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#avengers imagine
lesbian-deadpool · a day ago
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Steve: What are you thankful for this year?
Sam, staring directly at Bucky: Having both of my arms.
Rocket, at the other end of the table: *Waves Bucky’s metal arm at him*
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kassies-take · 2 days ago
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If You Were The Only One To Keep Yelena Belova Company
A/n: Reader was heavy injured during a mission and has a prosthetic leg
Yelena: *walks towards your lab with a quarter full Vodka bottle*
You: *sitting on a stool and working on a prosthetic*
Yelena: *enters lab* Stark! I’m bored
You: *looks at her* i don’t know how much I can help. I don’t drink in the lab.
Yelena: I know, it’s for me
You: *throws stress ball at Yelena* I’m integrating nano-tech. *opens mouth to ramble but stops* keep me company while I finish?
Yelena: *sips Vodka* I’ve got nothing better to do *plops down on the couch and tosses the ball up and down*
You: *continues working*
Yelena: *blows raspberries and tucks empty bottle under her arm* I don’t understand why I can’t go on missions, I’ve done them before. I trained my whole life for stuff like this
You: So you didn’t get the all clear from Maria.
Yelena: *offended* you didn’t either
You: *sarcastic* really I haven’t noticed. Not really dying to go back and hop around.
Yelena: you’ve been working on your leg all day!
You: I’d very much like to walk thank you
Yelena: you can! You just had to Stark it up.
You: I’ll take that as a complement. But you’re right I’ve been working on it all day *shifts on the stool and stands*
Yelena: you had a different leg on this entire time! *throws stress ball at you*
You: *laughs* I’m not going to work on the leg that I need! *starts putting tools away* What do you want to do now?
Yelena: *shrugs and takes a sip of the empty bottle* I’ve never played spin the bottle
You: *smirks* there is only two of us here.
Yelena: So! Don’t take this away from me!
You: Belova if you wanted to kiss me you could’ve just asked
Yelena: *blushes* that’s not! I don’t! Stark! *stomps her feet*
You: *smiles, takes the bottle out of Yelena’s hands and walks towards the door* c’mon you small assassin we have a game to play and maybe even more *smirks*
Yelena: I’M NOT SMALL  *catches up to you* and please don’t tell Nat she’s going to tease. 
You: only if you don’t tell my dad
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plxviofiles · 2 days ago
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falling for ya
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wanda x fem!reader, FLUFF. comedy!!
warnings: one swear word, a gun, idiocy sypnosis: stupid grocery store visit. stupid friends. not-stupid love of your life. word count: 1.1K a/n: posting another fav of mine that i wrote a while ago bc I have homework and a movie to go to so I can't write a kate fic after watching episode 3 of hawkeye :/ also i rmbr this was probs inspired by @missmonsters2 she’s one of my fav writers!
a/n 2: does ur heart ever go <wanda3 because yeah. same.
---
“This is utterly ridiculous,” you deadpan.
Wanda nods in agreement but wasn’t able to muffle her laughter.
Sam and Bucky are huddling in one supermarket trolley. Tony stands dangerously on the tiny rod in front. Steve is driving it with his super soldier pinkies. Natasha is throwing random items like “miscellaneous meat” and “blue cheese ice cream” in the trolley.
You decide that you are going to bring the Avengers to shopping with you one day. Your best friend assures you that it is a good idea.
Now it isn’t looking like it is.
“You shouldn’t be laughing,” you mumble.
“I’m sorry,” but the smile on the girl’s face suggests the opposite, “But it is pretty funny.”
You look at the five idiots that look happier than they have ever been since the day you got them avengers plushies for Christmas.
“I suppose.”
Wanda catches the small smile on your lips, and she smiles subconsciously.
You snap out of the little trance you’re having, and you march over to the rowdy group. Soon, there are two ears from different men in each hand, and a disgruntled Natasha following close behind. Wanda smiles again.
She thinks its sweet of you. You probably knew this would happen, but you let them come anyway.
“Listen, knuckleheads,” you scold the pouting group, “It’s one thing to ruin your reputations, but it’s one whole other thing to ruin mine. People treat me like normal here. Don’t ruin it.”
The adults stand in a straight position and salute you, before bowing. Your eye twitches. Tony and Natasha fist bump because they have a death wish they know they have annoyed you again.
“Just go and get things that are actually on our list please,” you sigh, taking out the blue cheese ice cream, pretending not to hear the assassin whine.
Wanda watches the whole scene with quiet giggles. You narrow your eyes at her with playfulness.
“You’re enjoying this a little too much, Maximoff,” you note, glaring at the four boys when you see them looking at the pad section of the grocery store ironically and for no reason whatsoever instead of helping you with the groceries.
Natasha will have been looking in the knives section, but the small warning about slashing her motorcycle tires that you sent her on text steers her towards the pasta section instead.
“I just think it’s funny, that’s all,” Wanda defends herself, putting a bottle of milk in the trolley.
You snort a little, “Oh yeah? What else do you find funny?”
Wanda thinks your snort is cute. Then she realises she spaced out.
She clears her throat.
“You know, usual things, like sitcoms and comedies,” she says, a little embarrassed.
You hum at her answer, looking over the labels on a new soda you want to try.
“What about you, what do you find funny?” Wanda asks conversationally, wanting to know more about you.
“Romance comedies. I like Mamma Mia,” you tell the girl with a little something, a little excitement in your tone.
“I love that movie!” Wanda exclaims, happy at finding something small in common with you with little effort.
“The sequel was nice as well. I had a crush on young Donna,” you giggle.
Wanda laughs, suddenly forgetting about the grocery list, “I think everyone had a crush on young Donna."
“My crush on you will always be bigger though,” Wanda seems proud at her attempt to flirt.
You actually smile wider, and you lean forward to kiss the girl on the cheek, shocking her pleasantly.
“Same here.”
---
Soon, everything is ready, and the small part of the Avengers that came with you are sad to leave.
With your girlfriend squeezing your hand with an encouraging smile, you smile painfully at them.
“You guys can come here again with me. When I need to,” you say almost shyly.
They smile at you sincerely, then they help you pack the groceries into the car, contentment clear on everyone’s faces at the day’s events.
“I’m proud of you,” Wanda puts a hand on your thigh.
You focus on the road, not letting your contentment show in your features, “I know.”
Wanda knows though, she always does, and she gives you a kiss on the cheek.
The group in the back are arguing on what seems to be politics (you absolutely have no idea) , and you heard some sobbing and knife sharpening. Suddenly you’re grateful that you’re the one driving.
You notice Wanda’s lips twitch upwards at some of the sentences she catches with her ears.
You think that she’s cute.
Yeah, she’s definitely the cutest person ever.
“Your thoughs are loud, любовь,” Wanda grins teasingly.
you raise an eyebrow, “I see no reason to hide my affections.”
Wanda bites her bottom lip with a dreamy look on her face.
You doubt that there’s honestly anything more adorable than her.
---
Then Wanda realises.
What the fuck.
Oh wow.
She gets up out of bed, her face sweating a little.
It’s only been six months.
She shakes her head at her doubt. She would not have thought of this if she wasn’t sure.
She was still nervous though.
She opens your door with ease. You didn’t lock it.
She stands in front of your bed, burying her face in her hand, thinking.
You awake to gentle calls.
You get up and pick up a gun, immediately pointing it to the person.
Wanda panics on reflex, and you sigh. You put the gun back in your drawer.
“Mind telling me why you’ve decided to give me an unwelcome surprise attack at 4 am in the morning?” you say groggily.
“I just…. uh…I have something to say.”
You open one eye for a bit before closing it again, “You do realise you could’ve chosen to wake anyone else if you had something to say? Even Tony is awake all night. That man never sleeps.”
Your tone isn’t irritated just rather sleepy.
Wanda fiddles with her fingers a little.
“I have something to say to you.”
You open both eyes this time, concern running through them.
“Is everything alright?”
Wanda smiles at your concern, and a flash of guilt overtook her features before she finally blurts out.
“I think I’m in love with you.”
Silence.
Nothing.
Wanda feels a strong urge to run.
You blink twice.
“I love you too. Now get in bed,” you mumble simply.
You sink back into the comfort of your pillows and make grabby hands at your girlfriend.
Wanda stares for a second before registering your words, then she grins widely.
She slides into your bed and your legs found its way to hers, tangling them together.
She finds her way to your chest and lays her head there.
The sound of your heartbeat is a welcome lullaby.
“Wanda?”
“Hm?”
She looks up, and you press a quick but loving kiss on her lips.
“Goodnight, I love you.”
Six months, and Wanda’s lips still tingle.
“Goodnight, моя любовь.”
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aquanova99 · 2 days ago
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Secrets (Druig x Reader)
💛💛💛💛
A/N: I know it’s taken forever to get something out. And yes I know these timelines don’t match up with the movies. Don’t come for me 😂
A/N: I hope I wrote Druig okay, I’m still trying to figure out how to write more marvel without repeating the same stories over and over again.
A/N: thank you so much for reading! As always requests are open and reblogs are super appreciated 💛
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“I wasn’t expecting to see you again.”
 “My beautiful y/n, as if I could stay away.”
 Y/n laughed as you spun her around and kissed her. Gods, how you had missed her. You, Makkari, and Thena had gone of to find more eternals, but you had grown restless knowing you had left behind y/n. The fact that she was human weighed heavily on your mind. Over the past few years, you had tried to convince her to come live with you. Once she had been in a wreck and you tried to force her to come with you, for whatever reason your powers didn’t work on her.
“Didn’t you say you had very important business to take care of and you didn’t know if you could even come back?”
“I know. Like I said I can’t seem to stay away.”God you were so desperate to let her in. Sersi had her second chance, and now Sprite did too. And here you were biding for time.
“You know one day I’m going to convince you to run away with me.”
 “You know I want but I—”
“Can’t. I’ve heard it before. What I don’t know is why you won’t tell me why you cant come with.”
 “Why won’t you tell me how it seems you never age?”
 “You act as if I should have grey hairs already.”
 “Im acting as if nothing about you has changed for the past however long I’ve known you.” She kissed your cheek and began cooking food for the both of you.
 “Fair enough. I am still older than you though, if that helps.”
 “It doesn’t, you never tell me your age. You could at least lie about it and make less suspicious. It just seems weird that your appearance always seems to stay the same. What are you going to do when I get all old and wrinkly.” You chuckled at her but it was honestly something you’d been dreading. You didn’t even want to imagine a world without her in it. Which was why the battle with Ikaris had been so important. Not that she could know about that. The two of you settled into a comfortable silence after that until she was done cooking the two of you.
 “You know we could always go out.”
 “I like cooking for us anyway.” She smiled sweetly at you.
 Afterwards the two of you took a walk around the park. It had taken a lot of goading from you but you had finally convinced her to enjoy some time outside. The sun was beginning to set before she suddenly froze.
“Hey, lets go back to my place so we can watch a movie, yeah?”
“Is everything okay?”
 You looked to see a group of people staring at you. Avengers. You recognized them. Another group of people you wished you had been allowed to help. You saw Captain America and Tony Stark start heading in your direction.
 “Babe, we need to go. Now.” She tried tugging at your hand.
 “They aren’t going to do anything to you my love Im sure of it.”
 You heard her sigh, “That’s not what I mean—”
 “Well, well, look who it is cap.”
 You were thrown off guard. For a split second you thought they had figured out who you were but now it was very clear their focus was all on y/n.
 “Y/n we’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
 “I’m sure you have.” You were shocked. Apparently y/n had met the avengers at one point and even more surprising was her immediate distaste for them. You’d never seen her turn away anyone. She had her arms crossed and her whole demeanor changed. Your little ray of sunshine suddenly turned ice cold. You reached around their minds to see how they knew her. You saw glimpses of her fighting along side the avengers in the original battle against thanos. Small glimpses in the second battle. You saw her shielding people, disappearing in and out of battle. You looked back over at her, finally understanding why she tried to stay away from the general public. She finally seemed to remember you were there and sighed.
 She turned back to face the group of heroes. “I told you I was done. What do you guys want?”
 “Look we know we messed up but we’re trying to get as many of us back together. Without Vision we could really use you.”
 “Yeah well I could have used you when that building collapsed.” You literally couldn’t speak. You glanced back over and saw a mission going haywire, y/n getting stuck inside a building. Comms were down, the rest of the group assumed she was gone. You saw red, you felt yourself begin moving towards the group but y/n’s hand reached out.
“I don’t think so. You guys can figure it out yourselves.”
 She began pulling you away from the group that had formed. You saw Soteve Rogers ask a question as if you were both still there. Stark reached his arm out and just threw his head back. You looked over at her.
“Just keep quiet. Please.” She whispered to you. “Look at the windows.”
 To be honest you were still in shock that y/n had taken part in these huge battles and you had no idea. From what you saw her ability to shield you began to understand why you couldn’t read her like everyone else. You looked past the cars you were walking by. You came to a stop. Y/n had a good grip on you and almost tripped over you. You couldn’t help walking closer to the car window. You couldn’t see anything. The two of you were completely invisible. She tugged on your hand and the two of you walked in silence until you got near her apartment. She went to the side of the building and finally released you.
 “So now I see why you always want to stay nearby.”
 “Yeah, I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you about it before.” You saw her look down and bite her lip, “Do—do you still want to come in.”
 You chuckled, “Oh my love, theres some things I think I need to tell you as well. Come on."
 The two of you settled into the couch, she had gone back to her usual cheerful self. She crossed her legs and waited for you to continue. You began showing her the things you could create, explaining your powers. How you saw what she could do by reading the minds of Stark and Rogers. She was quiet for a bit.
 “Are you able to read my mind?” She asked quietly
 “My dear, if I could I would have done so a long time ago. I tried to convince you to come live with me when you got in that accident, which I am now realizing wasn’t from a car.”
 She shook her head, “nope. Sorry. Some people came to check out the destruction afterwards and they found me super out of it and got me to the hospital. Then I yelled at the avengers and shortly after you found me.” She looked down at her hands
“So you really aren’t aging, what are gonna do about that?”
 “We need to find Sersi. She can make me human.”
 “Wish she could make me immortal. Then I could make up for all this time hiding. Enjoy life some more.” She threw her head back on the couch. You scootched closer to her and brought her into your chest. That was actually brilliant. You didn’t know if it worked both ways, but you wanted to try. You wanted to Sersi more than ever.
 “Well we can always try that too.”
Her head snapped up to look at you “And if that doesn’t work?”
 “Then I will change for you. I’ve been around forever anyways.” You said as you kissed her forehead
 “Hmm maybe I shouldn’t be with such an old man. People might thinks it’s weird.”
 “Whatever,” you said as you shoved her off you, “you love me.”
 She laughed and placed a soft kiss on your lips “Yeah, I do.”
Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @artaxerxesthegreat @aunt-pipie @avyannadawn @imtoanonymousforyou @lacychick @minghao3o @quarthly @ajeff855 @user13cabs @vxidnik @nenchiro
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wokeupinawalnut · 9 hours ago
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would you wanna write the texting the wrong person with nat? i’m thinking nat’s the one who messes up because like imagine some random person showing up at an avengers party, not knowing it’s an avengers party, and just being like 😦 and then nat is (probably) going all black widow super spy and not believing she is the one who accidentally brought r there
Crashing
Prompt: “Person A sends out the invitations for their birthday party via group text but there was a mix-up with one number and B gets the text. They may not know A but a party is a party so they decide to go.” from this list
Note: Your mind, anon... this was so fun to write, I hope you enjoy! <3 And happy birthday to our favourite poser!
Warnings: none
Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x GN!Reader
Words: 1643
Masterlist
.
You had been surprised when you saw your phone light up with a text message from an unknown number. You rarely got proper text messages anymore – usually just the bill from your phone company once a month – so you were quick to dismiss it as spam or some sort of scam, but when you opened the messenger app to delete it and saw the text preview, you hesitated. It sounded like a personal text.
So, curiosity winning the upper hand, you opened the message and were even more surprised to find an invite to a birthday party. The fancy e-vite was signed with Nat. You didn’t know a Nat… you pondered for a second if it might be that one new coworker at your company but then remembered her name was Nadia.
Two weeks later, on the day of the party, you were still undecided whether to go or not. It wasn’t technically right; you were fairly certain it was an accident you received the invitation and if it wasn’t one then it sure would be awkward to appear at someone’s birthday party and not recognize them. Still, there was this small voice in the back of your head urging you to go. You hadn’t been to a party in so long and the location was this absolutely amazing bar in the center of the city that you had never gone into because looking at the cocktail prizes was already enough to make you worry for your bank account. Free food, free drinks and hopefully some fun? There were certainly worse ways to spend a Friday evening.
And you did have manners after all… You might be considering crashing a party, but if you ended up going, you would bring a gift, a birthday present and a thank you. You weren’t an asshole. You just appreciated a good party.
Yeah, you should probably go. Who would even notice? There’d probably be enough people to disappear between, maybe you’d even meet nice people, it would be fun. And the little thrill of being uninvited actually even made it more alluring. Boring people wouldn’t go, you would though.
When you arrived at the location later that evening, however, you started to think you maybe should have stayed in. There was a bouncer standing at the door and even though he simply waved most of the people in, you were growing nervous.
Taking a deep breath, you approached the entry, squaring your shoulders and trying to look like you belonged. For a second, you thought it was working, but just as you were about to pass the security, an outstretched arm stopped you.
“I don’t know you,” the man frowned at you.
You swallowed heavily but forced yourself to look unimpressed. You quirked an eyebrow.
“I don’t know you, either.”
He scoffed. “Invite, please.”
You made a show of muttering unhappily as you fumbled for your phone and pulled up the e-vite for him. He didn’t look convinced, so you rolled your eyes.
“You want to go and bother Nat, big guy?”
He grumbled something below his breath but stepped aside. Seems like this Nat person wasn’t someone you wanted to have on your bad side.
“Enjoy the party,” he forced a smile that you returned with a thank you.
You stepped around the bouncer and through the entry. Well, that had been fun; your best friend would probably congratulate on your self-confidence – even if it had only been pretend. The last bit of that feigned confidence and your good mood vanished when you looked up into the crowd though. Not only did it barely qualify as a crowd, it also consisted of some of the most famous, powerful people of the city. Your face fell as you realized you were in the presence of the avengers.
Okay, you admitted to yourself, this was not good, very not goo- wait, was that Captain Marvel there by the bar? You shook your head. You did not have time to go into fan mode, you needed to retreat. These kind of people were probably very sensitive about unwelcomed – albeit in your case at least not uninvited – guests.
Your best bet was probably just to leave through the front door again, but when you turned, you saw none other than Iron Man and Pepper Potts walk through the entry and in your panic you slipped through the curtain to your left to hide and found yourself in a cloakroom.
Your breathing elevated as you tried to think of a way to get out of this one, someone would eventually come in here to either drop off or get their coat and there really was nowhere to hide in here. You closed your eyes, trying to calm down. You’d just have to check if the air was clear and then leave, easy peasy. Taking a deep breath, you listened for footsteps outside and when you couldn’t hear any, you poked your head through the curtains.
You sighed, the air was clear. Silently, you stepped out of your hiding place and were about to approach the exit when you were suddenly yanked back by your shoulder.
You yelped in surprise when you were turned around roughly and found yourself face to face with none other than the Winter Soldier. Your eyes widened.
“Hi,” you stuttered, “Look-“
Your sentence went down in a pained gasp as he tightened his grip on your shoulder.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
Before you could muster up the courage for a reply, a man and a woman rounded the corner. They were laughing, leaning close to each other, but stopped abruptly when they saw you and their teammate. You squirmed under their stares as you recognized them as Hawkeye and Black Widow.
“What’s going on here?” the redhead asked. She was addressing her teammate, but her eyes never left you.
“Found them sneaking around in the cloakroom,” he explained.
Romanoff quirked an eyebrow and the archer beside her nodded towards a door further down a hallway to the right, away from the main room where everyone else was enjoying the party. Oh, how you wished you had stayed home.
The man holding you wasted no time in pushing you forward and you didn’t even try to resist. They would let you explain, right? No need to panic…Except of course, if they didn’t believe you…
Your thoughts were a mess by the time you were shoved down onto a seat and the three superheroes stood in front of you.
“Who are you?” The Winter Soldier repeated his earlier question.
You eyed them nervously and shuffled with your feet.
“Uhm… Y/N. Y/N Y/LN. I-“
“What are you doing here? And how did you get in here?” The redheaded woman asked.
“I- Well, through the front door…”
Clint Barton raised an eyebrow. “You’re saying Happy just let you in?”
“Happy?” you were confused for a second, “Wait. You call that grumpy man at the entry Happy?”
Despite your position you laughed lightly but stopped when you saw the avengers’ unimpressed stares.
“Yeah, well, he let me in after I showed him my invitation,” you suddenly felt a boost of confidence, “I’m sure Nat will be happy to clear this up.”
The three heroes exchanged a look and the archer smirked at the redhead. “Nat, you wanna tell us who they are, then?”
Oh, fuck.
Of course.
The Black Widow. Natasha Romanoff. Nat.
Well, it was nice to have lived. You hoped someone would take care of your cat for you.
Natasha turned to you, the corners of her lips twitching.
“I have no idea.”
You bit your lip. “I mean, that hurts. It was you who invited me after all.”
The woman frowned.
“I did not.”
“You did.”
“Still, doesn’t explain why you were snooping around our stuff…”
“I wasn’t snooping!” You looked at them pleadingly. “I was hiding! I was nervous, I thought I was just going to some random party and then I see the room is full of scary people like you! Look, I received the invitation, thought this could be fun and came here. I didn’t mean to cause problems, alright?”
“Show me the text message.”
Carefully, you did as Natasha asked and reached for your phone. You unlocked it and handed it to her.
Her frown morphed into a surprised expression. “Oh,” she deadpanned, and you probably would have laughed if you weren’t so nervous.
“Well, I guess, that was my mistake then,” she rubbed her neck and handed your phone back.
You sighed relieved.
“You still shouldn’t go around crashing parties though,” you could swear she winked at you, “It’s rude, you know?”
You smiled shyly. “I guess… I brought you a gift though.” You pointed towards your bag that had been dropped off by the door.
Clint went to grab it and gave it to you. He apologized as he did and so did Bucky before they both left, leaving you with Natasha.
“Uhm, I didn’t know who I was buying for, so I tried keeping it simple, here you go.” You handed her the present – one of your favourite books – and a box with a homemade cupcake.
“It’s not poisoned,” you assured her when she eyed it and she laughed.
“That’s something that someone who poisoned the cupcake would say.”
“It’s also something that someone who didn’t poison the cupcake would say,” you grinned back. You were surprised how at ease you already felt. Moments ago, you had been ready to pee your pants.
“We’ll have to share then,” Natasha’s eyes shone with amusement as she pulled up a chair beside you and sat down at the table with you.
“Does this mean, I’m officially invited to the party?” you laughed.
“You know,” Nat tilted her head and smiled, “I have a feeling you’ll even stick around for the next one.”
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randominagines · 6 hours ago
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Avengers react to stumbling upon the readers sex toy collection?
Thanks for the request!
Pairing: Avengers X neutral reader
Warning: smut
GIFs belong to their creators.
Pt.2 here (Vision, Sam, Pietro, Peter, Bucky and Loki)
AVENGERS STUMBLING UPON YOUR COLLECTION OF SEX TOYS:
TONY
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Tony would be so intrigued. "Well well well, what do we have here." He teases you, his eyes wandering around. You cross your arms over your chest and shake your head. "Mr. Stark, you were not supposed to see this... Yet." You joke while walking toward him. He raises an eyebrow, his hands running to his tie to take it off and his eyes stuck on you. "Since I found this magic collection, we should use these things, don't you agree?" He asks, his head tilting. You smirk, your hands crossing over his shoulders. "We totally should." You say and he smiles, happier than ever.
STEVE
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Steve would initially be embarrassed. He doesn't know much about sex toys but he has seen them around. "Uhm, are these all yours?" He asks and you chuckle, finding his blushing adorable. "Well, yes. Don't worry, Steve we don't have to use these if--" he stops you. "Show me." He suddenly says, winning his own shyness. You raise and eyebrow and smile. "Seriously?" You ask and he nods, a mischievous smile on his face. "I might be old but I'm not closed minded."
THOR
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Thor would be confused. "What are all these things?" He asks while touching your sex toys, you laugh. "Baby, these are... Uhm, let's say these are instruments to play." You try to explain and he looks at you while frowning. "To play? Like kids?" He asks and you almost flinch. "No! I mean, these are for adults. We can play with these." You say and he looks at the objects, then at you, then back at the objects and he finally realizes. He gasps. "No way! We have to try these!" He suddenly says, enthusiastic like never before. You burst into a laugh and nod. "We can if you want. I'm actually impressed, you understood all by your own." You compliment and he shrugs while winking at you.
NATASHA
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Natasha would be absolutely happy to find such a thing. "Baby, you're quite... Equipped." She says while taking one of your toys. You shrug and smile at her. "What can I say? I love playing." You provoke her. She sits down on your bed and looks at you, a sparkle in your eyes. "Why don't you show me your favourite toys?" She asks and grins at you. You nod, your hand caressing her cheek. "Yes, ma'am."
WANDA
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Wanda would be surprised, but not disappointed. "I didn't know you were into sex toys." She says while tilting her head, her lips curved into a mischievous smile. You chuckle, your hand grabbing her hip. "This is my guilty pleasure, but if you're not comfortable--" you try to say but she shakes her head. "I'm actually intrigued." She says and crossed her arms over your shoulders, you smile. "Are you?" You ask in surprise and she nods, her lips inches away from yours. "Totally."
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ardentcupid · 4 hours ago
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Making Amends (S.R.)
Word Count: 1.3k
Summary: after a fight that leaves you both on edge, maybe it’s time to kiss and make-up. 
Notes: 18+ content below the cut: handjob, p in v, creampie, (slightly) sub Steve, pet names (baby, sweetheart). Something short to remedy my writer’s block. afab reader, fluffy ending
You weren’t sure how you’d ended up here. 
But pressed against the door of your bedroom, hands sliding roughly over Steve’s heated skin, you were sure that this was exactly where you needed to be.  
You and Steve had been separated for just over a week, sleeping in different rooms and avoiding each other as much as possible within the confines of Stark Tower. Your teammates had called it a ‘lover’s spat’, but your fight felt like something much more significant. 
You couldn’t remember why the argument had started. Maybe he’d been training too much, not spending enough time with you. Or maybe he was jealous over the agents that seemed to seek you out, flirting with you every moment of the day. 
Either way, it had escalated further than either of you had intended. You had raised your voice and Steve had left, slamming the door behind him and finding a vacant bedroom to stay in until things blew over.
Natasha had been your confidante through the week, listening calmly while you ranted about Steve’s wrongdoings. You were sure that Bucky was doing the same for your counterpart, and the thought provoked you even further
“Maybe you need to fuck it out of your system,” Natasha had interjected, tired of hearing the same complaints day after day. 
“Don’t be ridiculous,” you’d replied, pacing her bedroom with enlivened steps. “Having sex isn’t going to make our problems go away.”
She hummed at your indignation, fighting the urge to roll her eyes at your stubbornness. “You’d be surprised.”
Two days after your talk with Natasha, Steve had decided that he couldn’t take the tension any longer. He’d asked you to meet in your shared bedroom that evening, ready to resolve the problem at last. 
You’d waited in the hallway for almost five minutes, collecting your thoughts and trying to maintain your composure. Whatever happened, you weren’t leaving the bedroom until things were settled. 
Opening the door, you were met with the sight of Steve sitting at the end of the bed, wringing his hands together and glaring down at his shoes. He rose at the sound of the door opening, sliding his hands into his pockets and meeting your gaze for a brief moment. 
Before you could find your words, he’d cleared his throat softly and licked his lips, returning his attention to the floor. He was nervous – completely unsettled by your displeased demeanor. 
“So,” he drawled out, “where should we start?”
Moments later, you were shoved against the door, covered entirely by Steve’s brawny figure as he licked into your open mouth. His hands were on your hips, pulling you tight against him as your fingers skimmed underneath his shirt. 
You pulled back for a moment, pushing lightly on Steve’s shoulders to guide him backwards. Even with the strength of a hundred men, Steve was left powerless to your gentle touch. 
The back of his knees hit the bed and he instantly fell onto the mattress, holding himself up on his elbows and peering at you with wide, soft eyes.
You kicked off your shoes, climbing on top of him and straddling his waist. Your hands returned to his abdomen, raising his shirt up to signal to Steve that you wanted the material gone. Stabilizing yourself on his chest, you could feel his heart beating erratically under your hands and you bit back a smirk at the thought of affecting him so profoundly. 
Steve pinched his eyes shut as you leaned down to trail your lips up his neck and over his jaw. You’d always known how to make him compliant, like it was an artform that you’d spent your life mastering. 
“Did you miss me?” you spoke against his skin, grinding your hips into his as he whimpered softly in your ear.
“Missed you so much, baby. Thought about you every day.”
You smiled wickedly, moving your hands to the top of his pants and toying with the button. He sucked in a deep breath as you undid his zipper, fingers sliding into his boxers and pulling out his half-hard length.
“Did you think about me while you fucked your fist? Spend your nights wishing it was my pussy wrapped around you instead?”
He nodded wildly, his mouth slackened while your hand ran over the head of his cock. You swiped over the bead of precum on the tip, using halfhearted movements to tease him further. 
“Every night,” he gasped, finding your hips and squeezing gently. “M’so sorry for leaving, sweetheart.” 
You hummed at his weak apology, your hand leaving his cock to lift your shirt over your head and throw it across the room. Steve’s hands came to cup your breasts before you swatted them away, grinning slyly at his wounded expression.
“I don’t think you’ve earned it yet,” you remarked, fingers ghosting down his thigh. 
“Show me how sorry you really are.”
His eyes darkened, hands returning to your waist to switch positions with you, gently rolling you onto the bed before standing to yank off the rest of his clothing. You followed suit, shimmying your pants down your legs and unhooking your bra while Steve was preoccupied. He turned his attention to you laid out in front of him, his fingers coming to your clothed core and running over the wet patch forming on your underwear. 
“I thought about you every second of every day – not just about the fight, but about everything I love about you. I don’t want to live without you ever again.”
You moaned at the overwhelming combination of Steve’s sentiment and his fingers rubbing your clit. There’s nothing you wouldn’t do to make him happy, you’d never fight again if it meant you could keep him close. 
His hands shifted to the waistband of your underwear, meeting your eye as to silently ask permission. You nodded and sent him a small smile as he slid the material down your thighs, keeping eye contact the entire time. 
You moved up the bed to allow him room, pulling your knees up while Steve made his way between your legs. He grabbed his length and tapped the end against your clit, collecting your wetness before pushing slowly into your cunt. 
You groaned at the feeling of his cock stretching your walls, and you made a silent vow to never go this long without fucking Steve again. He lowered himself so that his face was hidden in the crook of your neck, completely consumed by the rapture that he found in you. 
His breath came out in puffs as he bottomed out, wanting nothing more than to stay in this moment forever. Just the two of you – no arguing or responsibilities looming over your heads, This is happiness and Steve doesn’t want to leave. 
Eventually, your legs wrap around his waist, spurring him on and adding to his pleasure. He quickly hammered in and out of your cunt as his arms wrap around your torso to hold you as close as possible. 
You felt practically inseparable as Steve continued his hurried thrusts, limbs tangled together and grappling onto the thought that you never wanted to part from him. 
“Fuck- you feel s’good, Steve.”
He groaned in response, murmuring against your neck as he laved over your balmy skin. “Don’t leave me,” he begged, voice raspy and desperate for a response. 
“Never.”
“Never,” he repeated under his breath, driving his cock into you and hitting your g-spot perfectly with each thrust. 
“Love you s’much. M’so close,” you slurred, intoxicated by pleasure and your swiftly approaching orgasm. 
Steve matched your state of stupor as his thighs smacked into yours senselessly. He unraveled his arm from your torso to sneak a hand to your clit, swiping at the bundle of nerves until you were thrown over the edge. 
He followed shortly after, his broken groans rattling through your mind as warm cum painted your walls. The two of you stayed in your pretzeled embrace while coming down from your highs, relieved to be together again. 
After catching his breath, Steve rolled onto his side and tucked you to his chest, his cock still buried snugly inside of you. His fingers ran over your exposed shoulders while he pressed a kiss to the top of your head in a hazy bliss. 
“Feels good to be home.”
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Note
Can I please have headcanons for Victor Creed + Logan who has a younger (21-27) s/o who loves to party and go clubbing? Thanks!
DANCE THE NIGHT AWAY
enjoy! i didn't put gifs cuz they are a pain to put them in the right place.
Victor creed
he likes to think that for him living this long life was enough but having someone so infatuated with clubbing and dancing was most entertaining to him
he had his fair shares of the early ages of the club scene
even so far as going to a club kids scene for a while when he did not know what to do in his life
of course with all of that taken into account victor is the typical PICKUP RIDE AND HELP YOU IN BED PACKAGE
victor likes to proud himself of knowing where you are
a new club playing mashup songs, he is there waiting on the outside
a club with a glow in the dark DJ- he is ready to wash the paint off your body
a new set is being played in the club that you always go to-he already is calling the bartender to tell him that he is coming
that man knows his stuff like no other
get one like that in your life
Logan Howlet
logan is different while he won't completely leave you alone, he will call you a lot
aka.daddy-calling-you-to-check-if-you-are-okay
he likes to proud himself saying that he got over his attachment issues but still if you call he fuckin' leaps
he is the type of person who will text you and be ready with his car keys in hand and pick you up when you ask
he likes to see you have fun but you will have a lecture from his POV
his hugs when you get a bit too drunk are soooooo good
like a muscled wall that keeps you in place, not like you oppose to it
when he knows you want to sleep he will talk about his day knowing how boring he is will always lull you into sleep
he is a sneaky mf
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Frozen- Wanda Maximoff
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Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader
Characters: Wanda Maximoff
Warnings: N/A
Request: Anon- Can you write “Hold my hand, I don’t want you to freeze.” with Wanda?
Word Count: 439
Author: Charlotte
The winter was coming in hard this year, but you and your girlfriend Wanda were far too stubborn to give in to putting the heating on for the first time that year. It had gotten to the point that you were starting to be able to see your breath in front of you and you were starting to fear losing your fingertips due to them freezing off.
You were trying to get some work done in your office, but you were struggling to feel the keys of your keyboard below your hands as you tried to type. You didn’t know what Wanda was up to currently, as whilst you were doing your work from home, she would practice her powers or run errands until you could spend time together in the evening. Your workday was coming to an end, and you were finishing up what you needed to do when the door to your office opened revealing Wanda.
“How much more do you have to do?” She asked.
“Just got one last email to send and I’m done for the day,” you said, smiling up to her.
“Good.”
Wanda moved to sit on the edge of your desk, next to your keyboard, letting you continue to work whilst being overlooked by her. It had become a routine for her to join you for the last few minutes of the work, giving you some encouragement to finish up the workday and get on to spending time with the love of your life.
You pressed send on the email and looked back up to Wanda. “Done.”
She hopped off of the desk and leaned in to press her lips to yours, using her hands to cup your cheeks. You shuddered at her cold touch, shocking you. Even though you were freezing, her hands were somehow even more icy than you already felt.
“Your hands are like ice,” you stated standing up from your desk chair.
“Everything in this house is like ice,” she corrected.
You rolled your eyes at her, still not willing to give in and put the heating on to fight the bitterness of the winter coming on.
“Hold my hand, I don’t want you to freeze,” you said, grabbing her hands within yours, rubbing your thumbs across the back of her palms.
You knew it wasn’t going to do much, but you wanted to help somehow.
“I could just use magic to warm them far more efficiently.”
“But then I wouldn’t be holding your hands,” you smiled sweetly.
Wanda shook her head, letting go of your hands so that she could pull you into a slightly warming embrace.
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lesbian-deadpool · 17 hours ago
Text
Bruce: Since when do you carry a switchblade?
Y/N: It’s a long story, Bruce.
(Flashback to Y/N looking at a switchblade through a shop window)
Y/N: Neat.
296 notes · View notes
fandomsuntied03 · 8 months ago
Text
Bucky *screeching*: YOU MEAN A LOT TO ME!
Y/N: wh-
Bucky: YOU’RE ESSENTIAL TO MY EXISTENCE!
Y/N:why are you screaming??
Bucky: BECAUSE I HAVE TROUBLE EXPRESSING MYSELF! IT HELPS TO YELL SENTIMENTAL THINGS IN AN AGRESSIVE TONE!
Y/N: I-
Bucky: I FUCKING LOVE YOU!
8K notes · View notes
whirlybirbs · 5 months ago
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                 ( this lovely gif is by @janesfoster​ from this beautiful set ! )
FROM THE VOID, WITH LOVE   |   the beginning.
summary: torn from time, you have to navigate the t.v.a. with the one person who singlehandedly ruined the entirety of nyc’s week. turns out you & him have a future-past. time is weird. loki, god of mischief (disputed) is infuriating.
listen to while reading: “movies” by weyes blood
word count: 13.4k
pairing: loki / f!reader, references to established future romance
tags: enemies to friends to lovers, soulmates, we-are-in-love-in-the-future but how did that even happen, angst & comfort, redemption arc, lots of time travel, loki (2020) spoilers
a/n: so here it is — a revist to my well-loved series i wrote forever ago about these two idiots. nothing like an athiest and a god in love. this is so fun, and this fic will serve as a foundation point for the drabbles i’ll write throughout the loki series run.
this collection is based on my already-existing drabbles about this pairing, which operates as the basis of their sacred timeline. that masterlist is here, and once more, the biggest thank you to @kostovas​ for keeping a chronological masterlist over the years — with over 90+ pieces, this pairing is such a large part of my blog and my growth as a writer.
as always, let me know what you think — tick, tock, bitches.
                  MASTERPOST   |   AO3  |    SPOTIFY
This is not how you thought your week would go.
No, this was a little much.
You started your Monday with Loki, God of Mischief, crash landing through the lab you’d been completing your summer placement at, brainwashing your boss (and the nice agent guy who watched over the glowing nuclear cube), and, finally, stealing the one thing you’d been studying for the entirety of summer 2012 for your first official research journal outside of undergrad while pursuing your doctorate.
By Thursday, Midtown had been reduced to debris, aliens were confirmed real, the Avengers were a household name, and you were desperately trying to wrangle a stir-crazy Erik Selvig off the rooftop terrace of Stark Tower in the aftermath.
“Erik, where are your pants?!”
“They were burnt.”
His eyes aren’t a milky blue anymore, so you suppose that’s a good thing — he is, however, off his metaphysical shits and you’re really trying to get him to calm down in the Stark Tower lobby when the aforementioned Avengers pull a glorified perp walk for the reporters clamoring outside.
You try not to stare — but it is a little bit hard when he stalks by.
It’s not because you’re aware of the future implications your friendship and, in turn, relationship will have on the proper flow of time. No, it’s because you’re lucky enough to say your previous encounter in the week with him left you unscathed (if not a bit traumatized), which seems to be the exact opposite case for the majority of Downtown.
As someone who knew Thor — and decently well at that — you found it difficult to see the two Gods being related at all. It’s as if one was born by the sun, and the other the moon, and while everything about Thor seemed like a thunder storm in July, his brother clearly lacked the warmth and gilded personality of his Avenging counterpart.
You suppose that, maybe, that’s the whole point.
Y’know, age-old storytelling and all that.
Swathed in the colorful team of superheroes, the infamous Loki towers over them all. His cape, emerald and tattered, follows him like a shadow and you have to fight the urge to snarl. He’s tall, a little bit like a shade, and regal in a way that’s totally different from the other Asgardian royalty you’re familiar with. He’s imposing and even when he’s muzzled, you can see the cunning flash of a smirk when he spots your manic, half-dressed boss by the lobby’s main desk.
Loki looks less sickly since you last saw him – he’s all sharp angles and split lip now, though.
It’s funny that, in about an hour’s time, everything about this moment will be different.
It’ll hold different weight, different context.
The God is smug.
Erik notices.
Annoyance bites at your nerves as Erik begins to slip into a Norwegian diatribe directed at the fallen Silvertongue. You groan, deciding right then and there that you’re exhausted beyond comprehension and that today has been all too long. You move quickly. You let out a curse as you push yourself between the now stopped group of Avengers and the angry, pants-less astrophysicist.
“Erik, c’mon, why don’t we go for a walk—”
“Yep, go ahead, pal,” Tony Stark, clearly just as exasperated as you are, chirps, “Walk it out. Half a’ New York has a bone to pick with Hot Topic over here.”
“He is a disgrace! A-A cosmic buffoon!”
You’re pressed between Tony and Erik, feeling the eyes of the God bore into your skull as you try to save him from the delirious verbal smackdown your boss was looking to serve. You can pretty much confirm that Erik definitely has a head injury. Or… You dunno, he’s always been weird. But, in the last hour you’ve heard a little bit too much about Ufology to call this Erik’s normal baseline.
You plant a hand on his tattered dress shirt, pleading quietly with a mildly horrified look at the realization that people are staring, Erik.
“Can’t we do this somewhere else?” you grit out with a sense of urgency.
It’s at that moment that you do a double take at the doors of the lobby. There’s a bustle. You note the sudden appearance of Alex Pierce – the resident member of the World Security Council who, no doubt, had a bone to pick with Stark. Judging by the tightening of Tony’s grip on the briefcase in his hands, he’s aware. The man is parading through the doors of the lobby, surrounded by agents in crisp suits.
This is a nightmare. The clowns are running the show.
Right now, you could go for a glass of wine.
And ice cream.
And maybe some more wine on top of that. It’s a whole bottle kinda day.
You blink around Erik, deciding no, no fucking way, this is so above your pay grade, before exasperately groaning, “Why don’t we go get Starbucks — you like those frappuccino things they have, right, Erik?”
At this point, you’re just desperately trying to not discredit you and Erik’s research journal with his antics being broadcast by the Newsweek and CNN cameras lurking outside alike. All in front of the World Security Council. And S.H.I.E.L.D.
…This is bad.
Meanwhile, Loki can’t help but think this is all so very curious… Midgardians are quite cute.
He’d been made aware, from eavesdropped pieces of Romanoff’s and Barton’s conversations, that the hierarchical food chain is quite complex when it comes to cosmic interferences like the one he’d so wrought upon New York. So many acronyms… S.H.I.E.L.D. and S.T.R.I.K.E. and W.S.C., he’s sure there’s probably about six more, but he’d be lying if he said he’d bothered to listen.
Loki, absentmindedly, wishes he’d maybe done this whole world domination bit 200 years sooner – certainly there wouldn’t have been much stopping him then. No Iron Men, at least.
(He doesn’t know it yet, but if he’d done this 200 years earlier, he would have never met you. Not that it matters right now. He doesn’t know the future, that’s more of his mother’s bit. Somewhere in the stars, Frigga is painfully aware of you, a fiery comet, dodging her son's orbit at this moment.
But, Scott Lang’s verified Time Heist is about to send you both careening towards one another like a boomerang. And… well. The Time-Keepers won’t be happy about this part of your story.)
“Not to interrupt—”
“Great, more suits,” Stark chirps, “Here for the case? Too bad.”
“Mr. Stark,” Pierce begins, “This is a matter of global security. We’re here for the case and… the prisoner.”
Pierce is like a vulture. You decide quickly you don’t like him.
Erik, then, sees it as his turn to verbally maul the next person in line — the words that fly from his mouth don’t make sense and you’re trying to pry him away from Pierce as Stark’s voice escalates and Thor booms out a deep: “Woah, woah woah!” as Nat tries to step up and shove off the rogue S.H.I.E.L.D. agents clambering for the case. It’s a shit show, an absolute mess, and you’re being jostled in the middle, trying to pluck the agents away from your summer research project with an irritated look.
And then Tony Stark drops to the floor.
Panic quickly floods the space that anger had created and the case is long since forgotten. It clatters to the floor and skids away from Tony, and, consequently, the huddle forming around him as he convulses on the pristine tiles of the lobby.
Your eyes follow the case from your spot knelt beside Tony, mirroring Loki’s exact motion – you’re both trained on the case sliding across the room and... into the hands of a man posted by the door to the stairs.
Then, you see her.
There’s no words to describe the way it makes you feel — it’s like looking into a sad, broken mirror. It’s you standing there, albeit a little older and a little wiser. This other you is frozen at the sight of the towering God to your left. Her face is set in something mournful and there’s no doubt in your mind that that’s you. You know your face. Your cheeks, your eyes, your chin.
You go rigid, mind running 99mph down the interstate of confusion. The other you… Her hair is a little different, and she has glasses settled on her face. She’s posed in a lab coat and heels, looking like she belongs. Like… Like the path you’d set out had come to fruition. All your hopes and goals, staring you right in the face.
With a broken sound, she suddenly calls out:
“Loki.”
She’s looking at him like she knows him.
Loki is… Well. He’s also confused. Not that he would readily admit it but — something else is happening. It’s clear from the chaos and the magical slide of the tesseract that someone is trying to write a different story entirely on this day.
This woman, however, is the most confusing part.
It’s rare to hear someone say his name so kindly.
So… gentle.
Loki looks at her, then behind him. His brows raise, chained hands moving to gesture at himself.
...Me?
You gawk. What the fuck.
“No, no,” calls the agent gripping the case; the voice is familiar and he moves to stop her – er, you – as she moves forward, “No, c’mon kid, don’t—”
From your spot on the floor, you blink, exchanging a look with the God of Mischief who’s currently also riding the mind-fuck train.
He realizes that’s… you. Not the current you, but you.
Curious.
You jump six feet in the air when suddenly Hulk makes his appearance — he slams the door to the stairwell open with a ferocious roar. It clocks the agent in question, sending the other-you to the floor and shattering the briefcase on its hinges.
You watch it all with wide eyes.
The cube, hot and azure and pulsing, slides back across the floor like a terribly dangerous game of air-hockey and your breath catches in your throat as it collides with the towering God’s boot adjacent to you.
Another exchange of glances between the two of you.
And then, Loki bends to snatch it up.
You yelp, spitting out an embarrassing mosh of Thor and Tony’s name at once, and launch yourself after your summer research project. Your fingertips brush the cool, smooth surface of the stone and suddenly, everything is blindingly blue.
In a blink, you tumble into a roaring, glittering, dizzying tailspin through time and space.
Your yells mingle with Loki’s as the balance of the travel is thrown off, rocketing you both across the stars in a haze of panic.
Then, black.
✶   ✶   ✶
Quiet.
A breeze tickles your nose.
…Birds?
You don’t know how long you were out for — or even where you are. All you know is that your head is pounding and, from your spot on the forest floor, you can see hints of the blue sky through broken branches when you crack open your eyes.
It’s humid. There’s a slow roll of thunder calling out somewhere over the horizon.
… Is that a fucking toucan?
It takes you a second to wade through the mental fog, but… when it clicks, you sit up straight, and you’re greeted by a crackling batton being held at your throat.
You come eye-to-eye with a man in some sort of militarized armor — and three men surround you. One has some sort of spectrometer, and the others are posed to taze the everloving soul out of you. At least… Those things look like tasers.
Your breath catches and you immediately raise your hands.
The man eyes you for a long drawn moment, then looks down at a device in his hands.
“Standard split from the timeline. Slope is stable, the branch is strong.”
You blink at the people around you. Your head is pounding.
Hoarsely, you speak up.
“I’m sorry,” you ask gently with a bit of an anxious bite, “Who the hell are you?”
The bearded man spares you a look that mingles between pity and amusement. He pointedly ignores your question. So do the others. You look around at the lot of them with a biting sense of paranoia. Were they some sort of militant police force?
What the hell is ‘TVA’?
…Who designed those jumpsuits?
“Variant identified.”
Before you can ask one of the seventeen questions floating around in your head, you’re being ushered to your feet. You comply — apologizing, even, when you accidentally stumble into one of the agents on weak knees. Your whole body hurts. Like you were stuffed into a washing machine with the spin cycle speed set to spin-me-right-round.
It’s like you were a goose and the tesseract was a Boeing 474 engine.
It had, rightfully, chewed you up and spit you out.
You have to admit Loki was sort of your last thought. Staying alive and not pissing off the armored men with jabby sticks was sort of at the top.
“Hands at your sides.”
Suddenly, there’s a strap in his hands. You stiffen.
He pauses and gives you a look that stills you completely — it means business. And it measures you up. You find, between your crippling headache and mental fatigue, you lack the capability to even possibly cop an attitude with this dude. You find, frankly, you don’t think you’d want to anyways.
You do, however, snap an angry sound out when a literal collar is strapped around your neck and you’re muscled around.
“Excuse me—”
“Reset the timeline.”
There’s a low whir, a howl, and a satisfying little sound — then, what looks like a fogged glass door materializes in front of you.
That’s… new.
You put the brakes on, digging your heels into the dirt floor of the forest, as the myriad of men begin to drag you toward this thing like it’s just a normal Thursday. But, today is not a normal Thursday and honestly, you’ve had your god damn fill of cosmic travel. If that’s even what this was. Could very well be a souped up guillotine for all you know.
So, yeah, it’s a little embarrassing when you’re shouldered through and — and, yeah. You’re standing there, wincing tightly and screaming, when you realize the acoustics have changed and you’re in… a lobby?
A lobby.
There’s a man behind a desk. Someone else in the same collar as you — a… not a human. That’s… Okay. Sure. Blue skin. That’s cool. Either way, everyone is staring and now you feel like a fucking fool — so you clear your throat and place your leg down, uncurling from your standing attempt at a fetal position.
You offer a sheepish look to the staring gaggle.
“... Sorry.”
“Quiet,” sighs the man who has a grip on your shoulder, “Step forward.”
“Sorry to… y’know, keep asking questions, but,” you try your best to remain amicable as you look over your shoulder at him and the surrounding lobby, “Where the fuck am I?”
You can’t help but stare at the decor. It reminds you of… What does it remind you of? The 1960s? Mad Men? Grandma’s living room?
“Welcome to the Time Variance Authority!” comes a voice from behind the desk. It’s a man, younger, who is dressed in an outfit you’d place for a normal office job. He seems chipper enough and your terrified expression does little to dissuade his welcome, “Oh, hey, I know who you are...”
Your brows knot themselves in confusion.
However, before he can give an explanation or a directive on the paperwork being slid your way, the sound of boots on burnt-orange tile floor distracts you from the unsettlingly bright disposition of the man behind the desk. You stare, when out pops Loki on the opposite side of the room. He’s being muscled around by a woman in matching attire to your own personal guard — and he’s got a collar on, too.
Instantly, your jaw drops.
“You.”
Loki’s eyes snap to you, recognition and fear dissolving for a facade of irritation — if only for a moment — before he’s ushered forward.
“Lovely to see you again, bug,” comes the sardonic drip.
Your eyes snap to the pen on the desk in front of you.
Quickly, and with a stale expression on your face, you unceremoniously throw the pen directly at Loki’s forehead.
Thwack.
“Ow...?”
“This is all your fault,” you hiss as Casey (as his name tag reads) groans, digging into his desk for another pen so your booking papers can properly be filled out.
“You’re being childish,” Loki gripes with mild surprise at your sudden outburst; he rubs his forehead before snarling at you from across the desk, “How dare you—”
“How dare I?” you snap back, “How dare I? Me?”
“Yes, you—”
“You’re the one who got us into this mess—”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he battles back, “I don’t even know where we are!”
“That makes two of us!” you yell, only to be muscled away by the guard after he seems satisfied with the information he’s processed on your paperwork.
Loki, now, is beginning to feel a bit of guilt. Not an enormous amount. Enough, though, that it’s nagging at him. His eyes widen for a moment when he realizes you’re being whisked away to some sort of… elevator? You, his only reference point to where-you-were-before you were here. You, insignificant, but also his real only compatriot in this whole ridiculous charade.
His voice is tight with fear.
“Now hold on,” he steps forward, moving to follow, “Where are you taking her?”
You wince as you’re shoved, rather roughly, towards the door — and throw a look over your shoulder at Loki.
…Only to see him quite literally rewind through time.
What.
On.
Earth.
Your eyes snap from him to his guard to him once more — and you watch as he tries to near you again, only for the same outcome. You spy a little device in the woman’s hands. The saaaaame one your guard is holding in his left.
Oh, today was weird but it just got weirder.
“Move along—”
“Hold on—”
Ding!
The doors swing open, you’re shoved into the tiny room, and all you see as the doors close is the panicked expression of the God of Mischief.
The next ten minutes (or, so you think? Time is weird here) are a complete and total blur. You, really, can only comply to the best of your ability — and apologize profusely along the way for every inconvenience your confusion begins to cause. You can’t help your curiosity because… well, normal was thrown out the window when you were signed onto the Avenger’s science roster, it seems.
Your jumpsuit isn’t exactly comfortable, and that stack of everything-you’ve-ever-said-ever was frighteningly small when you were confronted with it, and you’re still seeing stars from that temporal aura device the shorter man urged you through. The doors part, and once more you’re faced with another room in the never-ending pantheon of a maze this place is.
A little ticket holder with TAKE A TAB stares you in the face. There’s a maze of rope, two kiosks, and televisions on the same faux-wooden walls from the other lobby. You stare up at the sea of lights on the ceiling as you step forward and toss a frightened look at a stern faced guard in the corner.
There’s another man in here, making a fit, and you watch as you move around him to take a little, orange ticket.
God, this is one weird dream.
Then, the doors behind you ding.
You’ve never been more relieved to see Loki in the short span of minutes you’ve known him.
“Nice outfit.”
He stands there as you tuck your ticket neatly into your pocket — and stares with a deadpan expression. The guard nudges him, tells him to take a ticket, and he does so without breaking eye contact from you.
Loki ignores the kid weaving his way through, only to loudly proclaim halfway through the maze of rope: “There are only three of us in here! What’s the use?”
He meets you halfway through the maze. You cross your arms. His nostrils flare as he sizes you up.
Pointedly, he speaks. “Where are we?”
“Oh, let me just pull out Google maps — oh! I can’t, because the smiling robot melted my clothes and my phone with a plasma beam. So! Sorry!” you snark as you turn on your heel and continue to weave through the maze of rope.
Loki follows, starting after you with a confused look. “This has to be a mistake—”
“Oh, you’re perceptive—”
“It’s in your best interest not to mock me, bug,” he growls.
Loki is, frankly, a little surprised when you turn on your heel and rear right up in his face. He staggers backwards, startled by your tenacity. You follow him, backing him up against the ropes.
“It’s your fault we’re here,” you bite, raising your finger and prodding him roughly in the chest, “Honestly, I shouldn’t have even tried to stop you — then, maybe, I wouldn’t be stuck here with you. So, get over your massive, miserable ego and let’s just do what we need to do to get out of here.”
Oh.
Oh, he misjudged you. You’ve got a bit of fire in your spirit.
Then, as he picks his jaw up from the floor, you turn back around and eye him haughtily.
“I also hate the color green.”
Loki’s brows twitch and you move through the ropes.
This is exhausting. This is… This is ridiculous. It has to be some cruel joke. Punishment, maybe? Is his mother at the root of this? No, no, maybe not. Why would you be here?
Frustrated and put in his place, the raven-haired God balls his hands tight and groans.
“This is a mistake! I shouldn’t even be here!”
Then, the PA chimes alive.
You jump, eyes widening.
“Hi there! You’re probably saying ‘this is a mistake, I shouldn’t even be here’—”
You turn, sharing a confused look with Loki as the televisions bloom to life.
“—Welcome to the TIme Variance Authority. I’m Miss Minutes, and it’s my job to catch you up before you stand trial for your crimes!”
Hold on… What?
“What?” you shake your head, looking panicked at the guard in the back, “Hold on, ‘stand trial for my crimes’?”
Loki moves past you, staring at the television as you loudly proclaim: “I was never even read my rights!”
The television program does little to quell your fear — in fact, it furthers the dawning realization that whatever happened with the tesseract was, in fact, worse than you initially thought. You had a basic understanding of the stone’s ability to alter space around it; and even more so, you had extensive knowledge of the subject at hand. But… concepts like this, like multiverses and time travel were all theory. Speculation. Unknowns ruminated about on lunch breaks with cohorts.
Variants, sacred timelines, and TVA, oh my.
Then, like the icing on the cake, that asshole yelling about how his dad works at Goldman-Sachs and wait until he hears about this is evaporated before you and Loki’s eyes.
You both procure your tickets at the same time, holding them in the air.
✶   ✶   ✶
As it turns out, Miss Minutes was being completely truthful about the whole ‘on trial for your crimes’ bit. The courtroom’s decor matches that of the entire TVA’s scheme — but over a single judge, beyond the pews and murals, are three heads of those supposed ‘Time-Keepers’. It’s imposing, and despite your hesitation, Loki seems keen on getting the ball rolling.
You’re both ushered up at the call of: “Next case!”
The judge, from her high spot overlooking the drab court, begins speaking as the two of you approach the bench.
“Variant L1130 and Variant X1131 — both charged with sequence violation 7-20-89,” she says, voice crystalline in the quiet room, “Approach the bench, please.”
You both share a look, then step into the small booth.
“How do you both plead?” she asks, flipping closed her notes on — apparently — your case.
“I’m sorry, there must be a misunderstanding,” you say quickly, gesturing between you and Loki, “We… We are not… Not pleading together, your honor.”
Loki leans over, waves you off. Quietly, he says: “Let me handle this.”
You glare.
Leave it to the self-proclaimed Silvertongue.
And sure enough, he tries. You’ll give him that. It’s almost impressive.
Even trying to pin it on the Avengers impresses you — because his little quip about them time traveling somehow connects all the dots in your head about that other-you… But still leaves you feeling like you’ve picked up a book half-way through and begun reading. You’ve missed a few chapters.
Then, Loki tries to… conjure magic? In the middle of the court?
You watch, mouth falling open, as the folks in the pews watch with amusement and scoff.
When the judge questions it, and Loki’s guard explains he’s trying to use his magic, you’re quick to swat his arms down. You give him the millionth unamused look of the day, in a very pull-it-together way, and tilt your head to the side.
What the hell?
Loki’s face falls. He slams his hands on the stand. You shake your head as his outburst, like clockwork, begins — and then the threats, and then the yelling, and then the guards are muscling him away as you rub your forehead and try to find out a way you can recover this absolute blunder.
“Your honor—”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry,” you say tightly as you find her gaze, “This… All of this, to Loki’s point, was a genuine mistake — our intention wasn’t to... disrupt the Sacred Timeline.”
“As reassuring as that is,” she chirps as she moves to raise her gavel after sparing the now in-custody Loki a look, “Intention does not matter, Variant. It’s the crime itself.”
You deflate.
“That being said, that court finds you both guilty and I sentence you to be reset.”
“Reset?” you ask, eyes wild with fear.
“What does that mean? ‘Reset’? Is that bad?” Loki asks, being pulled towards yet another room, “Hey! You ridiculous bureaucrats will not dictate how my story ends!”
You step down, letting the officer who had originally apprehended you lead you to an opposite door from Loki.
“It was never your story, Mr. Laufeyson — It never was.”
“You have no idea what I’m capable of!”
Enter Mobius M. Mobius.
“I… I think I might. Both of them, actually.”
You don’t know it now, certainly not as you stare wild-eyed at the chaos unfolding with a creeping sense of doom, that he will become some sort of friend in this new world. But, when he steps up, file folder in hand, you’re not sure how you’ve managed to skirt yet another brush with whatever the end of this system has in store. Somehow, the mustached man with the crooked nose says the right thing.
The judge’s eyes soften when they land on him.
You watch, trying to parse through the hushed discussion but — then you’re released.
And this man waves you on with a smile.
✶   ✶   ✶
This man is kind — or, so far he is.
You aren’t exactly keen to trust him, nor is Loki from his apparent scrutiny of everything the man does and says.
And while he weaves you through the facility that has so many more rooms and elevators and doors than you can begin to understand, you’re in awe. Everything is… Complex. Intricate. Like woven-time itself.
Then… the skyline.
Loki finds himself staring at you.
You step up to the railing, face bathed in pure awe.
…It’s rather... cute.
Loki crosses his arms tightly. He grits his jaw, pulls his eyes from you and the skyline, and stares at the grey-haired man looking on at the both of you with a knowing smile.
“I thought there was no magic here.”
Mobius continues watching the two of you. There’s half a smile there.
“There isn’t.”
“It’s not real,” you breathe out, “It can’t be.”
Mobius’ hand is gentle on your shoulder. “It is. And so is the paperwork. C’mon, both of you.”
“This place is a nightmare.”
You look back at Loki, measuring his palpable disgust for the place. “...I sort of like it.”
“I figured you’d say that,” Mobius says with a wink as he pushes open the door to another set of elevators, “It’s that science brain of yours.”
You try to hide the offputting feeling that knowledge strikes you with. How does he know you? You don’t even know this man’s name. You scoff. “...Well, I like magic, too.”
“As you should,” Loki deadpans with a displeased expression, “Magic is supremely powerful.”
“Not here,” you chirp back, “God of Jazz Hands.”
Loki ignores the jab — and, like he has for the last handful of hours, lets these people parade him around. Going from one custody to another has little to no appeal. Already, the God is trying to figure out how to leave this place… But, it isn’t an easy concept to parse.
The elevator dings.
“I’m Agent Mobius, by the way.”
While Loki ignores the handshake, you take it. It’s hesitant.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Mobius says, nodding as he shakes your hand.
You’re uncomfortable. He’s the second person to act as if… as if he knows who you are.
Loki watches.
“Are you taking us somewhere to kill us?” he interjects with his skeptical glare driving a wedge between you and the grey-haired TVA agent.
“No, no,” he exhales, shaking his head, “No, we’re going somewhere to talk.”
“Talk?” you ask, shifting on your feet in front of the two men. You eye the jumbled letter on the panel of the elevator and wonder what sort of system this place uses to organize their departments. This place, the TVA, is vast. The view outside the balcony proves that much. You watch the floors zip by on the overhead panel as you speak, “Sounds ominous.”
“Talking, and killing us, then.”
“No,” Mobius tucks his hands into the pockets of his slacks, “That’s where you just were. We’re going to have a little chat about some things I’m curious about.”
“Then what?” your brows furrow. You and Loki share a look of worry.
“We’ll see.”
“I don’t like to talk,” Loki offers up, defensively.
You almost scoff.
Mobius, however, does. His amusement is clear as day. “But you do like to lie, which you just did.”
“—How long have you been here?” Loki asks quickly, derailing the introspection into his behavior like it’s second-nature.
Mobius sighs, looks at you, then the elevator floors. “I dunno know. It’s hard to say, y’know, time passes differently here in the TVA…”
“I noticed,” you mumble.
Mobius’ eyes light up.
“What does that mean?” Loki looks between the two of you.
You shrug. “Think about it, how long have we been here?”
Loki squints down at you.
“Hours? Minutes? For a place that’s keen on managing the proper flow of time, I haven’t seen one clock.”
Mobius waggles his fingers in the air as the doors slide open — and he’s smiling at you with a look that reminds you of professors you’ve had in the past. It’s a blend of pride and interest and… near affection. “Nice catch, doc.”
You snort quietly. “I’m not a doctor.”
“Not yet.”
You spin, and stare at Mobius.
“I’m sorry?”
“Don’t be,” it’s cheeky, “I’ll explain later.”
Loki distrusts this little interaction immediately. He steps between you and Mobius as the three of you enter a new floor. This place is the most crowded you’ve seen yet — and though the workers here are all fitted with the same monochromatic uniform schematics, you can understand that there are indicators for different roles. Officers, guards, office clerks, judges… A whole workforce bustling around you.
“So you’re a part of the TVA’s dedicated and courageous workforce?” Loki spits out as Mobius leads the way through the hall. His tone is mocking, and his swagger is pronounced with an annoyed slump of the shoulders.
“Yes.”
“And you were created by the Time-Keepers—”
You fall behind, brushing past agents. You eye their armor, and those batons on their belts.
“Yep.”
“—To protect the Sacred Timeline.”
“Correct.”
You speed up, matching pace with the two men as they begin to round a corner toward some sort of amphitheater. Over the door, it reads Time Theater.
Loki lets out a cynical laugh as you eye your surroundings.
“You think it’s funny?” asks Mobius, holding his two stacks of manilla folders under his arm. His eyes are curious. You try to find any maliciousness there… But you fail to see anything other than genuine wonder.
“The idea that your little club decides the fate of trillions of people across all existence at the behest of three… space lizards? Yes, it’s funny. It’s absurd.”
Mobius, at the bottom of the stairs, squints.
“What about you, doc?”
Loki’s gaze turns to you at the top of the steps. You open your mouth, close it, then exhale tightly.
“Honestly?” you say, after a beat of a moment, “I don’t know what to believe.”
Mobius rocks on his heels.
“What about coincidences? Do you believe in those?”
You puff out a haughty laugh from your nose. “I prefer synchronicities.”
“Because they’re more analytical,” Mobius probes, tilting his head, “Right?”
“It depends who you ask,” you falter down the steps as you cross your arms, “To me, coincidences are random. Synchronicities hold logistical bearings. Purpose.”
“Sort of like fate?”
“If fate was a math problem,” you grin, “Maybe.”
Mobius nods. There’s a twinkle in his eyes.
“C’mon. Both of you. Come inside.”
Loki spares you a long look — one that’s laden with mild surprise and interest. For a Midgardian, you’ve proven to be able to handle yourself rather well. Again, you certainly aren’t his first choice to be trapped in this time-maze with, but he supposes you will do. You could prove useful.
You meet his eyes for a flash of a second. You ignore it. You follow Mobius.
“For the record, this does really feel like a killing-us kind of a room.”
Loki’s right. It does. You watch Mobius move to place his belongings on a table in the center of the room with three chairs gathered around it. There’s some sort of wall that begs to operate as a screen, and once more the patterned lighting choices make the space seem eerily symmetrical. It’s large, mostly empty, and your attention is fixed to the little device on the table that reminds you of an early Macintosh monitor.
“Not big on trust, huh?”
“Trust is for children, and dogs,” Loki scowls, stalking past you and moving to the table, “There’s only one person I can trust.”
“Her?” he asks as he gestures to you in a moment of genuine questioning.
Loki falters. Mobius smirks. You frown.
“No. No, myself—”
“Sure, sure,” Mobius smiles, “Come on. Both of you, sit down.”
But, Loki isn’t finished. “If the TVA truly oversees all of time, how have I never heard of you until now?”
“‘Cause you’ve never needed to,” Mobius says as he leans and turns on the projector, “You’ve always lived within your set path.”
Loki’s tone rises sharply. “I live within whatever path I chose—”
You interject, raising a hand as you step between Loki and Mobius. Your brows are knotted tightly as you shake your head. “Hold on… But, when Variants break from the Sacred Timeline — you reset the Variant, and the timeline. So, who’s to say we haven’t met you before?”
Mobius stands up straight. Again, another sly smile.
“Y’know, doc,” Mobius pulls his chair out, and presumably one he intends to be yours, “You’re impressive.”
“Time is impressive,” you volley back, sitting down, “And finicky. And... weird. And, if I’m being completely honest here? I have a headache.”
“Understandable. And, now I’ve gotta know,” Mobius says as he takes a seat and gestures, once more for Loki to sit down beside you, “How would you reason that repeated instances of the same Variants occur?”
“...As in the same person?” you ask as you cock a brow and lean back in the cold, steel chair.
“More like the same two people.”
Oh.
Mm. There it is. You got it. Mobius sees it.
He inhales, and leans forward.
“You two are what we call Recurring Variant Anomalies,” Mobius says pointedly, “It’s rare that we find Variants that break from the Sacred Timeline twice — even rarer when it’s the same two people both times, at the same time. Causes quite the hiccup. Lots of mental math. Time stuff. It’s a lot.”
You and Loki connect gazes.
“RVA’s, or… y’know, you two,” Mobius continues as he waves between the two of you, “Are, uh… Think of it like soulmates. For whatever reason, you two are tied together in time. Variant or not. Sort of comforting, right?”
“Not at all—”
“Hardly,” Loki chirps as he crosses his arms.
“...Riiiiight,” Mobius says slowly, gaze dancing between you as he spins some sort of tuning dial on the monitor, “So… 2012… That’s… You two have just met.”
Suddenly, there’s an image on the wall. It’s conjured with delicate palettes of light building into a background, painting a picture you recognize almost immediately.
It’s the lab. It’s you, it’s Loki, it’s the Tesseract. It’s last Monday.
“What is this?” you ask, leaning forward in your chair as the projection begins to fast forward through the week, through each time you and Loki’s paths seem to cross — and in the lobby. It stops.
“Think of it as your greatest hits,” Mobius shrugs, “This tape is dedicated to you and him, and I’ve got two others here that are independent reels of your time alive.”
“This is all a load of bunkum,” Loki snaps with a scowl as sharp as a blade.
“... If looks could kill,” muses the TVA agent as he cracks open a cola can and takes a sip.
You let out a long sigh as Loki sharpens his gaze even farther. He speaks with the hissing vibrato you’ve come to know well in however long you’ve spent tied to his hip through this whole process. He’s irritated. “What do you want from us?”
“How about some cooperation to start?”
“Not my forte.”
“Speak for yourself,” you mutter, rubbing your face.
“I specialize in the pursuit of dangerous Variants,” Mobius says after another long sip. He moves through the manilla folder on top and you notice your photo there.
“Like myself?” Loki asks.
“No, no — particularly dangerous Variants. Like her, maybe,” he nods your way and you blink, “Not you, Loki, you’re a little pussycat.”
You can feel the anger rolling off the God beside you without even looking.
“I’m confused,” you say, cutting through the tension with a wave of your hand, “Why us?”
“Why you, indeed!” Mobius nods, scrubbing through time to… you’ve never seen this before. This is — well, it’s like watching a movie. A movie of someone you know.
“What is this?” Loki asks, squinting at the projection, “This never even happened. This isn’t real.”
“This,” Mobius explains, “Is what would have happened if the two of you hadn’t disrupted the Sacred Timeline. Loki, you’d be being escorted back to Asgard for imprisonment, and Doc, you’d be back to that tiny little apartment of yours — but, Loki, it’s this part that’s important.”
Suddenly, there’s a woman.
“Hello, Mother.”
Your eyes widen by a mile.
Mobius sits back and crosses his arms.
“Pause it.”
Loki’s longing look is pulled from the screen and it drifts to you; you’re standing — the recognition that burns in your gaze is hard to ignore and Loki follows your figure across the room with his eyes.
“...Who is she?” you ask after a long moment.
“That,” Mobius says as he points, “Is Lady Frigga — right, Loki?”
“It’s my mother—”
You blink back at the screen.
You know her.
Not — I mean, not like you’ve met, but you know her from your dreams. You’ve had dreams about a woman with that face, with that voice, with that kind look for years; ever since you were a child, actually. You always assumed she was your father’s mother or a distant aunt you only had the bones of a memory of. You figured your brain had made the connection, filled in the gaps. But… That’s her.
The back of your head tingles.
“You’ve seen her before,” Mobius says. It’s less of a question, more of a statement of a fact.
“That’s impossible,” scoffs Loki with a roll of the eyes.
“In my dreams,” you whisper, far-away and taking in the beauty of the woman, “I have.”
Loki’s tone is sharp like a whip when he stands. “What’s the meaning of all this? To lie to us, to craft illusions?”
“I’m just trying to understand you two.”
“Why?” you ask, turning on your heel and shaking your head. It’s a bitter sort of anger that rises in your voice — and you can’t help but feel like you’re being toyed with, “There isn’t even an ‘us’. He’s a narcissistic, self-obsessed liar who thinks he was born to rule the galaxy in cheap leather—”
“—I beg your pardon—”
“Then beg!” you snap at Loki, throwing your hands at him before turning back to Mobius with a scowl, “What’s the point?”
“I’m trying to understand you,” Mobius says, “And how much you mean to him. And vice versa.”
Your gaze meets Loki’s. There is a shared irritation for this game Mobius is playing with the two of you.
“You don’t know anything about me,” Loki drawls, low and threatening, “And you’re proving such by insinuating I’d be emotionally attached to some lowly human. Midgardians are a pest. Ants to be crushed by a boot.”
You ignore the dig. You can’t really say you expected much more than that from him. It’s in character.
“Maybe I’d like to learn.”
You circle Loki, and plant your hands on the back of your own chair. You don’t sit.
“Listen, I’m not trying to make this difficult — for either of you,” the TVA agent in question leans back and looks between the two of you, “I am trying to understand what makes you both tick. Let me ask my questions, and I’ll show you why it’s so important for me to figure this out. Then, I can get you both out of here. After all, that’s what you both want, right?”
You exhale tightly.
Loki blinks. Dark lashes kiss his high cheekbones. He chews the inside of his lip, irritation bleeding into the bouncing of his leg.
“Fine.”
“Right.”
You sit down.
“Let’s start there, Loki — should you return, what are you gonna do?”
Mobius puts his head down and readies a small piece of notepaper in a flipbook. You can see the tattered, yellowing scraps of past-notes flipped behind this one. The pen has the TVA logo emblazoned on it in that same burnt orange that followed you through every hall.
Across from him, Loki tightens his jaw and straightens his posture. He then leans back, with his arms crossed, and answers.
“Finish what I started.”
“Which is?”
He wet his lips. “Claim my throne.”
Mobius nods. “You wanna be… king?”
Suddenly, there’s a sneer on the God’s lip. “I don’t want to be, I was born to be.”
Whether or not that admission was purposeful, you find your brows raising a bit in the tiniest of microexpressions. It’s surprise. The way he says it makes it seem like it’s the only right answer there is — like it’s been practiced.
“I know, but… King of what exactly?”
Loki, frustrated and clearly exhausted already with the line of questioning, scoffs.
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
The veneer of irritation melts — if only a little bit.
“...Midgard.”
You roll your eyes. He notices.
“AKA… Earth…” Mobius notes as his pen moves quickly across the paper, “Alright, now you’re the King of Midgard, then what? Happily ever after? All on your own?”
“I don’t need anyone to help me fulfill my purpose.”
“Must be lonely.”
“I can assure you,” Loki snaps like a wounded dog in a trap, “I do not care.”
“But, there’s the thing — you do,” Mobius raises a finger, “That’s one thing I know about you, Loki, that you do care. That being alone does bother you. I know that — and I’m not trying to belittle you. Listen, I’m a fan. I’m just trying to understand how this big picture falls into place.”
Suddenly, the tape is being scrubbed once more. Light and picture dances on the wall adjacent to the three of you, and suddenly it’s a still image of what looks like… a library? No. No, that’s not right. It’s an older building, and Thor is there, and you’re holding a spectrometer and looking horribly out of place.
Mobius presses play.
Suddenly, a black-clad Loki falls from some sort of sparking portal.
“I have been falling! For thirty minutes!”
The visage of you on the screen yelps; hand flying over your mouth at the sudden appearance of the man you now know well. He hits the floor with a resounding thud! and looks… less imposing now, flat on the floor with wild black curls flying about. He’s swathed in a well-tailored black suit and you can’t help but think he’s the exact opposite of Thor. The God of Mischief pushes himself upwards, eyes wild with anger.
Thor, on screen, hides a chuckle at his brother’s expense.
That future-you blinks with wide eyes between the unknown man and Thor, wondering why the hell no one seems to be as off-put as you are.
“Do you just…?” you make the same sort of gesture the… — wizard? Right, let’s go with wizard — had just done in order to open the portal Loki had fallen out of with a confused look on your face, “Do that normally?”
Your voice crackles from the speakers. It’s eerie.
The wizard shrugs.
He turns to Thor then, shaking hands and gesturing once more to sling open another portal.
“I trust you can handle it from here,” he says to Thor, “Good luck.”
This portal, unlike the one Loki had fallen through, overlooks the ocean. You feel a bit like you’ve opened a book in the middle of a chapter — you’re not sure what the hell is going on and before you can ask, Loki is honing in on you like a predator at his next meal. He’s standing before you, leering with an angry look that should have probably sent you for the hills.
Instead, you pull another face.
“What is this? A wretched little pest, here to help?”
“Brother—”
“Have we met?” Loki sneers, lip curling as he hisses, “Or do you simply bear resemblance to every other disgusting worm on this planet?”
You push your glasses up again. Suddenly, you’re aware of the behavioral tango you’re locked in. It’s like a psychological game of chess. You decide to move your pawn.
“We have, actually,” you chirp with an uncanny amount of unamusement. Thor’s eye twitches behind you, “You tried to blow up my lab station…?  But, uh, I doubt you probably remember that, huh? Yeah, you were, uh, kinda busy terrorizing my boss and half the other staff on call… No, no, I get it. I’ve gotten a haircut since, so—”
“Doctor, please, ignore him—” Thor tries, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Oh, you’re one of Selvig’s wenches then.”
That doesn’t get the rise out of you that Loki had predicted. You frown, hands in your pockets. Your body language is guarded. Loki’s lip twitches.
“That’s an awfully misogynistic thing for you to say.”
There’s a glimpse of a recoil in his eyes at that. He takes a step forward, as if to challenge you – to which Strange clears his throat. The game is stopped, if only for a moment, and Loki’s anger is redirected towards the wizard with a new-found malice.
“And you must be the second-rate sorcerer—”
Mobius pauses the tape.
You blink.
“This never happened.”
“Not to you, not yet,” Mobius says, “Had you not broken from the Sacred Timeline, yes. It happens and it happens again, and again, and again. You two meeting again is the proper flow of time. Everytime.”
“How…?”
“The TVA doesn’t only know what should happen. We know what does happen — on these tapes I’ve got both of your lives from start to finish, all according to what the Time-Keepers have willed to happen in accordance with the Sacred Timeline.”
“Do you believe this?” Loki asks you suddenly as he narrows his eyes, “This is completely and utterly ridiculous.”
“Is it?” Mobius asks, “Because, frankly, I think what is a little ridiculous is your frequent belittling of those around you. I mean, c’mon, you’re the God of Mischief. I’ve got hours worth of footage on here of you hurting others. Invading cities, killing innocent people, plucking eyeballs out. I mean that right there is a prime example. Why are you being so cruel to her? She’s done nothing to you.”
“She’s a human.”
“Is it because you think she’s pretty?” Mobius plucks at the God like he’s some sort of child, “She is — we all know it — but, c’mon, really? She’s very far from a worm… That’s just plain old mean, pal.”
You feel sheepishness prick at your cheeks. You stare ahead at the screen.
Loki growls. “Your commentary is useless.”
“Because I’m right,” Mobius battles back with a wave of his finger, “You know it. I can see it — between this, and the murder and the torture and the general atrocities? I don’t see anything mischievous about how you act, Loki.”
Loki’s lip curls.
“No, I don’t suppose you do.”
“And neither does she!” Mobius says, wagging his pen your way, “I mean, really, she’s the love of your life—”
“I am not—”
“She is no such thing—”
“No?” Mobius leans forward, “You don’t believe me?”
“No.”
It comes out of both your mouths, stressed and unamused.
So, Mobius scrubs again. This time, through a long stretch of time. There’s colors, people, space, and…
A penthouse apartment.
Suddenly, as the grey-haired man presses play, Loki’s voice fills the room. The cadence is warm and gentle. It’s unlike you’ve heard him speak before. There’s a timbre to his words that makes your heart involuntarily flutter.
“I haven’t been completely honest with you.”
On the screen, his voice rouses you mid-chew and you blink up at the dark-haired God over the dinner the servants had brought you mere minutes ago. You swallows, knotting your brows. You can see worry on your own face.
You’re not wearing something Earthly. It doesn’t look Asgardian either. It’s black, with a deep neckline and your hair is intricately done. You can’t place where this is. It… doesn’t seem like Earth. Not New York City, for sure.
“What is it?” you ask, eyes scanning Loki’s face. The lie-smith opens his mouth but nothing comes out. Your face falls. “You’re married already, aren’t you—”
“What?” Loki blinks, nose scrunching in distaste, “No, I’m not married—”
You seem to deflate with relief. Loki would have laughed had his chest not felt like Mjolnir was resting atop it.
In his seat in the TVA, Loki squirms.
“Then what haven’t you been completely honest about?”
He stands, disregarding his dinner and folding his hands behind his back. He then begins to pace. Your eyes follow him with every step.
“I… I have never found myself in a position where I have grown to trust someone as much as yourself. You have gained my affections in a way I had never seen possible,” he offers. It’s slow. The other-you smiles at him and it spurs him to continue, “And because of this, I must apologize for behavior at times. I can be rude and crass… and yet you still sleep beside me at night.”
Oh.
“In all fairness, there is only one bed and I am not sleeping on the floor.”
On the screen, Loki laughs, quick and breathy, as he drops his head and sighs.
“But, I am… not who you think I am.”
You give him a look as you stand, abandoning your plate. “I am well aware of that much, Loki. You’re infuriatingly complex, and just when I think I have you pegged, you sock another wrench into my calculations.”
“I think I might be about to do exactly what you just said.”
“Spit it out, Loki.”
“You remember the story I told you of Jotunheim?”
“That’s… the ice planet?” your eyes fleet about as you rack your brain, “Jötunns were the frost giants, right? With blue skin and red eyes? That book you showed me had beautiful illustrations –”  
And suddenly, the pale face of the God on the screen is gone and his skin has an icy hue. Those green eyes you know faded away to fiery red orbs. Markings of a foreign kind swirled about his skin and you couldn’t help but yank your hand away. He looks just like the illustrations from the book on Asgardian history Loki had given you. You regret pulling away nearly instantly.
In your seat, you wince. You feel like you’re watching some soap opera on daytime television and… you’re invested. For fuck’s sake, you’re the lead star.
The hurt is visible on his face.
“I’m sorry,” he mutters, “I should have not shown you—”
Suddenly, Loki to your left, speaks up.
His voice is rough.
“Shut it off.”
Mobius raises his hand. “Shh. This is the good part.”
You blink between Loki and the screen.
On the screen, Loki is trying to quell the growing rage in his chest. He turns and knots his fingers in fists. Curse Odin. Curse Frigga. Curse them all. He was a monster. They should have just let him die on Jotunheim as a baby.
“Loki.”
Your voice is so warm it snuffs the anger in his chest out almost immediately.
You weave around him, eyes wide with a different type of admiration – one he hasn’t seen on you before (is this love?) – as your hands reach to ghost along his now pastel cobalt cheek bones. Your fingers feel like freshly smelted metal against his skin. He loves it.
“You look like sapphires,” you breathe, “I never thought blue was your color, and yet here I am. You’re – Why do you hide it? Why keep this beautiful secret hidden?”
“I am a monster.”
“Loki, no.”
Your eyes are so full of affection he wants to cry. He drops his gaze to the floor only for you to pull it back to your own gaze again. Your fingers curl along his jaw.
“It hurts me when you say that, you know. I don’t think you’re a monster. Not before, not now. You cannot be so cruel to yourself, Loki.”
He’s silent. You speak again, your voice stern.
“You’re not a monster. You’re my husband, remember?”
Mobius pauses the Time Movie.
He’s smug. “That is love. That’s what I’m trying to figure out here. You two.”
You stare at the sight on the screen. The two of you curled close.
Loki, on the other hand, feels like crawling out of his skin.
This isn’t possible. This is — this is some cruel, cruel joke put on by the powers that be. Perhaps that punishment he considered earlier. There was no way this could possibly be true.
No, he can’t even look at you.
Anger, bitterness, and fury takes over his tone as he pushes himself back in his chair.
“I know what this place is.”
“Oh?”
“Oh, yes, it’s an illusion.”
He moves to stand and you notice Mobius’ hands twitch on the Time Twister — however, the TVA agent remains interested in Loki’s reaction and less on reprimanding the sudden movement.
“It’s a cruel, elaborate trick conjured by the weak to inspire fear,” he hisses as he stalks about. Pointing at the screen, his voice runs hoarse as he shakes off the possibilities implied by the sight of the two of you, curled into one another, in love, “My mother taught me plenty of them.”
“Your mother, right,” Mobius says, raising a finger, “That’s a great point to circle back to — y’know, since you were the one who led the Dark Elves straight to her. Why?”
The woman with the kind eyes and golden hair is back once more, but this time she’s speaking to Loki — and immediately the God in the room steps forward. His expression is marked with confusion, with fear.
“What?”
“The Dark Elves,” Mobius continues as he sips his cola, “You think you send them to Thor...—”
“—You might wanna take the stairs to the left.”
“But instead, you send them…”
“—I’ll never tell.”
Your heart stops when the dagger is run through Frigga, when she gasps, and when she crumples in a heap of gilded armor and skirts. The ache you feel in your heart is tight and sharp and vengeful.
You can see the tension rising in Loki’s posture. His breath shudders.
“Shut it off,” you snap at Mobius before Loki interjects.
“Where do you have her?” he is beginning to sound panicked, “Where is she?”
But Mobius stands, and with ill-timed nonchalance, he waves his hands as he shrugs and watches Loki.
“You lead them right to her.”
“I don’t believe you,” Loki’s voice rises as you stand, “You’re lying. It’s not true.”
“It is true. That’s the proper flow of time and it happens again and again and again because it’s supposed to. Because it has to. The TVA makes sure of it—”
“Where is she?” Loki is almost like a wild animal now, ignoring the way you completely block his attempts at nearing Mobius. He’s blinded to you completely.
“—Now, why don’t you tell me, do you enjoy hurting people?”
“—I don’t believe you,” he says as he stalks from foot to foot, “I don’t.”
“Do you enjoy killing people?” Mobius is nearly yelling now.
“I’ll kill you—” Loki snaps, as if a reflex.
“What, like you did your own mother?”
Then it all falls apart. Loki breaks for Mobius, and you’re shoved out of the way. You stagger back, catching yourself on the table as the God of Mischief unceremoniously whips the chair in the agent’s direction with a flick of his wrist. It sends the image of Frigga scattering in dancing particles of light that quickly rearrange. An image that cannot be erased.
Mobius flicks the Time Twister.
In a blink, you’re back in your chair and Loki has landed, hard, on the ground.
He hisses in pain and you press your fingers to your temple. The vertigo is brutal — only for a second — and then you resettle into the current flow of time.
“Sorry, the Time Twister loops the both of you — not the furniture.”
You ignore Mobius as he rounds back to the holoprojector in favor of offering up a worried glance Loki’s way. His gaze is far away from here. Shame and guilt have replaced his anger.
“You weren’t born to be king, Loki. You were born to cause pain and suffering and death. That’s how it is, that’s how it was, that’s how it will be.”
The agent presses a button, and the Avengers roll on into the room. They paint it all sorts of heroic colors as the Chitauri hiss in the background.
“...All so that others can achieve the best versions of themselves.”
There’s a beat of silence, and then you push to stand.
“Enough.”
It’s stern.
Mobius watches as you turn to the God on the floor and offer a tentative hand.
If you’re being honest with yourself, you don’t know why you do it. Maybe because you suddenly feel for the God — maybe because in this flash of a moment, you can see the downtrodden regret pouring from his eyes as he shakes his head from his place on the ground. He’s a fallen God; yet, so horribly human.
Loki’s eyes follow the delicate hand offered to him with genuine surprise.
He is, however, incredibly thankful. He can feel it in his heart. He will hide it, of course.
He takes your hand and you lean back, helping the tall God off the floor as the TVA agent watches. Mobius finds it curious how the two of you have natural inclination towards one another already despite strong opposition to nearly everything about one another. But, that’s fate he supposes.
And this little interaction tells him a lot about Loki, about you, and about what either of your Variants might do without the other.
Suddenly, the doors rattle open.
Loki looks down on you for a moment. You hold his gaze. Then, he nods, and you pull away from him.
“What are you doing?” comes a voice you recognize as one of the officers from before. She’s the one that had apprehended Loki — a tall, strong woman with piercing eyes.
Mobius deflates. “My job. Is it yours to interrupt?”
“We have a situation.”
“There’s always a situation,” he grumbles as he pushes off his feet and moves toward the doors. He turns back, raises a finger and gestures to the two of you, “Don’t go anywhere.”
He calls out over his shoulder again as he nears the doors.
“Take a look at those tapes. I mean — It’s all there. I’m not lying about any of it.”
Then, the doors close.
And you’re left alone with Loki, the holoprojector, and two lives worth of film.
The silence is heavy.
Finally, when you turn around from the door, you let out a long sigh and settle your attention on the God in the center of the room. He’s looking at his hands, back turned to you. The sharp angles of his face are lit with the image from the Time Movie. Golden and mournful.
Your voice is gentle. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine, bug,” he snaps without even turning to look at you, “You need not busy yourself with worrying over a God.”
It’s scathing.
You scowl.
“I’m trying to be nice,” you explain as you cross your arms tightly over your jumpsuit and tug at the collar around your neck, “Or is that such a foreign concept to you?”
That earns you a calculated glare over his shoulder.
You watch, keen on measuring his reaction.
“Why?” he asks, voice hot like a knife held over a fire — it’s reactionary, “What does being ‘nice’ get you in the end, bug?”
When your face falls, however, Loki realizes that you just made a rather painful point. Your eyes go soft — and the God recoils in discomfort at the sight of pity. It makes him turn away once more and ignore the delicate frown that sweeps across your features.
Behind him, your tone is soft. “Nevermind then.”
Loki steals another glance. He watches as you begin to pace — your white sneakers follow the line in the tiles as you move back and forth across the room. His brows are twisted in a horribly curious way. He despises himself for it.
“...I am a God. Words of mortal men mean nothing to me.”
He says it like he’s trying to convince himself. You pause midstep.
“It doesn’t matter who says something,” you mumble before gesturing to the holoprojector, “Words are the oldest weapon in the book.”
“Oh, please,” Loki chirps, cocking his head to the side as he, like a snake, shows his fangs to deter a threat. His words are a desperate attempt at a stinging bite, “I don’t need your pity. You’re a pest. A soon-to-be-subjugate.”
There’s hurt, there. You can hear it in the subtle crack of his words.
“You’re the Silvertongue,” you shrug, “You’d know.”
Hm.
He’s quiet for a while longer and you trade in your pacing for settling in on the steps before the exit to the theater. Your gaze is rooted on the film sitting neatly atop Mobius’ files. There’s one there with your name on it. The canister glimmers in the light.
“...Do you believe what Agent Mobius says about me?”
It’s a quiet question.
You watch Loki.
His posture is sharp. It’s the way he asks it that betrays his intention.
You fiddle with your fingers.
“...I don’t know if I believe anything Mobius says,” you begin, tucking your knees close and leaning forward, “But, I know you’ve done terrible things.”
“You think me to be a monster.”
“Is that a joke?” you chirp as you scoff, “Please, continue to berate me, and weave along your little manifest destiny monologues about ruling my planet — and do you want me to ignore the last week? The failed attempt at leveling New York? I thought you said you didn’t want my pity.”
“Enough,” Loki hisses as he is beginning to even regret pushing you for an answer, “You’ve said your piece.”
“No,” you stress, raising a finger to signify you aren’t finished; anger settles into your words, “I haven’t. But it doesn’t matter because you’re so self-absorbed you can’t even listen to what I’m saying.”
In truth, it’s shame that’s making the God’s fingers tremble, not anger. In complete honesty, it feels easier to let you believe it’s some self-aggrandized notion and not the dawning realization that he may not be able to keep up this illusion forever. He… He never meant for it all to end up like this.
His back is still to you. He’s glad. He doesn’t want you to see the crack in his stalwart composition.
“This is ridiculous.”
His whisper bears an inkling of his frustration. You watch him.
“Yeah,” you mutter to yourself as you stand and rock on your heels, “Worst Thursday of my life.”
That earns you a scoff.
He stops his fiddling long enough to trace your figure with his eyes and realize that, yes, that woman from before in the lobby of the Avengers tower was indeed you — and from the films Mobius had shown, he can see why you would have called out to him like that. It’s clear that in this other time, in the ‘Sacred’ flow of time, the two of you weren’t meant to find one another.
It’s… laughable, almost.
By Odin’s beard — not for lack of trying, his mother and father had never been able to find him a suitable match. Thor was easier; he wasn’t so critical of companionship. Loki yearned for intellectual connection even as a young boy, and found it harder to play with kids his age. Perhaps that’s why he so readily threw himself into magic, into Frigga’s teachings. She had insisted that fate was a beautiful thing. That it was wound like ribbons of silk in the stars, falling into place with every rise and fall of the moon.
He rather liked the image.
…And if you were being truthful about seeing his mother? In your dreams?
Well, she always did seem one step ahead of everyone else.
Was this how it was written all along? Did he not have any say in how his life panned out? Was this detour a part of his ascent, or… or was it all in vain? Was he supposed to find you now? Later? Has he gone and ruined what time had set in motion for him?
Suddenly, Loki finds his heart aching for something he cannot have:
That life. The one that rolled by like a movie.
And yet — he’s angry.
It’s not possible. No, he’d never find himself falling in bed with a human. Not for life, not for love, not for… some unending thing that has supposedly transcended time. You are beneath him. Unworthy of even the simplest of his affections. Frigga was wrong.
His mother was wrong.
Wrong, wrong, wrong.
He didn’t need this clouding his intent, either. He had one goal — the same goal that has remained since falling from the Bifrost. It’s glorious purpose, a burden he’s carried since he was a boy.
Odin’s burden.
The burden of a forgotten son.
“If you don’t mind,” when he turns around, you notice that he wasn’t looking at his hands at all. Infact, he’s got a disassembled Time Twister in his hands. Confusion consumes you when you realize you have no idea how he even managed to snag that thing off Mobius — or when he could have — but… that’s mischievous, “This little talk has been lovely, but I’m not intending to stick it out.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Hardly,” Loki chirps as he takes a step forward, “I’m going to find the Tesseract and leave this place.”
You mimic his stride and step up beside him. “They’ll fry you before you even get the chance—”
“Oh, please,” the God croons with a horribly charming smirk, “Watch me, bug.”
And, just like that, he’s gone.
And you’re left alone with the tapes.
When Mobius M. Mobius returns to the Time Theater, he has to admit he’s a little surprised to find you there, sitting in a chair you’ve pulled right up the holoprojector’s screen. You’re alone. He watches you there, curled tightly in the chair with your knees to your chest, and Mobius realizes you look younger than before.
Hunter B-15 scowls. She moves to step forward but — Mobius stops her.
The scene unfolding before you clearly holds some sort of sentimentality.
Your father follows you closely as you begin to pedal, to push, to venture farther from his balanced grasp as you fly from the safe confines of training wheels and into the world of balance — it’s the first time you’re riding that electric blue bike he’d gotten you for your fifth birthday. It’s the brightest time in your life; before the academic pressure to keep up, before the ever increasing weight of expectations, before the denial to Cornell, before hearing the words ‘I am so proud of you’ became a rarity.
Mobius lets out a quiet sigh as the man on the tape booms with laughter and hauls you into the air.
“Great job, kid! Look at you!” he’s laughing, and Mobius notes the gentle quiver of your figure in that chair, “I’m so proud of you!”
Mobius pauses the Time Movie.
You don’t notice. You’re too busy furiously wiping away the tears, trying to regain your composure and sniff back the homesickness.
He speaks gently. “He is proud of you, y’know.”
Mobius isn’t making it easy.
You blink up at the ceiling.
Then, the grey-haired man rounds the chair and kneels.
“Look at me, doc.”
“I’m not a doctor—”
“You wanna know how I know who you are?” he asks urgently, before gesturing to the stack of paper, “And not because of this whole fiasco — I knew who you were before this.”
Oh, be still his heart. Mobius’ heartstrings tug at the sight of you, broken-hearted and alone.
“You,” he says, pressing a gentle finger to your heart, “Are one of the brightest minds to ever mark life on Earth. You are one of the ones that helps unlock the key to Time Travel. You’re — Look at me. You’re incredible. And I know that man is proud of you. I know he is.”
You swipe at your face with the back of your hand.
“Time Travel?”
“Sure puts a bit of a wrench in our lives in the TVA,” Mobius jokes, “But… Yeah, doc, Time Travel.”
Your mouth falls open. Then, you laugh. “That’s impossible.”
“It’s not,” he chirps as his hand lands on your knee, “Actually, Loki plays a — hold on.”
Mobius’ eyes snap around the room.
“Loki… Where is Loki?”
You drop your face into your hand. “I wish I could say I tried to stop him but — honestly, it was just nice to be away from him for five minutes.”
Behind the two of you, Hunter B-15’s calm demeanour snaps as she snaps her taser to life. “You let him escape?!”
You exhale and let your eyes fall shut. “I know, I know — but, he’s going for the Tesseract. I knew he wouldn’t get far.”
Mobius is busy feeling his pockets, digging through and trying to find his Time Twister but… you offer up the one tied to your own collar with a regretful look. Mobius looks at it, then you, and turns back to Hunter B-15.
“C’mon, doc.”
“No — no way,” the hunter says, “She is a liability. She’s extremely dangerous—”
You stand, and toss her the Time Twister. “Here. I step outta line, you get to — y’know. Do that weird time thing you do.”
She catches it, looks at you with a bit of shock, and then pockets the device. In one smooth motion, she’s radioed for back-up. Like clockwork, troops in the same outfit as her arrive outside the Time Theater. You slip Mobius one more apologetic look as he barks out orders to track Loki down.
“Prune on sight —”
“No! No pruning, no resetting!” he snaps, leading you back to a set of elevators, “He can still help us!”
As the doors close, you let out a sigh. “Where the Tesseract is, he’ll be. It’s his only plan.”
“How do you know?”
“He did the villain thing. Y’know, where they announce their plan before they do it.”
“...God damn debutant.”
You wave an unimpressed hand through the air as the elevator drops. Mobius snorts. He tucks his free hand into his pocket. The other holds that… scary baton. The elevator doors swing open and you follow Mobius as he begins to sweep the… storage rooms? Or, at least, that’s what you can gather from the rows and rows of shelves with marked TVA boxes. Some are glowing, some are tattered, some items catalogued are too big to fit in the boxes. You spy a set of armor, Hulk-sized and emblazoned with a red mohawk, on a back shelf in a room labeled H 1999-3000.
A man in a suit and tie carries by a box that hisses.
You flinch.
“You really don’t like him, huh?” Mobius asks, preoccupied with his search into each room but still keen on conversation.
You follow him closely. “Can you blame me?”
“Not really,” he shrugs, “But that’s not how it always is with you two. There’s, uh… a connection.”
“My fist to his face, maybe.”
“Good one.”
“Thanks.”
You reach the end of the floor and Mobius ushers you up a stairwell to an additional floor labeled Storage, but this time it’s a narrower hallway with less people milling about. It’s quiet up here.
“Really, though, you’ve gotta see something in him. I mean — you do. Later on, maybe, but it still happens.”
You wince. “I still don’t believe you.”
“Oh, you think I went and wrote a winding tale of romance, huh? All for you and the God of Mischief? Seriously, doc, you see how busy I am trying to make sure this place doesn’t implode?” Mobius chirps with a smile as he flicks on the lights to a room, peaks around some shelves, then ducks back out, “You saw your life. That was all real. Why would I fabricate the rest?”
You frown.
Mobius eyes you over his shoulder. “Did you see how it ends?”
“My life, you mean?”
He nods.
You scowl. “No — I don’t want to know that.”
Before Mobius can reply, the radio on his hip crackles to life. You recognize the voice as the woman from before, the hunter. She sounds angry. Livid. Nearly unrecognizable amidst her tirade.
“He’s in Time Theater 5.”
You and Mobius share a look, and back you go.
She isn’t wrong — Loki is still there by the time you and Agent Mobius burst through the doors. But, this time, the reel that rolls by reads END OF TAPE. You can see that it’s the one Mobius had shown you before — the one where you and him and your lives have played out. It’s been finished, alongside the one with his name on it.
Mobius slows up. You linger behind him.
Against the far wall, Loki has his head in his hands. He doesn’t look up when either of you enter — nor does he reach for the Tesseract at his feet. Instead, he pushes his hands through his hair and exhales.
“Loki?” calls Mobius, “Nowhere left to run…”
“I can’t go back, can I?” he asks suddenly, looking up and clasping his hands together. He leans on his knees, posed on the tile floor, “We can’t. Back to our timeline?”
Mobius’ gaze lingers on Loki, then moves to you. There’s sadness there.
He doesn’t need to speak for you and Loki to know the answer.
You close your eyes and shakily exhale.
Loki presses his palms to his eyes.
There’s quiet between the three of you for a while then. You move through the room, settling in the chair Mobius had claimed in the beginning. You pick up your tape, inspect it, and then remove the one labeled with you and Loki’s names, with the start and end year, from the holoprojector.
He’d watched it all through.
When you look up, he’s staring at you.
His expression is mournful.
“I don’t enjoy hurting people,” he struggles out, head shaking as if to refuse the words coming out of his mouth. He sighs, “I… don’t enjoy it. I do it because I have to, because I’ve had to.”
He holds your gaze.
“Okay,” Mobius says quietly, nearly whispering, “Explain that to me, to us.”
Loki exhales. He gestures, then, with delicate hands to himself. “Because it’s part of the illusion. It’s the cruel, elaborate trick conjured by the weak to inspire fear.”
You place the film reel down carefully.
Oh.
“A desperate play for control… You do know yourself.”
Loki’s fingers rub his lips. You see now the echoes of sadness etched into his face. He sniffs, rubs his cheeks, and then drops his hands.
“A villain…”
He scoffs. He shakes his head with a cynical expression of frustration; all with himself.
Mobius frowns. “That’s not how I see it.”
You watch Loki reach for the cube. It warbles, shimmers and glitters with power — but does nothing. No puffs of smoke, no disappearing acts, no cosmic happenstance. No, Loki holds it up to the light and it simply glows.
Like an overrated paper weight.
“You try t’ use that?” Mobius asks with a smirk, lowering his baton.
“Oh, several times,” Loki nods as he turns it over in his fingers, “Even an Infinity Stone is useless here.”
He spares you a disappointed look, then tosses you the cube. Best to give you a chance to admire the very thing he’d stolen from up close before it’s, no doubt, reseized and tucked away. Maybe that Casey character will decide he’ll use it as a glorified coaster.
You catch it. Immediately you’re surprised at the weight.
You turn it over in your hands.
Loki watches.
“The TVA is formidable.”
“That’s been my experience,” Mobius replies, “But, listen, I can’t… I can’t offer the two of you salvation, but maybe I can offer the two of you something better.”
Your attention turns to Mobius.
Loki stands.
“Two fugitive Variants have been killing our minutemen.”
You push back from the chair, toss the cube in the air, and step forward.
“And you need the God of Mischief and a little scientist to help you stop them?” Loki cracks, tilting his head as he speaks.
Mobius smirks. “That’s right.”
“Why us?” you ask, for what feels like the thousandth time today.
“The Variants we’re hunting are you two.”
Loki’s eyes snap to you, and yours snap to him.
The look you share is one that, suddenly, makes sense.
3K notes · View notes
wokeupinawalnut · 2 days ago
Note
Gn!reader baking/decorating winter-themed cookies with Carol
Baking Lessons
First festive fic of the season! I hope you enjoy it and I’d love to know what you think! <3
Warnings: none
Pairing: Carol Danvers x GN!Reader
Words: 991
Masterlist
.
Since you started dating Carol, you found yourself learning new things about her every day. Now that the holiday season was rolling around and you were about to spend it together for the first time new experiences and revelations were basically piling up.
For instance, you got to find out just how deep her curiosity – and persistence – reached. You had mentioned teasingly at the beginning of December that you had already gotten her a present and since then she had been trying to guess just what exactly it might be multiple times a day. You were pleasantly surprised that she hadn’t gotten it right yet, but she was getting closer. Maybe that’s why you planned so many wintery activities, at least then she was too distracted to think about gifts.
The best day so far had been the one where you had gone ice skating. Carol excelled at it, but you had never gone to an ice rink before and needed Carol to teach you. It was adorable how she was even more concentrated than you as she skated backwards holding your hands and pulled you along. She was very patient and when you finally let go of her hands and made your first steps alone, she beamed with excitement. Unfortunately, she had grown so excited that she lost a bit of control on her powers so that she started to glow. Usually, you loved it when that happened, but on the ice the warmth that accompanied her glow started to cause a puddle to form at her feet. For safety reasons everybody was asked to leave the rink and Carol specifically wasn’t allowed to go on again. It had cut your day a bit short, but it had been amazing nonetheless.
Today, however, promised to rival all your previous activities and it might just be able to kick ice-skating from its number one spot. This day, you also learned two new things about her: a) Carol might be patient when it came to you, but with food the situation looked much different and b) she was a bit of a catastrophe in the kitchen. Not so much as Natasha was, but she was definitely up there. It wasn’t necessarily that she was bad at baking… it was much more that she was absolute chaos. By the time you had both agreed she better sit down at the counter and keep an eye on the cookies in the oven, she had somehow managed to get batter in her hair, egg on her sweater and icing on her chin – even though you hadn’t even started decorating yet. Not to mention that somehow there was flour everywhere from when Carol had rolled out the first batch of dough.
Still, you had both happy smiles on your faces as you sung along to festive songs that were playing on the radio.
“Next tray,” you grinned as you handed Carol the sheet pan that she went to put in the oven.
Your girlfriend crouched down in front of it, watching the cookies bake along. She hummed. “We need more star-shaped ones,” she looked up at you, “I think we have enough snowflakes.”
You laughed at her serious yet pleading expression.
“More stars coming right up.” You smiled and Carol came over to give you a short kiss.
“Thanks,” she returned your smile and instead of sitting down again, she moved towards the fridge, grabbed the milk and then a pot and you realized she was going to make hot chocolate.
“There’s only room for a couple of stars though, we still have to make the superhero symbols to bring for everyone to Tony’s party.”
Carol turned to you with a pout. “Do we have to share?”
You laughed and she wrapped her arms around you from behind as she joined you where you were cutting out the cookies. She pressed a kiss to the underside of your jaw causing you to sigh and lean into her touch more.
“Yeah,” you answered, “Everybody’s bringing something, remember?”
“Fine,” she groaned, proceeding to nestle her face into your shoulder and mumled, “But only one per person.”
“Sharing is caring, Carol,” you chuckled at her antics, “Also, I think we have more than enough for ourselves.”
A look around the kitchen proved you right, but you still twisted your head a little to give Carol a kiss. “And if we run out, I promise we can make new ones.”
“Okay,” she gave in and just a second later the timer for your cookies rang.
Reluctantly, Carol let go of you and moved to get them out.
“I think they need two more minutes,” you commented when you took a look at them, but Carol only grinned. She raised her hands above the tray, their palms cast downwards, and started using her powers. With wide eyes you watched as the radiation of her powers worked just as well as the oven, maybe even quicker, considering that perfectly golden cookies stood in front of you after only a couple of seconds.
“Tadaaa,” Carol grinned at you.
You blinked surprised, your expression apparently further cause for Carol’s amusement.
“That was so cool,” you looked at her in awe, “Why didn’t you do that earlier?”
Carol shrugged and went to check up on the milk she had set up on the stove earlier.
“It’s not as much fun,” she smiled at you and retook her position behind you, hugging you close to her chest, “We wouldn’t get the full experience with the whole apartment smelling like cookies, the oven warming the kitchen… It wouldn’t be right. Sometimes it’s useful to show off for you though.” You felt her grin against your neck, and you couldn’t help but smile too.
And that’s the third thing you learned about her that day: Even though Carol would deny it if confronted and play cool whenever possible, you knew, she really was a true romantic at heart.
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ardentcupid · a month ago
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Wake Up Call (S.R.)
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Word Count: 1.1k
Summary: Husband!Steve wakes reader in the best way possible
Notes: 18+ content below the cut: nudity, slight somnophilia, p in v, clit play, sleepy sex, creampie, nicknames (sweetheart, pretty girl) female reader. Very fluffy smut!
The first thing that Steve Rogers does every morning is kiss his wife. 
He’s up before the sun, hand running through his mussed hair as he leans over to press light kisses to your cheeks, your lips, anywhere that he can reach. 
It’s a simple act of affection, something that’s just for his knowledge. This brief moment of hazy bliss is what sets his day off in the right direction, it’s what he looks forward to when he closes his eyes at night. Because Steve doesn’t rise for the rest of the world – he does so for you.
 Today, Steve had slept in far longer than he should’ve. He woke to the warmth of early morning gleaming through the sheer bedroom curtains, heating his flushed skin as he fought the urge to return to his slumber.
He cracked his eyes open, finding the clock on the wall that read just past eight in the morning. With a languid sigh and a stretch of his limbs, he rolled over to find you asleep on your side, facing away from him and bare except a thin pair of underwear. 
Your practically-nude figure seemed to glow in the early morning, a dream of radiant seduction bathed in golden sunlight. Steve’s gaze flitted over your body, lingering on the peaks of your breasts and the curve of your scantily-clad backside. 
Even in your sleep, you seemed to seek Steve’s presence, retreating backwards until your hips pressed snugly into his. Steve’s hand came to rest on your waist, his large palm splayed across your bare stomach in a soothing, protective manner. He pressed his fingers against your warm skin, feeling your shallow intakes under his touch. 
Steve’s other hand smoothed your hair, moving it over your shoulder to place kisses down the back of your neck. His lips traced over your heated skin languidly, a pleasure that Steve often had to forego in his busy morning routine. 
A content smile graced your sleeping features, filling Steve with a sense of appreciation for the life he had created with you. This was how he wanted to start every morning, this was where he wanted to spend his days. 
Steve’s lips traveled up your neck and over your jaw, leaving hungry, open-mouthed kisses in their wake. He felt himself twitch in his boxers, his growing need tenting the fabric as you pressed yourself closer to him. 
His grip on your middle tightened as he began to rut against your backside, small groans leaving his throat as he continued to nip and suck at your skin. You sighed deeply, rocking with Steve’s motions as your eyes fluttered open. 
You surveyed the room, disoriented by the glare hitting your face and the presence of Steve behind you so late in the morning. Usually by this time, he’d be returning from his morning run, dripping sweat from the tips of his hair and mumbling under his breath to avoid interrupting your sleep. 
Deciding to take advantage of his salacious behavior, you placed your hand over top of his, guiding it down until his fingertips pressed against your clothed core. His digits slipped under the thin fabric of your underwear, instantly finding your clit and circling the sensitive bundle of nerves. 
Scrunching your features at the groggy pleasure, your grip on his wrist tightened, surely leaving red marks on his skin. His movements were languid, almost teasing as he continued to toy with your clit idly. 
“G’morning, sweetheart,” he mumbled against your ear, voice raspy and heavy with sleep. 
You moaned in response, bucking your hips into his hand in search of more friction. Even in your sluggish state, you could feel Steve press his erection against you, desperate to remove the barriers that separated you from him. 
“Looked so peaceful laying in the sun, couldn’t resist playing with my pretty girl.” 
His pointer continued its ministrations against your clit while his middle and ring fingers dipped into your dripping core, curling until you were mewling under his touch. 
“Steve,” you gasped, fighting to keep your eyes open.
“Feel good?” 
You nodded, unable to form a response as you concentrated on finding your release. Just as you were nearing the edge, Steve withdrew his fingers, peeling your underwear down your legs and discarding them on the floor. His boxers followed in their path, tossed towards the end of the bed aimlessly as Steve took in the sight of you completely bare before him. 
“Gonna let me fuck this pretty pussy?” Steve asked, running his hand over his hard cock. 
“Please,” you begged, turning your head to find Steve’s piercing gaze. 
“Please fuck me, Steve. Need to feel you,” your speech slurred with want, head still foggy from waking up moments ago. 
He hummed at your pleading, tapping the head of his cock against your opening and collecting the slick that covered your folds. 
Steve slid himself in, biting back a moan and nudging his nose against your cheek. 
“So good for me,” he whispered under his breath. “Always so good.”
You gasped at the feeling of his slow thrusts filling you from behind, a taunting promise of more pleasure to come.
His hand slid under your thigh, holding your leg up to give him a better position to drive into your cunt with a steady force, hitting your g-spot each time before pulling out quickly. 
“Keep your eyes open for me, sweetheart.”
Steve’s words broke you out of your haze, realizing that your eyes had fallen shut with the pleasure that he was providing. He rocked his muscular thighs against your backside, hurtling the two of you towards a quick release. 
The knot in your stomach snapped suddenly, mouth falling open as you shuddered through your orgasm. Your walls fluttered around Steve’s length, causing him to groan as he plowed into your tight channel, reaching his own high just after yours. 
Steve’s hips stuttered to a stop, grip tightening around your thigh as he flexed inside of you, filling you with his warm cum. The two of you shared a satisfied sigh as Steve lowered your leg, hand finding its place on your waist and pulling you close. 
“Good morning to you too,” you simpered, trying to avoid jostling Steve’s length that was still buried inside of you. 
He offered a leisure grin in response, memorizing the rapture that he felt in that moment. The two of you were completely swathed in warmth from the rising sun, huddled together in a mess of tangled limbs and balmy skin. 
“I wish we could spend all day like this,” you spoke, feeling Steve’s erratic heartbeat against your back. He hummed in agreement, placing a chaste kiss to your cheek. 
“I’ll cancel our plans.”
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vancityfire13 · a month ago
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Wanda: Be careful around Natasha, she can convince you of anything.
Peter: I heard her super talent is manipulation.
Tony: Like a real Black Widow, she reels you in before she strikes.
Y/N: She’s so nice, I like her a lot.
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