buckyssoldat

[buckyssoldat]

Chapter 71: Crossroads

arnings: angst (of course), post-Christmas blues, alice overhears something she really didn’t want to, emotional tension w/ bucky, unrequited pining, soft moments w/ sam + family, flag-smashers mentioned, alice being stubbornly heroic, coffee on the porch feelings™

A/N: This is part of my series, Forsaken - The Fallen Soldier. If you wanna be tagged in this, just send me an ask or a message. Feedback is always appreciated, don’t be shy to share your thoughts on this :)

I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you

After Loki’s visit, something inside Alice shifted, but it wasn’t relief, and it definitely wasn’t clarity.

It was something smaller. Less noticeable.

Maybe it was the fact that someone who had once known her, truly known her, had looked her in the eye and still seen something worth reaching for. Or maybe it was just the fact that someone showed up at all.

Either way, she didn’t feel lighter. But she felt… aware. Aware of the weight she carried, instead of just being crushed by it. It was progress, in its own quiet way.

She didn’t start running or meditating or writing affirmations on her mirror. She didn’t throw out the whiskey or delete old texts. She just… started waking up a little earlier.

Her first job came through an old contact, Hiro. Private security for a foreign diplomat’s teenage daughter. Easy work on paper, but Alice found herself pacing outside the girl’s hotel room for hours at a time, her nerves crackling like live wires. Nothing happened. It was boring. Uneventful.

And that was the first time in months she didn’t hate the quiet.

She took more jobs after that. A tech summit in Berlin. A celebrity wedding in Marrakesh. A high-profile art thief being transported to Interpol custody. Her name spread fast. People knew her as quiet, efficient, unflinching.

She didn’t correct them.

The money piled up quickly, not that she cared. Most nights she fell into hotel beds with muscles aching and nerves buzzing, and when she stared at the ceiling, it didn’t hurt more – just the same. But that sameness was a kind of stability. A dull ache instead of a fresh wound.

Weeks passed. Then months.

She didn’t notice how her appetite returned, or how her texts became longer. She didn’t realize when she stopped jumping at shadows in the mirror or turning off her phone completely for days at a time. The change came quietly, in soft inches.

One night, sometime in November, her phone lit up with an unknown number. She almost didn’t answer.

But something – curiosity, instinct, a flicker of something human – told her to pick up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Alice,” said a familiar voice. Warm. Measured. “It’s Sam.”

A pause. Her lips parted, surprised.

“Sam Wilson,” he added, with a soft chuckle. “Just in case you know five hundred Sams now.”

She smiled faintly. “Nope. Just the one.”

“I wasn’t sure this was still your number,” he said. “Figured I’d try.”

“I didn’t change it,” she said. “Didn’t have a reason to.”

Another pause. He filled it gently. “Been a while.”

“Yeah.”

“I just wanted to check in,” Sam said. “No agenda. Just wondering how you’re doing.”

Alice let the silence sit for a moment, then exhaled. “I’ve been working,” she replied simply. “Security. Keeps me busy.”

“Sounds about right,” he chuckled. “Still scaring billionaires into behaving?”

“Some of them deserve it.”

He laughed, warm and genuine. “Damn right they do.”

There was an ease to his voice. No pressure. No poking around in places she hadn’t opened yet. Just steady ground, offered with no strings.

“You’ve got people, you know,” he said eventually. “I mean it. Even if you forget sometimes.”

“I don’t forget,” she spoke, softer now. “I just… don’t always believe it.”

“Well, believe it,” Sam replied. “You ever need anything, even if it’s just someone to argue with about bad movies, I’m around.”

That made her smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

They talked for a little longer. He told her about a training op that went sideways in Tunisia, and she joked about her new client underestimating her, clearly not knowing who she was. He called her “intimidating as hell”, and she didn’t disagree.

It was easy. Not perfect, but easy. Like breathing in clean air after months underground.

After they hung up, she sat for a long time with the phone resting against her chest.

She didn’t rush to respond to the next message. Didn’t feel the need to. For the first time in a long time, she wasn’t chasing anything, least of all approval or distraction. She just… existed in that space, letting it stretch around her.

The next morning, she found herself walking a little farther on her run, noticing the way the city stirred awake, the smell of coffee drifting from street corners, the low hum of traffic like a steady pulse. She realized she was paying attention, really paying attention, instead of moving on autopilot.

A week later, Sam texted again. Just a “Heay, hope your week’s going okay.” She smiled, fingers hovering over they keyboard before typing back something that felt lighter than she expected: “It is, thanks. Hope yours is too.”

The replies became a rhythm. Small check-ins. Observations about the world. Shared jokes about missions gone sideways or the absurdity of certain high-society events. Alice didn’t overthink them. Didn’t read too much into the pauses or the ellipses. She just… let it be.

And slowly, in those little exchanges, she felt a shift. Not the seismic, life-altering kind, but something steadier. A reminder that people existed outside the walls she’d built around herself, and that some of them might just… stick around.

She still carried the weight, still bore the scars, but now it didn’t feel like a prison. It felt like a reminder of what she’d survived, and maybe, just maybe, what she could still reach for.

When she finally looked up from her phone that evening, the sky was bruised purple with sunset. For a moment, she let herself imagine that she wasn’t completely alone in navigating it all. And that thought, quiet and unassuming, made her chest feel a little less heavy.

A few days later, Sam showed up at the coffee shop she frequented, not by appointment, not as part of any mission, just… there. She spotted him in a corner booth, casual and unassuming, scrolling through his phone.

“Hey,” he said, looking up with a small smile.

“Hey,” she replied, sliding into the seat across from him. She kept her hands folded on the tablet, alert but calm.

They talked about trivial things first – delayed flights, absurd client requests, the latest ridiculous tech scams. Easy conversation, the kind that didn’t dig too deep.

After a while, Sam leaned back, voice light, carefully casual. “So… you and Bucky. I mean… last I heard, things ended up pretty rough between you two.”

Alice stiffened for just a moment, then exhaled slowly. “Yeah,” she said softly, letting the word sit. “It was… bad.”

“I figured,” Sam said gently, not pressing. “You haven’t… talked since then?”

“No,” Alice admitted, keeping her gaze down on her cup. “Not a word. Not even a text. We… we don’t do that anymore.”

Sam nodded, giving her space to continue. “I’m not asking for details. Just… checking that you’re okay.”

Alice let herself relax a little, the tight edge around her shoulders softening. “I’m… managing,” she said honestly. “It hurt, but it’s done. No more pretending it didn’t.”

“That’s all I wanted to hear,” Sam said quietly, with a faint smile. “You’re handling it your way.”

They let the moment pass without pushing further. Sam had tested the waters, and Alice had dipped her toe in, opening just enough to acknowledge the past without letting it control her. By the time she left the café, she felt a little lighter – not free, not healed – but a reminder that someone could ask without judgement, and she could answer without losing herself.

As December arrived, she was home for a rare break. The air was bitter outside. The kind of cold that turned windows frosty and made the city feel like it had stopped breathing.

She showered, pulled on her favourite old sweater, and curled up on the couch with a blanket. The apartment was still, quiet. She didn’t hate it.

The soup on her lap went untouched, but she didn’t mind. She flipped through movie titles without really watching, her thumb moving in lazy circles over her phone screen.

Another message from Sam sat unread. She finally opened it.

So, I’ve got a question. You busy for Christmas?

Alice blinked at it. Her first instinct was to scoff – of course she was busy. Busy being alone. Busy not pretending. Busy keeping everything exactly as it was so it didn’t hurt more than it already did.

Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard.

Why?

The three dots appeared, disappeared, the appeared again.

Because my family would love to have you. Delacroix. Louisiana. Gumbo, chaos, probably a little football in the backyard if my nephews get their way.

Her chest tightened. She could almost see it: the warm kitchen light, the noise, the mess of people who belonged to each other. All things she had never touched, not really. The thought pressed against old scars she’d buried deep.

She typed before she could stop herself.

Not really my thing.

She stared at the message after it sent. Sharp. Too sharp. She considered following it with something softer, something like thank you anyway, but she didn’t.

The reply came a minute later.

Fair enough. No pressure. Just wanted to ask. You’d be welcome.

Alice dropped her phone on the couch cushion beside her and pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. Her throat ached in a way that wasn’t physical. She told herself it was fine. Christmas was just another day. She’d get through it the way she always did.

But the image lingered. A table crowded with food. A sister teasing her brother. Two kids laughing too loud. And Sam, probably trying to keep the peace while sneaking an extra piece of pie.

She thought about the last Christmas she felt truly happy. Of course she had spent some Christmas with Steve, Nat, the rest of the team, but there was one she felt truly happy.  The only one, really. They were on the run, snow falling outside a small cabin window, Bucky beside her. They’d made coffee that burned and pancakes that feel apart, and it had been – God, it had been everything.

The memory hurt so badly she almost threw the blanket off and paced. But instead, she let herself sit with it. Let herself admit that the ache was real because the love had been real too. The next day, she stared at Sam’s message again. Her thumb hovered, shaky. She exhaled through her nose and typed, slow and deliberate:

If the invitation still stands… maybe, I’ll come.

The dots popped up almost immediately.

Always stands. You’ll fit right in. Promise.

She didn’t answer right away. But for the first time in years, the thought of Christmas didn’t feel like a wound she had to hide from. It felt like a door, cracked open just enough to let a little light in.

The ride down to Louisiana had been long, the wind biting at her through the helmet, the roads stretching endlessly ahead. But there was something grounding about it, the hum of the engine beneath her, the steady rhythm of miles passing, no one to answer to but the road. By the time she pulled into Delacroix, shoulders stiff and hair wild under her helmet, she almost felt steady enough to face what waited.

Sam had been waiting at the curb when she rumbled up, shaking his head with a half-laugh.

“Of course you came of the damn bike.”

“Of course,” she shot back, swinging her leg over and pulling off her helmet. “Wouldn’t wanna miss the change to make a dramatic entrance.”

Delacroix looked nothing like New York. It was quieter, slower. Houses leaned against the water like they’d been standing for centuries, each one lit up with strings of coloured bulbs. Families gathered on porches, laughter carrying across the street. It was the kind of small-town warmth that made Alice’s chest feel both full and hollow at the same time.

Sarah Wilson’s house was alive with noise. The smell of cooking hit Alice the moment Sam opened the door – spices, something savoury simmering, a sweetness she couldn’t place. Voices spilled out, overlapping.

Sarah herself greeted Alice at the door, smiling with that mix of warmth and sharpness only older sisters seemed to master. “So, this is Alice,” she said, looking her over with frank curiosity.

Alice raised a hand in a half-wave. “Guilty.”

Sarah’s smile widened. “Come in. Don’t let Sam hog you all to himself.”

Inside, two boys tore across the living room with nerf guns, shouting as they ducked behind couches. When they spotted her, they froze mid-battle.

“Whoa,” the younger one, AJ, breathed, lowering his foam blaster. “Uncle Sam brought an Avenger?”

Cass, the older one, narrowed his eyes. “No way. You’re just saying that.”

Alice smirked, dropping her bag by the door. “Guess you’ll have to test me.”

They exchanged a look, then bolted straight toward her, peppering her with questions before she could brace herself.

“Do you have powers?”

“Did you fight aliens?”

“Do you know Spider-Man?!”

Alice laughed, actually laughed, the sound surprising even herself. “One at a time, guys. I can’t keep up.”

AJ tugged at her sleeve. “Show us! Show us something cool.”

She glanced at Sam, who was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, grinning like Christmas had come early. Alice rolled her eyes at him before crouching down in front of the boys.

“Alright,” she said quietly. A Nerf gun slid off the table, and with a blur of motion, Alice caught it mid-air. She didn’t even pause to aim – her enhanced reflexes did it for her. A single dart zipped through the air and hit the target dead centre. Then another, and another, each perfectly on mark, the boys’ eyes going wide, jaws dropping in unison.

For them, it wasn’t just the trick shot – it was the speed, precision, and control packed into someone their size, turning a simple Nerf gun into an impossible display of skill.

“That’s so cool!” AJ shouted, bouncing on his toes.

“Can you teach us?!” Cass demanded.

Alice chuckled, shaking her head. “Trust me, you don’t wanna mess with this stuff. But maybe… I’ll teach you some self-defence tricks.”

“Best Christmas ever,” AJ declared, already racing to tell Sarah.

Cass lingered, looking up at her with something quieter in his expression. “You’re not what I thought an Avenger would be like,” he said.

Alice tilted her head. “Good or bad?”

“Good,” he said simply, before running off after his brother.

She stayed crouched there for a moment, watching them disappear down the hall. Her throat tightened unexpectedly.

Sam’s voice came from behind her, soft but certain. “Told you you’d fit right in.”

Alice didn’t trust herself to answer. Instead, she just let the warmth of the house, the laughter of the boys, and the smell of gumbo sink into her chest like something she hadn’t realized she’d been starving for.

The day had been chaos in the best way – Sarah’s cooking, the boys’ endless questions, the disaster of backyard football, laughter spilling out of every corner of the house. For once, Alice hadn’t needed to armour herself. She just… was. And it was enough.

After dinner, the boys begged for just one more story before bed. Sarah gave Alice a look that said, if you want to deal with their energy, be my guest.

So Alice found herself sitting cross-legged on the living room rug, Cass and AJ flopped across beanbags in front of her, eyes wide.

“C’mon,” AJ pleaded, “tell us about a mission! A real one!”

“Yeah,” Cass chimed in, trying to sound cooler but just as curious. “Uncle Sam only tells the boring parts. We want the good stuff.”

Alice raised an eyebrow at Sam, who was smirking in the doorway. “Don’t look at me,” he said. “You’re the celebrity.”

Alice pretended to sigh, then leaned in conspiratorially. “Alright. But only if you promise not to tell anyone else.”

Two solemn nods.

She told them about Sokovia, carefully, editing out the blood and rubble, turning it into something almost like a fairy tale. How the sky had filled with metal and fire, how ordinary people had been braver than anyone expected, how the Avengers had stood together to protect them. She added just enough detail to make their eyes wide, just enough humour to make AJ giggle, and when she reached the end, she leaned back against the couch.

“And that,” she said, “is why you always help the little guy. Because sometimes the little guy saves the world.”

The boys were quiet for a moment, processing. Then Cass spoke softly, “You really are a hero.”

Alice blinked. She’d been called that before – by reporters, strangers, even teammates – but hearing it here, in a small Louisiana living room from a kid who actually believed it, hit different.

“Yeah,” AJ added, grinning up at her. “You’re way cooler than Uncle Sam.”

“Hey!” Sam protested from the doorway, but he was smiling.

Alice laughed, shaking her head. “Don’t let him hear you say that too often.”

They yawned then, sleep finally catching up, and Sarah herded them upstairs. But as Alice gathered the empty mugs and plates, her chest felt strangely light. She hadn’t saved the world tonight. She hadn’t done anything spectacular. But two kids had looked at her like she was something worth admiring, and for once, she believed it might be true.

The house was finally quiet, only the soft chirp of crickets and the distant lap of water against the shore outside.

Alice found herself on the porch, a steaming mug of coffee warming her hands. Sam joined her a moment later, settling into the chair beside hers.

“Not bad for your first Wilson Christmas,” he said, voice low, easy.

Alice smiled faintly into her cup. “Not bad at all.”

They sat in silence for a while, watching the stars pushed their way through the dark. The air was cool but gentle, so different from the biting cold of New York.

Sam leaned back, stretching his legs. “You know,” he said after a while, “I wasn’t sure you’d come. Figured maybe the holidays weren’t your thing.”

“They weren’t,” Alice admitted. Her fingers tightened around the mug. “Not really. Never felt really happy. Expect when I was…” She trailed off, swallowing.

“With Bucky,” Sam finished softly.

Alice nodded, staring down into the swirl of coffee. “Yeah. Him. We only had one together, but… it was enough. Felt like… like something I could have had. If things were different.”

Sam didn’t push, didn’t fill the silence. Just let her keep going.

“I keep telling myself I’m moving forward,” she said quietly. “And maybe I am. But some nights, I still hear his voice. Still feel him beside me, even though he’s not there.” She exhaled shakily. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” Sam spoke firmly. “You love him. That doesn’t disappear just because he’s not sitting across from you right now.”

Alice blinked, caught off guard by the steadiness in his tone.

“You carry him,” Sam went on. “That’s not weakness. That’s proof he matters. And I promise you – it’s gonna get better. Today, you laughed with my nephews, ate too much gumbo. You remembered you’re still alive.”

Her throat tightened, but she managed a small, wry smile. “You’re annoyingly good at this, you know.”

Sam chuckled. “Comes with the job. I can’t let my people mope forever.”

Alice huffed a laugh, the sound caught somewhere between pain and relief. She set her cup down and leaned back, letting her gaze drift up to the stars.

For the first time in a long time, the memories of Bucky didn’t feel like a chain. They felt like a part of her. Heavy, yes, but not unbearable. And with Sam sitting beside her, quiet and steady, she realized she wasn’t carrying it all alone anymore.

Later, Alice excused herself to go to the bathroom before going to sleep. As she was entering the kitchen to say goodnight to Sam, she overheard voices drifting from the living room, Sam and Sarah talking in low tones.

“I invited him too,” Sam said quietly. “Bucky. I thought… maybe he’d wanna come.”

“Really?” Sarah asked, curiosity in her voice.

Sam’s sigh was heavy. “Yeah. Almost convinced him. But… he said he didn’t wanna be in the same place as her. That he couldn’t handle it. I just… I hate that she’s been so alone for so long.”

Sarah’s voice softened. “I know. She deserved tonight. She deserves to feel… wanted. Like she belongs to somewhere.”

“I wish there was more I could do for her,” Sam murmured, almost to himself. “It hurst knowing someone like her carries so much on her own.”

Alice froze. She didn’t move, didn’t speak. She just let the words wash over her – the quiet concern and sadness in Sam’s voice, the care he felt for her without ever saying it to her face.

Her throat tightened. She realized, with a sudden need she hadn’t expected, that she wanted to reach out to Bucky. Not for answers, not for closure, just to let him know she was thinking of him, and that he was not forgotten.

As soon as Sarah and Sam went upstairs, she settled on the couch, phone in hand. Fingers trembling slightly, she typed the words carefully.

Merry Christmas, Buck. I miss you.

She hit send, then rested the phone on her chest, heart fluttering in a mixture of hope and apprehension.

Far away, Bucky’s phone buzzed softly on the nightstand. He picked it up, saw her name, and a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at his lips. He read the message again, feeling the familiar ache in his chest.

Dots appeared on the screen. He began to type, hesitated, deleted the words. He debated sending a simple, safe reply – Merry Christmas – but after a few minutes, the dots disappeared. The reply never came.

Bucky set the phone down with a sigh, staring at the ceiling, torn between the love he still felt and the hurt he carried. Even in his silence, though, he missed her too.

Alice, meanwhile, let herself settle under the blanket, letting the warmth of her own words and the quiet of the Wilson house ease her heart. She didn’t expect a reply. She didn’t need one. The act of reaching out, of acknowledging her feelings, was enough to carry her through the night.

Christmas morning was louder than Alice expected. She woke up on Sarah’s couch to the sound of AJ thundering down the hallway shouting. “He came! He came!” Cass’s voice followed, more measured, but just as excited.

Alice sat up slowly, blanked slipping off her shoulders, blinking at the small pile of present under the Wilson’s tree. The boys darted around it like satellites, arguing over whose turn it was to open first.

Sarah emerged from the kitchen with coffee, handing one mug to Alice. “Don’t let them rope you into referee duty,” she warned with a smirk. “They’ll eat you alive.”

Alice huffed a laugh, wrapping both hands around the warm mug. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

But it was already too late.

“Alice!” AJ called, bounding over with a wrapped box clutched to his chest. “Open this one! We saved it for you!”

She blinked, caught completely off guard. “For me?”

Cass rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “Yeah. Don’t act like it’s weird.”

Alice set her coffee aside and carefully unwrapped the package. Inside was a knitted scarf, the yarn uneven in places but clearly made with effort. She touched the stitches with her fingertips, throat tightening.

“Mom helped a little,” Cass admitted, “but we picked the colours.”

“It’s… perfect,” Alice said softly, and she meant it. She draped it around her neck clumsily, looking down at the boys. “Thank you.”

AJ grinned so wide it looked like his face might split in two. “Now you look like a superhero.”

Alice swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. “Guess I’ll have to live up to it then.”

Later, out in the yard, Sam and Sarah refereed a chaotic game of touch football while the boys begged Alice to join. She tried to decline, twice, three times, but AJ’s pout was lethal. Eventually she sighed, shoved her sleeves up, and muttered, “Fine. But don’t cry when I win.”

Fifteen minutes later she was running across the grass with AJ clinging to her leg like a determined koala and Cass charging from the other side. Sam was laughing so hard he almost dropped the ball, and Sarah shouted from the porch, “Don’t let Onyx show you up, Sam!”

For the first time in years, Alice was laughing so hard her stomach hurt.

And when the sun dipped low over Delacroix and they all crowded around the table for gumbo and cornbread, Alice found herself staring at the Wilsons – this messy, warm, impossible family – and realized something she hadn’t dared to believe in months:

Maybe she wasn’t as alone as she thought.

Alice packed her small bag, checking the straps on her bike one last time.

The boys appeared at the door just as she was about to swing her leg over the seat. AJ bounced on the balls of his feet, holding a small-wrapped package.

“For you,” he said proudly. “From us.”

Alice knelt, taking it carefully. Inside was a little token she could actually carry on her bike – a tiny, hand-carved wooden bird painted in bright colours. “Wow,” she whispered, touched. “Thank you. I’ll keep it with me.”

Cass grinned, punching her lightly on the shoulder. “Don’t get too cool for us when you’re out saving the world.”

“I’ll try not to,” Alice said, her voice catching. She ruffled AJ’s hair, then Cass’s. “You two take care of each other, okay?”

AJ nodded solemnly. “You’re the best Avenger ever.”

“Yeah,” Cass added, smirking but with a warmth in his eyes. “You really are.”

Alice swung her leg over the bike, engine humming beneath her. She looked back at Sam, who was standing in the driveway, coffee mug in hand, giving her that same calm, steady smile he always seemed to carry.

“Don’t be a stranger,” he called, voice loud enough to carry.

“I’ll try not to get lost in the world,” Alice replied, and she meant it.

The bike roared to life, and as she pulled out of the driveway, the boys ran along the edge of the yard, waving frantically. She waved back, a genuine, full smile spreading across her face.

For the first time in years, Alice felt a strange, light kind of accomplishment, not because she’d fought battles or completed missions, but because she’d been seen, believed in, and remembered what it felt like to matter to someone.

The road stretched ahead, humid air whipping at her face, and somewhere behind her, two kids shouted, “Bye, Alice!”

She shouted back over the wind, laughing. “Bye, heroes! Keep saving your world!”

And as the town receded behind her, lights twinkling in the distance, she realized she didn’t feel quite so alone anymore.

The highway stretched out ahead, dark and endless, dotted with the occasional glow of headlights or streetlamps. Alice leaned into the handlebars, letting the wind whip through her hair, and for once, her mind was quiet – mostly.

She thought about the Wilsons, about the laughter echoing in that small Louisiana house, about the boys who had looked at her and seen a hero. It was a different kind of mission than she was used to, but maybe one that mattered just as much.

And then her thoughts drifted to Bucky. Not with the ache she usually carried, but with a gentle, persistent ache, a reminder of what she’d loved and lost. She let herself acknowledge it, didn’t try to push it away. He was part of her story, and tonight had shown her that her story didn’t have to be about loss.

Somewhere between Delacroix and home, Alice realized that maybe she could hold both – the weight of the past and the warmth of the present. That maybe she could carry her scars and still let herself feel joy.

Her bike hummed beneath her as the miles passed, and for the first time in a long while, she smiled without hesitation. The world was still messy, still dangerous. But tonight, it had also been kind. And that was enough to make her keep riding forward.

tags: ​​​​​​​​​​​​​​@capswife

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masterlist

[buckyssoldat]

this baseball cap is still one of my fave seb stan con moments

[buckyssoldat]

I haven't abandoned this story. I just put it on the back burner for now. The story is just on a small vacation. It is currently out of office. It can't come to the phone right now. It just fell under my bed to sleep with the monsters. It never left my head. It is everywhere - except on paper.

[buckyssoldat]

lord help me

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor, to the toilet seat, from the dining room table, to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink, to the shower, from the front porch, to the balcony, vertically horizontally, quadratic, exponent, algorithmetic, while I gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, backwards, forward, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in a car, on a motorcycle, the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the pool, bent over in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back aching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, fist clenching, ear ringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw-dropping, hair pulling teeth jitterbug, mind boggling, soul snatching, over stimulating, vile, sloppy, moan-inducing, heart-wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious, gushy, creamy, beastly, lip biting, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, blackhole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark-worthy, can't walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcanic erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, hip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail snatching, spectacular, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, splendid, phenomenal, malforming, heavenly, devil's tango. please.

[buckyssoldat]

no i don't want you to redirect me to your app i want to look at recipe

[buckyssoldat]

hello! so, i've been mia for quite some time, mainly due to work

my other colleague just quit (she says she's sick, but it's hard to believe due to her track record), so i've been doing my work and hers as well

i will try to update as soon as i can, but it's hard because i have long work hours and when i get home i just wanna eat my dinner, shower and go to sleep

i will try my best

thank you everyone 💕

[buckyssoldat]

my best tip for anyone trying to get back into reading is to remember that you can read books to avoid other responsibilities in ur life and it can become a vice if you play your cards right

[buckyssoldat]

whoever invented beds was a fucking genius im just all cozied up in here like u don't even know how cozy i am

[buckyssoldat]

no one can break the bond between a girl and a show from the 2000s that have 40 minute episodes and 20 episode seasons

[buckyssoldat]

[buckyssoldat]

Chapter 70: Almost

Warnings: major character grief/loss, emotional angst, bittersweet goodbye, mentions of death, unrequited love, mentions of the TVA

A/N: This is part of my series, Forsaken - The Fallen Soldier. If you wanna be tagged in this, just send me an ask or a message. Feedback is always appreciated, don’t be shy to share your thoughts on this :) The poem Loki recites to Alice is called 'Stardust' and it's by Lang Leav.

Goodbye, my almost lover

Goodbye, my hopeless dream

I'm trying not to think about you

Alice sat on the edge of her bed, gripping the sheets so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Her heart pounded against her ribs, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she tried to anchor herself in the present. But the present felt slippery, like water running through her fingers, impossible to hold onto.

Was it real?

She closed her eyes, trying to sort through the tangled mess in her mind. She could still feel Pietro’s arms around her, still hear the way he laughed when she scolded him for leaving his socks everywhere. It had felt real – every touch, every kiss, every whispered word late at night. The weight of his hand on her back as they slept. The warmth of his lips on her temple. The feeling of belonging, of safety.

But it wasn’t real.

Or was it?

Her fingers dug into her scalp as she tried to chase away the question, but it lingered, gnawing at the edges of her sanity. It was like her mind was split in two – one part screaming that it was all a lie, that it had never happened, that Pietro Maximoff was dead. The other part whispered that it had been real enough to leave scars. Real enough to hurt. Real enough to make her feel like she had lost him all over again.

She needed answers. She needed to know what was real and what wasn’t.

Alice grabbed her phone and scrolled through the news, her breath catching when she saw the headline:

WANDA MAXIMOFF MISSING – LOCATION UNKNOWN

Alice scoured every lead, every whisper of Wanda’s whereabouts, but it was futile. Her skills – decades of training, tactical precision, and sharp instincts – meant nothing against Wanda’s immense power. If Wanda didn’t want to be found, no one could find her. Not even Alice.

She sat in her apartment, a map spread out on the coffee table, littered with pins and scribbled notes. Places where Wanda might have gone, small towns off the grid, locations tied to old memories. But each lead turned cold, each avenue a dead end.

The frustration was maddening. Alice paced her living room, the heels of her boots clicking against the hardwood floor, her thoughts a whirlwind.

She couldn’t shake the guilt. Wanda had been drowning in grief, and Alice had seen it firsthand. She’d felt it in the magic that had enveloped her, in the fabricated life they’d shared inside that false reality.

And now, Wanda was out there somewhere, alone and broken. Just like Alice.

Alice stared at the map one last time before tearing it off the table and crumpling it in frustration. She tossed it into the trash and slumped onto the couch, her head in her hands. She called every contact she had. Nothing. She searched through every report, every rumour, every lead she could find. Nothing. Wanda had vanished like smoke, leaving behind nothing but questions and chaos. And Alice was left grasping at ghosts.

“I’m sorry, Wanda,” she whispered into the empty room, her voice breaking. “I’m so sorry.” But whether it was Wanda she was apologizing to, or herself, Alice didn’t know. All she knew was that the silence, both outside and within, was unbearable.

Alice stared at her phone, the weight of indecision pressing down on her shoulders. For days, she had avoided reaching out, telling herself that if Bucky wanted to talk to her, he would. But the silence was killing her, the distance between them growing more agonizing with each passing day. She had never been good at waiting, especially when it came to something that mattered so much. The thought of losing him – really losing him – was a constant ache in her chest. Finally, the need to reach out overpowered her fear of rejection. Her fingers hovered over the screen, unsure if she was ready for whatever response might come. But she couldn’t stay silent anymore. With a deep breath, Alice typed, her message simple but full of everything she had been holding in: I miss you, Bucky. Please, talk to me. She hesitated for a split second before hitting send, her hear racing as she waited, unsure of what to expect, but desperate to hear from him, even if it was just a word.

A couple of days had passed since Alice sent the message, but Bucky never replied. Each time she checked her phone, her heart sank a little more. She had told herself that if he needed time, she'd give it to him. But the silence was louder than anything he could have said. It gnawed at her, picking at the fragile thread of hope she’d been clinging to. She kept the phone close, almost as though the simple act of having it near her would somehow make him answer. But each time, there was nothing. Not even a sign that he had seen it. The absence of his words was louder than anything—louder than the pain, louder than the memories of everything they had shared. It was a stark reminder that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t want to talk to her, not now, not ever. And that thought, more than anything else, was starting to break her.

Alice stared at her phone, the screen glowing in the dim light of her apartment. The text she had sent – one of countless messages in the past few days – had been simple but heartfelt.

Bucky? Please, I’m begging you. I’m worried.

When the notification finally appeared, after days of numerous unanswered texts, her heart leapt in a mix of hope and fear. She opened the message, praying for something, anything, that hinted he still cared. Instead, the words hit her like a dagger to the chest:

What part didn’t you understand? I said LEAVE. ME. THE. FUCK. ALONE. I don’t wanna talk to you. Not now. Not ever.

Alice froze; her breath caught in her throat. Her fingers trembled as she reread the text over and over, the finality of his words sinking in deeper each time. She had thought – hoped – that maybe, just maybe, he’d still be angry but willing to talk. That there would still be a chance to fix what she’d broken. But this? This was the end.

Her phone slipped from her hands onto the couch, her head falling into her hands as the sobs wracked her body. She felt as though the last bit of strength she’d been holding onto had been ripped away.

He didn’t want her. Not now. Not ever.

It wasn’t like Alice to give up. She had fought battles most people couldn’t dream of surviving, clawed her way out of impossible situations, and faced down enemies that would make others crumble in fear. But this wasn’t a battle she could win. Not this time.

Alice wiped her face, her tears soaking into the sleeves of her sweater. She picked up her phone again, staring at the message. Her fingers hovered over the screen, tempted to reply, to say one last thing. But what was the point? He had made himself clear.

With a deep breath, she locked the phone and set it down. She didn’t cry again – not then. She just sat there, staring at the empty walls of her apartment, feeling the weight of her loneliness pressing down on her.

Natasha was gone. Steve was gone. Tony was gone. Wanda had vanished. And now, Bucky – her Bucky – had left too.

Maybe one day, he would forgive her. Maybe one day, he would come back. But for now, Alice knew she had to let go. As much as it hurt, as much as it tore her apart, she couldn’t keep holding onto something that wasn’t there anymore.

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” she whispered into the silence. Her voice cracked, but she didn’t cry. Not this time. Instead, she curled up on the couch, pulling a blanket over herself, and stared at nothing, letting the emptiness consume her.

Days passed in a haze. She barely slept. Barely ate. The walls of her apartment felt like they were closing in, pressing against her, suffocating her. Her reflection in the mirror was a stranger – hollow eyes, dark circles, skin pale and drawn.

She reached for her phone more times than she could count, her thumb hovering over Bucky’s contact. But she never called. What would she even say? That she was losing her mind? That she was unravelling? That she didn’t know what was real anymore, that she felt like she was falling, and there was no one to catch her?

Bucky wasn’t there. He hadn’t been there in a long time.

And she was alone.

A sharp, shuddering breath ripped through her chest as she squeezed her eyes shut, as she pressed her forehead against the cool surface of the window.

She didn’t know what was real. She didn’t know where Wanda was. And she didn’t have Bucky.

And it was breaking her.

She tried to keep herself busy, distracting herself with small tasks, but nothing worked. Nothing mattered. She’d cleaned the apartment until it felt sterile, empty, and cold. The smell of stale coffee lingered in the air as a constant reminder that she was alive, even though she didn’t feel like it. Every corner of the apartment – once filled with laughter, with the hum of life – now felt foreign. The couch they’d sat on together. The kitchen counter where they’d cooked meals, sometimes in silence, sometimes with conversation. The bed where they’d slept in warmth, comfort, and a love she thought would last forever. All of it was a ghost now.

She hadn’t expected to feel this lost. She hadn’t expected the gaping hole that was left behind by Bucky’s absence to be so unbearable.

The nights were the worst. They stretched on forever. She lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling, trying to recall what it was like to sleep without feeling like the world was pressing down on her chest. Every thought about Bucky felt like a jagged shard of glass lodged in her heart. He was gone. Not just physically, but emotionally, too. He had walked away, and she had let him go.

Her fingers trembled as she ran them through her hair. It felt like a lifetime ago when things had felt right.

But that had all shattered. The heartache from their breakup had gnawed at her for so long. The words he’d said before leaving – “Leave me the fuck alone” – still echoed in her mind. She couldn’t get them out. She had tried. She’d tried everything to silence them, but they haunted her, keeping her awake at night, gnawing away at the little pieces of hope she had left.

The pain she felt wasn’t just from losing him, but from losing herself. She had spent so long trying to be strong, trying to be the person everyone needed, trying to redeem herself from her past. She had given so much of herself to others – fighting for them, loving them, putting them above everything. But in the end, it had all been for nothing. She was still empty, still broken, still haunted by the ghosts of her past.

And now, she didn’t know who she was anymore.

The loneliness had become suffocating. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed; the last time someone had held her without it feeling like an act. And in the silence of her apartment, the silence in her soul, she realized something.

She was alone. Completely, utterly alone.

And maybe that was the way it was always meant to be.

The thoughts crept in slowly at first, like a whisper. What if it would be easier if she just… let go? What if she could stop feeling this overwhelming sadness, this ache in her chest?

The idea didn’t scare her anymore. In fact, it felt like a release. She wasn’t afraid of death. She wasn’t afraid of the nothingness that awaited her.

For a split second, the thought of ending it all felt almost comforting. She could disappear into the darkness. No more pain. No more guilt. No more pretending that she was okay when she was clearly not. She could leave the wreckage of her life behind and never look back.

The isolation felt suffocating. Her heartbeat rang in her ears as she moved toward the window, the city stretching out below her like a vast sea of lights. She could feel the weight of it all pressing down on her, could feel herself slipping further, faster, into the abyss.

And then – light.

A soft hum filled the room behind her, followed by a sudden rush of warmth, like reality itself had hiccupped. She turned just in time to see a glowing portal tear open in the air.

Out of it stepped two men.

One she recognized immediately: Loki.

The other was a stranger in a grey suit, carrying himself with an air of professionalism and mild irritation. But it was Loki who stole her breath. Gone were the rich Asgardian robes she remembered. In their place, a modest brown jacket with TVA written on it, a crisp white shirt, and a loosely tied tie. He looked like someone trying to blend in with a world that never wanted him in the first place.

The stranger – Mobius, though she didn’t know that yet – shot Loki a warning glance. “Alright, remember the rules. You’ve got limited time with her. Don’t make me regret this.”

Loki rolled his eyes, a flicked of the old arrogance cutting through the tiredness. “Yes, I know. You’ve told me a thousand times. Now, leave us.”

With that, the man nodded and walked back into the portal, which vanished with a low hum.

Alice stood there, frozen in shock, her heart racing as she stared at Loki. She had spent years grieving him, the years trying to let him go, only to see him standing before her now.

“Loki,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “How… how are you here? What is going on? Who was that guy?”

Loki took a slow step toward her, his green eyes softening as they met hers.

“My love,” he murmured, his voice carrying the same rich, velvety tone that had always stirred her emotions.

Alice stumbled back a step, holding up a hand. “No. Don’t ‘my love’ me right now. You died, Loki. I felt it. I felt it. And then… I saw you escape in 2012. How are you still here? What is happening?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, his expression a mix of frustration and longing. “It’s a complicated story, my darling. After your little band of heroes botched their time heist, I ended up with the Tesseract and found myself captured by the Time Variance Authority – an organization that manages the timelines, apparently. I’ve been… helping them, in a way. And now, I have this chance to see you again.”

Alice stared at him, disbelief etched into her features. “The TVA? Time Variance Authority? Messing up the timeline?” She let out a hollow laugh. “So this is because of us. Because of me.”

He stepped closer, his voice gentle. “Don’t blame yourself, Alice. If anything, this is a gift. A chance to see you again. To tell you what I never could before I…”

“Before you died,” Alice finished for him, her voice trembling. She wrapped her arms around herself, as though trying to hold herself together. “Loki, this doesn’t make sense. How can you even be here?”

“Mobius, the man who came here with me, has bent a few rules for me,” Loki admitted with a faint smirk, though his gaze remained fixed on her, vulnerable and raw. “I have only a short time. But I had to see you.”

Alice blinked back the tears threatening to spill over. She didn’t know whether to scream at him, cry, or throw herself into his arms. “Loki… I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything,” he whispered, closing the distance between them. He cupped her face in his hands, his touch achingly familiar despite the strange uniform. “Just let me look at you. Let me remember you exactly as you are right now.”

Alice’s lips trembled as she whispered, “This doesn’t feel real.”

“It is real,” Loki assured her. “More real than you can imagine.”

They stood there, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between them, the warmth of their shared connection thawing the cold void Alice had been feeling. For the first time in a long time, she felt something other than grief and sadness, even if it was only for a fleeting moment.

“Come with me,” Loki softly pleaded. Let us get our happy ending.”

Alice’s breath caught in her throat, the raw vulnerability in Loki’s voice pulling at something deep inside her. She had spent so many years trying to move on, trying to bury the feelings she still carried for him, but standing here now, with him so close, all that effort felt like it had been for nothing.

She pulled away slightly, her hand instinctively brushing against her cheek where his fingers had been moments before. “Loki… I don’t know how to answer that,” she said softly, her voice barely a whisper. “You were everything to me. But—”

“But?” Loki asked, his eyes darkening with uncertainty, the vulnerability in his voice giving way to a hind of that old defensiveness, as though he feared being rejected again.

Alice’s heart ached for him, for everything that they had been through, everything they could have been, and everything that had changed. She took a deep breath, steadying herself before she spoke again.

“You’re different now, Loki. You’ve changed. But so have I.” Her voice was trembling as she said the last part, unsure if she could bear the weight of the truth she was about to say. “I’m not the same person I was when we… when we were together.”

Loki’s jaw tightened at her words, his eyes flickering with the pain of the past. He stepped back, his hands falling to his sides, as though her words had hit him harder than any battle ever could.

“I thought,” he began again, his voice almost pleading, “maybe you could love me like you used to… even though I’m… different.” He paused, running a hand through his hair, as though trying to find the right words.

“I’ve done so many things, terrible things, things that make me question if I even deserve to stand here before you.” His voice cracked, the weight of his past hanging heavy in the air. “But I thought… I hoped that maybe, just maybe, you could see me for the man I’ve been trying to become. For you.”

Alice’s chest tightened, her emotions a storm she could barely contain. She wanted to reach out, to pull him close and tell him that everything would be okay. But she couldn’t. Not when the truth of her heart was so tangled, so conflicted.

“Loki,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I see you. I see the man you’ve become, the man who’s trying so hard to be better. And I will always care for you. But… my heart doesn’t belong to you anymore.”

His breath hitched, and he froze, his eyes narrowing as though bracing himself for the blow he knew was coming. “It’s him, isn’t it? The soldier. Barnes.”

Alice didn’t answer right away, her silence speaking lounder than any words could. She looked away, unable to meet his gaze, her own heart breaking at the sight of his pain.

“Yes,” she finally admitted, her voice low and soft. “It’s Bucky.”

Loki’s expression was unreadable for a moment, a mask of calm that only someone who knew him well could see through. His hands clenched at his sides, his knuckles whitening as he processed her words.

“I see,” he said quietly, his voice sharp but tinged with sorrow. He looked away, his gaze fixed on some invisible point beyond the walls of her apartment. “I should have known. I always knew there was something between the two of you.”

“Loki, it’s not like that,” Alice said quickly, stepping closer, but he held up a hand to stop her.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice firm. “Don’t try to soften the blow. I’ve spent enough of my life chasing after things that were never meant to be. And I won’t—” His voice faltered, and for a moment, his mask slipped, revealing the depth of his hurt. “I won’t hold you back from the life you’ve chosen.”

Alice’s eyes welled with tears, and she reached out, touching his arm gently. “You were never just a chapter in my life, Loki. You were my world, my first love. And I will always, always care about you.”

He looked down at her hand on his arm, his lips pressing into a thin line.

“But not enough to come with me,” he said softly, almost to himself.

“Loki…” Alice started, but he shook his head, taking a step back.

“You don’t have to explain,” he said, his voice regaining some of its usual composure. “I won’t make this harder for either of us.”

A portal began to shimmer behind him, Mobius stepping partially through, clearly hesitant to interrupt. Loki glanced back, then looked at Alice one last time.

“I’ll always love you, Alice,” he said, his voice breaking slightly on her name. “If you came to me with a face I have not seen, with a voice I have never heard, I would still feel you, somewhere between the sand and the stardust. Through every collapse and creation, there is a pulse that echoes of you and I. I love you, Alice. Always.”

And before she could say another word, he turned and walked toward the portal. Loki spun around, his emerald eyes shimmering with a mixture of longing and heartbreak. For a moment, he hesitated, as if weighing the words he was about to say. Then, with a quiet vulnerability, he asked, “May I kiss you? Just one last time?”

Alice’s breath caught in her throat. The air between them felt impossibly heavy, the weight of their shared history pressing down on her. She wanted to say no, to make it easier for both. But as she looked at him, at the man who had loved her so deeply, she couldn’t bring herself to refuse.

“Okay,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Loki stepped closer, his movement slow and deliberate, as though he was memorizing every second. He raised a hand to her face, his touch featherlight as his thumb brushed against her cheek. His gaze locked onto hers, searching for something – perhaps closure, perhaps a memory to carry with him.

When their lips met, it was soft, bittersweet, and filled with everything they couldn’t put into words. The kiss wasn’t passionate or desperate; it was a goodbye, a silent acknowledgement of all they had been to each other and all they could never be again.

Alice felt a tear slide down her cheek as she clung to the moment, knowing it was the last time she would ever feel his lips on hers. When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested gently against hers for a moment, his breath warm against her skin.

“Goodbye, my love,” Loki murmured, his voice heavy with sorrow. He stepped back, letting his hand fall away from her face, and turned toward the portal.

As he walked away, Alice felt her heart shatter all over again, the loss cutting deeper than she thought possible. She watched as he disappeared into the golden light, the apartment falling silent once more.

Alice sat down on the couch, her fingers brushing her lips as tears blurred her vision. The kiss lingered, a haunting reminder of what they had shared and what they had lost. But even as the pain threatened to overwhelm her, she knew she had to keep moving forward – not matter how much it hurt.

Loki followed Mobius down the dimly lit corridor of the TVA, his mind still reeling from seeing Alice again. His heart felt heavy with the weight of their goodbye, and he was struggling to make sense of what he had just experienced. Mobius, as usual, was silent as they walked, his expression unreadable.

When they reached a large, circular room filled with screens, Mobius stopped and gestured toward the display. “I want to show you something,” he said, his tone serious.

Loki raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued despite himself. “What is it this time, Mobius? Another lecture?”

Mobius ignored the jab and activated the dozens of screens. One by one, they flickered to life, each displaying a different scene. Loki froze as he recognized the figure in every single one of them: Alice.

The first screen showed her and Loki in a lush Asgardian Garden. They were laughing together, their hands entwined as they shared a rare moment of peace. But the scene shifted, and Loki watched in horror as a shadowy figure emerged, plunging a dagger into Alice’s back. She fell into his arms, her blood staining his hands as he screamed her name.

The second screen showed a war-torn battlefield, smoke and fire raging all around them. Together, they unleashed their powers, an unstoppable force. But the battle turned, and as Loki tried to shield Alice from a fatal blast, it struck them both. They collapsed together, their fingers barely touching as the screen faded to black.

In another screen, Alice stood tall and cruel before the ruins of the TVA, cloaked in shadows. Loki, battered and chained, pleaded with her to stop. But her eyes were cold, glowing with chaotic power. “You were supposed to rule with me,” she hissed. “Now I’ll rule without you.” With a wave of her hand, he vanished.

The fourth screen was on Morag, eerily similar to what had happened between Natasha and Clint. Alice and Loki were standing at the edge of the cliff, arguing heatedly. The stone demanded a sacrifice, and neither of them was willing to let the other go. But in the end, Alice outmanoeuvred him, pushing him aside and throwing himself over the edge. Loki collapsed to his knees, screaming her name as the stone appeared in his hand.

Mobius watched Loki’s face as the screens continued to show more timelines. In one, Alice died protecting Loki from Thanos, a spear through her chest. In another, Loki betrayed Alice for power, only to realize too late that he had made a terrible mistake. And yet in another, Loki was the TVA agent tasked with capturing a rogue variant – Alice. But the more he chased her, the more he begun to understand her pain, her chaos. In a final confrontation, he let her go, choosing her over his mission. Mobius, in this timeline, erased Loki for his betrayal. Another timeline, Alice never stopped being Forsaken, even after Hydra was destroyed. In another, she married Steve Rogers, and they had five children together. There were countless screens showing Alice and Bucky get their happy ending.

There was one where Loki was screaming as Alice, glowing with celestial light, disintegrated while sealing a cosmic rift. Her last words echoed: “I’ll always love you… even from the stars.”

In another, Alice kissed Loki in the ruins of the Quantum Realm portal. “You’ll find me in every lifetime,” she said before stepping into the swirling vortex, disappearing forever.

“See?” Mobius said, his voice quiet but firm. “In every universe, Alice and Loki fall in love. And in every universe, it never ends well.”

Loki’s eyes were glued to the screens, his jaw clenched and his hands trembling. “Why are you showing me this?” he demanded, his voice barely above a whisper. “Is this supposed to teach me some kind of lesson? Some cruel moral about fate?”

Mobius sighed, leaning against the console. “It’s not about fate, Loki. It’s about patterns. No matter the timeline, no matter the choices you make, you and Alice find each other. But the universe… it doesn’t seem to like it. Something always tears you apart.”

Loki remained quiet, his gaze remained fixed on the screens, his face a mask of pain and resignation. The images of Alice – dying, fighting, loving him – played out before him, a cruel reminder of what he could never truly have.

“I know it hurst,” Mobius said gently. “Loving someone who’s out of reach. But maybe it’s time to let her go. She’s in love with someone else, Loki. You saw it in her eyes.”

Loki closed his eyes briefly, willing himself to bury the overwhelming ache in his chest. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and rough, carrying the weight of centuries of heartache. “I know,” he said, the words cutting him like a blade. “Her heart belongs to someone else now. Someone who deserves her far more than I ever could.”

Mobius leaned back against the console, folding his arms. “So… what now? You’re gonna move on?”

Loki gave a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “What else can I do? Even if I wanted to fight for her, what would it accomplish? The universe has made its stance clear.” He gestured toward the screens, his movement sharp and filled with anger. “Every version of us is doomed to fail. Every timeline ends in pain.”

Mobius sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Alright, fine. If you’re really giving up, then what’s the plan? Go back to brooding?”

Loki’s lips twisted into a faint, sarcastic smile. “I’ll do what I’ve always done, Mobius. Survive. And this time… I’ll do it without her.”

He cast one last look at the screens, his eyes lingering on an image of Alice laughing in some forgotten timeline, her smile as radiant as the stars. The sight was almost too much to bear. With a sharp motion, he turned away, the echo of her laughter burned into his mind.

“Turn it off,” he said, his voice firm, though it wavered slightly at the edges.

Mobius hesitated, searching Loki’s face for any sign that he might change his mind. But there was none. With a small nod, he shut down the screens, plunging the room into silence.

As they walked back through the corridors of the TVA, Loki’s usual swagger was absent. He moved with the weary pace of a man who had lost more than he could ever regain. And though Mobius didn’t say it, he could see it in Loki’s eyes: he had given up, not just on Alice, but on the part of himself that had dared to hope.

tags: ​​​​​​​​​​​​​​@capswife

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[buckyssoldat]

Chapter 70: Almost

Warnings: major character grief/loss, emotional angst, bittersweet goodbye, mentions of death, unrequited love, mentions of the TVA

A/N: This is part of my series, Forsaken - The Fallen Soldier. If you wanna be tagged in this, just send me an ask or a message. Feedback is always appreciated, don’t be shy to share your thoughts on this :) The poem Loki recites to Alice is called 'Stardust' and it's by Lang Leav.

Goodbye, my almost lover

Goodbye, my hopeless dream

I'm trying not to think about you

Alice sat on the edge of her bed, gripping the sheets so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Her heart pounded against her ribs, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she tried to anchor herself in the present. But the present felt slippery, like water running through her fingers, impossible to hold onto.

Was it real?

She closed her eyes, trying to sort through the tangled mess in her mind. She could still feel Pietro’s arms around her, still hear the way he laughed when she scolded him for leaving his socks everywhere. It had felt real – every touch, every kiss, every whispered word late at night. The weight of his hand on her back as they slept. The warmth of his lips on her temple. The feeling of belonging, of safety.

But it wasn’t real.

Or was it?

Her fingers dug into her scalp as she tried to chase away the question, but it lingered, gnawing at the edges of her sanity. It was like her mind was split in two – one part screaming that it was all a lie, that it had never happened, that Pietro Maximoff was dead. The other part whispered that it had been real enough to leave scars. Real enough to hurt. Real enough to make her feel like she had lost him all over again.

She needed answers. She needed to know what was real and what wasn’t.

Alice grabbed her phone and scrolled through the news, her breath catching when she saw the headline:

WANDA MAXIMOFF MISSING – LOCATION UNKNOWN

Alice scoured every lead, every whisper of Wanda’s whereabouts, but it was futile. Her skills – decades of training, tactical precision, and sharp instincts – meant nothing against Wanda’s immense power. If Wanda didn’t want to be found, no one could find her. Not even Alice.

She sat in her apartment, a map spread out on the coffee table, littered with pins and scribbled notes. Places where Wanda might have gone, small towns off the grid, locations tied to old memories. But each lead turned cold, each avenue a dead end.

The frustration was maddening. Alice paced her living room, the heels of her boots clicking against the hardwood floor, her thoughts a whirlwind.

She couldn’t shake the guilt. Wanda had been drowning in grief, and Alice had seen it firsthand. She’d felt it in the magic that had enveloped her, in the fabricated life they’d shared inside that false reality.

And now, Wanda was out there somewhere, alone and broken. Just like Alice.

Alice stared at the map one last time before tearing it off the table and crumpling it in frustration. She tossed it into the trash and slumped onto the couch, her head in her hands. She called every contact she had. Nothing. She searched through every report, every rumour, every lead she could find. Nothing. Wanda had vanished like smoke, leaving behind nothing but questions and chaos. And Alice was left grasping at ghosts.

“I’m sorry, Wanda,” she whispered into the empty room, her voice breaking. “I’m so sorry.” But whether it was Wanda she was apologizing to, or herself, Alice didn’t know. All she knew was that the silence, both outside and within, was unbearable.

Alice stared at her phone, the weight of indecision pressing down on her shoulders. For days, she had avoided reaching out, telling herself that if Bucky wanted to talk to her, he would. But the silence was killing her, the distance between them growing more agonizing with each passing day. She had never been good at waiting, especially when it came to something that mattered so much. The thought of losing him – really losing him – was a constant ache in her chest. Finally, the need to reach out overpowered her fear of rejection. Her fingers hovered over the screen, unsure if she was ready for whatever response might come. But she couldn’t stay silent anymore. With a deep breath, Alice typed, her message simple but full of everything she had been holding in: I miss you, Bucky. Please, talk to me. She hesitated for a split second before hitting send, her hear racing as she waited, unsure of what to expect, but desperate to hear from him, even if it was just a word.

A couple of days had passed since Alice sent the message, but Bucky never replied. Each time she checked her phone, her heart sank a little more. She had told herself that if he needed time, she'd give it to him. But the silence was louder than anything he could have said. It gnawed at her, picking at the fragile thread of hope she’d been clinging to. She kept the phone close, almost as though the simple act of having it near her would somehow make him answer. But each time, there was nothing. Not even a sign that he had seen it. The absence of his words was louder than anything—louder than the pain, louder than the memories of everything they had shared. It was a stark reminder that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t want to talk to her, not now, not ever. And that thought, more than anything else, was starting to break her.

Alice stared at her phone, the screen glowing in the dim light of her apartment. The text she had sent – one of countless messages in the past few days – had been simple but heartfelt.

Bucky? Please, I’m begging you. I’m worried.

When the notification finally appeared, after days of numerous unanswered texts, her heart leapt in a mix of hope and fear. She opened the message, praying for something, anything, that hinted he still cared. Instead, the words hit her like a dagger to the chest:

What part didn’t you understand? I said LEAVE. ME. THE. FUCK. ALONE. I don’t wanna talk to you. Not now. Not ever.

Alice froze; her breath caught in her throat. Her fingers trembled as she reread the text over and over, the finality of his words sinking in deeper each time. She had thought – hoped – that maybe, just maybe, he’d still be angry but willing to talk. That there would still be a chance to fix what she’d broken. But this? This was the end.

Her phone slipped from her hands onto the couch, her head falling into her hands as the sobs wracked her body. She felt as though the last bit of strength she’d been holding onto had been ripped away.

He didn’t want her. Not now. Not ever.

It wasn’t like Alice to give up. She had fought battles most people couldn’t dream of surviving, clawed her way out of impossible situations, and faced down enemies that would make others crumble in fear. But this wasn’t a battle she could win. Not this time.

Alice wiped her face, her tears soaking into the sleeves of her sweater. She picked up her phone again, staring at the message. Her fingers hovered over the screen, tempted to reply, to say one last thing. But what was the point? He had made himself clear.

With a deep breath, she locked the phone and set it down. She didn’t cry again – not then. She just sat there, staring at the empty walls of her apartment, feeling the weight of her loneliness pressing down on her.

Natasha was gone. Steve was gone. Tony was gone. Wanda had vanished. And now, Bucky – her Bucky – had left too.

Maybe one day, he would forgive her. Maybe one day, he would come back. But for now, Alice knew she had to let go. As much as it hurt, as much as it tore her apart, she couldn’t keep holding onto something that wasn’t there anymore.

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” she whispered into the silence. Her voice cracked, but she didn’t cry. Not this time. Instead, she curled up on the couch, pulling a blanket over herself, and stared at nothing, letting the emptiness consume her.

Days passed in a haze. She barely slept. Barely ate. The walls of her apartment felt like they were closing in, pressing against her, suffocating her. Her reflection in the mirror was a stranger – hollow eyes, dark circles, skin pale and drawn.

She reached for her phone more times than she could count, her thumb hovering over Bucky’s contact. But she never called. What would she even say? That she was losing her mind? That she was unravelling? That she didn’t know what was real anymore, that she felt like she was falling, and there was no one to catch her?

Bucky wasn’t there. He hadn’t been there in a long time.

And she was alone.

A sharp, shuddering breath ripped through her chest as she squeezed her eyes shut, as she pressed her forehead against the cool surface of the window.

She didn’t know what was real. She didn’t know where Wanda was. And she didn’t have Bucky.

And it was breaking her.

She tried to keep herself busy, distracting herself with small tasks, but nothing worked. Nothing mattered. She’d cleaned the apartment until it felt sterile, empty, and cold. The smell of stale coffee lingered in the air as a constant reminder that she was alive, even though she didn’t feel like it. Every corner of the apartment – once filled with laughter, with the hum of life – now felt foreign. The couch they’d sat on together. The kitchen counter where they’d cooked meals, sometimes in silence, sometimes with conversation. The bed where they’d slept in warmth, comfort, and a love she thought would last forever. All of it was a ghost now.

She hadn’t expected to feel this lost. She hadn’t expected the gaping hole that was left behind by Bucky’s absence to be so unbearable.

The nights were the worst. They stretched on forever. She lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling, trying to recall what it was like to sleep without feeling like the world was pressing down on her chest. Every thought about Bucky felt like a jagged shard of glass lodged in her heart. He was gone. Not just physically, but emotionally, too. He had walked away, and she had let him go.

Her fingers trembled as she ran them through her hair. It felt like a lifetime ago when things had felt right.

But that had all shattered. The heartache from their breakup had gnawed at her for so long. The words he’d said before leaving – “Leave me the fuck alone” – still echoed in her mind. She couldn’t get them out. She had tried. She’d tried everything to silence them, but they haunted her, keeping her awake at night, gnawing away at the little pieces of hope she had left.

The pain she felt wasn’t just from losing him, but from losing herself. She had spent so long trying to be strong, trying to be the person everyone needed, trying to redeem herself from her past. She had given so much of herself to others – fighting for them, loving them, putting them above everything. But in the end, it had all been for nothing. She was still empty, still broken, still haunted by the ghosts of her past.

And now, she didn’t know who she was anymore.

The loneliness had become suffocating. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed; the last time someone had held her without it feeling like an act. And in the silence of her apartment, the silence in her soul, she realized something.

She was alone. Completely, utterly alone.

And maybe that was the way it was always meant to be.

The thoughts crept in slowly at first, like a whisper. What if it would be easier if she just… let go? What if she could stop feeling this overwhelming sadness, this ache in her chest?

The idea didn’t scare her anymore. In fact, it felt like a release. She wasn’t afraid of death. She wasn’t afraid of the nothingness that awaited her.

For a split second, the thought of ending it all felt almost comforting. She could disappear into the darkness. No more pain. No more guilt. No more pretending that she was okay when she was clearly not. She could leave the wreckage of her life behind and never look back.

The isolation felt suffocating. Her heartbeat rang in her ears as she moved toward the window, the city stretching out below her like a vast sea of lights. She could feel the weight of it all pressing down on her, could feel herself slipping further, faster, into the abyss.

And then – light.

A soft hum filled the room behind her, followed by a sudden rush of warmth, like reality itself had hiccupped. She turned just in time to see a glowing portal tear open in the air.

Out of it stepped two men.

One she recognized immediately: Loki.

The other was a stranger in a grey suit, carrying himself with an air of professionalism and mild irritation. But it was Loki who stole her breath. Gone were the rich Asgardian robes she remembered. In their place, a modest brown jacket with TVA written on it, a crisp white shirt, and a loosely tied tie. He looked like someone trying to blend in with a world that never wanted him in the first place.

The stranger – Mobius, though she didn’t know that yet – shot Loki a warning glance. “Alright, remember the rules. You’ve got limited time with her. Don’t make me regret this.”

Loki rolled his eyes, a flicked of the old arrogance cutting through the tiredness. “Yes, I know. You’ve told me a thousand times. Now, leave us.”

With that, the man nodded and walked back into the portal, which vanished with a low hum.

Alice stood there, frozen in shock, her heart racing as she stared at Loki. She had spent years grieving him, the years trying to let him go, only to see him standing before her now.

“Loki,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “How… how are you here? What is going on? Who was that guy?”

Loki took a slow step toward her, his green eyes softening as they met hers.

“My love,” he murmured, his voice carrying the same rich, velvety tone that had always stirred her emotions.

Alice stumbled back a step, holding up a hand. “No. Don’t ‘my love’ me right now. You died, Loki. I felt it. I felt it. And then… I saw you escape in 2012. How are you still here? What is happening?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, his expression a mix of frustration and longing. “It’s a complicated story, my darling. After your little band of heroes botched their time heist, I ended up with the Tesseract and found myself captured by the Time Variance Authority – an organization that manages the timelines, apparently. I’ve been… helping them, in a way. And now, I have this chance to see you again.”

Alice stared at him, disbelief etched into her features. “The TVA? Time Variance Authority? Messing up the timeline?” She let out a hollow laugh. “So this is because of us. Because of me.”

He stepped closer, his voice gentle. “Don’t blame yourself, Alice. If anything, this is a gift. A chance to see you again. To tell you what I never could before I…”

“Before you died,” Alice finished for him, her voice trembling. She wrapped her arms around herself, as though trying to hold herself together. “Loki, this doesn’t make sense. How can you even be here?”

“Mobius, the man who came here with me, has bent a few rules for me,” Loki admitted with a faint smirk, though his gaze remained fixed on her, vulnerable and raw. “I have only a short time. But I had to see you.”

Alice blinked back the tears threatening to spill over. She didn’t know whether to scream at him, cry, or throw herself into his arms. “Loki… I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything,” he whispered, closing the distance between them. He cupped her face in his hands, his touch achingly familiar despite the strange uniform. “Just let me look at you. Let me remember you exactly as you are right now.”

Alice’s lips trembled as she whispered, “This doesn’t feel real.”

“It is real,” Loki assured her. “More real than you can imagine.”

They stood there, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between them, the warmth of their shared connection thawing the cold void Alice had been feeling. For the first time in a long time, she felt something other than grief and sadness, even if it was only for a fleeting moment.

“Come with me,” Loki softly pleaded. Let us get our happy ending.”

Alice’s breath caught in her throat, the raw vulnerability in Loki’s voice pulling at something deep inside her. She had spent so many years trying to move on, trying to bury the feelings she still carried for him, but standing here now, with him so close, all that effort felt like it had been for nothing.

She pulled away slightly, her hand instinctively brushing against her cheek where his fingers had been moments before. “Loki… I don’t know how to answer that,” she said softly, her voice barely a whisper. “You were everything to me. But—”

“But?” Loki asked, his eyes darkening with uncertainty, the vulnerability in his voice giving way to a hind of that old defensiveness, as though he feared being rejected again.

Alice’s heart ached for him, for everything that they had been through, everything they could have been, and everything that had changed. She took a deep breath, steadying herself before she spoke again.

“You’re different now, Loki. You’ve changed. But so have I.” Her voice was trembling as she said the last part, unsure if she could bear the weight of the truth she was about to say. “I’m not the same person I was when we… when we were together.”

Loki’s jaw tightened at her words, his eyes flickering with the pain of the past. He stepped back, his hands falling to his sides, as though her words had hit him harder than any battle ever could.

“I thought,” he began again, his voice almost pleading, “maybe you could love me like you used to… even though I’m… different.” He paused, running a hand through his hair, as though trying to find the right words.

“I’ve done so many things, terrible things, things that make me question if I even deserve to stand here before you.” His voice cracked, the weight of his past hanging heavy in the air. “But I thought… I hoped that maybe, just maybe, you could see me for the man I’ve been trying to become. For you.”

Alice’s chest tightened, her emotions a storm she could barely contain. She wanted to reach out, to pull him close and tell him that everything would be okay. But she couldn’t. Not when the truth of her heart was so tangled, so conflicted.

“Loki,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I see you. I see the man you’ve become, the man who’s trying so hard to be better. And I will always care for you. But… my heart doesn’t belong to you anymore.”

His breath hitched, and he froze, his eyes narrowing as though bracing himself for the blow he knew was coming. “It’s him, isn’t it? The soldier. Barnes.”

Alice didn’t answer right away, her silence speaking lounder than any words could. She looked away, unable to meet his gaze, her own heart breaking at the sight of his pain.

“Yes,” she finally admitted, her voice low and soft. “It’s Bucky.”

Loki’s expression was unreadable for a moment, a mask of calm that only someone who knew him well could see through. His hands clenched at his sides, his knuckles whitening as he processed her words.

“I see,” he said quietly, his voice sharp but tinged with sorrow. He looked away, his gaze fixed on some invisible point beyond the walls of her apartment. “I should have known. I always knew there was something between the two of you.”

“Loki, it’s not like that,” Alice said quickly, stepping closer, but he held up a hand to stop her.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice firm. “Don’t try to soften the blow. I’ve spent enough of my life chasing after things that were never meant to be. And I won’t—” His voice faltered, and for a moment, his mask slipped, revealing the depth of his hurt. “I won’t hold you back from the life you’ve chosen.”

Alice’s eyes welled with tears, and she reached out, touching his arm gently. “You were never just a chapter in my life, Loki. You were my world, my first love. And I will always, always care about you.”

He looked down at her hand on his arm, his lips pressing into a thin line.

“But not enough to come with me,” he said softly, almost to himself.

“Loki…” Alice started, but he shook his head, taking a step back.

“You don’t have to explain,” he said, his voice regaining some of its usual composure. “I won’t make this harder for either of us.”

A portal began to shimmer behind him, Mobius stepping partially through, clearly hesitant to interrupt. Loki glanced back, then looked at Alice one last time.

“I’ll always love you, Alice,” he said, his voice breaking slightly on her name. “If you came to me with a face I have not seen, with a voice I have never heard, I would still feel you, somewhere between the sand and the stardust. Through every collapse and creation, there is a pulse that echoes of you and I. I love you, Alice. Always.”

And before she could say another word, he turned and walked toward the portal. Loki spun around, his emerald eyes shimmering with a mixture of longing and heartbreak. For a moment, he hesitated, as if weighing the words he was about to say. Then, with a quiet vulnerability, he asked, “May I kiss you? Just one last time?”

Alice’s breath caught in her throat. The air between them felt impossibly heavy, the weight of their shared history pressing down on her. She wanted to say no, to make it easier for both. But as she looked at him, at the man who had loved her so deeply, she couldn’t bring herself to refuse.

“Okay,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Loki stepped closer, his movement slow and deliberate, as though he was memorizing every second. He raised a hand to her face, his touch featherlight as his thumb brushed against her cheek. His gaze locked onto hers, searching for something – perhaps closure, perhaps a memory to carry with him.

When their lips met, it was soft, bittersweet, and filled with everything they couldn’t put into words. The kiss wasn’t passionate or desperate; it was a goodbye, a silent acknowledgement of all they had been to each other and all they could never be again.

Alice felt a tear slide down her cheek as she clung to the moment, knowing it was the last time she would ever feel his lips on hers. When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested gently against hers for a moment, his breath warm against her skin.

“Goodbye, my love,” Loki murmured, his voice heavy with sorrow. He stepped back, letting his hand fall away from her face, and turned toward the portal.

As he walked away, Alice felt her heart shatter all over again, the loss cutting deeper than she thought possible. She watched as he disappeared into the golden light, the apartment falling silent once more.

Alice sat down on the couch, her fingers brushing her lips as tears blurred her vision. The kiss lingered, a haunting reminder of what they had shared and what they had lost. But even as the pain threatened to overwhelm her, she knew she had to keep moving forward – not matter how much it hurt.

Loki followed Mobius down the dimly lit corridor of the TVA, his mind still reeling from seeing Alice again. His heart felt heavy with the weight of their goodbye, and he was struggling to make sense of what he had just experienced. Mobius, as usual, was silent as they walked, his expression unreadable.

When they reached a large, circular room filled with screens, Mobius stopped and gestured toward the display. “I want to show you something,” he said, his tone serious.

Loki raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued despite himself. “What is it this time, Mobius? Another lecture?”

Mobius ignored the jab and activated the dozens of screens. One by one, they flickered to life, each displaying a different scene. Loki froze as he recognized the figure in every single one of them: Alice.

The first screen showed her and Loki in a lush Asgardian Garden. They were laughing together, their hands entwined as they shared a rare moment of peace. But the scene shifted, and Loki watched in horror as a shadowy figure emerged, plunging a dagger into Alice’s back. She fell into his arms, her blood staining his hands as he screamed her name.

The second screen showed a war-torn battlefield, smoke and fire raging all around them. Together, they unleashed their powers, an unstoppable force. But the battle turned, and as Loki tried to shield Alice from a fatal blast, it struck them both. They collapsed together, their fingers barely touching as the screen faded to black.

In another screen, Alice stood tall and cruel before the ruins of the TVA, cloaked in shadows. Loki, battered and chained, pleaded with her to stop. But her eyes were cold, glowing with chaotic power. “You were supposed to rule with me,” she hissed. “Now I’ll rule without you.” With a wave of her hand, he vanished.

The fourth screen was on Morag, eerily similar to what had happened between Natasha and Clint. Alice and Loki were standing at the edge of the cliff, arguing heatedly. The stone demanded a sacrifice, and neither of them was willing to let the other go. But in the end, Alice outmanoeuvred him, pushing him aside and throwing himself over the edge. Loki collapsed to his knees, screaming her name as the stone appeared in his hand.

Mobius watched Loki’s face as the screens continued to show more timelines. In one, Alice died protecting Loki from Thanos, a spear through her chest. In another, Loki betrayed Alice for power, only to realize too late that he had made a terrible mistake. And yet in another, Loki was the TVA agent tasked with capturing a rogue variant – Alice. But the more he chased her, the more he begun to understand her pain, her chaos. In a final confrontation, he let her go, choosing her over his mission. Mobius, in this timeline, erased Loki for his betrayal. Another timeline, Alice never stopped being Forsaken, even after Hydra was destroyed. In another, she married Steve Rogers, and they had five children together. There were countless screens showing Alice and Bucky get their happy ending.

There was one where Loki was screaming as Alice, glowing with celestial light, disintegrated while sealing a cosmic rift. Her last words echoed: “I’ll always love you… even from the stars.”

In another, Alice kissed Loki in the ruins of the Quantum Realm portal. “You’ll find me in every lifetime,” she said before stepping into the swirling vortex, disappearing forever.

“See?” Mobius said, his voice quiet but firm. “In every universe, Alice and Loki fall in love. And in every universe, it never ends well.”

Loki’s eyes were glued to the screens, his jaw clenched and his hands trembling. “Why are you showing me this?” he demanded, his voice barely above a whisper. “Is this supposed to teach me some kind of lesson? Some cruel moral about fate?”

Mobius sighed, leaning against the console. “It’s not about fate, Loki. It’s about patterns. No matter the timeline, no matter the choices you make, you and Alice find each other. But the universe… it doesn’t seem to like it. Something always tears you apart.”

Loki remained quiet, his gaze remained fixed on the screens, his face a mask of pain and resignation. The images of Alice – dying, fighting, loving him – played out before him, a cruel reminder of what he could never truly have.

“I know it hurst,” Mobius said gently. “Loving someone who’s out of reach. But maybe it’s time to let her go. She’s in love with someone else, Loki. You saw it in her eyes.”

Loki closed his eyes briefly, willing himself to bury the overwhelming ache in his chest. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and rough, carrying the weight of centuries of heartache. “I know,” he said, the words cutting him like a blade. “Her heart belongs to someone else now. Someone who deserves her far more than I ever could.”

Mobius leaned back against the console, folding his arms. “So… what now? You’re gonna move on?”

Loki gave a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “What else can I do? Even if I wanted to fight for her, what would it accomplish? The universe has made its stance clear.” He gestured toward the screens, his movement sharp and filled with anger. “Every version of us is doomed to fail. Every timeline ends in pain.”

Mobius sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Alright, fine. If you’re really giving up, then what’s the plan? Go back to brooding?”

Loki’s lips twisted into a faint, sarcastic smile. “I’ll do what I’ve always done, Mobius. Survive. And this time… I’ll do it without her.”

He cast one last look at the screens, his eyes lingering on an image of Alice laughing in some forgotten timeline, her smile as radiant as the stars. The sight was almost too much to bear. With a sharp motion, he turned away, the echo of her laughter burned into his mind.

“Turn it off,” he said, his voice firm, though it wavered slightly at the edges.

Mobius hesitated, searching Loki’s face for any sign that he might change his mind. But there was none. With a small nod, he shut down the screens, plunging the room into silence.

As they walked back through the corridors of the TVA, Loki’s usual swagger was absent. He moved with the weary pace of a man who had lost more than he could ever regain. And though Mobius didn’t say it, he could see it in Loki’s eyes: he had given up, not just on Alice, but on the part of himself that had dared to hope.

tags: ​​​​​​​​​​​​​​@capswife

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masterlist

[buckyssoldat]

Quick what are you doing RIGHT now (besides scrolling Tumblr)

[buckyssoldat]

"it's all in your head" correct! unfortunately I am also in there

[buckyssoldat]

I think we all deserve a happy Sebastian Stan Bucky Barnes.

[buckyssoldat]

Bucky, after hearing Ross disrespected Sam: You know what? I already killed one president, so what's one more? *loads gun*

[buckyssoldat]

SEBASTIAN STAN Behind The Scenes as Bucky Barnes in "THUNDERBOLTS*"