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#Thor on Thor behaviour
worstloki · 2 years
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Rating: General Audiences
Relationships: Sylvie (Loki TV)/Thor, Loki & Sylvie (Loki TV)
Characters: Sylvie (Loki TV), Thor (Marvel), Loki (Marvel), Korg of Krona
Additional Tags: Culture Shock, Sylvie is a Loki variant (Loki TV), Sylvie is a Thor variant (Loki TV), Broken Engagement, Secret Relationship, Post-Episode: s01e06 For All Time. Always. (Loki TV), New Asgard (Marvel), Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Infidelity, Bisexual Sylvie (Loki TV), Controlling Sylvie (Loki TV), Sylvie Has Issues (Loki TV), Loki Has Issues (Marvel), Thor Has Daddy Issues, that we do not speak about but manifest in the background, Authority Figures, Time Variance Authority (Marvel), Heartbreak, Loki Needs a Hug (Marvel), Korg would give him one if he wasn't made of rocks, Hurt Sylvie (Loki TV), Sylvie has issues and they manifest in rough behaviour and not being nice okay?, she was alone for ages consideration isn't in her nature, not yet
Summary: Loki and Sylvie are engaged. One day he walks in on Thor and Sylvie in bed together.
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abby118 · 7 months
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asgard-pics · 5 months
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tyrannuspitch · 4 months
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a slightly more mediaeval-flavoured loki
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amandabe11man · 1 year
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the swede being gay-coded makes so much sense, not just in the way chris heyerdahl portrays him, but also in the HOW-verse itself...
a lot of it you just have to see for yourself by watching the show, but first and foremost, the swede is an outcast who nobody likes when we first meet him. he’s a chronic schemer, hounds people for taxes, makes life hard for others because he can etc. but another reason for him being so hated by pm every other character could very well be that he’s gay and not bothering to hide it. this being the 1800′s, of course he’d get some looks. of course he’d get judged. but when we first see him, he’s durant’s right hand man and thus in a position of power. naturally, no one’s dumb enough to fuck with him (until an opportunity arises)
even after being tarred and feathered, he still returns to HOW because where else could he even go? he’s humiliated, loses his job and has to start from the very bottom again, and despite his slightly humbled attitude, he’s still disliked and doesn’t even have the luxuries around him anymore to help him pretend he’s not an outcast. all this, coupled with him not learning from his mistakes and instead letting his fall from grace validate his victim mentality, makes him even more dangerous; a disaster waiting to happen. and oh, he WILL make it happen... hell, not even when he steals bishop dutson’s identity and leaves for a whole other town do people like him. not even when he tries to lead the people at fort smith do the folks there seem to like or even respect him. they don’t question him much because they think he’s the bishop, but it’s still clear everyone’s like “wtf is this dingus doing”. see the tragedy here? even when he pretends to be someone else who’s supposedly benevolent, (in an entirely new town, no less) people STILL don’t like him. once again, he’s an outcast, and the only other person who respects him from that point on in the story is brigham young’s son phineas, who he also ends up using for a petty revenge-plot, because from all these years of being side-eyed, hated and humiliated, the swede has given up on (forgotten) how to love and care for his fellow man.
the only true companion he loves unconditionally (and who loves him back just as much) at any moment in the show is oslo the dog; a stray who’s uncared for by the others and, just like the swede himself, is a social outcast. with oslo, he allows himself to love and care about someone else again for the first time since andersonville... with this little dog he just happened to meet and who doesn’t judge him for who he is or what he’s done. unfortunately, the swede doesn’t allow himself the happiness of disappearing and starting over somewhere else with oslo; so stuck in his years-long victim-mentality that he leaves oslo behind to try to take revenge on bohannon once and for all. the swede’s neverending grudges are a story for another time, though.
lastly, we get a glimpse of how he was back during the war, which ironically seems to be the last time he was happy and at peace before he met oslo. he’s accepted by his comrades in the army, he has friends and feels like he belongs somewhere... at least on the surface. is he really, truly, being himself in the flashbacks we see? there’s something wistful about his smiles in those scenes. something that says “i am happy....but it could be better”.
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he talks about some girl named “elsa”, but does elsa really exist, or is she something the swede made up in order to be accepted as one of the guys? trying to live as a comp-het man indeed did get him friends, but in the end, all those friends died and one tried to cannibalize him out of desperate hunger, so maybe the trauma and bitterness born from that made the swede finally act out against a society he knew would never accept him as he was?
because after andersonville, he no longer cared about being accepted. he was craving respect from others, but having people’s fear-based respect is not the same as having those people accept you. he stopped putting on his comp-het act, and so gave people around him just another “reason” to ostracize him. he tells himself he doesn’t care about being an outcast, because look what happened last time he befriended people (they were killed). therefore, it’s simply emotionally safer to keep others at arm’s length, so he won’t bond with someone and have them die on him again. it’s a cruel world for gay people sometimes, even more so in the 1800′s and earlier, and one can hardly blame the swede for ending up a cruel person in the end. the “they think i’m a freak? okay, i’ll BE a freak and they’ll all be sorry”-attitude really comes to mind when I think about the swede’s journey as a character. as stated before, he doesn’t find another human that accepts him for who he really is, not truly. bohannon is the one that comes closest-- is the only person to see the swede for who he is--, but that’s not real acceptance either. bohannon sees him, acknowledges him, hates him but still cares enough to avert his eyes and shed a tear as he watches the swede’s execution-- but bohannon was never gonna accept him after everything he’d done. perhaps in another life, if they both had made better choices, they could’ve been friends... lovers, even. oslo the dog, however, accepts him and is the one to finally bring out the swede’s long dormant capability of love into the open. and OH, how he showers his little dog with love and attention (and food, because he knows all too well what it’s like to go hungry). we get a glimpse of who the swede might’ve been if he’d made better choices and if he hadn’t been reviled by others at almost every turn.
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again as stated before, unfortunately, he can’t let go of his grudge against bohannon. with oslo, he’s clearly still capable of love, but the hate and bitterness he feels about society and his fellow man is simply too strong, so he leaves after a loving goodbye to his dog, and in the end, even if the swede came to terms with his fate and his past, it was too late at that point. the hateful society that never accepted him + his own actions because of it brought him to death’s door and-- uh-
there’s a point about gay allegories and why thor “the swede” gundersen fits them all in here somewhere
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bonus: then there’s the literal “evidence” too of course. for one, the swede tends to be very touchy-feely with men, and only men. for example:
when he oversees bohannon’s and naomi’s marriage, he puts his hand on bohannon’s head, but not naomi’s
in fact, especially when pretending to be bishop dutson, the swede can’t seem to NOT put his hands on bohannon
bohannon isn’t the only one the swede likes to touch, though. it seems when he’s manipulating someone, tenderly touching the other guy looks to be the swede’s go-to method. he won’t hesitate or think it’s weird to take another man’s hands, to touch their shoulders, and (in phineas’ case) even stroking a man’s cheek and putting their foreheads together as if they were about to kiss
hell, even on the rare occasion where he’s not manipulating someone, the swede seems to still find a way to touch the most random of guys he happens to be talking to. in an extreme example, after his first murder, he tenderly strokes the man’s cheek and coos at him as the guy bleeds out
i can think of only one scene where he touches a woman, but that’s during prayer where he’s simply holding onto the woman’s hands while also holding the hand of her son ezra. and then of course when durant asks him if he’d “ever had his heart ripped out by a woman”, the swede just answers very nonchalantly that his apparent ex-wife didn’t break his heart, “but she did steal his cuckoo clock”. in other words, he couldn’t care less if his former wife left for someone else. arranged marriage much?
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nostalgia-tblr · 1 year
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when ur reading a fic and it's fine and then you suddenly get hit with an Unexpected Kink bit and it's not your thing and as we all know kinks you don't share are either "eww gross" or "lol wtf" and either one of those is going to distract you from the plot
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Life in the City 2
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Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bad friends, creep behaviour, abuse of power dynamics, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You move to the big city and find yourself swallowed up by its chaos.
Characters: Clark Kent, Thor Odinson, short!reader
Note: A brief reprieve from the snakish prince.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you. No tag list, do not ask for updates.
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
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You nurse your glass of wine. You're not much of a drinker, you mostly brought it for Melanie. Despite her agitation, she seems to be enjoying it. She snuggles up to Clark as you sit awkwardly at the other end of the couch.
You really shouldn't be here. The longer you sit in silence and pretend to care about the movie, the more you think of leaving. You definitely crashed their party and they're not being very subtle.
You reach for a handful of popcorn to busy yourself. The crunch blocks out Melanie's shameless whispers. She doesn't get much back but she doesn't give up. You can't find an exit plan that isn't completely obvious.
Finally, she quiets down upon getting a grunt from Clark. She nestles against him and rests her head on his shoulder as he drapes an arm over her. You can't help the pang of loneliness. You're not jealous, it's just been a while since you had someone to snuggle aside from your stuffed hippo.
You sit back as you swallow down the last of the kernels with a swig of wine. You put the wine glass on the glass coaster Melanie kept reminding you of. As the evening sets in, the room is only lit with the glow of the television. The haze of colours and alcohol itches on your eyelids.
You yawn and plant your elbow on the armrest, leaning into it as you tilt your head. Your lashes close, only for a moment before you twitch. You feel a tickle on your hip. You lift your head slightly and peer down from the corner of your vision.
Is he... touching you? Maybe it's a mistake or he doesn't realise he's doing it. You freeze, mortified. You should clear your throat or move or something...
You can't. His fingertips brush down your thigh and back up it, lingering just along the curve of your ass. You reach for your wine and he rescinds his hand, curling his arm around Melanie as she gives a delighted moan.
What was that? You're overthinking this. He probably thought it was her. Somehow. You're not sure. He's a nice guy, a stranger still, he wouldn't just touch you.
You drain the last of your wine and stand up, "just gonna pop into the bathroom."
"Whatever," Melanie dismisses as she rubs Clark's chest. 
You don't look at him but you swear you can feel his gaze on you. You circle around the back of the couch and find your way to the bathroom. You close yourself in and shake the jitters from your nerves.
You're tired and you don't know if it even happened. You've been drinking and maybe just maybe you're a little tipsy. Well, at least the movie is almost done. You can try to catch the last bus or turn in for the night if Melanie lets you have the couch.
You get yourself together and go back out. As you near the couch, Melanie and Clark quickly part, their sloppy kiss ending in a pop. You try not to give away your discomfort and resume your seat, pressing yourself against the armrest as small as you can.
"I'm getting tired, sweetie," Melanie whines.
"The movie's not done," his voice is rocky and low.
"I've seen it," she pouts.
"Well, I haven't. If you want to lay down, I'll be in when it's over," he says coolly but not unkindly.
"You can finish it tomorrow," she simpers.
"Hon, you got a friend here," he reminds her, "don't be rude."
He looks at you and sends you a smile you barely glimpse as you shy away.
"I never even invited her," she hisses under her breath.
"Go to bed, Mel," he retorts, his timbre steady, "you've had too much wine."
"I haven't had enough," she snarls.
"Honey," he softens his tone, "remember what we talked about."
She's quiet as she stares at him. You can only see the back of her head. She sniffs and leans in to kiss his cheek, "sure, sweetie, I'll be in bed..." she stands, tickling his jawline, "waiting for you.”
You give a sheepish ‘good night’ but she doesn't answer, or even look your way. You dip your chin down, embarrassed by her indifference and turn your focus back to the television. Well, not much longer and you can hide in the dark and wait for morning.
Clark bends forward to take the bowl of popcorn off the table. He sits back and offers you some as he sidles a bit closer. You shake your hand and murmur, “no thanks.” All the salt and butter is already curdling in your tummy.
He shoves a few kernels in his mouth and chews as he watches the screen. You don't enjoy it as much now. Your nostalgia sears away as the tension rises between you and him. The kiss that should be a resolution is suddenly awkward and cringe worthy.
“So,” he swallows, “how long have you known Melanie?”
His voice is like thunder in the lull. You rub your arm, his shadow lurking at the edge of your eye line as you keep your head straight. You clear your throat, “for a while… since high school.”
“Oh, wow, she never mentioned you,” he says, “what's that like ten years or something.”
“About that,” you answer. 
“I mean, don't know why it wouldn't have come up. A friend who brings snacks? That's the best kind,” he puts the popcorn down and grabs one of the coloured napkins to wipe his fingertips.
“Um, I stayed… back in our hometown. Went to school in the next city but lived at home so… just moved here to see what it's really like,” you shrug.
“Oh, just got here? How are you liking it?”
“It's… blurry,” you chuckle nervously. Didn't he want to see the end? He's talking over the whole thing.
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” he stretches his arm across the back of the couch as he reclines. He sets his knees wide as his hand rests just behind your head. “I grew up on a farm. When I got here, I was so lost.”
“A farm?”
“Oh, yeah, big wake up call, but there's not much fodder for journalism in a field,” he snorts.
“Right, you're a journalist?”
“Sure am, with The Daily Planet. Little magazine you may have heard of.”
You blanch and nearly slap yourself, “Daily Planet? Clark… Kent?”
“Ha, so you've heard of me.”
“Yeah, uh, I…” you pause. He's older than you expected but you're not surprised. Melanie always had a type. “I wrote a review of your work in my undergrad.”
“You did?” He sounds amused as he leans a bit closer.
“Sure, well, we had to choose a contemporary writer…”
“I'm flattered. You did journalism?”
“Not exactly, it was just one class,” you wilt into the armrest.
“So what do you do?”
“Well, not what I studied,” you sigh, “I work a desk job. Data analysis.”
“Riveting stuff,” he kids and nudges you playfully when you don't laugh. “You know, Mel never mentioned she grew up in a small town. She always just seemed like she was from around here.”
“Uh, yeah, well, she hated the place so…” you scratch your chin as the hest crawls up your face. “How long have you and her, er, been dating?”
“Well, three months officially. Before were were just ‘having fun’,”he brings his hands up to curl his fingers in quotation, “that's what she called it anyway.”
“Oh, well uh, she seems to really like you,” you utter dumbly.
“Yeah, I think so,” his smirk is laced in his tone.
The room goes completely quiet and suddenly the drum track begins. You watch the credits roll as Clark faces the television. He laughs, “oops, guess I wasn't paying attention.”
He drags his arm from the back of the couch as he stands, his hand grazing your shoulder. He stretches and you notice the hem of his shirt lift, a peek of his muscled stomach above the elastic of his sweatpants. You quickly dart your eyes in the other direction. 
“I should… go check on her, but can I get you anything? Water? Help dilute the wine?” He offers.
“Er, well, no, I can get some myself. I’d hate to infringe–”
“Well, I wouldn’t ask if it was a problem,” he says.
“Really, it’s fine, I think I’ve taken up enough of your time.”
He nods and glances towards the hall, “you know, it didn’t bother me having you here. I’m sorry about her.”
“You don’t have to…”
“I know she forgot. She’s done it to me too. Before we were… official,” he says the last word with punctuated syllables.
“Oh, I’m sorry–”
“See, it’s not that hard to apologise so, I’ll make sure she does,” he interjects, “and I’ll let you settle down. It’s late and I’m sure you’re exhausted. Coming all the way here after work. You really went out of your way and I had a great night. Thanks.”
“Er, yeah, sure,” you murmur, “thanks for… joining in.”
He reluctantly leaves you as you watch him with bated breath. You’re so frigging awkward. You wait until you hear the bedroom door shut before you get up, taking the wine glass with you.
You go to the kitchen and rinse out the glass, refilling it with fresh water. You bring it back to the living room and move a pillow against the armrest, pulling down the fluffy throw onto the cushions. You shut off the television and tuck yourself in, the blanket too short, even for you.
What a lame Friday night. You could’ve had more fun alone.
🌆
It takes a bit for you to even feel tired. Your body is achy and sore but your mind is racing. Finally, you manage to close your eyes for more than a few minutes. You roll over to face the back of the couch and nestle into the pillow. You yawn as you feel yourself drifting.
A high pitch leaks into your ears. You twitch and your lashes flutter. It’s just the pipes or a siren somewhere in the distance. The city sure is loud. You hear it again, something more akin to a squeak.
You shift onto your back as your stomach tingles. You cover your face with your arm and try to ignore the irritating sound but it just doesn’t stop. Your eyes snap open as you rip your arm off your head, realising what it is.
The soft low growls in return, the steady tap against the wall… it’s not the pipes or a siren. It’s Melanie. And Clark. They’re… 
You flip the pillow over your head and bend your arm around it, blocking out the noise. Just when you think you can’t get any lower. You’ve been there before. The third wheel, the wing woman. High school was just you standing against the wall as Melanie made out with boys at a party you weren’t even invited to.
Maybe things haven’t changed that much. Maybe it’s that you didn’t see what was right in front of you. The one friend you thought you had, forgets you just like everyone else. This whole thing was a mistake. Moving to the city just so you can be her tag-along.
You wallow in your self-pity and sink down into your unconscious. The world slips away from you as your dreams ripples with muddy colours. You feel as if you're floating, bobbing on soft waves, disoriented and dazed.
You wake to the clink of glass. You groan as your head aches, the cushions stiff and unforgiving. Your neck is knotted just above your shoulders. You rub your cheek and stay as you are, still under the pillow as you get your bearings. You remember where you are and cling to the dregs of sleep in your eye.
Cool air tinges your skin, your leg hooked over the blanket. You hug the crumpled throw as the night seeps icily though your pajamas. The thin short set speckled in the little red hearts offer little warmth. You reach back to pull the shorts to your thigh as it rides up and tilt onto your back.
As you do, you sense a shadow over you. You peek under the slits of your eyelids and see a figure standing just a few feet from the other end of the couch. Long breaths blow into the air. It’s too large to be Melanie. It’s him. Is he watching you?
You can’t move. You’re paralysed in horror. Why is he just standing there? Goosebumps raise on your skin. You feel a whisper against your hip where he touched you earlier. It just can’t be that. He’s too nice.
You don’t know what to do so you close your eyes and lay completely still. You measure your breath as you wait. There’s a soft thunk as he sets down a glass on the table by the armrest and walks up the side of the couch.
Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move…
He tugs on the throw and spreads it over you as best he can. His fingers drag up your arm and he lingers, stroking your cheek as you resist the urge to pull away. He lets out a low growl and lumbers away, swiping up his glass as he goes.
You let your eyes open and catch a glimpse of his silhouette. His back is bare and thickly corded. The moonlight limns his muscles just before he disappears into the hall. You shudder as you release the heavy breath from your chest.
The bedroom door snaps shut as you clutch the blanket tight. It starts again. Melanie’s moans, Clark’s grunts, and the knocking of the bed frame. Quicker than before, almost furious. You just want this night to end.
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writerslittlelibrary · 4 months
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So, I'm not a prisoner? extra
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masterlist part 1 part 2 part 3 extra
summary: you did not expect that your mission to take down the traitor, could end in such a difficult situation for you…
pairing: Natasha x Red Room teen reader
warnings: none 
genre: fluff
words: 1117
a/n: this is purely because it’s my birthday :)
You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work
 |——————————— ⴵ ———————————|
You had been with the Avengers for a few months, and according to the file you once found, your birthday was coming up. You didn’t really care much for it. You had never celebrated a birthday in your life. Natasha, however, was determined to change that. 
She and the other Avengers had it all planned out. They had been preparing for weeks to make sure you had the most amazing birthday ever. 
After weeks of making you try all different kinds of cake and foods, Wanda had documented what your favourite foods were, and she had remember all your dislikes. 
And so, Tony made sure he had ordered the best, most delicious birthday cake in existence. Bucky, Sam, and Steve were in charge of decorations. Clint and Natasha were in charge of presents, Wanda and Bruce, who turned out to be a surprisingly good cook, were in charge of the food, and Thor had made sure to bring you something nice from Asgard. 
You had no idea any of this was happening. Of course, you had caught on that something was going on. You were a spy, after all, but you couldn’t seem to figure out what the other Avengers were hiding from you.
You had tried on many occasions to make some of them crack, wanting to know what they were keeping from you. Many times, you nearly succeeded, but Natasha was always around to point out your behaviour, making the Avengers you were questioning shut up. 
However, it seemed that Natasha was finally going to tell you what was going on.
When you went to bed that night, she came into your room, sitting on your bed. 
“I just want you to know, that tomorrow we have a party for you. We didn’t want to spring it on you,” Natasha explained, smiling at you as she stroke your hair.
“A party? Why?” You asked, looking at Natasha confused.
“Well, tomorrow is your birthday, and it is custom that people’s birthdays are celebrated,” Natasha explained, and you nodded in understanding. You took a few moments to think, before you decided to ask some questions.
“Will there be cake?” you asked, remembering a movie where you saw someone having a cake on their birthday. 
Natasha smiled at your innocence and nodded. It was unbelievable to her how you, after having been through so much, were still able to hold the innocence in your eyes. 
“Of course there will be cake,” Natasha said. 
“Like in the movies?” you gasped excitedly, and Natasha chuckled, nodding with a smile.
“It’ll be just like the movies,” she promised, leaning forwards and giving you a kiss on your forehead. After saying goodnight, Natasha left the room, and you tried to sleep, although your excitement made it quite difficult. 
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The next morning, Natasha was the one to drag you out of bed. You were tired and grumpy at first, until you remembered it was your birthday, and it was supposed to be an exciting day. 
You were out of bed and ready after that thought immensely quick, joining Natasha who stood outside your door, waiting for you.
She led you to the common area, and you gasped as you saw all the decorations. The other Avengers were sat around the kitchen island, a stack of waffles sitting in the middle. You, however, were too busy admiring all the decorations. You couldn’t believe anyone would do something so nice for you. 
Natasha smiled as she watched the look on your face. In these past few months, she had found there was no greater joy for her than to watch you be happy about something. 
After you took all the decorations in, you moved to the counter, sitting on the barstool at the head. Even the barstool was decorated!
After everyone wished you a happy birthday, and you awkwardly thanked them for it seeing as though you were not used to having so much attention on you, Wanda started handing out the waffles she made, making sure you had all the toppings you could ever want. 
Did Wanda remember everything you liked? Did she care so much about you?
Your brain was running a hundred miles an hour. A few months ago you couldn’t even see a future for yourself, and now you had people that cared so much about you that they even remembered your food preferences. 
Honestly, you could have cried. 
After breakfast, Natasha led you towards the seating area. A huge pile of birthday gifts was sitting on top of the coffee table, and any of the Avengers could notice how your face lit up when you saw it.
Natasha told you to sit down on the couch, and after you did, the other Avengers joined you, either sitting down on the other couches, or taking a seat on the floor. 
Natasha had given everyone specific instructions not to sing for you, knowing how it was all probably already overwhelming for you. She didn’t want to scare you off. And lets be honest, who actually enjoys being sung for?
Natasha was the first to hand you a present, sitting next to you and placing a kiss on your forehead, whishing you a happy birthday. 
You thanked her and opened the gift carefully, scared to rip the perfectly wrapped wrapping paper. 
You soon realised it was a stuffed animal. Your favourite animal nonetheless. You smiled at the innocent and heartfelt gift. For some reason, the simple stuffed animal hit you really hard, and you stared at if for a moment, trying to hold back the tears.
Natasha took your staring as something else, and so became worried she had gifted you something you did not like. 
“Do you like it?” Natasha asked carefully, but when you turned your head and she was met with your teary eyes, her worries settled immediately, opening her arms. 
“I love it,” you cried, crawling into her arm and crying softly into her shoulder. 
Natasha held you close as she rubbed your back, keeping one hand on your head to make you feel as safe as she could. 
After your emotional breakdown, you managed to unpack all your other presents with enthusiasm, smiling and thanking everyone for each and every gift you received. You were certain these people were mind readers, as they managed to get you every single you wanted, or were interested in. 
The day ended with an amazing dinner, cooked by Wanda.
After all the cake, snacks, and excitement, you ended up falling asleep not even half way through your favourite movie. All the Avengers smiled at the sight. You were a truly magnificent soul, and they didn’t know what they would do without you.
Tags: @wandanatlov3r @tobiaslut @natashasgirlll @xanthreee @mrsromanovaa
Permanent tags: @marvelnatasha12346 @lesbionion @nova-kyle @darkstar225 @saraaahsstuff @marvelwomenarehot0 @screechcat @iheartjohansson @simp-erformarvelwomen @swaqcenix @karmasgxrl @marvel-lous3000 @mxximoffswifey @lorsstar1st
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lokisgoodgirl · 8 months
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A Lot of Boning [Asgard!Loki Oneshot]
A Link to My Masterlist is HERE Summary: Asgard!Loki loses bet and must wear a corset on a night out. Loki is very pleased about this. (w/c 2.5k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Loki/corsets. Smuttish. Language. Heavy petting. Spoiled, flirty prince behaviour. Stupid stuff. Ridiculous HC lore. Asgardian crones. A/N: That tik tok wouldn't leave my brain. Sorry folks.
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“A-HA, brother...you have been bested most thoroughly!” Thor’s voice boomed around the pillars, spilling over the balcony. Loki raised an eyebrow, stiffening and clenching his fists while a smile threatened to betray him.
“Indeed, brother” he purred bitterly, making sure he sounded surprised. "How awful."
In the training courtyard below, Sif held Volstagg pinned to the ground, her sword inescapably pointed to his throat. “It seems I underestimated her.” “And what of the bet, then?” Fandral coo-d, his face emerging between the brothers shoulders. Loki shot a questioning glance at the thin fingers now curled around his triceps, before looking to their owner. “I shall adhere to the stakes agreed. Obviously.”
Thor clapped Fandral on the back, chuckling loudly and shaking his head.
“Brother no one expects you to parade the Asgardian night taverns wearing a corset. Norns, Fandral was only joking. Weren’t you, Fandral?” Fandral smirked, reaching for his goblet. He tipped it briefly towards them both, before sipping.
Loki studied the man’s face, watching a tinge of pink creeping up his neck. He tilted his head.
“I very much think he was not joking, brother” Loki said calmly, seeing Thor’s jaw drop out the corner of his eye. “But never let it be said that a son of Odin reneges on his wagers.” “Loki you can’t be ser-” Loki held up a hand, eyes closed towards his brother’s protestations. “But your reputation...the scrolls of gossip which will circulate. Father." Thor's eyes widened. "Brother I implore yo-” “Enough,” Loki murmured malevolently, shooting Thor a silencing stare. The blonde’s lips hardened in a thin line, as the god of mischief shook dark hair back from his shoulders.
“The usual place?” he drawled, pushing himself away from the balustrade. Thor nodded reluctantly.
“Very well,” said Loki, with a feigned sigh of lament.
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When he arrived to his chambers, the staff were dismissed with a wave of his hand.
All save one.
“Wait here,” he soothed as he passed her, trailing a knuckle down her bare bicep. Every goosebump he left in his wake was a promise. “I will have need of you.”
He smirked as she smoothed the front of her silken apron. Loki licked his lips at the memory of the taste of what lay beneath those skirts, already soaking for him he’d wager. That is a bet I wouldn’t intentionally lose, he mused as he threw open the ornate doors to his garment-room. Arms spread wide, he basked in the pungent smell of leather which overcame him. It was warm, and rich. Decadent, just like that chambermaid’s sweet little quim.
He clasped his hands ceremonially behind his back, pacing slowly forward. Loki enjoyed every faint rustle of his leather trousers, each measure thump of his boot on polished marble. The sound of his velvet-gloved fingers brushing together was like the flurry of a lovers skin. All these things and more, he always noticed in the moments before he disrobed. He could feel himself hardening already at the prospect of what was to come. The god smoothed his hair behind his ears and stretched in front of him, lacing his fingers. His knuckles cracked. He stretched his neck to one side, then the other; and with a parting of his digits – a secret compartment blossomed into view.
This was his very favourite selection of garments, each handmade by only the finest knobbled fingers among the Asgardian Crones.
Although responsible for all the royal families more intricate ceremonial costumery....these...they made only for him. For his cabinet of debauchery. And they were well rewarded.
He trailed the pads of his fingertips across displayed fabrics as he moved. Robes of chiffon and silk and leather which cut and hung to his body like honey, so much so that the very sight of his immortal frame wrapped in their embrace had been known to make his lover climax. Into every sinful negligee, every blindfold, every erotic ensemble, every fluttering tail in a well-worn crop; the Asgardian Crones had worked their spells.
‘Are you certain, my Prince,’ one had crooned doubtfully, craning closer to his sketch. Her fingers shook as she did so, tracing the lines of his elaborate request.
“Quite,” Loki had replied with the air of one who did not expect to be asked twice. She observed him craftily, creased skin trembling as one decrepit eyebrow rose. She’d always been a flirt.
“I’m not sure there’s time – tis a lot of boning, Prince Loki-” she hummed, coy undertones fresh even in the creak of her voice. He waved his hand dismissively with a sultry chuckle.
“The tales you could tell about boning, eyh Lagartha?” he purred wickedly. “I’ve heard the songs.” Lagertha’s wrinkled skin had flushed a pale pink as he’d leant across the large cutting table, ensuring to spread his fingers against the wood, making the veins she enjoyed in his hands flex.
She would be able to see down the loose tie of his tunic neckline, to the shifting ropes of muscle beneath. To his naval, most likely. The scent of him, the warmth, the pure essence of masculine, sexual power that flowed from his skin to her nostrils. He watched her cloudy pupils dilate.
A wolfish grin had spread his lips. “Or if you prefer...I could tell you some of mine” he’d winked.
The crone cleared her throat suddenly, hacking. “Are you alright, darling?” the Prince said with excruciating sensuality.
Lagertha hacked louder.
Two new crones had rounded the corner at an alarmingly slow pace. Loki rolled his eyes as they shuffled towards their ailing sister. Loki returned to a standing position. “I shall return next solstice to collect it,” Loki had said pointedly to Lagertha, making a show of stretching out each leather glove before pulling it on. He arched a brow.
Lagertha, close to expiration in her chair, nodded.
The other weavers shot him dirty looks as they began a lacklustre, synchronised fan of her face.
Loki had almost skipped back to his chambers that day. And now, as he rested his thumb beneath his chin in wonder at the finished article, he felt the same elation. He had waited for the perfect debut for this most treasured piece. Oh, how he had waited.
And finally, here it was.
Fandral thought to cast tarnish on his masculinity? On his virility? On his very power and reputation in this realm? Well, Loki thought with a smile as his eyes tracked every immaculate detail of the corset; he thinks wrong. His brother might be excused for being blinded to Loki’s ability to outplay any trickster-like attempts, but Fandral? Loki had given him far too much credit in the past, clearly.
To save time, Loki peeled the clothes from his body with magic. New garments unfurled around his limbs, having been drawn from the everyday closets outside. Tight dark chinos, and a thick cotton shirt; such a depth of green it was almost obsidian.
The thrill of unfamiliar Midgardian clothes on his body sent a shiver of anticipation up Loki’s spine. They were so light. Almost like being naked. If not for the tightness. His cock ached, heavy desire throbbing with renewed vigour. The demon thickened against his leg, each wince from the cotton pants making him hiss as he screwed his eyes shut in pleasure.
Migardians and their fascination with tightness, he mulled as he spun towards the flickering doorway.
“Girl?” he called expectantly. There was a pause, before the chambermaid’s brisk footsteps sounded, stopping abruptly in front of the door to the concealed portion of Loki’s closet. Her eyes were wide in wonder, gazing around until they stopped at his feet. She worked her way up his statuesque body, legs wide and triangular; arms crossed and straining against the shirt. “My P-prince,” she stammered, covering her eyes. Loki chuckled. “Come now, you don’t look this bashful when I come to you with sword in hand,” he teased as he straightened his back. She lowered her hands, revealing only her eyes. They shone. I really should move these ‘suits’ to the cabinet of debauchery, he pondered; watching the chambermaid squirm.
He suddenly wondered how she would fare on her knees, fumbling with the other-wordly zipper, biting her lip as she salivated impatiently for his cock. No time, he chided as he raised a hand, beckoning.
“I require your assistance with this,” he gestured to the side.
He didn’t. Not truly. But Loki Odinson knew how to wring every last screeching sliver of drama from a production. And after the time he had waited for this debut, he would make it drip until its last drop.
Her eyes grew wider. “Loki...” she murmured in awe, protocols forgotten.
The corset handcrafted by his loyal crones hung perfectly lit, showcased on the wall. Exquisite boning curved the sides, cutting inward at the perfect dimensions to cinch the sluttish nips of his taut waist.
The bodice was boned to perfection, thick strips of Nilfheimian narwal tusk holding shape. Golden flashes glinted at the shoulders, down the deep V of the neckline. His richest shade of royal green adorned the bodice, silken threads stitched so close it slid beneath the fingertips like polished glass.
“For what do you require my assistance, my Lord?” she murmured, letting her eyes fall wantonly to his curled lips. Loki slipped the corset from its display, swirling it elegantly over his arms and slotting it in place, much like a reverse waistcoat. “For this,” he said, spinning slowly on his heels. He raised his arms, raking his hair into a messy bun; fingers fastened to his scalp, exposing his neck.
The back of the corset splayed open. A long thread of ebony silk unfurled in Loki’s hand. One end of the ribbon poised upward from his palm like a snake, head pointed to the maid. It lunged towards her before stopping abruptly.
“Take it,” Loki smouldered, “it won’t bite.” The chambermaid’s trembling hands diligently wove the silk through the intricate holes of the corset, each pull of the length together making her groan gently against his back in spite of herself. She was taking her time, wondering at the creases of shirt beneath the boning. Wondering at him.
Loki’s eyes closed, the press of her fingertips between his shoulder-blades making fucking her over the nearest chaise greatly tempting. She pulled the binds tighter, looping strands with a final flourish. Loki hummed quietly, clenching. “I hope this is acceptable, my Prince” she murmured, trailing her fingers wilfully down the criss-cross of ribbon. Her breasts pushed flush to his spine, her words low and sultry. “I have not laced a corset since my lady Frigga’s.” “Do not speak of my mother,” Loki moaned quietly as he guided her hand to the crook of his thigh. His cock met her palm, the resulting squeeze rewarded with a buck of his hips. He spun towards her and guided her to the wall.
Her lungs emptied as he pressed to her, feeling her digits tugging gently at her handiwork. Loki could feel the boning press against her curves, the tight outline of his glamorous armour making her struggle for breath. His lips traced hers with the lightest of touches, her hot breath filling his throat. She thrust against the thigh pressed between her legs, gasping like a virgin as he nudged upwards to her sex.
“Pretty thing,” he whispered warm and wet into her ear. She whined, bucking against him. Loki released a dark chuckle. “Be here to undress me on my return.”
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In Asgard’s busiest tavern, the evening’s festivities were in full swing. Thor stared into his tankard, watching thick bubbles pop lazily on the surface.
“Oh Fandral, what have we done?” he lamented, sliding a meaty palm further up his cheek. “He will be here at any moment. Reputation? Ruined.” Fandral scoffed, glancing at the door for the third time in as many minutes. “Do you think he’ll wear a garter?” announced Sif, swinging a leg over the bench with two large tankards in each fist. Volstagg spat ale in a cloud of laughter. "I bet he wears a garter," Sif continued seriously. "I hereby claim first attempt to rip it off with my teeth." "No fair," Fandral whined. “-Tis no matter of mirth,” Thor snapped loudly. Plates on the table rattled. Fandral patted his hand with a sigh. “Your brother knows us well enough. He is Asgard’s biggest tease. He will not wear ladies underthings - not in public anyway..." he paused, momentarily taken away. " I am most sure of it," he continued breezily. "Fragile masculinity, most likely.” But as he spoke, his face simmered with excitement.
Sif narrowed her eyes at him warily, realising in tandem with the others that the raucous tavern had grown quiet. The four of them spun to face the door, where a hundred other patrons also stared, transfixed.
“Brother?” Thor murmured disbelieving. But there, in all his splendour, was Loki.
The figure cut against the star-littered sky, the outline of his body as crisp and clear as carved marble. Thick curls spilled over his shoulders, fluttering in the nights chill. Long limbs strode rakishly over the paved floor, the click of his heels making onlookers jump as their arousal fizzed like malevolent static.
His cheekbones slashed, the determined set of his smoulder making him look like a king. A demon of the night.
Simply the sight of him moving across the floor made the captive audience hold its breath. The tight grip of the unfamiliar style of shirt to his muscles, the mercilessly cinched nip of his waist which exploded the breadth of his shoulders. A golden brooch in the crest of a snake was pinned to the centre of his chest, complimenting the lavish glint of the corset piping. The god of mischief's ordained colours were saturated by the auburn glow of candlelight. Loki smiled wickedly, winking at an unsuspecting woman grasping feverishly at her friend’s shoulder. He stood at the end of the table, spreading his arms wide before clasping them behind his back. “Well?” he asked smugly, giving them a slow spin. There were a series of thumps as members of the Asgardian public hit the floor. “You know midgardian garments are frowned upon,” Thor grumbled, casting glances over his shoulder. Loki rolled his eyes. “It’s about the ensemble, brother” he snipped. “Although I wouldn’t expect you to understand that.”
Fandral cleared his throat, standing and raising his cup towards the ceiling. “Prince Loki you look-”
“-Ravishing,” Loki drawled. “I know.” He cast a scathing glance down Fandral’s body, making his way leisurely back to his face. “Smarts, doesn’t it? To see me the victorious antithesis of your childish plot to humiliate me.” Sif snorted. “He just wanted to see you in a corset” she remarked, pushing her tankard from one hand to the other. Loki’s lips pursed, folding his arms as he spoke. “The evident stirring in his breeches betrays that much.” Fandral sat down immediately to the sound of raucous laughter round the table.
A crowd had begun to gather at a respectful distance around the dark prince, dozens of eyes combing over every deliciously wrapped inch of him. The air was bubbling with sexual energy. Hair on Loki’s arms bristled. He was just about to bestow greetings upon his inflamed public when Thor tugged his shirt sleeve.
“Brother, the gossip-scrolls will still remark on this…”
Loki scoffed, rolling his eyes. “What care have I? I look incredible brother, as you well know. Desist with your petulant jealousy.” He straightened, enjoying the wistful longing in Thor’s gaze as it swung from Loki’s cinched trunk trussed in boning to the feral, shifting stares of his lustful devotees. And tonight, that was everyone it seemed.
Loki paced around the table, settling his hands on his wary brother's shoulders. “It was supposed to be funny” Thor grumbled, shaking his head while Fandral squirmed beside him. Loki’s mouth twitched in a knowing smile as he watched the man run his palms down his thighs repeatedly. Trying to distract himself. He lowered himself, hovering between Thor and his misguided best friend.
“The wager did not include that we were to wear lace and brassiere and frill and garter. Although I do have those effects in my personal collection, too.”
He winked at Fandral, who flushed crimson.
The god of thunder folded his arms. “It’s just very...you” he whined. The envy, Loki mused, is palpable. His fingers curled around Fandral’s bicep, giving him a knowing squeeze. “Exactly, brother” Loki whispered with finality in his siblings ear. The triumphant god straightened before raising his arms. Dying embers nestling in the tavern fireplaces roared to life at the command. Tonight, he was a king. And the squeals of the crowd grew to a roar.
-
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glorystark · 2 months
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His Saviour | Part 1
Steve Rogers x Reader
Summary: You disobey one of Steve's orders in a mission but you don't think about the consequences...
Warnings: (TRIGGER WARNING!) mentions of self harm and suicide, mentions of killing and torturing, pure Angst no happy ending, mentions of injures, dark!Steve Rogers, swearing, minor spoilers of Black Widow, Steve being an asshole in general
Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader
Featuring: The original 6
Disclaimer: please don't read this if you're not comfortable with any of the topics below or/and if they trigger you. This is just a fiction and it's never ok to act like this. I'm not romanticizing any of these topics and this behaviour!
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You are sitting in the Quinjet, observing everyone who is injured in different ways. Natasha has been stabbed in her right thigh, Clint’s left ankle has been twisted, and Bruce, although not injured, appears exhausted due to a significant code green call, during which Nat almost lost him trying to retrieve him. Thor has a few scratches on his face. Everyone’s faces show bruising in different areas, and their bodies are still aching. But you, you have been injured the most. Your right wrist is broken, and you have been shot in your left leg, though the bullet wasn’t deep and didn't cause major damage; otherwise, you probably would have passed out by now. You still have trouble breathing, and your voice is sore because one of the HYDRA agents almost choked you to death. Your face is bruised, you can only open your right eye halfway, and your lips are swollen. The numbness has made it so you can barely feel any pain. When everyone saw you upon returning to the jet, they were extremely worried. You didn’t possess inhuman powers and weren't a super soldier, but you used to be a well-trained assassin and spy in the Red Room, closely partnered with Natasha Romanoff before joining S.H.I.E.L.D. So, it was surprising for the team to see you so battered, though they understood the mission was challenging.
Everyone needed a break upon returning to the tower. Initially, everyone thought it was a straightforward mission: infiltrate a high-security HYDRA base, get two flash drives containing vital and dangerous information, and exit. What no one knew was that it was a trap, with far more agents present than expected. Eventually, you managed to escape, but only securing one of the flash drives.
As everyone settled back in the jet, Bruce finished removing the bullet from your leg and bandaging Nat’s thigh. Thor bragged to Tony about his usual lack of injuries on missions, joking that he could have taken down all the HYDRA agents that day if he hadn’t been 'unlucky', which elicited laughter from Tony. Clint checked on Nat while she recounted a memory from Budapest. Meanwhile, you contemplated going home for a long shower until you noticed Steve, whose eyes were fixed on you with intensity. Confused, you assumed he was lost in thought, but you were wrong.
“How could you be so reckless?!" Steve's voice boomed through the jet as he stood up from his seat, his gaze piercing into yours. Everyone stopped what they were doing, surprised by his uncharacteristically loud tone, given his usually calm demeanor, even when upset. You looked at him, uncertain of what to say. You understood why he was angry; you had disobeyed an order. However, if not for your 'disobedience,' you wouldn't have acquired half the information you have now. To you, this seemed like Steve Rogers throwing a typical Captain America tantrum.
“Well, are you going to answer, or are you too stupid to respond to a simple question?" he growled, advancing toward your seat.
“I wasn't being-" you began to mutter, only to be interrupted by Steve.
“Speak up," he demanded, his voice cutting you off. You met his gaze, puzzled by his demeanor.
“I wasn't being reckless; I was being thoughtful. The-" you tried to explain, but Steve interrupted again.
"Thoughtful?! You call that thoughtful?! Really, Y/n? It's clear you don't understand the difference between stupidity and thoughtfulness.” he retorted.
“Will you stop interrupting me?" you interjected, your voice growing louder as you rose from your seat. You locked eyes with Steve, standing almost chest to chest in front of each other.
“I wouldn't have interrupted you if I knew any useful words were going to come out of your mouth," he countered, finally yelling, causing everyone but you to flinch.
“You have no right to yell at me like this, Steve.” you asserted, standing up for yourself.
"I have EVERY right to yell at you, you-" he began, but you cut him off this time.
"Why are you making it seem like I committed a crime? Yes, I agree it was wrong for me to enter that room alone, but I retrieved the flash drive we needed, didn't I?" you challenged.
“That is not the point right now. The point is, I'm your captain, and I gave a strict, direct order not to enter that room, and you disobeyed me.” he stated firmly.
That was all true. When you disobeyed his order, you knew he would be angry, but not to this extent.
You sprinted down the hallway, incapacitating every HYDRA agent in your path. You tried not to use your gun too often, knowing there would likely be guards in the room.
"Steve, I found the room," you said through your earpiece. You subdued the agent guarding the room where the flash drives were, and as the door swung open, more than twenty HYDRA agents stood before you, blocking your view of the drives on the computer table.
“Y/n, what did you just say? Get out of there now! Do you even know how many agents are in there?" Steve's urgent voice echoed in your ear.
“I do now," you replied, still facing the agents, who were also eyeing you cautiously.
"Y/n, this is an order. Get. Out. Of. There. Now.” Steve commanded, his tone almost a shout.
“Sorry, Steve, but people's lives depend on this.” you declared, charging toward the agents, disregarding Steve's pleas for you to retreat.
“Steve, I really don't understand what the big deal is. I got one of the drives, and yes, I went alone, but at least I obtained something that will help us.” you reasoned, taking a seat.
“Alright, y/n, I'm definitely sure now that you are deaf. You entered a room with so many HYDRA agents-" he began, only to be cut off by you.
“They were like 10 and they were really weak-" you defended.
“They were 27 trained assassins!” he corrected, making you widen your eyes.
"And do I need to remind you that your leg has been shot, and you can barely keep your eyes open, not to mention the rest of your injuries." he added mockingly.
“Okay, Steve, I get it, and I'm sorry for being reckless. Can we let this go now?" you pleaded, sitting down.
“Let this go?!" he started laughing, though his laugh lacked any humor. Everyone looked at Steve, unable to believe his behavior. They never expected him to speak to you this way, especially in front of the whole team.
You and Steve had been friends since meeting during the Battle of New York. You had a lot in common and quickly connected. A few months later, at one of Tony's parties, he kissed you, and the following day, he asked you out. It had been six months since then, and Steve treated you like a princess. He called you his savior because you helped him adjust to life after being thawed from the ice. He adored you. You had a few minor disagreements, but they were hardly fights, more like disagreements. You could never stay mad at each other, and now you couldn't believe the man who was laughing at you and humiliating you was the same person.
"Steve, I think that's enough," Nat finally intervened, her voice calm yet firm.
"Is it really? I think baby y/n hasn't learned her lesson yet.” Steve retorted sarcastically.
“Fuck you, Steve. You can't speak to me like that. I'm not a kid. If it wasn't for me, we wouldn't even have that one drive, and god knows how many people could have died. But you can't even realize that because I disobeyed ‘Captain America's orders,' and no one is allowed to disobey America's 'hero.' The only kid between us is you!” you shot back, your voice rising, though not as loud as Steve's had been.
“I'm a kid, y/n? Really? And what are you, a hero? Do you expect me to thank you now? Do you expect all of us to be on our knees thanking you?!" Steve challenged.
“That is not what I said!" you finally snapped.
The tension in the room escalated, and the team grew more uncomfortable by the second.
Steve smirked at your angered state.
“What's the matter, y/n? You seem a little bit defensive. I thought you liked being a hero. You know, because of the guilt, since you started killing and torturing people at the age of 8.”he said, still wearing the hurtful smirk on his face.
The whole team gasped, especially Natasha, whose story paralleled yours. You looked at Steve, unable to believe what he had just said.
“You seem shocked, Agent y/l/n. Oh, and Natasha, don't take this the wrong way. We all make mistakes in our life, but at least after we realize our mistakes, we try to make them up as soon as we can and not run away like a coward.” Steve continued, ignoring your reaction. You and Natasha widened your eyes, understanding what Steve was referring to."Steve..." Nat began, but Steve cut her off.
“I'm not done yet. Some of y'all look confused, well, let me explain it for you," Steve said, addressing the rest of the team.
"Steve, don't." you murmured, your voice weak now. You weren't even sure if anyone heard you, and you were right. No one heard you, but Steve who chose to ignore you.
“Our dear y/n y/l/n was a well-trained assassin back in the years with Natasha Romanoff in a place called the Red Room, which I'm sure you've heard about. Before even Natasha was out of there, Agent y/l/n found a way to leave the Red Room, a way to save every girl, from children to adults, who were mind-controlled into killing, and even worse. But do you know what she did instead?" he turned around the room, looking at everyone as if it was a show. No one said anything; they just kept looking between you and Steve. It was getting harder for you to focus on your breathing.
“Well, in case you haven't guessed yet, she just left everyone who could've been saved, even her best friend who is sitting right here with us.” he said, pointing at Nat.
“And even though she could've killed Dreykov, who was the leader by the way, with her genius plan, she didn't because she was a coward.” he said, emphasizing the word coward.
You've never felt so small and betrayed. You couldn’t believe he was using your awful past against you. When you confided in him, he comforted you, assuring you it wasn't your fault. That you’ve been through a lot and you took the only chance you had to save yourself. And now… now he was a different person.
“Cap that’s enough, it’s not our business what she did in the past. We all did something in some point that we aren’t proud of. She made up for that mistake many times now, since the battle of New York until today’s mission. I’m sure she still feels guilty and you’re just making it worse.” Tony looked at your trembling sight, standing up from his seat and walked towards Steve. The rest of the team nodding along, glad that Tony stood up for you because they were frozen themselves.
“Oh yeah Tony, you’re right I’m sure she feels guilty, don’t you y/l/n?” He looked at you as if you were a kid
Everything about him was hurting you right now. His voice tone that humiliated you in every way, his eyes that sent daggers to your way, his body that was intimidatingly towering yours, his smile which always made you happy and now it was only mocking you. Your throat is dry, your eyes are wet and you feel like your heart is going to come out of your chest in any second. You were hurt and unwell, and everyone could see that, everyone but Steve.
“Agent y/I/n do you feel guilty about your past?" He repeated his sarcastic question.
"I wouldn't worry about that too much since you have a good way to cope with your guilt right?" He continued.
You looked up at him frighteningly, understanding where he was going.
“Steve don't you dare." you whispered, finally being able to say something.
Everyone was confused since they had no idea what you both were talking about.
“you seem scared agent." Steve smirked at you sending shivers down your spine. It hurts so much more that he wasn't even using your name anymore, he felt like a stranger to you.
“SHUT UP!" you had never yelled so loud in your life, the whole jet shook. Everyone flinched but Steve. It seemed like he was waiting for this.
“Come on y/n are you that afraid of everyone knowing how you used to deal with your problems, or do you still do it?"
Everyone was quite once again, something in them wanted to know what Steve was talking about but they also didn't because of the way you reacted.
You looked at him not saying anything but your eyes were begging him to stop. You've never been in such a vulnerable position, especially considering everything you’ve been through.
“oh don't tell me you're gonna cut your wrists open again because you feel guilty you didn't get the second driver."
Everyone froze and widened their eyes, silence filling the jet. No one knew that you used to harm yourself until you started dating Steve, he was the first person to ever know. You felt so comfortable around him that you didn't want to have any untold secrets.
You thought about what if you guys break up but you convinced yourself that even if you guys separate your ways from each other at some point, you're definitely going to stay friends and he's never going to tell your secret to anyone because you believed he was a good man. You trusted him more than yourself and now he proved you all wrong.
You didn't cut anymore, because you found a way to save people. If it wasn't for Nick Fury, making you join the team you'd be long gone by now. But you didn't have a reason anymore, you were happy you had a new family and a new job, everything was perfect for you. Now you felt alone all over again and you didn't even blame Steve, you blamed yourself. You failed.
You started trembling more and started to see black spots. The team walked towards you to see if you were okay. Thor pushed Steve away, "Stay away from her," he warned, before walking to you. You heard Tony and Natasha yelling at Steve, Clint trying to calm them down but looking angry himself, Bruce and Thor asking you if you were alright, but you couldn’t hear anything anymore. It was so loud, but you only heard annoying mumbles. You let out a sob before passing out in the strong arms of the god, the last thing you saw being Steve's worried eyes…
A/N: This was my first (published) fan fiction. I apologise for any writing and/or grammar mistakes considering that English isn’t my first language. Feel free to correct me! If you enjoyed this, please let me know and let me know if you want to be tagged in the upcoming posts! (This fic will make a twist;))
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worstloki · 7 months
Text
AU where Loki doesn’t interfere with Thor’s banishment at all and it takes Thor years to prove himself worthy and when he returns to Asgard everything is just. The same. Nothing seems to have changed at all and everyone greets him like his absence was a minor obstacle that didn’t fundamentally change Thor and the worst part is Loki stepped down from the place as regent without any delay and Thor can’t help but feel there’s something underlaying the way his brother looks at him now and won’t let him touch him and Thor doesn’t know what he could have missed because he doesn’t think he would have found anything wrong with the things around him and how everyone behaves if he hadn’t spent time on Earth reflecting.
#the warriors 4 not being interested in anything Thor ‘learnt’ at all#and making it clear that Thor was punished unfairly and the AllFather’s decision had been harsh#Loki saying he’s happy for Thor and Thor sees the way the smiles are forced and he sees the way Loki avoids any touch#Thor hating the way Frigga talks about Loki’s short regency and Thor’s absence like it wasn’t two whole decades or something#like she’s so grateful to have her other son back without ever addressing why he was gone#Thor just. growing during his time on earth and being much more aware of the behaviour around him#he learns to be critical and assess why people around him may act a certain way#once he realises that it’s possible for him or anyone else to be fallible and make mistakes it’s over for Asgard for him I think#Thor returns and Loki gives him the throne and everyone expects him to obviously have the throne#and Odin is sleeping and Thor isn’t comfortable with the way everyone accepts him as king regent after the banishment#Loki who either never lashed out against Jotunheim or did and it was brushed away and no one thinks about it as anything#but Loki is still deeply affected and acts the way he always would have but Thor can feel it’s not the same#he knows something is wrong and Loki won’t say anything about it and Thor doesn’t know how to bring it up#Thor sees Loki metaphorically receding into the shadows to become a nonpresence so loud Thor hears it even after returning from decades away#Thor goes to Earth and gets his priorities in order gets a new worldview learns not to take what he has for granted#and finds out he actually despised Asgard#he’s been back a week and he can’t stand it
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Hi can you write like a small one-shot where thor sneaks the reader into Asgard to surprise loki for Christmas and because she needs to tell him that shes pregnant
.⋆。The Things He Left Behind。⋆.
Loki x plus size reader
Pregnancy announcements can be terrifying even for regular people but with your baby daddy being a Frost Giant, god, a criminal and someone who has pretty much implied he doesn’t want kids, you have a long uphill battle. Oh, and it’s Christmas
Warnings: pregnancy, fear of rejection, fluff, brief mentions of morning sickness and nausea, implied smut, tiny bit of angst
WC: 2.7k
Minors DNI
Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library
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Being pregnant was an interesting phenomenon; a person was growing inside of you, someone who would grow up to be their own adult. You knew logically that at only a couple months along, the baby was simply a clump of cells that would eventually mature into something new. But already, you were so attached to the life that could be.
Normally, something so monumental as being pregnant with a child born from love between life partners would be celebrated, but your heart was filled with dread and fear. The relationship you had was rocky at best, not in terms of love, there was plenty of that, but because he was a criminal and a dangerous one at that.
It was a punishment for his crimes. He was to be kept on Earth, stuck with the men and women he had attempted to rule. You met him by chance, accidentally bumping into the striking god as you were rushing to attend a meeting on behalf of your boss. As you fell to the floor, you caught his eyes and something shifted within you as it did within him.
Your love had been secret, growing in the darkness of the dead of night, in shadowy corridors and empty rooms. Your soul ached for him as if he held a piece of you in his cold hands, never to be returned. You were his just as much as he was yours and for a time, that was enough. 
But as the months carried on, the looming threat of his inevitable departure became monstrous. There was no changing his fate, he would have to leave and you both knew that your pleas and your begging for him to stay would fall on deaf ears. So on his last night with you, he slipped from the not-so-watchful eyes of Earth’s greatest heroes and stole you away.
He took you to Paris, lavishing you with gifts that you still held sacred to this day. He worshipped you with everything he had, taking you apart over and over again until the cold light of day washed over your naked bodies and he was forced to leave your bed in handcuffs.
But jewels and books were not the only things he left you. 
The exhaustion came first, then the extreme tenderness of your breasts, and lastly, the dreaded morning sickness. Your boss, Maria Hill, was the first to broach the issue with you after you had fallen asleep at your desk one too many times. She shoved the box of tests into your hand, telling you it was ok and that she knew but didn’t judge. 
Now, as the first snow of the year began to fall and your stomach was beginning to round out, you approached the one man who could help you. “Thor?” His eyes met yours from over the back of the huge leather sofa. A pop-tart crumb hung on the corner of his lips which fell off as soon as he smiled when he saw you. 
“Ah! My brother’s love! How are you on this fine day?” You chuckled humorlessly and decided to indulge the god for a bit before asking him a favour which might get him into some serious trouble.
“I’m doing ok, looking forward to Christmas.” You nervously shuffled on your feet, the modest kitten heels you had been forced to wear because of your aching feet, clicking against the dark hardwood flooring. Even with his deep confusion regarding human behaviour, Thor could see how anxious you were.
He shifted forward and rose from the couch then turned to you. “There is something amiss, what is it?”
“You need to get me to Asgard. I have to see Loki.” He froze as a bewildered look came over his face. 
“I cannot do that my lady. Even I am not allowed to visit my brother and he is, well he is my little brother. Odin has ordered him to be isolated from everyone as his-“
“I’m pregnant!” You blurted out, interrupting the god. “I’m pregnant with Loki’s baby.” Thor’s body physically seized as the weight of your words hit him. His blue eyes went wide with shock, and if you weren’t mistaken, maybe a little bit of excitement. 
Tentatively, he inched closer to you. Like a puppy, he was vibrating with nerves. “Really!” Unable to help yourself, you smiled at your friend.
“Really really.” Your hand came to rest on the soft fat above your womb. “But Thor, Loki needs to know. And I need help, I don’t know how a human body will handle growing a half-Frost Giant demigod.” 
“Yes.” He agreed. “Yes! We must bring you back home and then we can fix all of this.” Thor looked frazzled as he righted himself in front of you. “Mother will have some idea of what to do and I’m sure she will be able to sneak you into the prison.” Before you could realise what was happening, Thor had swept you into his muscular arms and was running through the compound.
“Thor! We can’t go now! I need to get my things!” You bounced with every step he took and you clung to his shirt. 
Thor shook his head. “I can bring you new things, we must get you home.” The winter air hit you like a slap in the face as the god bounded outside, not even flinching at the drastic change in temperature. “Just hold tight my friend, you will be with your beloved soon enough!”
——————
Asgard was completely overwhelming and as you walked through the golden streets, arm linked with Thor’s, you finally understood why Loki spoke so ill of the place. Each and every person you passed carried an air of smug superiority about them, even as they bent in a shallow bow or curtsy to their prince. They were gods, perfect beings who had conquered worlds and existed for thousands of years in peace.
The huge palace drew closer and your hold tightened around Thor. You had the distinct urge to hold your belly for comfort, to know that part of Loki was still with you, but you were scared of the judgemental gazes of the beautiful people around you. “We are almost there my friend. I will take you straight to the Allmother.”
He patted your hand kindly. “Everyone here is scarily beautiful.” You mutter under your breath but evidently he heard you.
“Then you will fit right in.” He murmured back as you stepped over the threshold to his childhood home. The ornate walls towered over you both, sealing you into a place you should have never been. The gold is almost blinding, coating pretty much every surface as far as the eye could see.
You cringed at the loudness of your small heels against the floor, the sound echoing through the great halls like a drum. Your fingers curled into Thor’s warm skin. He glanced down at you but your eyes were fixed straight ahead, oblivious to his gaze. He just started walking faster, unable to find the words to comfort you.
The smell of lilies invaded your senses, turning your stomach. Your nausea had settled after your first trimester ended but apparently the baby just didn’t like flowers. The smell steadily became stronger, as did the urge to throw up but by the time you reached a set of dark oak doors, your nerves were far more overpowering.
Before Thor could even raise his fist to knock, the doors swung inwards, revealing a bright but homey room absolutely bursting with colour. An older woman stood in the entryway, dressed simply in a flowing green dress, her dark blonde hair braided back simply. Her eyes lit up with a knowing light. “My Thor.” She cooed, easily accepting a crushing hug from the god before she turned to you. 
“I have been waiting to meet you for a very long time my dear.” She said plainly and suddenly all your nerves were gone. Your grimace floated into a smile as her arms wrapped around you in a hug so loving it made your chest burn with affection. 
Unable to stop yourself, you nuzzle into her safe embrace, your whole body relaxing. She laid a kiss to your temple before pulling away but her hands remained firmly on your shoulders. “Loki has told me all about you, he will be happy to see you.”
Anxiety returned like a tidal wave, washing away the warm feeling your almost mother-in-law gave you. Your smile dimmed while your hands came to rest on your lower stomach. “He might not be as excited when he learns why I’m here.” 
Frigg’s hands move to cup your rounded cheeks, forcing you to meet her eyes. “He loves you and he will love the child. Even if it doesn’t seem that way at first. Now let us make sure you and the little one are fed and healthy and then you can see him.” She took you by your left hand and guided you further into the room as Thor, with a huge smile on his face, left the two of you alone to talk.
——————
Christmas was vastly different on Asgard, you learned quickly. There was no snow, no cold, no carols or quiet nights. It mainly consisted of feasts and celebrations that lasted for days. But what was the same were the gifts. Thousands were exchanged through the festivities and Thor had somehow gotten into his head that you were the gift he was going to give to his estranged brother.
Much to his own and his mother’s amusement, he ripped up a piece of fabric and tied it in a bow around your midsection. “Come now! He will love it!” You just huffed and rolled your eyes but allowed him to continue making small adjustments to the bow. 
Frigg sat on one of the many couches in her chambers, sipping on a now mostly cold cup of tea as she laughed at the pair of you. A large weight had been lifted from the room now that the healer had confirmed the baby was healthy and growing as they should. 
And now, a warmth grew within you. This was what you wanted, a loving family with the man who had so easily snatched up your heart. All of the material things he had left behind were nothing compared to this moment. 
As the sun began to set over the great city, you were bundled up in a thick cloak that disguised you well and led you down to the prison. The guards turned their heads as who they assumed was the queen passed by on her nightly visit to her younger son. They knew it was technically not allowed by the king but it stopped the dark prince from destroying his cell every chance he got, so they just let it happen.
His cage was kept far away from the others, isolated for his crimes, even from those who faced the same harsh punishments. Yet he was given luxuries that none of the others were afforded, Loki assumed it was pity from his adoptive family that drove them to decorate the small room with lavish goods.
From the angle at which you entered his part of the prison, you could clearly see your love without him seeing you. You felt like crying. He was so close, you swore if you reached out just a few inches, you could touch him. 
Loki was sitting on the ground, his back to you, as he stared off into space. His hair, normally clean and beautifully styled, fell in front of his face in unruly raven waves, partially hiding his paler than normal skin. He was barefoot and wearing clothes that should have been changed days ago.
Your heart lurched at the sight of him. In the months you had known him, you had never seen the god so… broken.  And you supposed that’s what he was. He had been tortured and betrayed, cast aside by the only people he had known as his family before being labelled a criminal and thrown away to rot. Tears blurred your vision before you quickly wiped them away with a sniffle.
“I have told you that I do not want to see anyone mother.” He hissed, letting his head fall back against the enchanted glass as he did so.
“I had hoped that you would make an exception for me.” Your voice was weak but just the sound alone caused his whole body to freeze. 
Slowly, almost cautiously, he rose to his feet, turning on his heel to face you. As soon as his eyes met yours, his body visibly fell and his face disappeared behind his hands. “Loki?” A heartbreaking sob ripped from his lungs as he collapsed to his knees.
Panic set your veins alight and with a trembling hand, you used the small magic key Frigg had bestowed upon you to enter the cell. You wasted no time, immediately taking him into your arms for the first time in months.
His face burrowed into the crook of your neck as he wound around you. He shook in your embrace, his tears soaking through your clothes as he cried, holding onto you as tight as you could. You placed kiss after kiss to his head in a vain attempt to sooth him as you succumbed to your own emotions.
“Are you really here?” You tried to answer him through the tears but all you could get out was more of a grunt than a word but you nodded against his hair and squeezed him even tighter. “H-how?”
Loki pulled away from you just enough to meet your gaze. His eyes were bloodshot, making the blue of his irises even more striking. “Thor and your mother.” You managed to stammer out. 
There was a brief moment of silence as his dark brow furrowed in what you assumed to be confusion. His gaze dropped down to your body, still hidden by the thick cloak, then looked around the cell as if searching for someone. “Who else is here? I sense another presence.” 
“That's why I came here.” You gently guided his left hand down to your bump that seemed to grow each day, laying his palm flat against your stomach. “I’m pregnant.”
Loki’s breath caught, his eyes going wide. And he flinched.
Immediately, you were consumed by the fear you had tried so hard to tamp down since the first moment you saw that little plus sign on the test. He didn’t want the baby, he didn’t want you. This whole thing was a mistake, your mind screamed at you. But as your muscles tensed like you were preparing to run, Loki snapped out of it.
The world blurred around you and suddenly you were laying on a small bed in the corner, Loki hovering over you. His lean body slid easily between your soft thighs, pinning you to the surprisingly comfortable mattress with his weight. “My love. You’re truly with child?” His voice shook, his hand returning to your stomach.
“26 weeks as of yesterday and perfectly healthy.” He nodded and met your gaze once more, a small smile growing on his pallid lips.
“I had a feeling. I thought- I thought something happened to you but it was just a new life being formed.” You breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed against the bed.
“And how would you know that?” You cooed, wrapping your arms around his neck.
“Darling just because I have been locked away doesn’t mean that I can’t still use my magic.” His hand slipped up your front, obviously intending to go for your swollen breast but he paused at the extra piece of fabric that was now laying around your waist. “What is this?”
You responded with a giggle. “A bow. Thor wanted to give me to you for Christmas.” A fond look came over his face then, a realisation that you were not yet privy to.
“Indeed this is the best gift he could have ever given me.” Then for the first time in six months, he kissed you.
And as he stripped away your clothes and made love to you more tenderly than ever before, you couldn’t help but agree- this was the best gift to ever have been given
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ODIN IS THE WORST
Woah, I get Thanos/Gamora vibes from that gif.
I haven't seen the ep but those lines are super scary and still somewhat pretty in-character for him. "He is born with the heart of a fighter" and "A king must tame his threats to ensure they fight for him."
The first is Odin basically waving off any responsibility for Fenris and Hela's behaviour by claiming they were just born that way as if he's blameless in that. How terrible. He indoctrinated Hela and the Valkyries, he's the one who made them that way.
And the second is not only cruel but also counterproductive. If what he wants is for other beings to fight for him, loyalty will always be a much more powerful tool than fear can ever be. We never saw Thor being as powerful as when he let go of the hammer and he embraced the power within - it wasn't enough to save Asgard but in previous battles that ability would have come in handy for their own interests. And yet, Odin was too blinded by his own fear that by holding Thor back (and from what I'm seeing, holding Hela back in this ep too) he only made things harder for himself. Odin was always a terrible king.
I will say this though, I'm surprised Marvel went this route with him considering they're obsessed with claiming he was a good and "benevolent" king 🙄
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tyrannuspitch · 1 year
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okay. some thoughts on mortality.
as i've said before: loki, as the spare, is a symbol of thor's mortality. many people (not especially/consciously thor, but definitely his friends) feel the need to keep loki down because he is a threat to thor's status. loki cannot be allowed to be too powerful or even useful, because the spare only takes power at cost to the heir. if loki is important, it means we're veering off the intended path. it means something is going horribly wrong. and also, if loki dares to want power (or autonomy), that's sinister, because under this system he can only get it by taking it away from thor.
however... something similar is true of thor and odin. odin definitely loves thor and is proud of him, and he has some fair if badly articulated/framed criticisms of thor, but he's also just terrified of thor growing up and exercising power/autonomy, regardless of how well he does it. because that means odin is growing old. he calls thor a boy to put him down several times in this film, but it's clearly not true any more. thor IS a young man. odin just doesn't want to allow him to act as one.
to be honest, i think the coronation is an attempt to extend further control over thor. like - WHY is thor being crowned while odin still lives? to undermine him. thor will be king but odin will still be both allfather and his father. odin intends to make sure that thor, consciously or unconsciously, continues to defer to odin even when he is king, because he can't stand the idea of giving up control. odin can't accept his own mortality, so he brings forward things that should happen after he's dead so he can make them happen on his terms.
and even this isn't enough - the MOMENT thor argues with odin, mere minutes after odin was preparing to actually crown him, odin withdraws thor's power again. this coronation will have been decades in the making, but thor only has to make one wrong step for the whole thing to disappear.
and when THAT doesn't succeed in getting thor back under odin's control - in particular, when thor crosses the line into full-on defiance and dares to call odin "an old man" - odin curses and banishes him. which, in practice, is something between a death threat and a murder attempt.
(like, i don't think odin intends for thor to die. but it's significantly more than a verbal threat. it's actually seriously endangering him and making him face the possibility that odin wants him dead.)
so. essentially. odin is always punishing his children for showing him truths about himself he doesn't want to know. and one of the major ones thor shows him - and is constantly infantilised, undermined and controlled in for - is that odin is not a god. odin will die. and then odin refuses to accept that, and deflects the arrogance itself onto thor. and kind of tries to murder him.
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lazydoodlesandfanfic · 5 months
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Despite Everything (Loki X Twin!Brother!Reader) *PLATONIC
Characters: Loki X Twin!Brother!Reader
Universe: Marvel, Avengers
Warnings: Spoilers to Thor & beginning of Avengers, mention of death, and mourning.
Request:💚💚Hey! I dont ask for requests very often so Im sorry if this is bad. But I was wondering if you could do a Loki request? Like where the reader is Loki's twin brother and him and Loki are super close (reader and Thor are close too but not like reader and Loki close), but when Loki fell into the void (in the first Thor movie) reader got real depressed and went out to find him only for Thor to find reader to tell him Loki is planning on attacking New York.Reader goes with Thor to stop Loki and meets all the Avengers. And instead of Loki him destroying New York he snaps out of Thanos's mind control and feels super remorseful. Maybe even incoorperate that they're Frost Giants somehow, too?
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Your earliest memory was that of being with your twin brother. You were extremely young at the time, and being mischievous, had snuck away from your mother to explore, and gotten lost. Loki was more confident than you, or at least pretended to be, so he had took up holding your hand and pulling you through the vast hallways for a sign of anyone, while you got yourself worked up and cried quietly, though the entire time, he kept reassuring you. “Don’t worry Y/N! There’s people everywhere, we’ll find someone soon, or they’ll find us!” He was right in the end, hearing Odin’s booming voice calling for you, and you followed it till you were saw him, sprinting and running to him and hugging his legs, even as he scorned you for scaring your mother senseless. Thor teased you both relentlessly about the incident for over 100 years. 
That dynamic has really not changed, even hundreds of years later. Loki came up with something mischievous, and with very little convincing you would join him on these shenanigans, things happened, and you would talk about it years later, sometime Thor laughing at it, sometimes you and Loki were the ones laughing.
It had been a while since that. A long while. 
Everything fell apart when Thor, Loki, and some of your friends went off to Jotunheim without you, since you had been helping your mother with something, starting a second war with the Frost Giants and your elder brother banished to Earth. Due to all that, it took you a while to notice that Loki’s behaviour was odd, even with all the tension, and he didn’t tell you what was wrong when you asked the first time, and before you could ask again, your father had fell into Odin sleep, and after a short conversation with you and Loki and your adamance since he was the more confident out of your two, he became Acting King, with you and your mother helping him at the side. 
It wasn’t long after that, that Loki came to you late one night before bed, and admitted what happened at Jotunheim. About his skin turning blue, about confronting your father before his sleep, where he admitted that you and him weren’t his actual children- you were frost giants, abandoned by your own kind, on the dirty, freezing floor, left to die, seperated by a few feet just so you two couldn’t warm each other or find any comfort in each other. Odin had found you both, finding Loki first, before he heard your cries as well, that being how he decided which of you was older. He took you back to Asguard, and raised you with your mother.
It was an incredibly hard pill to swallow, and while you were still coming to terms with it all, the implications, how it affects the rest of your life, Loki was already feeling betrayal, abandoned and backstabbed by those around him and you, the fact that no one had told you two, and there was no plan to do so, and Loki had enough rage for you both. 
Unfortunately for you, by the time you understood how far Loki was planning and willing to go, it was already too late. Thor was able to get back to Asgard, a battle broke out, the Bifrost destroyed, and Loki… Loki fell. 
The days afterwards were hectic. You felt the eyes on you, expecting you to follow in your brother’s steps, to lash out, to cause havoc. Expecting you to be a monster. Your felt their looks burning into your back, but you never turned to look them in the eye, or address it. You were too devastated to care. 
Thor addressed it though. 
The first time he confronted a group glaring and whispering as you simply tried to monuever from your room to see your mother was a shock for everyone, including you. Thor shamed them for it, pointing out you were in mourning, and so was he, over your brother, even if he did make mistakes. Thor’s voice easily carries in the hallways, so everyone in the radius heard, and the word spread quickly that he wasn’t standing for you to be disrespected. After the dressing down he gave, he took your shoulder and led you to where you needed to go. 
A few days later, no one dared stare, or whisper, especially with Thor always nearby like a guard dog. After weeks, Thor’s presence wasn’t needed to ensure you were left be, but he still remained close, assuring you that despite everything, you are still his brother. Loki is still his brother, and you both are family to him. He got you to open up to him about what Loki shared with you, what you had felt after he had told you, and how you think Loki was feeling, helping you both grapple with why what happened. Thor had a period of blaming himself- that if he hadn’t had been so reckless and pushed Loki to come with him to Jotunheim, or even go at all, none of this would have happened. You tried to convince him that he couldn’t have known, and that he had grown as a person himself since then, thanks to his previous actions. He told you after a few days he had forgiven himself… but you knew Thor. You knew that was a lie, and that Thor was too stubborn to try and let you convince him otherwise on the subject. It was probably why he was really upping the protective older brother act. Guilt. 
After months, you found a new norm. You were still a member of the family, assured by your brother, mother and father. Your brother had shown his love and loyalty to you with his actions since the early days. Your mother showed it through her being there for you, reminding you she loved you and calling you her son, and your father showed it by never saying a word about Thor’s adamance and scoldings of people in the kingdom, and even ignoring and interrupting people who tried to bring it up to him, making it clear in his own way that he agreed in Thor’s actions. Fandall, Volstagg, Sif and Hogun, quickly warmed back up to you, practically forcing you to partake in the group’s antics. You still deeply missed Loki, wishing he was here, that things were different, feeling like a part of you was missing, but your friends and family made sure you barely had a moment to be caught up in those feelings. You were finally starting to heal, and learning to cope. 
That was, until Thor came to see you one day. The Bifrost had been rebuilt, and he had been sent by Odin to check on things. You had expected him to be gone for a few days, so seeing him back so early was alarming. His face was solemn as well, and he quickly asked for you two to speak alone, which you agreed. As soon as you were, he didn’t hesitate to tell you what was wrong. 
“Loki’s alive.” The words were a slap in the face for you. You remained staring at your older brother in disbelief, waiting for him to tell you this was a sick joke, but then you remembered who you were speaking to. Thor wouldn’t do that. 
“That’s… not possible. Loki can’t be alive-how? You saw him die-” 
“I saw him fall.” He corrected you. “I presumed that meant death for him- we all did. But I was wrong. He’s found his way to Midgard, and he’s got his hand on the Tesseract and he’s causing havoc there. He’s killed over a hundred people so far, and I’m now working with a group to try and stop him, and hopefully bring him home alive.” He explained to you. 
“Then why are you here?” You asked him with urgency. “What do you need from here? I’ll get it for you- even if father will be angry about it.” 
“I need you.” Thor told you, making you stop. “I can’t get through to him. He’s still angry about what happened… but he opened up to you. He’ll listen to you. You’re his twin, his brother by blood.” Thor explained to you. “I need you to come with me to Midgard, and try and talk him down.” He begged. For you, there was no question. No other option. 
As soon as you arrived on Midgard, there was a group waiting for you, all of them eyeing you in a way that felt eerily familiar. They were looking at you like how your people used to look at you after… “This is my brother, and Loki’s twin, Y/N. He came to help, so I expect you to be nothing but kind to him, understood?” Thor ordered, making it clear he also noted their looks.
“Sorry if we’re all a bit tense around his family, especially his actual biological family.” One of them commented- a man with a goatee. 
“Do you know where he is?” You asked, choosing to ignore the comment. 
“Yeah, we managed to lock him in a cell for now.” Another man spoke up, that one in a purple shirt, seeming a little more shy. 
“Okay. Take me to him.” You requested.
The way to the Helicarrier had been mostly awkward silence, sometimes interupted by some of the group trying to learn more about you- if you and Loki were actual twins are were just born around the same time and passed off as twins, if you were a Frost Giant as well, where you had been when Loki ‘turned evil’, why you hadn’t turned out the same, though by that point, Thor had finished that conversation immediately with a simple “Enough”, repeating it when someone tried to continue it. When you did arrive on board, you were introduced to another small group of people, Fury, Coulson, Hill- seemingly the ones running everything and who brought this team and Thor together. They asked their own questions- though in a more respectful and reserved tone, their glances to your brother over your shoulder telling you they were being careful not to set him off. After explaining what they hoped for from you- calm him down, get him to back down from his plan, and then have him go with you and Thor back to Asgard with no further incidents where he’d serve a small sentence, but after that, free to live his life- under continual supervision by your family to ensure something like this never happened again. If you couldn’t do that, then it was still up for debate on how he’d be handled. As you saw it, Fury was clearly offering you a way to get your brother back with minimal issues, and you weren’t going to risk it. 
“One of us at least is going in there with you- as a neutral party.” Stark spoke up. 
“I’ll do it.” Thor immediately spoke up. 
“Shouldn’t it be a neutral party? Not a family reunion?” Barton commented. 
“Neither’s a good idea.” You spoke up. 
“You’re not going in there alone with him, we don’t know you well enough.” Steve told you.
“But I know him. I’ll watch over it all.” Thor argued. 
“No! Listen to me!” You snapped. “I know Loki, better than anyone. He keeps his walls entirely up around people. He only told me about our true heritage when he knew for sure we were alone. If anyone else is in that room, he won’t say anything. He won’t cooperate. If anything, it’ll work him up. He’ll probably presume you’ve brought me here against my will and are using me as a pawn to get him to cooperate, which will make him angier. If Thor’s in there, he’ll presume I’m taking sides and betraying him. Let me go in alone, and just… talk to him.” You begged. 
“Alright. Fair enough. But we’ll be monitoring from another room nearby, just in case anything happens.” Fury decided, seeming to take almost everyone by surprise, some opening their mouths to protest, before he shot them a look. “Hill, escort him down to the cell.” 
Stepping into the room alone was anxiety inducing. As soon as you stepped in, it felt like the room was colder, the hairs on your arms standing up, and your heart began tor race. You glanced back as the door shut behind you, before you turned to look at the large spherical room you stood in, the cell made of glass on all sides in the middle, and inside, your twin brother, staring back at you in shock. “Loki!” You couldn’t help the sigh of relief as you rushed closer to the glass, while he remained still in the centre, staring at you.
“Y/N? How are you- what are you doing here?” He questioned in alarm.
“I came here for you.” You told him. “Thor told me you were alive, and I came immediately. Loki I’ve missed you so much- Thor and Mother as well.” He scoffed at that. 
“He missed me? Thor is currently siding with the ones who locked me in here!” He responded, pointing to the door aggressively. 
“He’s also advocating for you. He’s also advocated for me.” You told him with urgence. 
“Advocating? How has he stood for us?” He questioned. 
“He stood up for me after you left!” You snapped, making his expression soften. “Everyone looked at me different after you left. They spoke about me with me right in front of them. The looks they gave me made me want to curl up and die… But Thor didn’t turn his back on me. He confronted those who did, he was right by my side, and he let me grieve in peace… Loki, he stepped up for me, because he’s our brother, and he’s advocating for you now, because he’s our brother. For him, nothing has changed. We’re family, no matter who’s blood we come from.” You explained. 
“Is that the whole truth?” He questioned you, his voice a lot calmer, though also sadder, and you nodded. 
“Despite everything, you will always have me and Thor, and mother and father. Despite everything, we still have a family, and we still have a home. Please, Loki… come home with me.” 
Loki frowned, looking down in shame. “It’s not that easy… The tesseract… It was given to me on an exception, an exception to follow his plan, and if I don’t follow it… he’ll reign hell on me, you, Thor… and everyone else. He has an army, we don’t stand a chance.” He expressed to you. 
“Okay… okay. Well, tell me everything you can about this being, and we’ll figure it out, okay? We’ll tell father, and he’ll help, and I’m sure if we give them time to heal and show you’re a changed man and regretful about what happened, so will the Avengers, especially if this being intends to harm their home.” You pointed out, speaking loudly to ensure they heard you, remembering what Fury had stated.
“Y/N… Why are you willing to take on my burden? I put myself in this situation.” Loki questioned. 
“If I recall currently, it’s always been your mischievous ideas getting both you in trouble, with me directly by your side. Why would this be any different? And If I remember correctly, Thor was always the one to see the fun in it all, make father be softer on us, and even take the fall for it. When this is all done, we’ll look back and laugh, but for now, let us help you with this nonsense.” You begged. Loki stared at you, pure surprise in his eyes. He wasn’t expecting to see his twin brother here today, he wasn’t expecting to hear that Thor had remained loyal to you back home and caring for you despite his actions, and he wasn’t expecting you to literally beg him to come home- a home you claimed was waiting for him. But the most shocking, was his own change. He never expected himself to change his mind, and switch sides so suddenly. 
“Alright… I’ll tell you everything. He’s called Thanos…”
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*Not my GIF
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thestuffedalligator · 1 month
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Birdwomen Family: Harpyidae
Birdwomen are the most common of magical creatures, appearing on every continent except for Antarctica*. Opportunistic omnivores, birdwomen take the form of massive carrion birds, typically corvids, vultures, condors and eagles, with the heads of women. They appear to be exclusively female; however, some species such as the Mediterranean harpy (Harpia strophades) do pair up during the mating season, with members impressing prospective partners by inflating a pair of gular sacks at the base of the throat similar to the behaviour of frigatebirds (family Fregatidae) and the greater sage-grouse (Centrocercus urophasianus).
The magic of most species of birdwomen are affiliated with storms and disease. The alkonost (Harpia bilibinae) lays its eggs in the sea, and their hatching causes thunderstorms to form, while the droppings of the Mediterranean harpy immediately befoul food.
While most species are reluctant to directly attack humans, birdwomen have no qualms in consuming carrion. Multiple cultures report birdwomen as constant companions to sites of battle and bloodshed. Nordic myths of Valkyries spiriting away the dead are almost certainly inspired by the sight of Scandinavian species of birdwomen feasting on the bodies of the slain after battle, possibly the crested harpy (Valkyria cristatus), nicknamed by professional harpiers as the "Thor's falcon."
The North American birdwoman (Harpia canadensis) is the largest known species of birdwoman, with species standing between five and six feet tall, with respective wingspans of 12 to 15 feet wide. Easily identified by their black, iridescent plumage, North American birdwomen exhibit an intelligent, often playful and curious personality. While native to western and central Canada and the northwestern United States, one birdwoman was sighted in Point Pleasant, West Virginia through the late 1960s; following the 1967 Silver Bridge collapse, one harpier reported seeing this same birdwoman consuming the bodies of two disappeared travellers who had washed up downriver.
*Sightings of the "penguinwomen" of Antarctica are unsubstantiated and should not be counted as fact.
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