can’t dispel. The streetlamps cast pale spots of light onto the cracked walls of buildings. Their electric flickering barely pierces through the damp haze.

Somewhere in the distance, a car door slams, muffled laughter sounds — the echo of a street celebration, slowly fading into the depths of the night.

At the edge of the sidewalk, a vendor sweeps up the remnants of confetti into a metal dustpan, tiredly brushes off his shirt, and throws a brief glance at a couple walking slowly along the road. Rare lights burn in the windows of the houses — someone is already asleep. And someone is just returning home. The flickering flame of a candle draws vague shadows on the curtains.

The smell of celebration still lingers in the air. The cloying sweetness of caramel mixes with the aroma of roasted nuts and tobacco that trails from weary men stuck at the tables of a street café-bar.

Somewhere on the cobblestones lies a forgotten toy — a plush bunny with a torn ear, lost in the bustle of the fairgrounds. Muffled beats of music tremble in the distance, but now they barely reach. Everything around gradually comes to a halt: vendors fold up their stalls, boys in rolled-up shirts lazily chat, leaning against the wall of a diner, from which wafts the smell of yesterday’s oil.

Avelina and Steve walk slowly, unhurriedly. Their steps echo dully through the empty streets. The festival was too noisy, too crowded, and they didn’t want to be among the masses. So they ran away from it all — from the laughter, the music, and the dancing, from the feeling of someone else’s happiness that doesn’t belong to them. Maybe because the memories of the past, of how the world used to be before all this, weigh heavier than they’re ready to admit. Or maybe because...

They walk in silence, leaving behind the bustle of celebration, as if it were foreign to them, unnecessary. Leaving Bucky among the dancing and joy, among the music that seems unbearably cheerful. They are the first to leave. And Avelina remembers too late about the forgotten stuffed bear from the shooting gallery. Though it used to be different: before, Bucky always walked them home, sometimes even stayed the night. But now he stayed there. Behind. Together with Dolores.

They don’t want to talk about it. But the silence weighs heavier than words.

Sometimes silence speaks louder. Especially this kind — heavy, sticky, nasty. It presses on the chest, turning a simple walk into a painful anticipation, as if one of them is about to break and say something they shouldn’t.

But Avelina knows that in such moments, you can say anything — you can even laugh, blurt out something silly, try to pretend that everything’s fine. But is it really?

Bucky isn’t with them.

Bucky isn’t walking behind them.

Bucky chose something else.

Most importantly — Bucky doesn’t choose them. Doesn’t choose her.

A cool breeze lazily rustles the paper notices stuck to old poles — among them posters of jazz nights and war enlistment slogans, theater ads and flyers about the horrors happening in Europe, faded and torn at the corners. In the distance, a block away, the last tram bell rings, carrying passengers toward the bridge. Somewhere near the diner, chairs clatter. A tired owner swears under his breath as he locks the doors, and the footsteps of a passerby rushing home quickly dissolve into the darkness…

The night smells of: damp rooftops, tired cobblestones, grime, and a faint bitterness of smoke. It feels like the city burned out in the sun during the day, soaked up fire, and now, at last, is slowly cooling down, exhaling the accumulated heat. But this warmth brings no comfort. It reminds that the day has passed, and tomorrow might bring even more changes…

“Bucky’s changed,” Avelina says quietly, breaking the silence first.

Steve slouches. It’s long been obvious, but hearing it from his sister is especially bitter. Rogers stuffs his hands in his pockets, lowers his head. The motion is almost unnoticeable, almost habitual. But Avelina knows her brother too well. He’s trying to hide, shrink, disappear from everyone and everywhere. First and foremost — from himself.

“We all changed,” he says. “Time spares no one.”

Avelina looks at her brother. In his face, she reads fatigue and a lack of strength — something painfully familiar. They have only each other left. Two years have passed since their mother died, the house feels empty, and even when they are together, it feels like something is missing, like her voice still echoes through the walls…

Every morning, Avelina hopes to hear her mother’s call from the kitchen… That first winter without her, when she got sick, she started hallucinating from a high fever. Avelina barely remembers the moment, but she remembers too well the horror in Steve and Bucky’s eyes when, having run out in a clammy nightgown clinging to her skin, with a feverish gleam in her eyes and a trembling smile, she started searching for her mother in the kitchen. Only she wasn’t there. Not there — not anywhere in the house. And her brother’s words: “Mom’s not here. Not anymore…” broke her far more than anyone expected.

In the distance, a car horn wails, and again — silence.

“I just don’t understand. Sometimes he seems so… distant,” she mutters, not looking at her brother. “Sometimes he acts like everything’s fine. But… I know. I feel like something’s bothering him, and he doesn’t tell anyone. Why does he never admit anything? He’s like… like… I don’t know…”

Steve glances sideways at his sister, his eyes warm, understanding. Maybe they all think he’s blind, maybe even a fool, but he sees more from the outside than the two of them do. If Steve is sure of anything, it’s...

“You think I understand him?”

Avelina smirks faintly.

“At least you’ve always been better at it than me.”

Steve doesn’t argue. He just shakes his head, as if unsure whether he should agree with that.

Maybe he did understand Bucky once. But now… his decisions sometimes make no clear sense, as if it would be logical to act one way, but he deliberately does the opposite — and suffers from it himself.

What’s the point? He doesn’t know either.

Steve kicks a pebble under his foot, and it bounces off the road with a soft click and stops near the curb. Somewhere in the alley, mice squeaked, darting off in search of crumbs. In the distance, a thud sounds, and for a brief moment a light turns on in one of the windows — a female figure leans over the sill, adjusting flower pots. Then the window darkens again, leaving behind the faint breath of a home they can no longer return to. No matter how hard they try to build their world anew, brick by brick — everything crumbles.

Steve takes a deep breath. Avelina still remembers the lullaby their mother used to sing to them… The night is filled not only with summer warmth but something else — something elusive, tense, lurking in the shadows and corners.

“You know, when I first met Bucky, he seemed like a carefree guy. The kind who gets everything easily, who lives without much thought, without too much responsibility. He laughed louder than anyone, always knew what he wanted — or so I thought,” he scuffs his boot toe against the ground, then continues: “But over time I realized it wasn’t like that at all.”

Avelina sees before her the Bucky who laughs, who draws everyone along with him, who says everything is fine — but at the same time disappears.

Slips away again and again.

Her heart reaches for Bucky, while she herself moves in the opposite direction. And he — even farther.

It’s like trying to grab something that slips through your fingers. Like holding onto sand — the tighter you squeeze, the faster it runs out. But if you let go, it vanishes completely.

“I don’t understand him at all,” Avelina echoes her own words. And in that confession, there’s more pain than she’s willing to show.

“He carries a ton of responsibility,” Steve mutters, hopping from the cobblestone to a low curb. “For family, for the younger ones, for us. Bucky’s used to being the one who protects, who takes care — and he may seem like an overconfident jerk,” Rogers even allows himself to swear, “but that’s not how it is. Bucky wants to do what’s right, but doesn’t always know how.” Steve looks around and meets his sister’s heavy, restless gaze.

Avelina unwittingly slows her pace, absentmindedly fidgeting with a flower picked from someone else's garden.

“He’s always been like that. Bucky took care of us after Mom died, even when he could barely stand himself. He pulled us out of every mess, stood by us, and never complained. Just did what he had to. Or maybe... the only thing he had left.”

Steve shakes his head and gives a dry chuckle.

“Everyone thinks he knows what he wants. But he just keeps going forward—because stopping isn’t an option.”

Avelina bites her lip, a wave of gratitude rises in her chest... and guilt? How many times had she seen Bucky exhausted, beaten and bruised from training, rushing to help them, to support them even when they should’ve managed on their own? Many times. Too many. He doesn’t owe them anything, yet—Bucky’s always there. And still, she wants even more from him. Maybe… maybe that’s not fair.

“Do you know?” the younger Rogers asks softly. “What he wants?”

“That’s just it—I don’t,” Steve shrugs, exhaling dryly. “Maybe I’m a bad friend…”

“You’re not,” Avelina whispers, catching her brother’s hand and interlacing their fingers. She leans her head on his shoulder. “If you were a bad friend, you wouldn’t understand that.” She lifts the corners of her mouth slightly, but the smile still turns out sad.

Steve only nods and gives a bitter smirk.

The alley they turn into has known them since childhood. The faded chalk writings still mark the walls, and on the corner of the fence a crooked scratch remains—the trace of the day Steve crashed into the wall when Bucky was teaching him to ride a bike.

The damp air smells of old bricks, rusty fire escapes, and the faint sourness of rotting newspapers gathered in dark corners. Glass crunches underfoot—someone shattered a bottle, and its shards glitter in the streetlight like fragments of stars.

Somewhere around the corner, the patter of cat paws on trash can lids is heard, followed by a grumpy snort. Avelina freezes for a moment, peering into the familiar darkness. Here, in this place, the past feels sharper. Here, it’s almost like you can hear their mother’s voice calling them home from an evening walk. Here, you can almost see childlike shadows, barefoot and darting along the pavement.

“You know, Bucky doesn’t understand you at all either,” Steve suddenly says, breaking from his thoughts. Avelina blinks, turning a confused look toward her brother.

“You think so?..”

“I know so. And I know that you two—need to talk.”

The younger Rogers only nods slightly. She knows it too. And she knows they’ll never talk—not until it’s too late. That’s just how it always goes with them. It’s a kind of stability, in its own way. You know what to expect.

Avelina stops, looking at the swing set that creaks softly in the breeze. She remembers how they used to swing here together as kids, back when the world felt simple, when there was no war, no fear, no emptiness inside.

She snorts, then winks playfully at her brother and sits down. The swing groans ominously in response. How has it not snapped yet? Steve silently grabs the chains and gives her a push. At first, gentle, cautious.

“Remember how I always asked you not to swing too high?” he chuckles. Avelina lifts her legs into the air, laughing, grabbing the edge of her dress, hoping they won’t get chased off for the noise. It’s late after all.

“Yeah. But you always gave in anyway. You could never say no to me, Stevie!”

Steve sighs.

“And you never listened,” he replies with a grin.

“And I never listened,” Avelina repeats, smiling wider and raising her eyes to the sky, to the stars barely breaking through the city haze.

She closes her eyes, feeling the wind play with her hair, the heavy, sticky air settling in her lungs. It’s thick, warm, filled with the sounds of the night—distant voices, footsteps, echoes. It lifts the hem of her dress, chills her skin, but brings no relief.

Avelina inhales deeply, trying to push away the images that won’t leave her alone. Back at the festival—there was Bucky, spinning in a dance with Dolores. Sweet, beautiful, kind Dolores. Avelina can’t be angry. There’s no anger left in her. More like... silent acceptance and sorrow. Sometimes, you just don’t have the strength to fight anymore.

Steve pushes the swing again—harder this time. The creak of metal tears through the night. Avelina’s head spins from the sudden motion. And she squeezes her eyes shut, letting go of everything.

Let this moment last longer. Let tomorrow not come. But tomorrow always comes, no matter how unexpected. Tomorrow always comes.

“I still don’t understand him,” Avelina whispers, as if the past few minutes, the stars, and the wind should’ve told her what to do next. Steve, through the squeaking, replies:

“Maybe he doesn’t understand himself.”

Avelina breathes deeply, trying to banish Bucky’s image from her mind. But the thoughts cling like a splinter.

They’re left alone. She and Steve. Always the two of them. Only they know what it’s like—to lose their mother. Pain can be similar, but only theirs is the same. Only they understand each other better than anyone else. Like no one else ever could. And that silly belief eats them from the inside.

The swing slows down. Steve’s worn out. As a child, Avelina used to like it more when Bucky pushed the swing—he always gave it a stronger shove than she expected. Sometimes it felt like she’d go flying and crash her knees into the sand, but her grip was always firm—doesn’t want to let go, won’t let go.

When the swing finally stops, she keeps her hands on the chains for a minute longer, unable to let go. Unable to release. Somewhere beyond the buildings, a sleepy voice calls out, then comes a short bark from a dog. The yard seems empty. But the past lives in these walls, in these shadows, in the rusty howls. It lingers behind, leaving only a quiet ache and the wish to bring everything back the way it was…

A new clang. Steve sinks down onto the swing beside her. If Bucky were here, he’d probably joke that Rogers on their own aren’t whole people—just halves. Sometimes even kids can’t manage to fit on one swing together. But Steve and Avelina, naturally neither tall nor heavy, fit just right. Well, at least they’re quicker than most—especially Avelina.

“I can’t protect you the way he can,” Steve admits. “Bucky will always be stronger, steadier, more reliable… and… and I’m afraid that…”

“Stevie, you’re strong too, smart, and the bravest fool I know,” Avelina interrupts, hugging him and resting her head on her brother’s narrow shoulder. “You’re just not exactly like him. And that’s a good thing too.”

But Rogers stubbornly shakes his head.

“I’m afraid one day we’ll drift apart,” he suddenly confesses. “That Bucky will leave, you’ll leave… and I’ll stay. Stay here, still weak, still clumsy…”

“You’ll never be alone,” Avelina insists. “I’ll always be here. I promise.”

But Steve doesn’t answer, though something warm flickers in his eyes—something almost childlike. Avelina knows he’ll never really believe it. That deep down, he’s afraid one day they’ll be gone for good, and he’ll be left behind… truly alone. But for now, Avelina’s here. For now, they sit on these old swings in this alley that’s known them since they were kids—they’re together.

And for this one moment, everything stays as it once was. For this one moment, it’s okay to pretend everything’s fine. Just hold on a little longer. It will get better. It has to…

Avelina nestles into her brother’s neck and hugs him tighter. Steve remains silent, but gratitude glimmers in his eyes. They sit side by side in the quiet night, just like they used to. For now—they can still believe their small world won’t break. At least for a while, they can…***

Date: The year 2006.

The lab in Stark Tower smells of something metallic and warm. In Avelina’s opinion, it smells like a place where miracles are created. On the tables — a scatter of microchips, thin wires, unfinished models. Somewhere a dim bluish light flickers. In the semi-darkness, equipment softly buzzes, and beyond the glass wall, a view of nighttime New York opens — the city lights blur behind a curtain of rain. Raindrops tap on the glass, leaving chaotic patterns, and it seems even the eternal hum of the metropolis becomes quieter, as if the city is tired.

Tony sits, slightly hunched over, squinting behind the glass of his protective goggles, holding a soldering iron with one hand and fiddling with tiny parts with the other. The light scent of heated metal and plastic mixes with the faint bitterness of coffee cooling somewhere nearby. Work always helps distract. Helps not to think about the fears that whisper in his head when it gets too quiet. And now — the world outside sinks into the melody of rain, while inside the lab, everything is familiar: warm, bright and… safe. His child is at home — as always, which means everything is alright.

At the edge of the table, resting her cheek on her fist, sits Avelina. Her light hair slips slightly across her face, long lashes trembling in sleep. Next to her hand lies an open heavy science book with an intricate title about cell regeneration and cloning — clearly not something that would interest Tony himself. And something that gives him a headache.

On the nearby shelf stands a small terrarium: inside, a tiny plant with fragile green leaves slowly turns under soft light. Scattered near Stark’s daughter are pencils and a notepad, covered in small diagrams and strange notes he doesn’t immediately understand.

Stark lifts the book, squints, wondering if the problem is in the handwriting or… On the cover, in dark letters, is the name of a scientist that Tony doesn’t notice right away, but once he catches it, he involuntarily freezes. It’s one of the surviving books of Avelina — his younger twin sister — which used to rest in the library in the far hall. Tony rarely goes there. When he rebuilt the tower, he couldn’t help but make that room. Sad, as if he still waits for his sister to one day come home…

Avelina had a passion for biology, cell structures, everything related to life — unlike him, focused on metal and mechanics. She always thought it more important not to create machines but to understand the very essence of nature. And, it seems, that trait was passed on to his daughter from her aunt, just like her looks.

A little further away, on a separate stand, stands another "project" — a small glass jar, inside of which stirs a miniature biosphere: tiny plants and a couple of snails slowly moving under the light. One snail is named Natalie, the other — Bruce. Clint, of course, was offended that no organism was named after him. Avelina assembled all of this over several days, with an enthusiastic gleam in her eyes, muttering something under her breath.

Tony hums, examining the terrarium, and a warm wave of pride washes over him. “My girl,” he thinks, and something deep inside squeezes with tenderness. Maybe she’ll go further than him — not just mechanics and tech, but life, the very essence of its creation. Their father had always pinned all his hopes on his sister. So maybe the world decided to give her back?

From the side, JARVIS announces that another microchip is ready.

"Ah, that’s it," Tony mutters under his breath, rolling back to his desk, adding the final touches. "It’s brilliant, Stark. You’re still damn good."

No reply. Silence. He frowns, glancing over his shoulder. Where’s the laughter? Where’s the giggling and smile?

"Well? What do you think, my mini-copy? Should we adopt it?"

Silence. It takes him a moment to realize that through the quiet, he can hear soft breathing. Tony spins around in his chair — and freezes.

Avelina, curled up, dozes, almost slipping from the chair. Her cheek is pressed against the table, breathing steady. In her hand, she holds some gear from his suit. Something tightens in his chest. Soft and warm. A couple of careless marker lines are visible on her wrist — apparently, she was sketching something while waiting for her dad to notice her.

“Seven years… Already seven,” Tony thinks, feeling an involuntary smile tug at his lips. It seems like only yesterday she was a tiny bundle handed to him in the hospital, declared a single father. She was so small, so defenseless, she could barely wrap her palm around his pinky.

That first night home after the hospital — he panicked, of course. What the hell did he know about kids? He was a genius, a playboy on all the magazine covers, a philanthropist on every form, but definitely not a father. And yet…

He remembers how scared he was to hurt her, how he desperately searched for what to feed that little being, calling Pepper, begging her to come and save him. Small, fragile, with messy blonde hair and eyes full of childlike trust, looking at him with such belief…

She didn’t know who he was in the world’s eyes, didn’t know his mistakes and sins — just reached out to him, as if he really could protect her from all the evil in the world. Back then, Stark leaned over his daughter, not believing his eyes or the smile lighting up her tiny face. He…

He really didn’t know how to be a father. Didn’t know how to be a good one. He had no good example, no guidance. He had no role model, nothing to lean on. And this child, barely born, seemed to already love him with her whole little heart. And then he understood — whatever he did, whoever he was, however he acted, his daughter would always love him. Always, no matter what.

And then, her tiny fingers grabbed his hair and yanked so hard it made his vision blur — and something inside, like a jammed part, broke free, leaving a sense of long-awaited release.

Her first “Daddy” came unexpectedly. He remembers every detail. Evening, another presentation, a fancy hall and a crowd of people, each wanting something from him. Tony, out of habit, held Avelina in his arms — small, nearly weightless. Her fingers clutched the lapel of his jacket, and suddenly, through the noise of the crowd, he heard that simple word. “Daddy.” As if it was the most natural thing in the world. And damn it, nothing in his life had ever sounded more beautiful.

He almost dropped his glass then. All the bravado, his carefully built image, vanished in a second. He just stood there, staring at his daughter, feeling his heart painfully pulse under his ribs. How did he even deserve something so pure and innocent? He was called the “merchant of death,” and she calls him, so simply yet lovingly — “Daddy…”

Sighing, Tony slowly stands up, approaches the table, and — acting with the precision of a man who can assemble and disassemble a reactor blindfolded — gently lifts the younger Stark into his arms. Avelina stirs slightly, buries her nose in his neck, but doesn’t wake.

“You’re getting old, Tony,” he mutters to himself, but his voice sounds warm, more like joy, pride in who he’s become.

The living room is quiet. Not the suffocating kind, but a different one — a homely kind. Soft lamp light, a faint scent of beer and chips. The Avengers sit scattered: Natasha is comfortably settled in a chair, watching some movie on TV. Steve — on the couch, in his usual thoughtfulness, and Clint quietly arguing with Bruce about something clearly unimportant.

When Tony enters, carrying the sleeping Avelina, the conversations fall silent. And JARVIS instantly mutes the TV. Natasha smiles warmly, corners of her lips slightly trembling. And Steve looks at the child intently, as if pondering something, but stays silent. Stark doesn’t pay it any mind. Rogers is a hundred-something years old — who knows what’s going on in his head.

“What?” he hisses at Clint. “Haven’t seen enough of a superhero playing daddy?” Tony grumbles, but his voice lacks its usual bite.

“It’s sweet,” Natasha notes, not lifting her eyes from the popcorn bowl.

“Too sweet,” adds Barton with mock horror, but Tony only snorts.

He walks past them, carefully holding his daughter, heading to her room. It’s dark and quiet there — the air smells of children’s shampoo, vanilla, and something sweet. On the bed — a soft blanket with a star print, and by the pillow — an old plush bunny with a slightly worn ear. Avelina didn’t let him buy a new toy, even though she already has plenty of dollhouses, cars, and stuffed trinkets.

Laying his daughter on the bed, Tony slowly brushes the hair from her face. Avelina mutters something, barely audible in her sleep:

“Daddy…”

And with those words, his heart seems to tremble. Tony leans in and kisses her forehead.

“Sleep, baby,” he whispers. “I’m right here.”

For a moment, he lingers, adjusting the plush bunny under her arm. His fingers tremble slightly as he strokes her cheek. Avelina sighs and, as if sensing his presence, hugs the toy tighter, smiling in her sleep.

Tony straightens up and casts one last glance at his daughter. In the soft light of the night lamp, her face looks so defenseless, and something in his chest painfully tightens. After all, there is room for a miracle in his life. And that miracle is now sleeping in her little bed, hugging a worn-out bunny. And it’s the most precious thing he’s ever had…

Stark closes the door a little quieter than usual and stays standing in the hallway for a few more seconds. Then, taking a deep breath, he walks away — for the hundredth time promising himself that he will never let anyone hurt his child. No one will hurt Avelina. Never. No matter what.***

Date: 1940. End of November.

Avelina slowly flips the page, absorbing the lines printed in typeface. The dense silence of the library, filled with the faint crackling of wood and the occasional rustling of paper, envelops her in a thick veil of solitude. It smells of time here — of old books exuding the scent of yellowed pages, dust, and a barely perceptible sweetish hint of mold, stuck in the spines damaged by dampness.

The library is a special place. High ceilings with massive wooden beams create a sense of grandeur. Along the walls stretch shelves, crammed with heavy volumes with worn corners. Ladders stand by the cases, allowing access to the very top shelves. Somewhere in a far corner, a typewriter clicks — Mrs. Meredith is filling out the catalog, quietly sighing over the worn-out index cards.

Avelina ventures deeper into the dark hall, where the faint light of a desk lamp pulls her silhouette out of the gloom of the shelves. The bulky cabinets loom over her, but she feels comfortable here. In this place, one can feel how time stands still, caught in the spines of forgotten folios.

She is used to these walls, to their muffled, almost conspiratorial silence. She has come here since childhood, from the moment an unbearable need arose to somehow distract herself from her own thoughts, disappearing for hours studying formulas, structures, medical theories. Avelina managed to skip several school grades even before the examination date. Her success was not based on magical insight or random luck — only strict, precise, reliable logic.

It is precisely here that her boldness transforms into an endless calculating mechanism, analyzing variables, calculating probabilities, untangling the most complex biochemical puzzles. It is here, among lines about the conformational stability of proteins and mechanisms of gene regulation, that she lays the foundation of her future.

Because science is the only thing one can be sure of. The laws of thermodynamics don’t change their minds, molecular interactions obey strict rules, and the algorithms of biological system modeling do not betray. Science will not let you down. At least, it hasn’t yet.

Today, Rogers’s attention is wholly drawn to the fourth-year biochemistry textbook. The chapter on the stabilization of complex compounds interests her the most — mechanisms of molecular folding, hydrogen bond dynamics, thermodynamic stability optimization. Deriving the perfect balance of components in a formula, their interaction with receptors, and their impact on metabolic pathways.

In her mind, it all comes together: the Michaelis-Menten equation, Gibbs free energy calculations, kinetic models of ligand binding — everything connects into a unified network until suddenly something goes wrong. Irritation flares up inside — not because she doesn’t understand, but because the answer slips away, leaving only the premonition of a guess.

She just can’t focus.

Something undefined, shapeless, is wandering inside her, pulling her in different directions like stochastic fluctuations. Avelina can’t figure out her feelings. But she can easily write down formulas so complex that students at Northfield University take several days to solve them. She manipulates biocatalysis parameters, models the kinetics of enzymatic reactions, and accurately calculates the stability of recombinant proteins in an artificially created microenvironment. But she can’t express in a single word what abyss has opened up inside her.

Avelina can’t tell her brother about it — she can’t find the words, can’t convey what’s tearing at her from within. Instead, she throws herself into calculations — modeling the diffusion of signaling molecules and predicting the behavior of biopolymers in a changing environment.

Because emotions are chaos, resembling random fluctuations in living systems. But science is stable, like the principles of gene regulation or self-assembly mechanisms, and that gives her a sense of control.

Here, Avelina is preparing to apply to MIT — the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, to the faculty of bioengineering. She dissects equations of enzyme kinetics, dives into methods of gene therapy and synthetic biology.

Teachers at school didn’t like her — for asking too many questions, for not being afraid to argue, and for refusing to conform to the standards and the rest. She was ridiculed, openly ignored, punished for the smallest infractions, but in the end of high school, they still let her go with tears in their eyes.

Of course! — how many olympiads and competitions she had won for the school! Without her, the institution would have long since lost its funding. So even the principal, who had grumbled about her inappropriate character for years, on the last day said he was proud of her and personally submitted her university application with a recommendation.

But she was rejected. Because she’s a woman. Discrimination by gender — it’s almost laughable.

Steve was angry, but also unmistakably proud of his sister — even if society doesn’t recognize her talents, he knows what she’s capable of. Mom would probably be proud of her too, if she were alive. It was Stevie who convinced Avelina to try applying to MIT, assuring her that this was her future, her chance to go further than either of them could have dreamed.

Right after the war began in Europe, everything started changing rapidly. The world turned upside down, familiar boundaries shifted. Fears arose that a new demographic crisis was on the horizon. And now Avelina herself was offered a chance: if she passes all the entrance tests, she’ll be admitted directly into the second semester.

If she passes the exams and passes them well, she’ll head to Cambridge in January — with full funding and a scholarship. And that’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. One you simply can’t refuse.

But admission means she’ll have to leave. MIT is eight hours from New York, from Brooklyn, from home. A new life awaits her — discoveries, research, the chance to work with cutting-edge technologies, but also loneliness. She will be among others like her — future scientists, engineers, innovators. But her family will remain here…

Rogers’s fingers nervously run along the chain with the pendant — an old, familiar gesture that’s become almost subconscious. A butterfly carved from cold metal sways slightly in her hand. Avelina sighs heavily and clenches the medallion, trying to concentrate.

But a sharp pain slices her finger. She winces, gritting her teeth. Looking down, she sees a crimson drop of blood slowly running down her pale skin. Her pulse quickens. She lifts the pendant higher, inspecting it from all sides, but… nothing. No sharp edge, no burr, not even the slightest hint of something that could have cut her.

What the hell?

Avelina runs her finger across the pendant’s surface again. The cold metal — smooth, without a single rough spot. And yet, the fact remains: her finger is bleeding.

A quiet rustle comes from the depths of the hall. Rogers turns sharply, alert. The dark corners of the library remain still. Only the weak light of the lamp casts shadows on the walls. Perhaps a mouse ran between the shelves? Or the old building is creaking with age? She knows she could explain the sound rationally, but the unpleasant feeling does not go away.

For a moment, Avelina sits, listening to the ringing silence, as if trying to catch some hidden meaning in it. Then, taking a deep breath, she returns to the book. The lines blur before her eyes, her thoughts are tangled, and the strange incident with the pendant refuses to leave her mind.

But one thing she knows for sure: in this world, there are no coincidences. Even the smallest detail — an error in an equation, a barely noticeable shift in molecular structure, an unremarkable choice in everyday life — affects our future.***

Date: 1941. Winter, January.

Bucky steps cautiously onto the staircase, and the rickety wooden steps creak under his weight, as if in protest. The cold handrail under his palm is rough, the paint peeled off, exposing the gray wood carved by time. The Rogers' house is old. The walls have absorbed thousands of days and nights, soaked in laughter, screams, whispers, and their mother’s singing.

He remembers running here as a child with Steve, holding onto this same handrail, tripping over the same steps, now even more worn. Back then, the staircase seemed endless, and the house—though old—was a fortress, protected from the whole world. Now, any careless movement could bring about its final collapse.

The smell of warm dinner floats in the air, spicy, thick, as if covering the walls with a sticky film. Somewhere in the kitchen, the radio crackles softly—a melody plays, simple, tugging at the soul, with a lazy rhythm, reminding him of those summer evenings he spent in this house.

Bucky absentmindedly climbs a few more steps, about to call out for Avelina to hurry down. His thoughts scatter—how often does he spend the night here? Almost the whole week. Month after month, day after day. As if this old creaky Rogers house has already become his, too. He doesn’t think about it seriously until his gaze catches on a half-open door, and the world narrows to a thin gap from which light spills out.

Bucky freezes in front of it, while a stripe of soft yellow light from the room etches across his face, flickering on the edges of the window frames like melting wax. It spreads across the floor, touches the worn boards, slowly runs down the wooden panels, clings to the mirror in the corner, catching a reflection—a delicate silhouette of a girl. Avelina.

And Bucky forgets how to breathe for a second.

She stands with her back to him, swaying her hips slightly, as if lost in thought. Her light curls are tied with a ribbon, but a few strands have come loose and stuck to her neck, to her bare collarbones. A thin strap of her slip has slipped down, revealing the line of her shoulder, the sharp corner of her shoulder blade...

Bucky clings to the outline of her body—the garment traces every curve of her figure. The fabric clings to her skin, emphasizing the curves, hollows, and sharp angles, the slender waist, the arch of her lower back, the faint shadow of her spine, the protruding ribs, her hips—not plump, but rounded. The hem of the slip barely covers the most intimate parts. Avelina, a little thin, and because of that—delicate, fragile, like a ballerina figurine.

Her movements reveal displeasure—a barely noticeable curl of her lips, tension in her fingers, a sullen glance sliding over the reflection. But Bucky ignores it. Again, his gaze drops lower.

Her skin, where it’s visible, seems porcelain-like, as if made of sunlight, but her elbows, knees, and ankles are tinted with the hue of a warm sunrise on frosted glass. Avelina straightens her shoulders, and Bucky’s gaze once again catches on her shoulder blades—sharp, defined, like those of a sculpture.

And Bucky swallows. His throat tightens. When he inhales, the sweet scent of jasmine and powder stings his nostrils, the air catching somewhere in his chest.

He should leave. He must.

But he stays, unable to look away. Instead of turning and walking off, he watches as Avelina grips the fabric of her slip at the waist, pulling it tighter, inspecting her own body with a critical eye. She pulls harder, stretching it over all the things no one… No one should be looking at.

Completely unaware of his gaze. Of how Bucky clenches his fists, how his fingers ache from the tension.

The light glides across her skin, brushing against the birthmark under her left shoulder blade—pinkish, irregular in shape, resembling a heart, but elongated, smudged. Bucky had seen it before, briefly, when she was younger. Much younger. And then it didn’t matter. But now… It’s a reminder that the Avelina before him is still real. That her body is alive, warm. And he shouldn’t be looking at it, let alone dreaming of touching it.

Barnes exhales quietly. A knot twists inside him—something dark, unforgivable, and definitely indecent.

The stockings on her legs are slowly slipping down, and Bucky unconsciously clenches his jaw so tightly his teeth creak. His chest rises in a breath that’s too slow, too heavy. This is wrong. This is forbidden. This is… this is—

He can’t look away.

His gaze is glued to her legs, her thighs, her backside, to the way the fabric of her slip lifts with each movement. One more second—and he’ll cross a line that must not be crossed. If Avelina makes one more move, the line will be crossed. If he stays for one more second—he’ll do something he’ll hate himself for.

But he doesn’t leave. He can’t.

Low in his abdomen, near his groin—it pulls, painfully and hot. The taste of the forbidden spreads through his veins, sticky and sweet, aching, tightening his mind in a loop.

And Avelina stretches her arms upward, arching like a cat, and the slip barely covers her chest. Her face frowns in a faint, barely noticeable expression of displeasure—she studies her reflection as if it's a stranger’s body. But to Bucky, it’s perfect. Too enticing. And the stockings keep sliding down toward her ankles. One more movement—and Bucky knows he’s already close to the edge.

Barnes notices the tension in her shoulders, how the thin skin stretches over fragile bones, highlighting the almost painful ethereality of her figure.

Bucky likes Avelina as she is. All of her. Entirely.

Rogers reaches back, as if testing her reflection for strength, for harmony—but he sees in it something frighteningly intimate, private and…

“Leave!” he commands himself. But his legs won’t move. Everything inside him tightens to a single point. His pulse hammers in his temples, blood flows through his veins too thick, too hot.

This is wrong. Dangerous. He’s known her since she was eight. This is Avelina. The girl he used to tug by the ear when she hid his boots, who ran after him down the street with a silly grin, never falling behind…

He must leave. Now.

But the hem of the shirt finally jumps higher, sliding over the buttocks, lower back, and Bucky exhales completely. The smooth skin is exposed more and more, and just a little bit—the line of the underwear, a narrow waist, a flat stomach, a graceful dip of the navel. A soft yellow light slides over her body, accentuating all the lines. Avelina barely turns sideways. If she had torn her gaze away from her own reflection for even a second, she would have noticed him in the mirror.

Only she is too deeply lost in her own doubts and doesn’t see how Barnes' eyes darken, how his Adam's apple jerks when his gaze accidentally touches her chest. It restrains him, as if he's sinking in hot tar.

The thin, translucent fabric of the shirt almost reveals nothing, and Bucky could swear he sees not just the small hemispheres but also the areolas of her nipples... Heat pierces him through. There is a ringing in his ears, a dull pulse in his temples, and this rhythm reverberates through his body in a burning electric shock. He feels his heart wildly pounding in his chest, his breath faltering, his palms sweating, and his nails digging into his skin.

Bucky tries to look away. He has to look away. But he can’t.

His eyes greedily explore every inch of her skin. They follow every movement of hers. Bucky is enchanted by her...

It's pathetic. It's miserable.

He shouldn’t be looking, but his groin aches mercilessly...

Struggling to unclench his fingers, and remembering that he needs to breathe, Bucky steps back. He jerks away sharply, pressing his back against the cold wall of the corridor. He shuts his eyes, grinding his teeth, trying to drive away the image that has burned into his memory. A dull ache is pulling at him from below — hot, torturous, unbearable. And he feels nauseous. He curses himself for it. He curses his own thoughts. He curses himself for allowing himself to look. For wanting to see more and... Damn it, not just see.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not with him, and not with her. Not with Avelina. His heart pounds loudly in his throat, desperately, as if demanding air. It’s agonizing. It pulls him downward.

He shouldn’t have looked. He shouldn’t have, but...

He needs to leave. Right now. But his body doesn’t obey.

Bucky catches himself realizing he’s suffocating. It’s terrifying. Disgusting. But even scarier is that, in this moment, there’s something inevitable, something that with every next glance pulls him closer to the edge of the abyss.

Barnes lowers his eyes, gathering his thoughts. Inhale-exhale. Get a grip! Bucky raises his hand and knocks on the door. Once. Twice. With a bent finger — not too loudly, but enough to snap Rogers out of his reverie.

She flinches. He understands it from the barely audible rustle of fabric and swallows again, because it doesn’t matter whether his eyes are closed or not — before his inner gaze flashes: how her shirt jumps up again over her rounded hips, exposing too much. If Avelina had raised her arms a little higher, arched her back... He could have even remembered it...

"I’m not dressed!" — her voice is sharp, frightened.

Bucky slowly exhales, heavily. His head drops, his forehead pressing against the cold surface of the door. Rage churns in his chest, contempt for himself. Gods, how he wishes he could hit himself right now — with all his strength, right in the jaw, so that the heat would rush to the wound and burn his filthy thoughts to the ground.

"I know you’re not..." a barely audible, hoarse, ragged exhale slips from his lips.

And then in response to Avelina, he says hoarsely, soaked, and strangled, sending a shiver down younger Rogers’ spine:

"Dinner," he exhales. "Ready."

He has to clear his throat so as not to give himself away. His fists are trembling. He clenches his teeth, furrows his brows... but notices how traitorously the fabric pulls at the zipper of his pants. Damn it!***

Date: 1991.

The dim light trembles under dusty lamps, leaving ragged yellow streaks on the concrete walls, like dried bloodstains of a faded color. There are no windows here — only cold, oiled walls, soaked with the smell of sour chemicals, rotting flesh, and the iron taste of stale blood. The air is heavy, sticky, like an inseparable layer of dirt that has settled on the skin.

Inside, everything is burning. An invisible flame eats away at the nerves, burns the consciousness, and scorches the remnants of will. His head still cracks from the electric shocks — a dull pain digs into the bones, echoes in the skull, spreads through the body like a painful wave. Scarlet flashes pulse under his eyelids, and inside — there is emptiness, wrapped in a sticky smoke of his own brain’s burning scent.

Everything is familiar. Everything is as usual. Everything is unchanging.

Somewhere far away, beyond this cell, there is a world full of sunlight and fresh air. But here — it is eternal night. In this prison, there is no time, only endless cold, soaked with the iron smell of blood and rust. The air is thick, suffocating, and each breath seems to cling to the lungs, leaving a metallic taste. The dim light trembles under the ceiling, casting long, ugly shadows, and it seems that these shadows are the only witnesses to everything that happens. There is no beginning, no end — only pain, enveloping, slowly blurring the boundaries between reality and the program.

Inside him — silence. But not the kind that brings peace, but the kind that rings in the head like an echo of a distant scream that no one will hear. He knows that memory doesn’t completely disappear — it’s somewhere deep, behind layers of commands and codes. Sometimes, flashes appear in this emptiness: someone’s laughter, sunlight, the warmth of another’s hand. But every time this happens, the pain returns stronger, not letting him hold even the tiniest shards of himself.

The cold here is special. It clings, penetrates under the uniform, gnaws into the bones, spreads inside like black mold. The sounds are muffled, distorted. Somewhere behind closed doors, instruments tick evenly, footsteps creak, and a quiet, dull cry is heard. Someone is sobbing — suppressed, as if they understand that tears will only make things worse, but for some reason, they can’t stop suffering.

From this sound, Activ thinks of breaking someone’s neck and, if not the guards, then himself.

Activ sits, head lowered. His hair clings to the damp sweat on his forehead, hiding his eyes. But he sees. He feels. He watches. Every movement. His muscles remain still, but inside — inside is horror, freezing, numbing, aching like phantom pain. But now, a burning pulse in his temples adds to it. The system has been rebooted, but there’s a glitch in its operation — something clings to his consciousness, not letting him fully plunge into the emptiness.Click.

A dull squeak of the door behind.

Before, there was another sound — sharp, dry, creeping under the skin. The smell of burned flesh, like on that operating table. They shocked him, again and again, until he forgot who he was. Until the world became just a gray spot, full of foreign voices and agony. Only the smell of burned meat let him know he was still alive.

"Soldier," the voice slides like a knife along a raw nerve, even, measured, but with a hint of something maliciously self-satisfied. The Curator enters slowly, step by step. He moves like a snake, lazily and dangerously, as if stretching the pleasure before making the bite.

Activ doesn’t move, but he feels him. He knows what’s coming. Something inside contracts. What remains — is instinct. The reaction of a cornered animal, who knows: any disobedience will be punished. And yet deep inside, something else smolders — a barely perceptible resistance, a tiny crack in the perfect program. He shouldn’t feel. But he does.

The man wears a perfectly fitting suit, impeccably pressed. He enjoys this. He examines Activ, studying him like a collector examining a rare exhibit, a trained beast who doesn’t know that his freedom is always an illusion.

Man is pitiful in his knowledge and desire for independence. Humanity is an organism, and it must be carefully managed — otherwise, everything will collapse.

The Curator stops in front. He dives his hand into the inner pocket of his jacket.

A folder. Click. The paper lies on the table.

A photograph. Activ recognizes the man in it instantly — Howard Stark.Pause.

A click inside his skull. Blurry, rusty, but tangible. He remembers. It’s like a feeling — causing a barely perceptible burn, like a phantom noise at the back of the brain, from which there’s no escape. He didn’t remember him until they showed him.

"Do you recognize him?" the Curator knows the answer. He doesn’t even need a voice. He sees the slightest reactions, tiny glitches in the program. "Of course, you do."

Pause. Activ doesn’t respond. But inside, something shifts.

A new photo. A woman. An older woman. Gray strands, wrinkles on her face. But she looks… happy? Her eyes are full of life. Warmth, light, something indefinably real.Click.

The Curator leans forward slightly. His voice becomes lazy, almost bored:

"There are changes in the mission. With Stark, it will be his wife, Maria." Pierce shakes his head, smirking. "You know what to do, right?"

The Curator turns the page with a new photo.

"You have a privilege," the man continues, crossing his arms over his chest, as if in mockery. "Not everyone can leave their mark on history. But you..." he leans even lower, looking into the Asset's eyes, stretching the word louder. "You're changing it." I'm rewriting everything as it should be. Shouldn't that make you proud of yourself?"Click.

Something stirs in his head.

"No witnesses," the Curator says this not as an order, but as a reminder. A simple, understandable truth.She’s not the target.She mustn’t be.She is not guilty.

"The road is slippery, the night is dark. An accident. Shoot the tire, or better yet, break the glass. The important thing is to make it look clean. Everything, as usual, Soldier."

He has no choice. Activ doesn’t choose. The metal of his fingers creaks barely perceptibly. Somewhere deep, in the place that should have been his mind, something tiny cracks. Insignificant. He has never had a choice. He has never had his own desires. He has never had the ability to act as he wants…Maria Stark — is not the target.She’s a random factor.She’s not guilty.But the order…

His brain struggles to process the words, but the program — precise, relentless — digs in, erasing doubts. He’s been taught that choice is an illusion. He is a tool, a weapon, devoid of will. But every time the task concerns not just objectives, but people, innocent victims, something breaks inside over and over again. His own scream is an echo. He doesn’t know why this order causes a tremor in his fingers.

But he will carry it out. He will kill Maria Stark."No witnesses."

The program glitches. For a split second. But the Curator notices. He smirks crookedly, predatorily, like a snake slipping under the skin.

"You look… concerned," the mockery burns under the skin, leaving poison in the blood. "Does this cause you doubts, Soldier?"

Pause.

Pierce waits. Presses with his gaze. Presses with his presence. But Activ remains silent. Silent, his eyes darting from side to side.Are you afraid? You should be afraid.

The Curator smiles wider:

"The most important thing," his voice becomes even more even, dry, emotionless, "is the serum. Stark has samples. The latest developments. We need this formula. You need to get it. Everything else is just territory cleanup."

Cleanup. The word settles somewhere deep in the retina.Do you remember? We will fix it.

The woman… The system reboots.

Something pulses deep inside the skull. Dull, but persistent. As if the remnants of the electric shock still wander through the nerve endings.

The Curator leans forward again, looking directly into Activ’s eyes. Thin lips move, driving the last nail into the coffin lid:

"What’s your plan, Soldier?"Click.

The program is activated.

The road is slippery. A shot to the tire. The car loses control. A flip. A crash into the glass. Howard loses control. The car skids.

If Stark is alive — finish him off on the spot.

The woman… Maria Stark."No witnesses."

The gears slow down.

The serum.

Get the super-soldier serum.

His head again splits with pain. Something suffocates inside, barely noticeable, but dying slowly...

"The mission will be completed," his voice is even, empty, dead.

Pierce smirks.

"Good, Soldier." His palm rests on Activ's shoulder. A light, almost friendly gesture. Metal creaks faintly.

There are no foreign voices in his head anymore. Only death.

He will carry out the mission unquestioningly. That’s what he was created for. That’s what he was born for.***

Date: 1941. Winter, January.

The train howls long and drawn out. Its sound is long, harsh, like a scream or a wail. The air on the platform is dense, heavy, mingled with coal soot, the cold breath of winter, and something elusive and bitter—the smell of farewells. Snow, once soft and clean, has turned into a dirty mixture of ice and soot beneath hundreds of feet, sticky, clinging, like regrets that follow those departing.

Between the light posts slicing through the dark mist, shadows of people flicker—hurrying, bidding farewell, silently waiting. Someone quietly whispers a prayer, someone hides trembling fingers in mittens, and someone simply stands, weak and speechless, watching the carriages, as if hoping the train might change its mind and not leave.

People bustle back and forth, dropping suitcases, belatedly embracing, laughing—but the laughter is fragile, brittle, strained, like a shard of ice before it cracks. Someone hides their tears, turning away, someone clings to a precious person until the last moment, as if hoping to hold them with their fingers.

Avelina stands by the carriage. In her palm is a crumpled ticket to Cambridge. Her fingers clench it until her knuckles turn white—she holds onto it like a last support. The paper burns in her hand, searing from within. She could tear this ticket. Just squeeze it tighter, and the thin paper would rip. And then she wouldn't have to leave, wouldn't have to take that step into the unknown. But that would only be a postponement, not a solution.

Avelina looks at the city, at the gray rooftops, at the snow-covered streets, at the faces of people who have become her family. She is leaving all of this behind. Her heart beats a dull, slowed rhythm, as if already sinking into the emptiness of parting…

She never thought she would leave New York for such a long time. Years of study at MIT lie ahead. And only in the spring, perhaps, will she manage to return, if only for a short while... Her home—will remain behind. Even the beloved library at Northfield Institute, the smell of its old books, and the quiet hours between the shelves. All of this will become nothing but wistful memories.

Stevie stands a little to the side, wrapped in a warm scarf, his hands in his pockets. He hardly speaks, but Avelina sees how tensely he grits his teeth, as if afraid to say something that would make her change her mind.

"I... I still have to ask. Are you sure, Avelina?" His voice is soft, almost pleading, not wanting to sound weak, but still betraying anxiety.

Avelina swallows, feeling the lump of tears rise in her throat. She nods.

"Yes. But that doesn’t mean I’m not scared."

"You’ll manage," her brother insists, though doubt reflects in his eyes. Or maybe, he doesn’t want to believe she’s really leaving. "Just... Just be careful."

Avelina nods, and suddenly, unable to hold back, she throws herself into his arms, and he holds her so tightly that for a moment, it’s hard to breathe. His fingers seem to dig into her shoulders, trying to remember, hold on, not let go. He exhales, then shudders, and it hurts even more. Stevie holds her tighter, as if afraid that if he lets go—he’ll never see her again.

As though she will never return.

The warmth of his embrace offers some comfort, but inside, something still tears. Avelina feels his fingers twist for a moment, then release. Stevie steps back, unable to look her in the eye.

Then Dolores comes closer, wrapped in a warm woolen coat. Her usually carefree face now looks bewildered. When Avelina turns to her, she sees the tears shining on her cheeks.

"You’ll come back, right?" Her voice trembles. Dolores tries to smile, but the smile comes out painfully, like a wound that hasn’t been allowed to heal.

And Avelina sighs hoarsely, squeezing the strap of her bag tighter. They weren’t close friends... or at least, that’s what she thought. But now, looking at the tear-streaked face of the girl in front of her, she understands: Dolores is also a part of her life. In some way, important, significant. Even though sometimes Rogers envied her, even though her ease and femininity sometimes annoyed her, but now...

Now, it doesn’t matter.

"Of course," Avelina tries to say it confidently, but it comes out too muffled. Dolores hugs her suddenly, desperately, and Avelina feels their shoulders shake in rhythm, as Dolores clings to her, afraid to release her grip.

What did she do to deserve this?

Tears begin to fall down her cheeks, and Rogers no longer tries to hide them. There are few people in her life who truly love her, and those who do... too often leave and never return.

And then—him.

Finally, it’s Bucky’s turn. He stands a little apart. Snow falls in a thin layer on his coat, and he doesn’t brush it off, as if he doesn’t even notice. His face is almost calm, but in his eyes... In his eyes, something bottomless, burning, lies hidden, something he will never say. Something he won’t admit to anyone.

Farewell. Pain. Helplessness.

Bucky never imagined that the "persistent nonsense"—as he had called it in childhood, would someday be so far away that he wouldn’t be able to care for her at any moment she needed him. He wouldn’t be able to help, protect, keep her safe…

Now, to see her, he will need to spend a whole ten hours of travel one way, and to return to New York—another ten hours. Avelina had never been so far from him. And if only a few weeks ago, he could reject the fact of the impending separation, now he feels it fully.

Avelina takes a step, hesitant, but Bucky takes it first. And embraces her. Suddenly. Too tightly, so that she gasps for air. Not just an embrace—it’s desperation, hopelessness, an attempt to say without words: "Stay. Please." Avelina feels his fingers digging into her coat, squeezing at the back of her neck, tangling in her hair. He doesn’t want to let go. He can’t let her go.

And Avelina feels how his fingers tremble. Barely noticeable, but still trembling. If she were braver, she would tell him she doesn’t want to leave either. That every movement toward the train is a betrayal. But the words won’t come. All that remains is a few moments, in which she tries to remember the warmth of his hands and the thumping of his heart, pressed to her temple.

The embrace is such that her bones creak. Her body aches, it’s hard to breathe. For a moment, Bucky squeezes her even tighter, and Avelina wants him to press her deeper into his body, to never part from him, to always be by his side. To become one with him…

But with the next breath—Bucky lets her go.

"Don’t forget us, okay?" His voice sounds muffled, hoarse, painful. Bucky, if he were a little braver, if he could be honest with himself, would say: Don’t forget me, okay? Don’t leave, don’t abandon, don’t go, please…

Avelina clenches her jaw to keep from bursting into tears right on his shoulder. She doesn’t want to leave, but she knows she must.

"Never," she whispers, gripping him a little tighter. Their fingers intertwine, palms pressed together in the tightest grip: Please don’t leave…

But this is her future. Her life. And she can’t be tied to Bucky, like a keychain on a ring—forever. There will come a time, and they will drift apart. And by then, Avelina doesn’t want to be completely crippled by her feelings and helplessness. Love will always lurk in her heart. But she must think with her head.

The embrace ends too quickly, and now the conductor announces boarding. Avelina looks back one last time at her family—the soft lines of Stevie’s face, Dolores��s sparkling tears, the shadow of pain in Bucky’s eyes. She wants to hold onto this moment, preserve it in her memory, like an old photograph that can be taken out on cold nights of loneliness. But the train does not wait, time does not wait. It pulls her forward, like a tide washing away traces in the sand.

Stevie—tense but smiling through the pain. Dolores—wiping away tears but trying to look cheerful. Her smile is sincere, despite everything. And Bucky… Bucky—with that unreadable expression in his eyes, as if he wants to say something more, but it’s already too late. If he starts, she’ll miss the boarding, and the train will leave. And he can’t do that to her.

Avelina climbs the steps into the carriage, shivering as she grips the handle of her travel bag, in which she managed to fit eighteen years of her life. The train jolts, slowly gaining speed. Through the window, she sees her family left behind. With every new meter that separates her from the platform, it becomes harder to breathe. As if something inside is tearing, like invisible threads that bound her to home, snapping one after the other.

She knew this moment would come, she prepared for it, but only now has she fully realized its inevitability. Time moves in only one direction. And she—she is heading into the unknown, to a new beginning, to a new life…

English is not my native language! Maybe there are a lot of mistakes. ♡♡♡

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[justjams2003]

Between Two Gods: 2-Caving in

I’m on a roll;)

Paring: Alpha!Thor Odinson x Omega!Reader x Alpha!Clark Kent

Summary: You finally cave in and decide to have pups

Warnings: Mostly just fluff, a very small bit of angst and talk about sexual themes. A/B/O

Word Count: 1,3k

You grunt, annoyed with the lack of pillows you seem to normally have on your bed. You came home after a long hard day, everything you’d been working on at work seemed to just be falling apart. You placed one simple task in the arms of a new intern and somehow, he managed to fuck it up entirely.  

He deleted one of your most important files on your computer, ‘by accident’ he claimed. You have the suspicion that he was a bit salty about working for a girl, or rather a girl omega. Wanting you to get fired so that he can take your job. To be honest you are thinking about it.  

Yes, you’ve always been hardworking and independent. You didn’t come from much and didn’t mind it either. Though you worked yourself to the bone, who said you enjoyed it? No, you did this all to ensure a good future for yourself. That was of course, assuming you would never find your mate.  

But you did, you found not one but two mates. Not any two mates either, two gods. One, a prince of not only the realm you live in but eight others. The second, a worldwide known journalist. Both superheroes with billionaires behind them, money was no problem.  

They made that quite well-known too.  One of them would leave their card at home, usually Thor since he’s not usually on earth during the day. Clark’s been ready for pups since the day he met you, even more so when you two met Thor. His presence made Clark itch to impregnate you with his Alpha. To raise pups with his Alpha and his Omega. It wasn’t much different for Thor.  

You, however, stayed strong that you love your job. That it is your life, that you couldn’t possibly just give everything up for pups. That you’ve work so hard to get where you are now and aren’t ready to be a mom yet. But to be honest, you’re lying to yourself. They’ve been trying to convince you of pups and you’ve kept on refusing.  

Now, though, you’re caving. And there not even here to see it! You stand up, grabbing all the pillows Clark had bought, for your heat, and throw it all on the bed. You’re not in your heat, it ended more than a week ago. They tend to be short due to the fact of the pure strength of your Alpha’s.

No, you need to nest. No, you need Clark and Thor to be here and surround you with their smell. To hold you and swear that they’ll make that stupid Beta pay. But you came home early after that experience, and they tend to work late. All you have is their clothes and their pillows, even their spare capes surround you in the bed.  

You’re bundled up and just sigh. Your walls are falling, and you miss your roots. The small, secluded town where everyone knows everyone. They were all rooting for you, and it broke your heart when your only parent passed. You haven’t seen your brothers in years, and you miss it. This big city isn’t for you.  

Clark would talk all the time of his childhood on the farm, the woods nearby his house and the community he was raised in. Thor too would tell of his glorious tales of playing in the woods by his castle, with his brother. You want that, you want many pups with a huge yard and woods and farms to play on and grow up in.  

You’re so engrossed in these fantasies of far away and being in and out of sleep that you don’t even hear Superman enter your apartment. You do notice when you feel his weight on you. When he you feel him wrap his heavy arms and legs around your body. He lays in silence, feeling the wave of confusing emotions coming from you.  

And when Thor comes home, he does the same as his Alpha. Finally, you’re surrounded by them and only them. “My princes, what’s the matter?” He asks, his voice much softer than usual. His nose buried deep in your neck with Clark on the other side.  

You fight against the sobs. “I want to move.” Your words lack to hold the pure number of emotions or true intentions. Clark and Thor give each other a look, both of their brows furrowed. “Of course, my love. Where to?” Clark replies, wanting to do anything to keep your tears from falling. It fails, dramatically, you’re not even sure why you’re so emotional.  

The lie you’ve been telling yourself is finally caving in. The boys, however, just didn’t know it would lead to such tears. “No, you don’t get it!” You bite your lip, trying to get to hold back your cries. Thor’s omega is breaking down and he decides to take over.  

He sits up straight and pulls you into his lap. “We can tell our princess is upset but we can’t do anything about us until you tell us what’s wrong. That means no yelling, omega.” There is the slightest tone of his Alpha voice, and it has you calmed down just as quick.  

Clark wipes off your tears and peppers kisses all over. “I want pups.” The words spew from your mouth and just as quick you’re surrounded by them again. They’re both ecstatic, a shit-eating grin on both of their faces. Their lips meet your body everywhere, but you’re quick to stop it.  

“But, I’m so scared,” again the tears form in your eyes. Clark wraps his arms around your waist and you lean your back into him. “Whatever for?” The Kryptonian questions, his neck deep into his mark on your neck. “We promise to be careful~” Thor finishes his mate’s sentence. Again, you shake your head, your omega instincts taking over and wanting to get to knotting as soon as possible.

“Everything is going to change. I don’t know where were going to raise them, because they might just be the new generation of Kryptonians but they might also be the new royalty of Asgard. I haven’t even met Odin. Not to mention, you both are huge! Clark, your mother told me you were 10 pounds when they found you, how is that going to fit out of me? And you Thor, I can only imagine!”  

They can tell the anxiety is flowing out of you. Thor lets out one of his iconic laughs, which forces you to freeze. “This is no laughing matter.” You cross your arms and pout. “We will have the best healers in Asgard. The pups will spend their vacations on Asgard, and they can choose who they want to be. Of course, we will have to have pups until one of them wants to be heir.” Thor mutters the last bit to himself.  

“Our Alpha is right; we will do everything to make sure you are safe.” Clark clarifies Thor’s rambles a bit easier for your tired brain to understand. A sigh of relief comes over you, and you nod. Realising that you don’t need to worry about yourself anymore. That your mates will take care of you.  

“Do you feel better?” Clark asks, hearing your heartbeat calm down. “Much. I don’t want to work anymore, I’m sick of it.” You sigh, placing your head on Thor’s shoulder. “Good, why don’t we get to work then.” He winks to Clark while placing you down on your back on the bed.  

You giggle at his words. “Thor, I need to be in heat for it to work.” He chuckles at your reply. “You’re stuck between two gods, my love. I’m sure something will stick.”  

[duhragonball]

Dragon Ball Super Manga ch.97-99

Cell Max is running wild, but don't worry, because Goten and Trunks are here to pad the story give Piccolo and Gohan a breather.

To be fair, the boys do a little better once they turn Super Saiyan, which kind of begs the question of why they didn't just turn Super Saiyan from the start. This page's sole purpose is to have the Gammas notice their "resemblance" to Saiyaman X-1 and X-2. This would be annoying enough even if they did look alike, but they don't. Look at them! Trunks and Goten have tights and some sort of Stormtrooper midriff thing going on. The Gammas are wearing jodhpurs and bellhop jackets. And Goten and Trunks' color schemes are clearly reversed from one to the other. The Gammas match perfectly except for their red and blue capes.

The only real similarities here are the numbers on their costumes, and the fact that there are two of them. Oh, and Gamma 1 has a red cape, and Goten has a red cape. Eerie! What are the odds of two superheroes having red capes? You almost never see that. I mean, there's Superman, Thor, Great Saiyaman, Dr. Strange, Spawn, Great Saiyaman 2, the Scarlet Witch, Supergirl, Great Saiyaman 3, Power Girl, Steel, but other than those characters, I can't think of anyone else!

Then they all pose together and attack Cell Max in concert. It looks impressive, but their quadruple-team fails to do any damage. The Gammas acknowledge that Cell Max is still getting used to moving around in his body, so he's not fighting as effectively as he will be later in the story. So that's why Goten and Trunks can do this well without actually hurting their opponent. And that's fair.

What doesn't make a lot of sense is the Gammas' role in this part of the battle. Of everyone involved in this battle, they alone understand the danger Cell Max poses to the world, because Dr. Hedo told them about Max's powers. That's why they went in first when Cell Max first emerged. They knew they had to shut him down as quickly as possible. And they're not rusty like Goten and Trunks, or unfamiliar with their bodies like Cell Max. If there's a window of opportunity here for Goten and Trunks to fight Cell Max without looking outclassed, then you'd think the Gammas would use this chance to target Max's head and finish him off.

Of course, they can't actually do that, since that's not what happened in the movie, but that's the problem I have with all of this. Toyotaro keeps shoehorning Goten and Trunks into this story, and their scenes tend to interfere with the plot instead of adding to it. The Gammas have a cool gimmick and aesthetic with the super hero thing. It works. They don't need two more characters aping that look right beside them. At best it's redundant, and at worst it just cramps their style. It'd be like if Frieza had a teen sidekick following him around repeating everything he says. It would kill his whole vibe.

Okay, so once Goten and Trunks fuse into Gotenks, the battle plays out mostly like it did in the movie, but there's one part that got changed up and it caused some controversy in the fandom. Remember how Pan almost got killed, and Krillin called out to her and told her to fly, and then she managed to fly for the first time?

So in the manga, Pan has the same moment, except she doesn't take flight. Instead...

In this version, Krillin just flies over and grabs her. And that makes sense. Why would he just assume she can fly on her own? Why not just zip over and get her? However, this kills the character arc Pan had in the movie. She started the film wishing she could do more advanced training, but Piccolo won't let her because she can't fly yet. Then in this scene, she does fly, and when the movie ends she shows Piccolo and he proudly agrees to start giving her the advanced lessons.

Fans didn't like this version, because Toyotaro appeared to be saying "no" to something the fans enjoyed in the movie. Krillin doesn't need a hero moment in this scene because he gets a couple of hero moments when he helps fight Cell Max. He saves 18 and distracts Cell Max with a solar flare. Krillin's fine. So it sure looks like Toyotaro just scrapped Pan's big moment for no discernible reason. This happened in Chapter 97.

Hey, check out this cool shot of Orange Piccolo fighting Cell Max.

Right, back to what I was saying.

So in Chapter 98, Toyotaro redeems himself by having Pan fly for the first time, just in a later part of the battle. When Big Orange Piccolo gives the last senzu bean to Gohan in the movie, Gohan just eats it and that's it. But in the manga, Cell Max attacks Piccolo and knocks it out of his hand. No one can catch it, until Pan goes after it and follows it over a ledge. Gohan's worried, but then it turns out she can fly now so she was never in danger, and she gets to help him this way.

Is it better than the movie? I can see a case for this version, but one thing that bugs me is that it seems a bit contrived for Pan to notice the senzu bean and be able to follow it through the air the way she did. I believe she could and would catch it for her dad. That's fine. But I'm not sure she would understand the need from where she was sitting in Bulma's aircraft.

For that matter, I don't know that it makes sense for Pan to understand what a senzu bean is, or why Gohan would need one so badly. Someone might have explained it to her at some point, but Pan's only three years old. I wouldn't expect her to know everything about everything.

Anyway, it goes to show how much can change from one chapter to another. People were mad about Chapter 97, but only because they didn't have 98 right there in front of them to show them it wasn't that big a deal. This is one major reason why I don't like to read the manga as it publishes.

From here, well, I think I'm just down to cool shots of the fight with Cell Max.

I don't think much is different here, but the art is cool, and this is one of my favorite parts of the movie.

I think this is a manga-only bit. Cell Max works over Piccolo with ki blasts, and it looks like Piccolo blows up, which triggers Gohan's Beast form, but then later it turns out Gamma 1 was protecting Piccolo with his force field, which allowed him to withstand the blast.

Also, when Cell Max tries to use his wings to escape the attack Gohan has planned, Toyotaro has Gamma 1, Krillin, and 18 cut off his wings. Not sure we needed this, but sure, it gives those characters one more chance to shine.

And then Piccolo holds Cell Max down and pleads with Gohan to take the shot, and that's the end of chapter 99.

And that gets me all caught up. Now I just have to wait for Chapter 100, which is supposed to drop on December 20. Hopefully, it'll wrap up the Super Hero adaptation, but I wouldn't put it past Toyotaro to drag this thing out another three chapters with some sort of press conference featuring Sergeant Nutz, Saiyaman X-1 and X-2, and Cleangod.

There's been talk of a big surprise twist or something in chapter 100, but I'm not holding my breath. Usually when this franchise has a big announcement, it's about the date for some actual announcement later, and that announcement usually turns out to be something the fans kind of already heard about anyway. "Yes, we will be releasing a Chapter 101" is the sort of thing I would expect them to "announce" in chapter 100.

It would be cool if Chapter 100 ended with Black Frieza showing up and killing Vegeta or something major like that. Or, I don't know, maybe Goten and Trunks turn evil. Those would be shocking developments, but I doubt this manga would go that far. We'll just have to see...

[mintyys-blog]

THOR ODISON — EXPERIMENT GONE WRONG?

WARNINGS: monster death.

The storm had come without warning. One moment, the sky was a peaceful shade of blue, and the next, dark clouds rolled in like an angry tide, swallowing the sun whole. You stood by your window, watching the chaos unfold as the wind howled through the trees, bending them at impossible angles.

Lightning split the sky, illuminating the street outside in a brilliant flash. Then came the thunder—loud enough to shake the ground beneath your feet.

You held your breath.

Something wasn’t right.

Storms were common in your town, but this one felt… unnatural. It had an energy to it, an electric charge in the air that made your skin tingle. Your instincts as a scientist kicked in, pushing aside the unease settling in your gut.

You grabbed your equipment—a portable energy reader and a notepad—and hurried outside.

The streets were empty, save for the damage left behind. Fallen branches, overturned trash cans, and a few flickering streetlights. The air smelled like ozone, sharp and crisp, and the hairs on your arms stood on end.

Your device beeped.

An unusual energy signature.

You frowned, adjusting the settings to get a clearer reading. The signal was strongest near the old park at the edge of town. Your curiosity got the best of you, and you made your way toward it.

As you approached, a figure stood amidst the wreckage.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Long golden hair that looked impossibly perfect despite the storm. A red cape billowing behind him.

You froze.

There was no mistaking him.

Thor.

The literal god of thunder.

And he was looking right at you.

“Are you harmed, m’Lady?”

His voice was deep, rich like rolling thunder. It sent a shiver down your spine, though you weren’t sure if it was from the lingering electricity in the air or the man himself.

“I… uh, no. I’m fine,” you managed to say. “What are you doing here?”

He tilted his head, regarding you with curiosity. “This storm was not of my making. I came to investigate.” His sharp blue eyes flickered to the device in your hands. “And what, pray tell, are you searching for?”

You hesitated. Would he even understand your work?

“I study cosmic energy anomalies,” you explained, choosing your words carefully. “This storm left behind a strange signature, something I’ve never seen before.”

Thor’s expression turned serious. “You are perceptive. There was an unusual disturbance—one that I suspect was not natural.”

Your heart raced.

You weren’t just imagining things.

“What do you think caused it?”

“I do not know,” he admitted. “But I intend to find out.”

You glanced at your readings again. The energy signature was still fluctuating, unstable. Whatever had caused the storm wasn’t gone yet.

“Then let me help,” you said before you could think better of it.

Thor studied you for a moment, then… he smiled.

“A brave offer.”

You weren’t sure if it was bravery or recklessness, but there was no turning back now.

Your investigation led you deeper into the woods. The energy trail pulsed like a heartbeat, guiding you forward.

Thor walked beside you, his presence impossibly steady. You had read about him, of course—seen him in the news, watched shaky phone footage of his battles. But nothing prepared you for being near him.

He radiated power.

Not just in the way he carried himself, but in the storm lingering in the air around him. The crackle of static, the scent of rain. It was intoxicating.

“I do not often meet mortals who seek the unknown so boldly,” Thor remarked as you examined another energy reading.

You glanced at him. “Science is about asking questions, even the ones that might be dangerous.”

He chuckled. “A noble pursuit.”

The moment of levity was short-lived.

The ground trembled.

Then—out of nowhere—a burst of fire erupted from the clearing ahead.

You stumbled back as a figure emerged from the flames.

A being of pure energy, shifting between solid and smoke. Its eyes burned like embers.

Thor stepped protectively in front of you, Mjolnir appearing in his grip.

“Stay behind me,” he commanded.

You barely had time to protest before the creature lunged.

Thor met it head-on, hammer colliding with fire in an explosion of light. The force sent you sprawling, your device flying from your hands.

You scrambled for cover, heart pounding as you watched Thor fight. He moved like a force of nature, each strike precise, each movement filled with divine strength.

But the creature wasn’t weakening.

If anything, it was getting stronger.

Your mind raced. If this thing was made of energy, maybe…

You grabbed your device, adjusting the settings. If you could disrupt its frequency—

Thor grunted as the creature landed a hit, sending him skidding backward.

Now or never.

You activated the device, sending out a pulse of counter-energy.

The creature shrieked, flickering violently.

Thor took his chance.

With a mighty swing, he brought Mjolnir down, shattering the creature into nothingness.

Silence fell over the clearing.

Then Thor turned to you, his gaze intense.

“You are remarkable,” he said, breathless.

You swallowed hard. “So are you.”

The battle was over, but the energy signature remained. Thor insisted on staying, keeping watch in case another creature appeared.

That meant you were stuck with him.

Not that you minded.

As the night deepened, you found yourself talking.

About science. About Asgard. About the weight of responsibility.

And somewhere between shared stories and stolen glances, you felt something shift.

A spark.

It terrified you.

And thrilled you.

Thor must have felt it too because when you shivered from the cold, he draped his cape over your shoulders without a word.

Warm. Comforting. Smelling of rain and lightning.

“I could stay,” he murmured, voice softer than you expected. “If you wished it.”

Your heart pounded.

“You’re a god,” you whispered. “And I’m just—”

He lifted your chin, tilting your face toward his.

“You are extraordinary.”

The storm had passed.

But in Thor’s eyes, you saw a different kind of electricity.

One that had nothing to do with lightning.

And everything to do with you.

[lokisbiiiitch1993]

a Halloween Party at the Avengers Compound

Loki x Reader

Summary: Loki doesn't want to go - you show him 3 different Costumes

Friends to Lovers fluff

Walking through the Compound you were amazed by all the Halloween Decorations ,there are soo many - impressive

Only three hours till the party starts , excited you went with a few Bags in your Hand to your Best Friend Loki to see what he is doing.

You knocked - "Lokiiiii it's me "

"Come in" - he answered opening the Door

"I am not going to Stark's Costume Party " Loki blurted

"Alright as I expected,at least tell me what you think about the Costumes I bought" you responded a bit disappointed

"Sure , Darling "

"Well then Mischief,turn around or close your eyes ,I am trying on my first Costume .... i bought three" -you grinned

"Alright ''he rolled his Eyes

"ok , you can look what do you say ?"

"What is that supposed to represent?"Loki asked confused

" I am a Witch" you answered

"I know many Witches but they are not dressed like that and the Skirt is too short and your....No .. I don't like this" he replied

Ok ..ok.. i will change to the next one

"I am ready ,look "

"It's too revealing .... I only like the Horns " Loki said not understanding why you would want to even wear something like that for everyone to see

"Well .. I already knew you wouldn't like the first two Outfits for the Party but I wanted to see your Reactions" - you admitted laughing

"I will show you now my last Outfit.It's also my favourite" you told Loki excited

"what do you think ?"

"You are dressed as Me ? " he asked

" Yesss, how do you like the Cape and the Horns ?? I think the Leather Pants are my favorite" you were happy with the commissioned Outfit

Loki smiles " Darling,that's my favorite, you look Perfect" he compliments

"Well... I can't decide if I want to be You or be with You" - you tried to be funny

*No Reaction from him*

Suddenly you felt kinda disappointed, you gave Loki so many hints that you like him and thought he might like you too .

"Ok ...the Party starts soon ...I will go .. Can't wait to see Thor's Reaction to my Outfit "you said trying to sound thrilled - turning away from him

Hearing his Brothers name from your Lips was like a rude wake up - feeling a pang of jealousy he grabbed your Arm and turned you around to look at him . You only need to see him not his Brother or anyone else .

Darling,stay with me

You mean everything to me ,I love you - he confessed

I love you too - you smiled happily

My Masterlist

[mcubuckyxlokisbitch]

Out of all the Time Lines Chpt1: Avengers I need your help

Short Series !

Female Asgardian reader (now avenger) X TVA Loki

MASTER LIST

Summary: After your Lokis death and have moved on and joined the Avengers. After the aftermath of Endgame you and the other remaining Avengers all seek shelter in the new Avengers Warehouse Pepper Potts bought as a temporary replacement while the Avengers mansion is being renovated. What happened after a very tired mission. Well, you're speechless, to say the least.

---------------------------------------------------

You entered the living room with the rest of the team all covered in dust, scratches and tired faces. All of you just saved another casual disaster but the aftermath was the annoying part, burning buildings, hurt people, without Tony stark it meant the clean up crew for the Avengers were the Avengers.

"Alright, what movie and what restaurant shall we engage in tonight." You say as you use your magic to teleport your sword to your room and grab the telephone on the coffee table, plopping on the couch.

"I don't know, but I am in the mood for some Mexican food," Sam said walking in and taking off his goggles.

"Yeah no we just had Mexican yesterday Sam there is no way I am eating another burrito, enchiladas, or taco for the 5th time this week." Bucky shouted as he stretched out on the loveseat next to the couch.

Scott, Thor, Wanda, Peter, Kate and Yelena walked in as they made their way to the kitchen and the living room to relax after a long day.

"Well I for one could actually go for some Phò." Wanda said while grabbing a glass of water. "Yes that actually sounds nice," you replied.

"Second it." Bucky Raised his hand and passed out on the loveseat.

"I will fiest on any of your choosing," Thor said while taking off his cape to wipe off the gunk from storm breaker.

"Phò sounds wonderful. Just make sure I get one of those spring roles. Oh and don't forget were running out of chilli sauce." Yelena shouted from the fridge.

"I just restocked." Scott threw his arms and groaned. "hah." Yelena mocked.

Peter took off his mask and rubbed his forehead combing his hair back, he had the worst migraine ever. Was this a spider sense? Why is it worse than ever?

You shouted for his attention, "Peter man of the hour, Mexican or Phò." Peter didn't answer, he was trying to hold himself on the table trying to compile himself.

"Peter?" You looked towards him. You started to get worried and walked towards him. "Peter. Did you hear me, Phò or Mexican?"

Peter looked at you and fell on his butt.

"Look kid we all are tired but at least try to make it to the couch I ain't carrying you." Same teased.

"Peter are you alright," Wanda said with a concerned face rushing towards him.

"Just tired... crazy migraine, feels like a spider sense but not ...it's the worst I've had." Peter looked at the concerned faces towards him, while he found support from your hand "Probably just tired." he chuckled.

"Well Phò it is, maybe next time Sam." You shook the phone and gave it to Scott to take the orders because he knew the team lie the back of his hand.

"Peter do you require help to get on the couch." You brought Peter back up as he tried to make his way onto the kitchen island.

"I'm fine just need water and a good meal. Imma lay by here." He groaned and slipped onto the table face on the surface.

You went to the sink to pour him a glass of water. Placed it on the counter making sure he drank every drop.

You grabbed a popcorn pack from a top shelf and brought it to the microwave as you set the time. You looked back at Peter who was getting a second refill.

You crossed your arms as you leaned back on the wall waiting for the timer on the microwave to go off. You closed you eyes resting your head as you looked up the ceiling.

"Teya what movie...Not silence of the lambs"

"Action or Comedy, Sam I don't mind..." You sighed not opening your eyes taking some shut eye before the alarm in the warehouse blares for the next emergency.

"Cassie said Gnomeo and Juliet was nice," Scott said looking through his phone.

"Bucky is scared of the Frog." You chuckled.

"In my Defense doll I only said it to make my move on you." he smirked kissing your cheek.

"Now thats a new level of low and pathetic." Sam groaned in disgust. You try reach for an aspirin on the top shelf but Bucky beat you to it.

"Here." he passed the bottle to you.

"I lift cars, I think can lift a shelf handle." you retorted to him

"We talked about this doll," he places both his arms on your shoulder.

"Right..." you breathed and dialouged dramatically " Why thank you, James, you're such a gentleman." flipping your hair.

"OH I call dibs on Robocop" Yelena raised her hand after laying out all the snacks.

"I'm letting the kid's pop culture spinner decide." Sam takes the remote from Scott and faces back to Peter. "Yo Pete what movie."

"Babylon," Peter replied from the kitchen island still rubbing his temple.

"As long as it's not Hamilton." You teased.

"Sams got it all memorized by now." Bucky continued.

"Not as much as you Buck, I heard him belting burn last night," Sam replied. The microwave beeped as you turned your back from the crowd and you grabbed a bowl to place the pack in.

"Heh well, you can say he's gonna be your right-hand man." you giggled at your cringe joke. "Get it." but no response was made, just silence from the crowd.

"Oh cmon that was fun-" you turn to see the reason of their response and froze "Ny......"

"Avengers I need your help."

[lilredniki]

Why didn't you tell me

Prompt: Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt

Character: Thor

Y/n groaned as she walked farther behind Thor and the others.

She tried to hide the pain in her eyes.

Thankfully everyone thought it was because of her crush on Thor only to end up being told he was already in love.

Loki knew the truth about that. He also promised not to tell a soul.

Y/n grabbed her arm where her soul mark was.

Loki was next to her in an instant.

“Are you okay Y/n?” He whispered.

“Honestly, I don’t know Lokh.”

He grabbed her sleeve and pulled it up to see. What he saw made him gasp.

Thor heard and turned to them.

“Brother is everything okay?”

Loki couldn’t speak.

Thor looked at Loki’s hand and saw Y/n’s arm covered in blood.

He ran over to them and gently held Y/n’s arm. He ripped some of his cape off and had Loki clean the wound.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?”

Y/n winced as Loki worked.

“I didn’t want you to think I’m weak.”

Thor wrapped her arm with the cloth.

“I would never see you as weak. You made me believe in female warriors.”

Y/n blushed.

Loki looked at Thor and nodded.

“Father has something for the three of us when we get back.” Thor said softly.

He picked Y/n up and carried her to the meeting place.

~

At the palace, Thor helped Y/n get off her horse while Loki smiled and grabbed her weapons.

Thor, Y/n and Loki walked in and saw Odin waiting for them.

“I believe I told you I have something for you.”

They nodded.

“I wish to congratulate the three of you.”

“What’s the occasion if you don’t mind me asking All-father.”

“The three of you are to be married in a months time.”

Loki asked the age old question.

“To whom?”

Odin smiled as Frigga stepped out.

“Y/n is going to marry both of you.”

Y/n looked shocked.

Frigga gently grabbed her arm and removed the wrap. “This soul mark is half Thor and half Loki now.”

“So that’s why Loki and I have half a mark.”

“Yes Thor. We just needed to wait for her to be able to get the other half.”

“So that’s why it hurt more than it should have when I got scratched.”

“Yes dear one.” Frigga said with a gentle smile.