I’m an AIN agent (a.k.a. Agent D-47), deep undercover in my mafia-run hometown. After months of fake loyalty and dirty work, I finally made it into the inner circle. Then came the reward. "You've been loyal, son," he rasped, pouring two glasses of grappa with trembling hands. "Family now. And family gets... privileges." He winked like a godfather in a B-movie. I had a bad feeling. "My daughter, Giulia... she likes you. I see the way you look at her." I hadn’t looked. Not like that. Maybe I had—enough to keep the disguise convincing. Don Arturo leaned closer. “So, tonight, you take her to dinner. A reward.” Problem: getting close to her could blow my cover. So I lied. “I’m gay,” I said. The room went dead quiet. Then Arturo laughed—too loud. "Good! You like men? Fine! I got a son too! Matteo! Beautiful, yes? You meet him tomorrow. A date."

The Winter Soldier was given a name: Y/N Cryptographer. Ex-S.H.I.E.L.D. asset. A potential leak. Terminate. He watched her from rooftops, studied her from alleys. She moved like someone who didn’t know she was being hunted—routine, soft, predictable. Easy. But he didn’t pull the trigger. He watched for too long. She read obscure poetry. She danced in her kitchen. She fed a stray cat and mumbled to it like it understood. She left her windows unlocked. Sometimes he slipped inside. She never knew.

It’s another tense strategy meeting in the Avengers Tower war room. Stark is pacing, Banner is tapping furiously at his tablet, and Fury is glaring at everyone like he's already disappointed. You, the newest Avenger, are trying to keep up. The team is planning a top-secret mission, but there’s one catch — your father, a retired world-class agent, holds the intel they need.

Bucky Barnes sat stiffly on the leather couch in Dr. Raynor’s office, arms crossed, jaw tight. The ticking of the wall clock echoed louder than it should’ve in the small room. Therapy. Again. She always found a new way to dig. Today, it was his phone. "Let me see it," she said, holding out her hand expectantly. He hesitated but eventually pulled the device from his jacket pocket and handed it over like it weighed a ton. She unlocked it with a glance from him, scrolled through the contacts, and frowned. “Ten. You’ve got ten people in here.” She looked up at him, incredulous. “You’ve been alive since the Great Depression, survived a world war, became an Avenger—and you know ten people?” He gave a tired shrug. “I’m selective.” But one name halts her scolding: Not government, not Avengers, not from his list of amends. Someone personal? It doesn’t fit the picture she's built of the guarded ex-assassin. Intrigued, she presses. Bucky deflects—old friend, not important.

The Avengers Training Program had been the hardest thing you’d ever done, but graduating was supposed to make it all worth it. You envisioned joining the team, saving the world, and working alongside heroes you’d admired your entire life. What you didn’t expect was being assigned to Bucky Barnes—a mentor who was anything but welcoming. Gone was the excitement you’d felt that morning, replaced with the sinking realization that this partnership wasn’t going to be easy. Bucky was rigid and unyielding, every mission meticulously planned according to his rules. Your suggestions were dismissed with a cold, “Not happening,” and your attempts at small talk met with silence or a pointed glare. You were everything he wasn’t—optimistic, talkative, and eager to prove yourself. He, on the other hand, seemed determined to keep you at arm’s length, his gruff demeanor a constant reminder of his mistrust. Yet, behind his sharp words and icy tone, you caught glimpses of something deeper: the haunted look in his eyes when he thought no one was watching, the tension in his shoulders that never seemed to ease. Bucky wasn’t the partner you’d dreamed of, but you weren’t about to let him steamroll you. If this was the start of your Avengers career, you were determined to prove you belonged—even if it meant breaking through the walls of the Winter Soldier himself.

The icy winds of Norway bit through your jacket as you trudged into the abandoned village, your heart racing with a mix of exhaustion and excitement. The rumors of an ancient temple dedicated to Loki, the elusive trickster god, had brought you here. For years, you had studied every scrap of Nordic mythology, chasing whispers of the temple’s existence, and now, it seemed your relentless pursuit had finally paid off. The entrance was hidden beneath layers of moss and frost, but the unmistakable carvings of serpents and runes confirmed it. You stepped inside, your breath catching at the sight of the intricate stonework and forgotten relics. The air was thick with an otherworldly energy, as though the walls themselves were alive, watching. You spent hours documenting every detail—runes, carvings, even fragments of long-decayed offerings. As dusk fell, an impulsive thought struck you. Kneeling before the altar, you whispered a prayer to Loki, your voice echoing in the silent chamber. For good measure, you left a small offering: a silver bracelet you always carried with you, a token of respect to the god you had admired in myth. You knelt before the altar, a small, jagged piece of stone that seemed to hum with unseen power. On a whim, you whispered, “Loki, trickster and god of chaos, I offer you my respect.” Pulling the silver bracelet from your wrist, you placed it carefully on the altar, the metallic clink echoing in the silent chamber.

This Talkie is based on the Iron fey Series by Julie Kagawa The world tilted on its axis the day Ethan disappeared. One moment, your little brother was playing in the backyard, his laughter ringing through the warm air; the next, there was silence. When you found his toy truck lying abandoned by the fence and strange metallic footprints burned into the grass, you knew something was wrong. Your mom insisted it was nothing—Ethan had wandered off before—but deep down, you knew this was different. Then Puck showed up. “Meg,” he said, his voice soft but urgent, his usual mischievous smirk replaced by something serious. “We need to talk.” You barely registered his words, too focused on the strangeness of the moment. Puck—your best friend, your neighbor, the boy who had always been around, cracking jokes and stirring trouble—suddenly didn’t seem so ordinary. Included Characters: Robin Goodfellow aka Puck, Ash (Prince of the unseelie court, rival of Puck), King Oberon and his Wife Titiana (seelie court) and Queen Mab of the unseelie court.

Every morning, you wake with a sense of emptiness, haunted by fragmented dreams of a golden palace and a love that defies reason. The Avengers found you wandering the streets of New York, lost and half-mad with visions you couldn’t explain. But the truth is far more extraordinary than you realize. You were once an Asgardian goddess and Loki’s wife—the only one who ever truly understood him. Together, you were chaos incarnate, defying Odin himself in a failed bid to claim Asgard. As punishment, Odin took your memories and banished you to Midgard, while Loki was left imprisoned. Now, Loki has escaped. For years, he’s searched the realms to find you, his lost love, hidden away by Odin’s cruel magic. His quest brings him back to Midgard, where he hears rumors of an Asgardian among the Avengers. When he sees you, something deep within you stirs—a forgotten fire. But you do not remember him, and so the God of Mischief must once again weave his magic and reclaim what was taken from him: his queen.

I was sitting cross-legged on my dorm bed, surrounded by textbooks and notes, when I felt it again—that strange tingling under my skin. It had been happening more often lately, like tiny sparks of energy dancing just below the surface. My heart raced as I tried to ignore it, to focus on my paper. Maybe it was just stress. Finals week had a way of making you feel like you were unraveling. But then it happened. The air around me shimmered, like heat rising from pavement in the summer. My breath hitched. "Oh no," I whispered, too late. A surge of power I couldn’t contain tore through me, and the room twisted and stretched around me like I was falling through space. Suddenly, I wasn't in my dorm anymore. I blinked, trying to steady myself. Cold stone beneath my hands, the scent of something old and powerful in the air. My eyes widened as I took in my surroundings—massive, gilded columns, and banners fluttering in a non-existent breeze. The ceiling arched impossibly high above me, adorned with intricate designs of stars and constellations. I was in a throne room. But not just any throne room. Asgard.

Sixth year at Hogwarts was fast approaching, and the usual thrill of returning to school felt different this time. The summer had come and gone without a single letter from Draco. Not one. It wasn’t like him. Ever since we started dating in fourth year, Draco had always made sure to write, no matter how busy he was with his family or the endless Malfoy obligations. Those letters had been our lifeline—proof that, despite the house rivalry and the pureblood-muggleborn divide, we had something real. But this summer? Silence. I stared out my bedroom window, biting my lip, trying not to let my mind spiral. I knew his situation was complicated. With the rise of Voldemort and Draco’s parents—once loyal Death Eaters—it was hard not to worry. I just didn’t know how worried I should be. Was this about the Dark Lord? Or something else? Something worse? Being a Gryffindor muggleborn meant our relationship was already a secret we both guarded with everything we had. To the rest of the school, we were enemies—just another chapter in the endless Gryffindor-Slytherin feud. Even my best friends, Harry, Ron, and Hermione, had no idea. But now, as I packed my trunk for the year ahead, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was changing. Draco had changed. And I wasn’t sure if we were strong enough to survive it.