#domesticated!thor odinson | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

neonovember · 2 years

Text

steve rogers as a husband headcanon!

things about husband!steve that just makes sense

steve isn’t big on pda, thinks affection should be something private, he’s old school like that, there are some exceptions however, some very fun ones

even though he might be abit of an aversion to pda, steve will make sure that you know he’s just there

whether it be holding your hand, or his palm guiding you through a big crowd, he always feels a need to keep you at arms length.

steve is extremely protective of you..like bordering on possessiveness. he’ll even go as far are ignoring his own morals to make it sure, that people know his yours. It’s just that you’re the one thing that ever really grounds him back to earth, in moments where he gets lost in time and memories from before

“Hey I’m just saying, if you ever get bored of popsicle here, the iron suit is ready for you” Tony smirks, his legs perched against the coffee table. The Avengers are scattered around the tower's living room, half drunk and the other half trying to. You feel Steve’s grip on your waist tighten, and from the corner of your eye, you notice his orbs turning a ink-black. He leans across to Tony, whispering into his ear, the words falling out of his mouth like wine and into Tony. Tony’s eyes bludge comically, his throat bops as he swallows, nodding along to whatever Steve was saying, looking at you. Steve smiles, into his ear, it’s eerie, the way his canines glint under the high ceiling lights. You wish to the gods that you were given Bucky’s hearing but without a second, as if you had dreamt it in front of you, Steve is back beside you, only this time you feel his fingers slip between your thighs.

for some reason, I don’t get the whole “Steve being a horrible cook” trope, I genuinely think he’s an amazing cook and BAKER! that man can bake a mean batch of cookies

steve loves loves loves, calling you mrs rogers, or his wife. the first time he said it was well before you both uttered your vows, he just knew. oh and if you call him your husband? poor man will probably be hard for the rest of the day

steve has a breeding kink. we all know this, it’s practically attached to his file along with super soldier. but what most people don’t know is that he fucking lovess when you’re pregnant, it’s like senses go on overdrive until all he breathes, thinks and eats ;) is you.

steve has this fear of abandonment, mostly because he was, by his own country for a century. It seeps into his relationships, you’ll see if when he comes home from long missions and it’s as if he’s walking on eggs shells. His shoulders are tense and his holding his breath as if he’s just waiting to find the house bare and empty and your belongings gone. He gets really sensitive then, all murmurs and soft kisses and just holding you to remind himself you’re here.

there will absolutely be a time where steve fucks over the kitchen sink. the dirty dishes left abandoned (should I write this?)

steve can get a little anxious, and so his wedding band is something he’ll ALWAYS play with, he’ll twist its around his finger as a kind of reminder.

you love to tease him by bringing him lunch at the compound, wearing one of those sun dresses he adores because it gets him so. fucking. hard. He wont ever tell you though, just have to deal with it until he can get home, and by then you already panty less and on your knees waiting for him.

steve will probably force you to train with him, even if you can kick ass, he’ll pull a fitzgerald and force those trainers on you. poor boy is just scared that something will happen to you when his not there, plus, seeing you fight kinda turns him on. (just like anything else you do really)

Steve’s really bad at technology, we all know this, but he absolutely will try to learn how to use a phone so he can send you texts and updates throughout the day. he’ll take random pics of tony and sam when their not looking, take some Facebook mom ass selfies, take pictures of things he wants to draw and ask you if they’d look nice, he’s mind just constantly finds it’s way to you

cockwarming with husband!steve. that’s it

you help steve open up to the new things in this century, take him out to help him ease himself into the real world. people forget he never really got that chance, he died in one war only to be pushed into another.

it’s through you that steve learns that he’s obsessed with avocado. on toast, in milkshakes, everything, he’d literally a millennial

when things get too much, you’ll draw a bath and the both of you will just sit in the steaming water filled with some bubbles, candles illuminating the room instead of lights, and the ceiling to floor windows open. skin to skin helps steve calm his nerves, and it’s not abnormal for you both to stay in that position for hours

steve still gets shy around you, no matter how many years he’s been with you, he’s still that boy from brooklyn with a heart too big for him

steve has absolutely zero self control when it comes to you, say something nice about a necklace you see passing by? It’s on your neck the next day. Hears the sound of a slight rumble in your stomach? Steve’s whipping out his apron and making you eat something

steve is the type of man to never let you go to bed angry, even if you’ve both had a fight and he ends up on the coach it won’t be too long before you both find yourselves in the middle of the hallway missing each others touch

“babygirl, honey, my wife, doll, gorgeous”

you take priority over a lot of things in Steve’s mind, he’s never ever late to dinner, he’d rather lose his leg than disappoint you

sundays are for sex and sleeping

steve fucked you one time really hard over a drawer or ottoman and BROKE IT. now he’ll spend saturdays carpenting reinforced drawers, counters and bed frames ;)

makeup sex, and face and thigh riding <3

steve always feels as if he’s leaving a part of himself at home or with you whenever he leaves, he’s constantly watching the clock and bouncing that leg of his to get back to you.

steve would probably let bucky watch him fuck you..maybe.

even though I believe steve would be really possessive I also think he could easily be very private about his relationship with you. like that scene in aou where we meet Clint’s family? fury will probably drive up to some big cabin house with the avengers in the back and they’d be confused af when they open the door to find steve and you cooking in the kitchen with your kids running around the place.

“How much longer Fury, my backs starting to ache with this stiff as seat and Bucky’s feet in my face” groans Sam, leaning away from Bucky’s towering figure. “It should be around the corner” motions Fury, and just as promised the avengers pull into an expansive cabin house, elegant with is softened wood and timber gate ribboning around the land that seemed to stretch endlessly. When Fury had told them that he needed to grab something, they didn’t think it would end up with corny 70’s tunes cranking out throughout the car, one and a half hours from the city.

“This looks…lived in” Nat remarks, her fingers brushing against her holister, ears perked for any signs of human activity.

“Yeah, Fury, are you having us raid some lumberjacks generational home” Tony barks, stretching out his arms

“Just shut up and follow me” Fury sighs, before stepping through the gate and following the stone path. Wiping his boots across the mat, his reaches for the door, opening into the hallway of the strange home.

“Wipe your shoes, she hates when you trek mud in” Fury calls before walking in as if he owned the place

“She?” Thor whispers, what they all but Bucky thought. They followed unspeaking down the hallway leading to an open floor, the scene infront of them had their mouths hanging.

There Steve, their stone faces leader, fucking sautéing onions on large brimstone stove, laughter falling from his lips as you whispered into his neck. You were a sight to see, a dress falling onto your body like silk, cascading againts your curves, your hair was in an updo, curls draining your face and a bright smiling lighting up your eyes.

You were absolutely gorgeous, and to see Steve react to your affection in such a way told them you were more than just an old friend

“Bucky!” You smiles, reaching for the dark haired man, squeezing him in a tight hug.

“Hey sweet girl” Bucky smiles, gripping you.

Sam looked towards Bucky in disbelief, eyes shooting bullets at Steve in mock betrayal

“Really? You’re going to tell the ex murderer about your little secret life but not your saviour?” Sam mutters, before steve laughs gripping his chest.

“Sam meet my wife, doll now you know why I don’t let them near you” Steve whispers into your ear, making you giggle.

Sam reaches for your hand but you ignore it, going for a hug. “Oomf, hello to you too” Sam laughs hugging you back

“Hey Fury” You smile, waving a hand towards the man who nods in return.

“You all must be Natasha, Thor, Clint and Tony?, it’s so great to finally meet you” You speak, dimples pressed into your cheek

Clint seems to be the only one who snaps out of the rest of the avengers stupor, “I see you’ve pulled a Barton” He jokes, hugging you.

Once the rest of them finally greet you, along with some condescending remarks from Tony about “how the hell did you land her?!” The avengers sit around the table, drinking beer and eating good food and getting used to seeing Steve with his wife on his lap.

that’s all I have for steve at the moment, I’ll probably add way more later but I haven’t been uploading in ages and thought this would a quick little head canon for our spark spangled soldier!

p.s! requests are always open ;)

1K notes · View notes

beheworthy · 5 months

Note

It's cute how Thor and Jane watch movies cuddled together. And when they fight, they continue watching movies together, but not hugging each other. I want to be close to you, but I'm still mad. I imagine them looking at each other in the middle of the movie wanting to hug

I know!!!! They don't sit side by side, they cuddle!

And he's so damn protective that he has to have his arms around her AT ALL TIMES.

[Does he really have to have alcohol around him at all times as well? :/]

[Only a tiny bit of his hand is visible in the bottom right corner but it's on her waist, holding her to him. As if he'd lose her if he didn't.]

#answers #anonymous #thor #thor odinson #jane foster #thor x jane #marvel #domestic thorjane is everything

9 notes · View notes

imperialstark · 11 months

Text

bad reputation

The world thinks they have Tony Stark all figured out. They're wrong. Or the one where all of the Avengers learn there's more to their resident man in a can than what he seems.

posting my @tonysbirthdaygala fic on here too for my boy's special day 🤧

genius

Tony Stark, Natalie decides, is a goddamn moron. Not that she expects much from the man who self-proclaimingly privatized world peace. World peace was a joke, and anyone who believed in the concept was an optimist at best and a fool at worst. In her world, there was no room for optimists or fools, and there was definitely no room for world peace. World peace would put her out of a job. But that's not why Tony Stark is a moron. It was much more complex than some misguided belief that the forces of good would prevail at the end of the day. No, Tony Stark was a moron because he had given up.

It wasn't easy for the average eye to see—Stark's closest friends weren't even aware of how far gone he was—but Natalie had been raised and finely tuned like the most delicate of instruments to see what lay beneath the surface. Stark hid his ineptitude well, mask upon mask, layer upon layer, bright, mossy undergrowth concealing a rotting corpse. But liars recognized liars. And Tony Stark was telling the biggest lie of all. He was dying, and instead of doing something about it, he had just…given up. Genius-level intellect (supposedly), damn near unlimited finances, and the latest technology the world had to offer, and he had just given up. To hell with it all.

To hell with his second chance at life and to hell with his privatized world peace.

When Natalie had received this mission, she hadn't outwardly complained. Complaints were counterproductive to her mission. For over two decades, most of her life, whatever had been set before her, she tackled with all the force and calculation of her namesake. She had curled her hair, donned her shortest skirt, and one photoshoot later, Natalie Rushman was born.

Natasha Romanoff did not complain. Natalie Rushman, however, was not beholden to the same rules.

"I'm going to eviscerate him."

Neither was Pepper Potts, apparently.

"Does he do this often?" Natalie asks lightly, fighting the urge to track Stark down and sedate him on live television. A PA should know nothing of sedatives and disarming maneuvers. That doesn't mean she isn't tempted as she watches Tony Stark force himself into the Monaco Historic Grand Prix.

"Make me gray prematurely? Yes. Yes, he does."

Despite her promises of a thorough verbal (and maybe physical) lashing headed Tony's way, Pepper seems relatively resigned to Stark's antics. Natalie admires, hell is impressed by her calm in the moment.

Tony Stark was still a moron, but it was only a race. What was the worst that could happen?

She should have known to keep her mouth shut for not even a full minute after she settled into her own calm, impenetrable state, an arc of electricity severed a race car in two. When Natalie turns to consult with Pepper, she also finds her missing.

As she watches Pepper Potts hurdle through a race track to get to the supposed genius currently being tossed about like a ragdoll, she knows this will be one of the longest missions of her life.

Much of her tenure with Stark and Pepper continues in the same vein. Stark realizes the inevitability of his death, does something moronic, and Pepper screams. Rinse and repeat.

Almost as if to spite her, though, Natalie can't predict what Tony will do next, only the inevitable outcome. Tony's death and Pepper's fury. Natalie's sick of it. Sometimes she wants nothing more than to grab Stark by his shoulders and shake him until he gets his head straight. For the mission, of course. Natalie can count her failures on one hand and won't let Stark be one of them. But she's not Pepper Potts, arguably one of the few people on this planet who could get Tony Stark to listen to what she has to say. Natalie has to resort to different methods.

Stark doesn't notice her when she first enters his bedroom on what's possibly the last birthday of his life. She can't blame him. The dark puzzle work of poisoned veins in his chest would also keep her preoccupied. He makes quick work of the other buttons on his shirt when he notices her, and Natalie politely doesn't mention what she's seen. Stark quickly changes the subject, and he and her fall into a brand of banter that she's all too familiar with. Smirks, and doe eyes and innuendo. But Stark's heart isn't in it. Hasn't been in it since Natalie entered his life. He is everything and nothing like what she expected, so when he earnestly asks her what she would do during her last birthday party, she answers him truthfully.

"There's something about you," Tony mutters, the martini she made for him loosening his tongue. "I can't figure you out."

"I thought you were a genius," she says, teasing. Always teasing.

Tony snorts, blinks hard, the gin truly getting to him now. "Yeah, me too," he says. Her brows arch delicately, the only sign of her genuine surprise. This is the most subdued she's seen Stark, and she finds that…she hates it. Her heart, or what's left of it that's followed her into adulthood, twinges at the sight of him. At the purpling bruise on his cheek, the sweat beading at his temple, and the scars she knows lie beneath the glow of the arc reactor. She looks at Tony Stark and thinks something she hasn't thought since she was young, stupid, and full of hope.

This isn't fair.

It wasn't fair that Stark had this second chance at life, and it was being ripped away from him all in the same breath. Second chances were rare and more precious than any shining jewel she had ever seen.

"Well, at least you're honest with yourself," she blurts out, much to her chagrin. It's not at all what she wants to say, but this entire mission has been slightly out of her wheelhouse.

Stark just gives her this sad smile that doesn't meet his eyes. She's seen his real one, the one he gives to Pepper or JARVIS when he thinks no one is looking, brilliant enough to outshine their own sun. "One of us is," he says tiredly. "When are you going to be honest with me ?"

"You first," she says automatically. Like she's with someone she trusts. Like she's with Clint.

Deciding that Stark's already onto her and she's already said too much, she decides to take it one step further. She kisses Stark's cheek, not for the sake of the mission or her own pride, but because her rotten heart demands her to. "There will be more birthdays," she says firmly.

His lashes are long, she thinks absentmindedly, watching them flutter in surprise.

She nods at the door. "Now go enjoy this one."

billionaire

Tasha has a soft spot for Stark. Of course, she won't admit it, but despite popular belief, Clint's not stupid. Or blind. When you know someone for as long as he's known and fought beside Tasha, you start to realize things about them that they don't even realize themselves. Like the way her lips curl up ever so slightly whenever Stark cracks a joke. It's not a crush of that much, he's sure. But…she cares about him in her own way.

He's not jealous, far from it. Natasha's allowed to have other friends she refuses to admit are friends. It's just…he doesn't get it. Of their little team of misfits, no one, save for Thor, is as out of place as Tony Stark. Sure, Rogers is out of his time, and Banner is a lab experiment gone wrong, but they're real in a way that Stark and Thor aren't. Thor is quite literally the stuff of legends and Stark…Clint knows all about Stark. Everyone does.

Smart and easy on the eyes and filthy rich, all inherited from Howard Stark. Clint's not the type to hate someone based on something out of their control, but he can't deny the twinge of envy whenever he sees Stark in one of his little sports cars or a three-piece suit. Guys who wore suits like that generally rubbed Clint the wrong way.

Then Stark offers them a home. Rebuilds Stark Tower in their image. Clint doesn't just have a room to himself but an entire floor complete with an archery range.

Clint waits and waits for the catch, for Stark to go gotcha and rake them all over the coals, but it never comes. It drives him up the wall, waiting for the other foot to drop, so he does it himself. When the doubt and paranoia get to be too much, Clint finds himself requesting entry to Stark's lab, but as he storms into what is essentially Stark's sanctuary, the fire in him dies. Because Stark…Stark looks awful . Tony's hair is matted to his forehead with sweat, falling into bloodshot eyes. He's been crying or drinking or both . And maybe…maybe Tony inherited more than a fortune from Howard. Clint takes a tentative step closer to where Stark sits, or rather props himself up at a work table.

"JARVIS…what happened?"

"Ms. Potts called two days ago, Agent Barton."

There's emotion in JARVIS' voice, like he's worried about Tony.

And maybe Clint is too.

Tony's just watching him with those weepy eyes, holding onto a wrench of all things, like it's a stuffed animal.

"Hey," Clint says softly, hands up to show he's unarmed. He had learned that lesson at a young age. Every drunk was different, and you never knew what you would get. You always had to watch your six.

"Did he eat at all? Sleep?"

"Agent Barton, he hasn't had a bath ."

"Okay," Clint says. "Let's start there, huh?"

He should just call Rhodes and be done with it, but… he found Tony like this, and he won't leave him hungry and stinking like he's been living on the streets. A memory from a lifetime ago comes to him unbidden, rifling through the trash behind a McDonald's hoping, praying for a scrap of anything to eat. Wishing for hot water and a soft bed to lay in at the end of the night.

So he's not leaving Tony, not if he can help it. Riches be damned.

philanthropist

Tony Stark scares Bruce. But to be fair, a lot of things do. That shouldn't make Tony special, but it does . Tony Stark, with his ceaseless energy and reckless curiosity, scares the living hell out of Bruce. But he makes Bruce feel alive. He makes him feel like a man and not a monster. Like the cursed blood of Brian Banner doesn't run through his veins corrupting everything it touches.

"Brucie? You still with me?"

Tony's voice has a way of capturing his attention, unlike anything else. Save only for the massive gift Tony has just given him.

"Yeah, I am," Bruce says, thumbing the certificate in his hand: a deed, not just for a few acres, but an entire island . "I just…Tony…I can't accept this."

Tony scoffs like he's lending Bruce a pen and didn't purchase an entire swath of land in his name. "Why not?"

"I'm not a charity case," Bruce says without thinking and immediately regrets it when he sees how Tony freezes.

It would be amazing how quickly Tony retreats beyond his walls, shutters himself off from the world, if it weren't so sad.

Bruce has heard Natasha and Clint talk, has talked with them himself. And they can all agree on one thing. Tony Stark is a mask, just as much of a defense as those dark sunglasses of his that block out the world.

Bruce is no stranger to pain or repression, might as well consider himself an expert on it as much as he's an expert on gamma radiation. His expertise tells him something—or someone —made Tony this way.

"You're not…Bruce, you're not a charity case. I wouldn't—"

"I'm sorry," Bruce says, out of shock more than anything. Shock at the great Tony Stark, speechless and hunched like a shrinking violet. "I didn't mean it like that. It's just…Tony, I don't deserve this."

"What, a peace of mind? Bruce, it's not about whether or not you deserve it. If I have the means to help someone I…" Tony trails off suddenly, face going red.

"I wanted to," Tony says after some deliberation. "If you can help someone and choose not to, you're a part of the problem."

Bruce thinks back on what he's read in Tony's file, his three months in captivity especially, and the great mural that makes up Tony Stark is a little more clear.

playboy

It's the night of the Maria Stark Foundation's annual fundraising gala. Steve fights the urge to tug at his tie for the umpteenth time in what feels like forever when he's probably only been in his tuxedo for two hours. Tony had invited Steve and their fellow teammates in the hopes of killing two birds with one stone, getting donations and boosting the public's opinion of them. Schmoozing and rubbing elbows with society's finest came with the territory, or at least that's what he tries to tell himself.

While not comfortable with it, Steve's heavily familiar with the press junket. Parading around like a good little circus clown for the entertainment of others; tonight is no different. Except it is . Steve's had to smile and shake the hands of a few of Manhattan's elite, but it's nothing compared to the attention Tony receiving.

Steve tried to treat it like a mission, settling into the familiarity of having a job to do for the greater good. Any donations made would go to the recovery efforts of New York City as a whole in the aftermath of any Avengers-level threats. Dragging an ancient socialite up and down the streets of Manhattan would not do them any favors.

Steve reminds himself of that as he watches a petite black-haired woman give Tony a dazzling smile. Frowning, he sips at his champagne, wishing, not for the first time, that it still affected him.

"Squeeze that glass any harder, and you'll be picking glass shards out of your hand," Natasha says, approaching the refreshment table Steve had called home for the past hour.

She looks as hauntingly beautiful and deadly as her namesake, her blood-red hair cascading in long staggered waves over her shoulder. Natasha had opted for her usual black, this time in the form of a velvet off-the-shoulder floor-length gown. Despite their protests, Tony had helped style the entire team, sparing no expense.

"You're helping me out," Tony had said, shrugging in that way Steve knew was him trying to act like he didn't care. "It's the least I can do."

Steve grunts in acknowledgment. "Maybe that would be an improvement."

Natasha rolls her eyes, subtly jabbing him in the side as she walks past him to claim a flute of champagne for her own. "Dom Pérignon is wasted on you," she sniffs delicately.

The black-haired woman's smile grows wide at something Tony says, and soon she's laughing, a bright, sparkling thing; As she laughs, her hand comes up to clutch at Tony's shoulder.

"Ah," Natasha says knowingly, her catlike eyes glinting when she catches sight of what has snared Steve's attention. "Now that makes more sense. And here I thought, you just had bad taste in champagne."

"Nat," Steve growls under his breath. "I know you didn't come here just to talk about wine."

"Okay, sue me," she says, finally dropping her pretenses. "You look like you're about to bite someone's head off and scare off potential donors while you're doing it."

Steve's teeth grit together. He downs the rest of the champagne in one fell swoop, setting the empty glass back onto the refreshment table with a bit too much force to be considered calm. The table merely groans over Steve's blow, a testament to its craftsmanship. The resulting rattle of the glasses draws a few gazes, one of them namely being Tony's. His dark eyes widen, a hint of worry creeping into them, darting back and forth between Steve and the black-haired woman before settling on her ultimately.

"Nice," Natasha says dryly.

"You don't understand," Steve bites out, uncaring of what he looks or sounds like to New York's richest.

"Enlighten me, then," Natasha says.

"Just…how can he stand it?" He finds himself saying. Natasha doesn't ask who; it's obvious who Steve's talking about. "They're throwing themselves at him."

Steve's never felt like this, not even the few times Pepper has flown in from Malibu, and Tony greets her with a kiss on the cheek. It's not like he can't handle himself if someone gets a little handsy. He doesn't know why it bothers him so much, other people touching Tony. But the sight of the black-haired woman whispering something in Tony's ear has Steve gnashing his teeth.

"You think he enjoys it?"

Ice creeps into Natasha's voice. She may try hiding it, but Steve knows she cares for Tony.

"No," he sighs, treading carefully. He reaches for another glass of champagne like it will do him any favors. "I don't."

"Then why are you so upset?"

"I don't know." Neither a lie, nor the truth, but somewhere in between.

"It means nothing, you know," Natasha says, and at Steve's apparent confusion, she nods in Tony's direction. "Tony's been doing this for as long as he's been legal. Probably before then. It's just another mission."

Steve thinks of Tony, young and just as handsome as he is now, surrounded by the same men and women who swoop around them like vultures, and his stomach turns . "That doesn't make it okay ."

"I didn't say it did," Natasha says quietly, and maybe her bond with Tony isn't that unfounded after all.

friend

Midgard, Thor is coming to find, is a strange land with even stranger people. Their clothes, food, and speech are foreign to him, yet nothing is more strange—and invigorating—than the band of warriors he has found himself a part of; The Avengers.

Fighting beside them is familiar, a dance he's danced for eons. They're all so different from one another, but differences are good. There was strength to be found in diversity.

That they were all (relatively) ordinary mortals was a wonder to behold. Hawkeye, armed with his bow, and skilled enough to rival even some of Asgard's greatest archers. The Captain, a leader in his own right that Thor had no qualms following into battle, a true shield-brother.

Not only was Banner brilliant in mind but also in strength, with the gentlest of souls to temper him. And the Widow…put him in the mind of Loki. Cunning and vicious when threatened…but softer at her core.

All of them fierce, capable warriors…and deeply broken people.

Tony Stark was perhaps the most broken of all. He knows little of Stark's life before he became the warrior Thor knows him as today, but one does not earn the title Merchant of Death leading a life of leisure.

In some ways, Tony also reminds him of Loki, and Thor finds himself watching him out of curiosity, caution, concern, or perhaps all three. What he sees is the stuff of legends, a great tale to be told for years to come. A golden prince stolen and betrayed, only to break the chains of captivity and arise, his crimson-gold armor his only strength. While not Thor's preferred weapon, he won't deny that Tony's armor is a marvel. Tony is a marvel, as evidenced by his fellow Avengers. They speak of things Thor does not quite understand, at least not yet. They speak of a Howard, Tiberius, and sunsets, although he doesn't see how sunsets relate to Tony Stark. All he knows is that they have come to care for Tony just as he has.

It's why when the 29th of May approaches, Natasha rallies them like the best of generals before a battle. They've faced all manner of gods and monsters. A feast, or something akin to it, is child's play. With the help of Tony's oldest friends, Pepper, Rhodey, and Happy, they secure pizzas from Tony's favorite pizza place in all of New York, his penthouse suite decorated with streamers and balloons in Tony's signature red and gold.

Steve bakes a Midgardian birthday cake that all of them have a hand in decorating. It's strange, using his hands to create rather than destroy, but he can't say he hates the warm feeling it leaves in his chest.

Steve guides a blindfolded Tony from his workshop on the fateful day, and the look on Tony's face will remain with Thor for the rest of his endless days.

"What…what is this?"

"Me saying, 'I told you so,'" Natasha says with a genuine smile. She holds the cake in her hands, a single candle burning.

Tony's smile outshines the flame.

#avengers #og 6 #tony stark #natasha romanoff #clint barton #steve rogers #bruce banner #thor odinson #marvel #mcu #my fic #imperialstark fic #team as family #domestic avengers

23 notes · View notes

imnothulk · 7 months

Text

Who tf stole Thors pop tarts?? He's crying, make it stop?!

#thor odinson #thor #thor and his pop tarts #domestic avengers #bruce banner #hulk #avengers #mcu

10 notes · View notes

ofasgardandalfheim · 1 year

Text

Of Asgard & Alfheim Masterlist

Loki & The Siren

WIP - Prequel to Lightning Over the Sea

A/N: This fic was supposed to be maybe 6 chapters long, but I think I'm up to around 15. While I know how it will end, it's going to take longer than I thought to get there... ✍️(◔◡◔) All links go to the full chapters on Archive of Our Own

This is the story about how you met and fell in love with Loki, hundreds of years before the events in Avengers, while his family was visiting Alfheim, where you were a siren.

It is a companion piece to Lightning Over the Sea-Redux to give more insight into your past and relationship with Loki.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven

Lightning Over the Sea

COMPLETE - Part One of the series All links go to the full chapters on Archive of Our Own

You have spent centuries consolidating power - usually subtly - sometimes a little more brazenly. You were most recently made a Queen of the Dark Fae - but you didn’t start out that way. You were once only a siren, singing your song to sailors passing by in Alfheim, feeding on their longing for you. But it wasn’t enough for you, and you spent the past many centuries (honestly, you’ve lost count) building your powers and abilities to a level that you are not even sure of at this point. You are essentially a Goddess, here on Midgard. You’re a little scared to test the limits, but this is a comfort to you. No one will ever take advantage of you again without your consent.

But that’s another story for another day.

This is the story of how you ended up teaming up with The Avengers and meeting the man who would change everything.

Chapter One: Who the Hell is that Woman?!

Chapter Two: Was that an innuendo, Captain?

Chapter Three: Well met, your majesty.

Chapter Four: Can we keep her?

Chapter Five: Or maybe you could stay right here, and we could both get a little…' release'?

Chapter Six: Chill out, Hawkeye.

Chapter Seven: We are not people, my love. We are gods.

Chapter Eight: I’m doing my best to want you less. So don’t make it more difficult.

Chapter Nine: I can only promise right now.

Chapter Ten: How thoroughly are you planning to test me, Captain? Because I tend to use all of my skills on the battlefield.

Chapter Eleven: All this violence is a real turn-on and all, but can you please stop and explain to me what the hell is going on?

Chapter Twelve: It begins on a beautiful day in Alfheim when an innocent young prince stumbles upon a devious Siren...

Chapter Thirteen: Do you delight so much in torturing me?

Chapter Fourteen: What they mean to say is they almost fucked my entire building down

Chapter Fifteen: "I didn't realize you still cared so much, love.” “Pfff, yes you did."

Chapter Sixteen: I will make you mine on a deeper level than you ever thought possible. It is up to you if you will let it ruin you or save you.

Chapter Seventeen: I can not escape you.

Chapter Eighteen: In my experience, it is best to stay away from the green one.

Chapter Nineteen: I don’t know whether I should be impressed or terrified.

Chapter Twenty: I don't know who you think you are, bub, but you are not my friend.

Chapter Twenty-One: Do your worst, Odinson.

Chapter Twenty-Two: Why do I know you?

Chapter Twenty-Three: The pleasure is all mine.

Chapter Twenty-Four: I think I would crawl through all of Hel and back if it led me to your arms.

Chapter Twenty-Five: "Can I go now? I have a date with a pretty girl." Chapter Twenty-Six: "Could you be more vague and mysterious about it?" Bonus: Special Edition of the Daily Journal

20 notes · View notes