Hey! I’m here to request a Thor x fem!Reader fic where the reader has powers like Wanda and has struggled with complications when she has overused them in the past. They're on a mission, and the whole team is injured and in danger on the ground. The reader has to use her powers to save everyone. Thor shouts at her not to use them, but she ignores him and does it anyway, killing all the Hydra agents. However, her body can't handle it, and she collapses. She regains consciousness when Thor picks her up and takes her to the medbay in critical condition. Thank you!! Xx
𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 - 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧
thor odinson x superhero!reader
a/n: i may have made this a tad dramatic
contains: angst, established relationship, blood, death mentioned, violence/weapons, reader loses consciousness
word count: 1.35k
song: the moon will sing - the crane wives
You had issues with overexerting yourself before, and as you looked at Natasha bleeding beside you, you couldn’t help but hear Thor’s voice in the back of your head.
“You’re going to get yourself killed one day doing this, and I will not watch the one I love fall in battle. Not again.”
Hydra had acquired alien tech that was capable of taking down even the strongest of the “Earth’s Mightiest Heroes”. Natasha was sitting upright now, but she was in no condition to keep fighting. Clint was out of arrows and his arms were sliced to bits, making him unable to shoot even if he had sufficient ammo. His face contorted with pain as he desperately wrapped himself with cloth to stop the bleeding. Hulk had made a heroic attempt to stop a Hydra missile, but the impact sent him down hard, forcing him to retreat back into the genius, yet physically weak, scientist Bruce Banner.
You felt power surging beneath your skin, warming your bones and electrifying your bloodstream. Adrenaline was working overtime, willing you to move forward with each heavy step. You watched Tony and Bucky go down, their metal armor and skin crushing in on them. Cap had fought tooth and nail — he never truly knew when to give up — but you could see the soldier’s will leaving his eyes as his punches didn’t land right and his enhanced skin began to bruise. Thor, a literal god, had even gone down. Not that he was going to stay down long, but it would take him too long to remove the concrete walls that had entrapped him.
You had to act now.
Positioning yourself in front of Steve, giving him a gentle, but forceful nudge out of the way and signaling him to give up. He tried to get back up, but the super soldier must have broken several ribs by this point. You weren’t entirely unscathed yourself, but your powers allowed you to fight at a distance unlike the rest of the team. They also were your greatest weakness, however. The energy they drained from you took a toll on your mortality and everyone knew it, especially Thor. Which is why you had to act now, why he was still trapped and out of eyesight.
You took a step forward and a flick of your wrist dropped the guns from the Hydra agents’ possession. There were too many of them though, nothing you could stop peacefully. You placed a shield around your teammates, feeling the slightly sick feeling settle in your gut from fatigue. Ignoring it, you walked towards the hoard of soldiers. Metallic bullets rained, but your telekinesis stopped them in their tracks. Snipers and tanks fired beams of energy harnessed from the Mind Stone, the very source of your own power. You stopped each advance, but every bullet and energy blast stopped was another tick of life force draining from you. You were out of breath by now, and only a third of the agents had fallen, not to mention the jets and tanks. Half of your energy was focused on shielding your teammates, but you knew you needed everything to finish the fight. You glanced back at Cap and he nodded at you solemnly, understanding what needed to be done.
Thor had broken the surface at this point, gold ichor — the blood of the gods — running down his skin. His face ran cold with realization, but his screams fell of deaf ears. You shut your eyes, for only a moment, and gathered all your spare energy. You had to be quick, your friends would be vulnerable the moment you took your focus off of them. Power surged through your body, igniting the muscles that had slackened from exhaustion. You sent one last look to Thor and the look on his face nearly made you retreat and surrender.
He harbored a look of pain you had never seen from him before. It wasn’t from his own hurt, but from what he knew you were about to do. For just a second, you reached into his mind, making sure one hand still held the Hydra agents down. Thor’s mind was racing with flashbacks: the death of his brother Loki (all three times), the blank stare of Heimdall’s lifeless eyes, his mother and father’s divine graves.
But most of all, it was you. Every laugh the two of you shared, the day he had finally taken you to Asgard, how youthful and wondrous you looked exploring the planet he called home. Before you pulled out of his mind, you left behind a whisper:
“I love you.”
Thor’s face seemed to relax at the sound of your voice before it registered the meaning behind your words. He was immediately on his feet, attempting to make his way to you as quickly as he could. You dropped the shield, channeling all your power in a powerful crimson storm around you. Through the intensity of the tempest that raged around you, his voice fell in through the screams of the soldiers.
“DON’T DO THIS!” Powerful and full of force, but it also carried the weight of grief, as if he was already mourning you. “Please…I can’t- YOU’LL GET YOURSELF KILLED! PLEASE DON’T DO THIS!” His cries rattled the broken bones of every Avenger in your wake. He kept calling your name, and you felt tears slide down your face, both from pain and heartache. Slowly, his voice was drowned out by the beating of blood in your ears. Scarlett consumed your vision and you felt all the power you had channeled escape through your chest in a tumultuous blast, sending a violent wrench throughout every muscle in your body and settling in your heart.
And then everything went silent.
No more terrified screams of Hydra agents, no rattle of machine guns or deafening blasts of tanks. Everything was silent before it was black.
You felt your knees cave, no longer able to support you under the weight of your exhaustion. But it was deeper than exhaustion. It was like your vitality had escaped you to play grim reaper, a scythe made from your soul to reap that of your foes. You hit the concrete hard, knees bruised and battered, but a large, calloused hand slipped under your head before it could crack on the pavement. A voice spoke to you, drawing your attention away from the breathless ache that overtook your body. It took a moment for the ringing to quiet enough for you to make out the faint sound.
“Stay with me…come on.” It was Thor, you would know that smooth, deep voice anywhere, but it cracked slightly with anxiety. “I- Stark! Someone open the med-bay. Now!”
His voice was authoritative, not leaving any room for discussion among the Avengers who were still piecing themselves together. Everyone was broken and bleeding, but all Thor saw was you. You felt him lift you into his strong arms, the same ones that used to cradle you in both times of sorrow and joy. He walked with purpose, but he took care to hold you steady. As he walked, you heard him muttering to himself.
“Why…should’ve been there…stopped by puny mortal agents– I should’ve…”
It killed you that he was blaming himself, but somewhere between him pulling you from the wreckage of the Hydra site and placing you on a soft cot in the med bay, you had started to lose the last bit of your consciousness. What remained of your hearing outside the shrill ringing was leaving and your eyesight had long since given way to an endless ebony void. In the last moments before you fell into a deep slumber, you heard Thor’s voice once again. Closer, softer, just a whisper under his breath from the chair he sat in beside you.
“Please Father, hear my prayer so that she may live and prosper…protect her fragile soul so it shall live to see another sun’s rise…bless her with the All-Father’s strength that is absent in the mortal shell…please Father, heed my words…do not take my love from me.”
Avengers x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader (each can be read as platonic or otherwise)
Summary: The team went on a mission, it was supposed to be simple. Supposed to be.
Warnings: Character death, human experimentation, not a lot but some intense violence, lots of angst, no happy ending.
Word Count 1,959
Your day started off like any other, you got up and put your workout clothes on and 4:45 am. You met Steve outside the tower at 5:00 and went on your usual run for about an hour. Once you got back to the compound you made everyone breakfast, that morning you chose pancakes, which the whole team devoured. After breakfast at about 7:15, you all went to the meeting room where Steve started his briefing.
'All right, quick and easy in and out HYDRA base takedown shouldn't take more than 2 hours tops' the Captain stated 'Location, small town just outside of New Orleans'.
'Sweet, we can hit the casino before we head home' Tony said, knowning full well Steve would never go for it.
'I don't think so, Tony' the super soldier said almost rolling his eyes.
You all suited up and piled into the quinjet within the hour and were off the ground by 8:00. You arrived near the HYDRA base, parked the quinjet and placed it in stealth mode all by 10:00.
Bruce stayed in the jet hoping there wouldn't be any need for a 'code green' as the team put it. The rest of you split into pairs and you were with Steve. You and Steve silently became partners a long time ago, you two just always worked well together and after some time you developed a meaningful and strong bond, becoming true best friends. The two of you snuck up on the guards and clocked them before they could even hear you. You put on a couple of helmets to sneak in and make sure there were no civilian hostages before blowing the building into the sky. You went right as Steve went left. You walked over to an elevator and just as the doors were about to shut a HYRDA agent snuck in with you. You were a bit worried he might notice you and as he got closer you just did the first thing you could think of and uttered the phrase 'hail hydra' under your breath, which seemed to work out for you as he returned the sentiment.
You heard some agents talking about 'the subjects' which you were almost certain were captives hidden somewhere, but what you didn't expect was children. You had be through and see things no one should have to, some that included children, but that didn't make it any easier when they were involved. You told Steve over comms, to meet you in the basement where you thought the kids were. You waited in the basement until 1:54 pm when you saw Steve approaching. You two searched the basement while Tony got JARVIS to take as many scans of the building as possible but there was something preventing him from seeing inside.
'J's stumped guys, he can't see through the walls, they're probably lined with lead' Tony grumbled annoyed that he hadn't considered lead.
'I don't know if you should stay in there if Tony can't see anything' Clint stated, concerned like the mother hen he is.
'We're not in there, Steve, Y/n, what do you think?' Natasha asked.
'Your call' Steve said looking to you. You had more experience with discrete infiltration than your super soldier friend who generally just bursts in.
'I say we keep going, we gotta find those kids' you said determined to help the children.
You and Steve ventured further into the basement, uncovering multiple secret rooms, but no kids. You looked for hours taking you to 6:24 pm and still no luck.
'You think we should call it a day?' Steve asked you.
'I can't leave those kids' you muttered back.
'Maybe there are no kids, maybe the agents were wrong'
'Can't take that chance, Captain'
He knew you were serious when you called him 'Captain' as you usually opted for 'Cap' or 'Steve'.
After continuing your search you finally found them. The door was locked so in one swift moment Steve knocked it down with a kick, you knew he's was a super soldier but sometimes you forgot. You rushed in the door started opening cells. Most of the children had some form of injuries but a few of them were.... different. You let one out that had feathers on her arms and another with gills, HYRDA had been experimenting on them. You had seen experimentations before but nothing this successful and not with Steve. When he saw the boy with a fluffy tail and ears you thought he might be sick, no because of the boy's appearance but because he knew the paint if experimental formulas and he hated that a child had to go through that. Many children. You could see the pain in Steve's usually soft blue eyes, not clouding with rage.
At 9:02 you started to help the children out of the building through the vent system, Clint's suggestion of course. You were greeted outside, not very warmly, by what must have been 100 HYDRA agents. The rest of the team joined you and they caught the agents as you and Steve protected the 20 odd kids. One agent grabbed a vulture-like girl, she must've be 5 years old at the most, and pointed a gun to her head. You stopped immediately, placing your weapon on the ground and you hands above your head.
'Don't hurt her, please' you begged the man but he just chuckled in response seeing how much you cared for the girl you had just barely met.
'I'll do want I want, bitch' he barked before tightening his grip on her throat. She looked up at you and muttered the words 'please help me' just before he took the shot. His finger tightened around the trigger squeezing it while staring at you the entire time. You didn't take your eyes off the little girl's. Big, beautiful, brown eyes staring up at you with hope, hope that you would save her life, but you didn't. You watched as he released his grip on her neck, letting her limp body fall to the ground with a sharp thud. You stared at her body. His gruff laughter jolting you back into reality. He knew he was about to die but seeing that he got to you made it all worth it. You turned your head back to face him, not saying a word you pounced on him. You ripped him apart, limb from limb, with your bare hands.
Steve saw you, elbow deep in the agent's bloody carcass. Then he saw the little girl lying on the ground next to you. He didn't say anything, now wasn't the time, he just continued to fight. He unleashed the bottled up rage from when he saw the children earlier.
Everyone was beating the agents senseless and just as you thought the battle was coming to a close more troop came from behind, snatching the kids from you and Nat, who had helped you after seeing what happened with the girl. The agents gather the children up and poured gasoline around them. You thought they were bluffing, even after earlier, you didn't think they would destroy all those experiments at least. You all stared as one man lit a match and smiled as he dropped it.
You where half a mile from them so by the time you all got there the flames were raging at 9 feet from the ground, still climbing.
Even in this state, Hulk knew that Steve and Tony would rush in to save them even though they'd probably due doing it, so he grabbed them and held them both in a huge bear hug making sure they couldn't escape. What he didn't account for was you.
You knew it was stupid, but you couldn't just watch them die. The rest of the team started to turn around, silently admitting defeat, but you didn't. You watched the daunting inferno, towering over you, growing, engulfing trees with the children. You ran into the blaze, covering your face with your arms. You rushed around checking the bodies, searching for any sign of life, until you saw an arm reach out. You bolted over to the girl, only slightly spared because of all the other's corpses piled on top of her, partly shielding her from the flames. You life's the bodies off of her and cradled her in your arms as you ran out of the fire.
Your teammates, your friends were terrified when they saw you run straight into fire. Every second you staying there the more they worried. They clung to the hope that you might come out, you had to.
When they saw you burst through the flames they all breathed a sigh of relief. They say you hold the girl and rushed over to you. Thor took her from your arms and the moment you let her go you collapsed. The last thing you saw was Steve hovering over you.
They saw you fall to the ground, mirroring the vulture girl from earlier. Steve pushed his way out of the Hulk's grip and rushed to your side. He picked you limp body up in his arms and rushed you to the quinjet, to which the others followed quick behind.
At 1:37 am Thor placed the girl onto the on-board med bay. They checked her over on the flight home, sustaining her for the time being and keeping her breathing. The whole time Steve held you in his arms and stared at the scrape, cuts, bruises and... burns that littered your body. The fire had burned through your suit, scorching your skin on your legs, abdomen and back mostly. Those were the worst ones. He stared at the burn that climbed from your neck, up your cheek. It captured a small amount of you hairline and crept it's way to your eye. He could see what looked like little tendrils of scarred skin creeping over the outer corner of your right eye. He ghosted his fingers over it feeling the raised skin, tears pricking at his eyes as you still hadn't moved.
Steve lowered you onto the med bay bed and Bruce checked you over, however hopeless it may seem. Steve held your hand, his glassy eyes not leaving your closed ones for a moment. Bruce inhaled deeply and looked over and the man at your bedside, wishing he didn't have to say what he was about to.
'I'm sorry' he started 'she doesn't have a pulse and she isn't breathing'.
No one said anything, the rest of the team stood around you praying that they heard him wrong.
Natasha walked over to the corner and sunk onto the floor, folding in on herself. Clint tilted his head back, resting it on the wall as a stared at the ceiling. Thor punched a wall of the quinjet, almost breaking straight through. Tony looked down and walked away, his guilty thoughts starting to take over. 'What if I had thought about lead? Then she'd still be alive'.
Everyone was choking back tears, they'd lost one of the most important people in their lives. The person who made them laugh with some of the most stupid jokes known to man. The person who taught them new training techniques, even when they thought they knew them all by now. The person that made them their favourite meal when they were feeling down. The person who nursed them back to health when they were sick. The person who somehow could always get them the best gifts come the holidays. The person who comforted them no matter what. The person that they relied on to be their rock.
AN: I’ve gone for another swap out for day 27 of #JuneJukeboxScribbles - Wherever You Will Go by The Calling - and decided I needed a bit of angsty Thor action to go with it. No pronouns or descriptions of reader to indicate gender.
Unbeta’d. Banner by me and divider by @firefly-graphics.
Master list | Jukebox Master list | Join my tag list
Relationship:Thor x Ex FWB! GN! Reader
Word count: 300
CW: Lovers to Friends, Angst, Pining, Unrequited(?) love, Respectful Thor.
Thor watched you as you smiled, danced and laughed on the other side of the ballroom. You were radiant. Intoxicating. And due to his own fuck up, no longer his.
Not that you ever had been. Not formally in any case. But the two of you had had an understanding, and the stupid fool that he was, had thought that was all that was needed. But three weeks ago you’d ended it, riddled with anxiety and sadness and hurt. Had told him that you needed more than he was capable of giving you. That you needed a partner who could love you romantically.
And Thor? Well he now knew with hindsight, that he’d been the biggest idiot in all of the nine realms. Sure the pair of you hadn’t been living in each other’s pockets, having a close friendship that included certain benefits when you were both in the mood (and that had been frequent), but it was only in your absence that he realised that he felt more for you than he’d ever acknowledged.
The old him would have made a rash decision – would have made some grand, over the top gesture to prove to you how he felt – but age and his experiences had tempered him. Such an action would not advance him in your affections. You would only think him shallow and self-centred by such a declaration. No, if it were in the the Norns plans for the pair of you to be together, then you would be, he had no doubt. Until then he would be the friend you needed him to be. His feelings were his own to bear and he would not burden you with them. And maybe, he thought, I’ll find out a way to make it back someday. Back into your heart.
Tag list: @alexakeyloveloki, @doasyoudesireandlive, @blackhawkfanatic, @stellar-solar-flare, @saiyanprincessswanie, @shadowdestinylover
Warnings: Canon divergent, concussion, mentions of canonical fighting, injury and death
Prompt: “I was worried something happened to you.” from this list
Summary: After defeating Thanos, Thor and Y/N are reunited.
A/N: This takes place at the end of/after Infinity War and is canon divergent. I hope you enjoy!
Dividers by @firefly-graphics
Ash falls from the sky as you brace yourself against the tree. With one hand against the trunk, you try to keep yourself from tumbling head-first into the forest floor. All around you, the ground is littered with bloodied leaves and splinters of wood from the trees that had been destroyed during the course of the battle. Thanos’ body is somewhere behind you.
“He’s dead,” Steve reports, a hand to his ear as he adjusts the black earpiece. It fell out midway through your fight to keep hold of the forest, but he seems to have plucked it from amidst the foliage. He’s still catching his breath as he listens to whoever responds. You watch him in silence, waiting for the bad news. After a fight like this, you’ve lost people—good people—and your stomach twists at the thought of who could be among them.
“Yes, we’re sure.”
There’s another long silence that follows his confirmation. Your own earpiece is long gone, having been knocked out when Thanos threw you across a clearing into the very tree you now use to keep yourself upright. It’s a miracle that you don’t have any broken bones, though from the way the world spins around you, you’re fairly certain that you have a concussion.
A shout echoes from the other side of the clearing, and both you and Steve look up at the source. You’re immediately on high alert. The others would have mentioned a third wave to him over the comms. Judging by the surprise that flickers across Steve’s face, they hadn’t, which means this is a new threat. With your free hand, you reach for another clip for your gun, only to remember that you’d used the last one only minutes before Thanos had gone down. You glance over at Steve again. His expression is grim as he stares down the trees, tense and ready to jump into action. He’s only just delivered the final blow, yet he’s poised for battle as if he never stopped.
In the distance, your friends emerge from the opposite treeline, heading towards you with enough speed that you drop your hand and stand a little straighter, even more worried that there’s something important you’ve missed. Between the probable concussion and being out of ammo, you’re not sure how helpful you’re going to be if they’re counting on you for backup.
“Are there more coming? What did they say?”
Steve shakes his head, frowning, and stays silent. You hate being in the dark, and anxiety joins the head injury already making your stomach swirl.
“Then what is it?”
At the front of the group, Thor leads the rest of the team across the scorched grass. You know the look on his face well, and you know that it will do you no good to try and downplay the pain you’re in—he already knows. Somehow, he’s always been able to sense your deepest anguish and despair without even being near you. He tried explaining the connection to you once, but you’d kissed him sweetly and chalked it up to love. If there is something more Asgardian going on, you’d rather revel in its magic than try and wrap your brain around it.
He reaches you in what feels like seconds, and you’re helpless as Steve peels off to check up on the others. Thor cradles your face in both hands, turning it gently from side to side as he inspects the scrape running across your forehead, your newly blossoming black eye, and the cut on your bottom lip.
“I was worried something happened to you,” he murmurs, his voice low with anger, guilt, and remorse. It makes you want to punch something, knowing that you’re the cause of those feelings in someone you love so deeply. “The others, they said they hadn’t seen you… I was right.”
You lift your hands to gently pull off his, then shake your head. That’s a mistake and you slam your eyes shut, breathing in through your nose to try and quell the nausea that rises at the movement.
“Breathe, Little One,” Thor soothes.
He holds you steady as you try to take slow breaths through your nose in an attempt to keep yourself from vomiting all over him. When the queasiness finally subsides, you open your eyes and allow him to lead you to a fallen tree, which is just the right height for you to sit. He chooses to take a knee in front of you, and you force a weak smile.
“I’ll be okay. It’s just a concussion.”
“I never should have left you. No battle is important enough—”
You reach out to grab his hand. It’s calloused from years of holding his hammer. Tonight, it’s caked with blood and soot from the alien’s burning ships. You’ve grown used to the rough feel of his skin against yours, as well as the sight of it stained with the marks of war.
The sharp smell of ozone accompanies Thor’s presence. As you breathe in again, deep enough to fill your entire chest until it almost hurts, you smell rain. A few moments later, rain begins to fall, filtering through the treetops before landing on your head and shoulders. It washes clean the gun slung across your back. You can feel the ash beginning to clear as well.
“You know as well as I do that you can never resist a fight,” you tell him, smiling just a little. It makes the cut in your bottom lip sting from the stretch. “I’ll heal. I always do.”
Thor doesn’t smile back, but he doesn’t argue. He doesn’t move your hand either, and when rain falls on his cheek, you rub it in with your thumb, using it to clean the grime from his skin.
You sit there together in the rain, listening to it drum against the leaves and branches above you, until Steve finally approaches again.
“We’ve got confirmation that the rest of them cleared out,” he says, not bothering with a greeting. “We should do the same. Clint needs medical attention, as does you.”
There’s no denying that he’s talking to you and not Thor. Dropping your hand from his face, you sigh and move to get up, readying yourself for the deep ache that is starting to spread throughout your body now that the adrenaline is wearing off. Thor stops you with a hand on your knee.
The ground is damp with blood and rain. When he stands, his right boot glistens with the thin sheen of moisture it’s picked up from the forest floor beneath him. Your own boots are wet too, though mostly from when you’d charged through the river earlier. Thor had taken a more familiar approach during the battle, sticking to the open plain to the north of the forest. You, on the other hand, had taken the southern path.
The forest is separated from the plain by a wide river. Thankfully, it’s shallow enough that you’d been able to cross it with little difficulty. Your pants are soaked to just above your knees, and you’re silently wishing you’d taken Tony’s offer for a weather-proof suit instead of your traditional uniform, but wet clothes never hurt anyone. You can change on the quinjet.
Thor bends down and loops one arm around your shoulders, then carefully slides the other between the backs of your knees and the fallen tree. He lifts you with ease, and though you know he’d never drop you, instinct makes you cling to him.
“You don’t have to carry me,” you tell him.
“I don’t have to do a lot of things. I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to hold you again.”
You lean your head against his shoulder, embracing the gentle sway of your position as he follows Steve toward the rest of the group, then across the clearing. The quinjet is hidden just west of where the first ship had landed. If all’s gone according to plan, the team’s presence on the plains drew them away from the hiding spot and your plane is still where you left it.
Thor crosses the river using a path of flat-topped boulders you hadn’t seen in your hurry to lead Thanos and his most trusted soldiers away from the center of the fight. The only thing that had been going through your head was to move, and to move quickly.
“I’ll always come back for you. I’ll always look for you,” Thor says as he steps onto the opposite bank of the river. You tilt your head back to look up at him instead of at the backs of your friends’ heads.
“I never thought you wouldn’t,” you answer honestly, a bit surprised by the statement. “Did you think I’d been taken? Or that I’d left you for good?”
He’s silent as he approaches the quinjet, whose cloaking software is disabled as Tony approaches it first. You stare at his face while you wait for his answer, silently inspecting his beard for any hidden cuts or scrapes you hadn’t noticed before.
Finally, Thor replies, “In Asgard, our ancestors journey to Valhalla after their death. I have faith that we would be reunited there someday. My father would ensure it if my mother did not.”
“If I have my way”—you say, lowering your voice as he climbs up the jet ramp and ducks his head to enter the cargo hold—“we’ll never be separated by death.”
The rest of the team talks quietly to each other, but Thor doesn’t join the conversation. He carries you past your friends and you smile tiredly at them when they look your way. Finally, Thor settles himself in the farthest seat. He keeps you in his lap, and you trust that he won’t let anything happen to you. It wouldn’t matter either way—the quinjet’s maneuvers are hardly noticeable if it’s flown right, though Steve always insists that you use one of the lap belts attached to the seats.
Your legs are draped over Thor’s lap so you can sit sideways and rest your head against his shoulder. His arms wrap around your back and rest over your thighs to keep you secure.
As the door to the cargo hold closes, the lights dim, allowing more power to the engines. They’ll come on again soon, but for a moment, you close your eyes in relief. You hadn’t realized how much the light was worsening the pain from your concussion.
“Little One…” He murmurs, and you open your eyes, then sit up a little more to press a kiss to his damp cheek.
“I love you. More than anything,” you add. “And I promise I’ll be okay. I just need a little time to heal, just like I always do.”
He squeezes your thigh in return. “I’ll be worried until you’re fully healed again. If we were on Asgard…”
You smile up at him. “If we were on Asgard, there are a lot more things I’d like to be doing.”
Closing your eyes, you relax into the warmth of his body that is slowly recentering you, despite the cool armor pressed against your skin. Behind you, your friends debrief quietly. The quinjet begins to lift as you listen. You feel the movement only for a moment before it fades away and you’re able to focus back on the sound of their voices, grateful for another finished fight and a chance to rebuild.
“Tell me more about Asgard,” you murmuring, knowing he’ll hear you despite the noise in the cargo hold. “Tell me about the palace.”
There’s a fondness in Thor’s voice as he replies, one that only comes about when he speaks of his home and his childhood. It’s warm and gentle, and it ensures that Asgard will always have a special place in your heart, even if you’ll never see it in its true glory.
“Don’t fall asleep,” Thor warns, nudging your arm.
You open your eyes. He’s looking down at you, but there is no worry in his expression. Instead, he smiles at you when you meet his gaze.
“I won’t,” you assure him. “Keep talking.”
And he does, all the way home.
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꒰ 🎭 ꒱ synopsis 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 loki realizes that thor has finally stopped fighting for him—and the moment he always anticipated feels nothing like victory. based off the elevator scene in thor: ragnarok .
THE ALARMS HADN’T STOPPED SINCE THOR HAD ESCAPED.
a shrill, pulsing wail that vibrated through the steel of the corridors and through loki’s bones, too, as if the entire planet had decided it wanted thor odinson dead and wanted him very publicly. sakaar had always been loud, but this was different. this was the kind of noise that meant pursuit, and retaliation, and the promise of violence echoing down every hallway. loki’s fingers flew over the security panel, entering the sequence he’d lifted from the grandmaster’s private console. another stolen code, another locked door, another reminder that he and thor were only aligned for as long as their mutual escape required.
he could feel thor beside him, not watching the code, but the corridor behind them. the scrape of thor’s boots shifting for balance, the huff of his breath as he tightened his grip on the blaster he’d ripped off a guard, the subtle tilt forward he always did before a fight. he was waiting for the next wave. loki hated how attuned he still was to his brother’s posture. “hey, so, listen, we should talk.” thor suggested lightly, as if they weren’t boxed in a hallway with armed guards closing in. as if conversation had ever saved them.
loki didn’t look up from the panel. the final sequence lock blinked. “i disagree.” he heard the magnetic door beginning to unlatch. “open communication was never our family’s forte.”
he could almost sense thor shooting him a look, that mix of exasperation and resignation that had followed them from childhood through every battle and betrayal. but before thor could retort, footsteps thundered toward them. “you have no idea,” thor muttered. “been quite the revelation since we last spoke.”
guards rounded the corner, weapons raised. thor lifted his gun in greeting. “hello!” loki mirrored him with a faintly mocking flourish. “hi.” then the hallway erupted into gunfire.
loki dropped into a spin behind a pillar, the heat of a plasma shot grazing the wall near his shoulder. thor took the opposite side, their backs to stone, the air between them pulsing with ricochets. smoke curled from the scorched floor, filling loki’s lungs with that unmistakable tang of sakaar’s tech. they were facing each other across the gunfire, both of them moving in an old, synchronized rhythm they hadn’t shared in years. loki hated how easily it came back.
“odin brought us together. it’s almost poetic that his death should split us apart.”
loki let his gaze flick sideways, not fully meeting thor’s but brushing over him in that sideways, searching way he’d mastered as a child. just enough to catch the outline of thor’s expression, not enough to expose the hope or dread coiled under his ribs. he waited for a reply that didn’t come.
the firing dipped. they rolled out at the same time, twin movements mirrored without thought. the scavenger guards dropped instantly; one staggered into thor’s reach and was sent flying. loki strode toward the security panel in the back wall. he didn’t bother sheathing his weapon, just tossed it aside as his fingers flew over the screen. the interface flickered, resisting him for a moment like everything on this stupid planet did. thor moved behind him, close enough that loki felt the shadow cross his back, the shift in the air as thor squared himself like a shield. guarding him instinctively as if the last few years hadn’t happened. “we might as well be strangers now. two sons of the crown, set adrift.”
loki didn’t have to look; he knew the way thor fought when he was trying to buy someone time. broad swings, quick footwork, never letting anything slip past him. never letting anything slip past loki. the panel chirped then turned green. the door slid open and immediately a guard barreled out with his gun raised before loki could decide whether to be relieved or ashamed he didn’t get an answer. loki barely had time to lift both hands in a gesture of surrender, more instinct than strategy, before thor’s arm flashed across his peripheral vision. the man dropped like loose scaffolding, collapsing at loki’s feet in a heap of metal and dead weight.
thor’s voice cut through that small silence, casual as if they were arguing about weather. “thought you didn’t want to talk about it.”
for half a heartbeat loki stared down at the body. “here’s the thing.” then he stepped over it as neatly as if stepping over a puddle.
loki closed his mouth around the words he’d been carrying and didn’t say anything clever; instead he let the syllables sit between them as he stepped into the elevator with the same slow, practiced grace he’d always used when he wanted something to look like ease. the door swallowed them with a soft pneumatic sigh and the world contracted to metal and light. it felt obscene, wrong even, to issue his confession inside this metal box where the rest of the world could not interfere.
“i’m probably better off staying here on sakaar.”
the sentence came out like a test tossed into the air, and loki watched thor for a reaction more than he waited for a reply. he watched for the small betrayals that used to give the game away, an exhale that sounded like an admission, the narrowing of eyes that meant apology was on its way, anything that meant thor would step in because thor always did.
“that’s exactly what i was thinking.”
a cold, clean accord. airless. loki felt his chest hollow where some older, more practiced reflex had been waiting to be claimed. he should have felt triumphant. he had meant the line to sting, to lure the defender out of his high tower of patience and pride. he had meant to see thor’s eyes roll, to hear him argue, to be disavowed with heat and then pulled back with pleading, anything but this level voice that said: yes, i accept this as fact. instead, the silence after thor’s agreement pressed down on him.
he’d prepared for many responses: irritation, dismissal, a lecture about responsibility delivered with that infuriating blend of warmth and moral righteousness. but not agreement. confusion crept across his face, first the soft pinch between his brows, then the narrowing of his eyes, then the sharp flick of his gaze toward thor as if checking whether he’d misheard. his brain scrambled for the expected shape of their dynamic. it wasn’t here.
thor wasn’t glaring. he wasn’t huffing or posturing or lecturing or shaking his head in wounded disbelief. he wasn’t doing anything loki recognized. he stood there, calm, unbothered, as though loki’s declaration had merely been commentary. loki hated the way something sputtered in his chest. this didn’t happen. thor didn’t just… let him go. thor always fought—fought for him, fought with him, fought around him, circling like some great loyal hound who never learned when to stop coming back. thor had spent a lifetime making room for loki’s mistakes, smoothing over the cracks, offering another chance, and another, and another, as if they were endless. as if loki deserved them.
so why now—of all moments—did thor meet him with simplicity? he swallowed, barely, a movement so small it felt stolen. he straightened, composing what shreds of dignity he had left, letting confusion sharpen into something narrower, more analytical. “did you just agree with me?”
thor answered him without hesitation, no pause, no flicker of doubt, no searching his brother’s face for the hidden meaning beneath the question. he simply looked assured of his response, shoulders dropping in that easy, unbothered way of his, and said: “come on. this place is perfect for you. it’s savage, chaotic, lawless. brother, you’re gonna do great here.”
the words landed with the flat, unornamented truth of a man who had stopped expecting anything different. no bitterness. no edge of accusation. no forced optimism. just a plain, almost careless sincerity, like thor was naming the color of a wall or the direction of the wind. loki froze, not visibly, but in the tiny, precise ways he couldn’t fully hide: the slight parting of his lips, the crease that folded between his brows, the way his eyes flickered, first to thor’s mouth, then to his eyes, then down again as if trying to reassemble the script he thought they were following. his brain caught on the words, perfect for you, like thor meant it.
like thor wasn’t even thinking about it, because the conclusion was that obvious to him.
loki’s shock painted the corners of his expression. it made him look younger for the briefest breath, stripped of posture and pretense. he wondered if this was some new tactic, some inversion of the honesty loki so often twisted into knives. but no. he could read thor too well for that. thor wasn’t mocking him. thor wasn’t luring him anywhere. thor simply… believed what he’d said. because thor had finally stopped believing in him. loki’s throat tightened, not with emotion exactly, but with the uncomfortable scrape of reality shifting into place. this wasn’t the thor who used to comb through ashes and ruins searching for him. this wasn’t the thor who used to parrot odin’s praises, insisting that loki was capable of greatness if he only tried. this wasn’t even the thor from months ago, the one who still flinched with hope loki was even alive.
this thor had learned. painfully.
and the worst part was that thor had learned because of him. every betrayal, every lie, every false promise, every moment loki had watched thor’s faith dim and done nothing to stop it… all of it had built to this quiet, devastating ease with which thor released him.
“do you truly think so little of me?”
the words came out low, steady, deceptively controlled. his chin lifted a fraction, pride reflexively snapping into place to keep him from sounding as exposed as he suddenly felt.
thor took a second to look at him then, but instead of warmth or hurt or the familiar flicker of stubborn belief, thor’s expression shifted into something almost pitying in its clarity. a long pause, as if loki’s question was naïve. as if loki should already know the answer.
“loki, i thought the world of you.”
loki tries not to show it, tries to keep his face schooled in that practiced indifference, but his features betray him for half a second: something in his mouth tightens, something small and betraying shivers through his expression before he forces it all back under the surface. but he heard it. thought. not think. that difference cracks open something he wasn’t prepared to examine, something he had always shoved aside with arrogance and excuses and the self-defense of denial. because thor had always, always believed in him, stupidly, stubbornly, infuriatingly. now it sounded like he had finally stopped.
thor continues, unaware, and uncaring of how each word rearranges something in loki’s chest. “i thought we were going to fight side by side forever. but at the end of the day, you’re you, and i’m me.” he pauses. “i don’t know, maybe there’s still good in you. but let’s be honest…” the faintest, humorless laugh huffs from thor’s chest, like he can’t believe he’s even entertaining the thought, “…our paths diverged a long time ago.”
there’s no anger in thor’s voice, that’s what makes it unbearable. loki had braced himself for fury, for disappointment, for the righteous indignation he was used to. he could fight that. he could twist that. he could survive that. but this, this almost gentle acceptance that loki had finally gone too far for even thor to follow, this is different. this is like watching the last ember of something he never admitted to wanting flicker out.
it leaves loki… drifting. he stares at the elevator doors, unblinking. the metal becomes a blur, then a smear of color, then nothing at all. he dissociates without meaning to, slipping out of himself because being inside himself right now feels unbearable. his throat feels tight. it’s ridiculous, godly pride should keep him from feeling anything at all, but there’s a pressure there, like emotion trying to claw its way out. he swallows it down. all of it. he has trained himself for centuries to never let cracks show. he opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes. the words sit there, stuck behind his teeth, a mass of too-honest feeling he refuses to reveal. so he closes his mouth again and keeps his eyes trained on the elevator instead of thor, because if he looks at him he might break the mask.
after a long, stalled moment, he nods, a short, stiff motion that feels more like muscle memory than choice, like his body is trying to keep him upright while his mind slips sideways into that strange quiet he hasn’t felt since he was a child hiding under the allfather’s table. not agreement, just acknowledgment that he heard and understands and will not ask him to reconsider. a single, brittle gesture that says i hear you, even as something inside him doesn’t.
everything in him goes distant. the room pulls back, the elevator walls stretching farther and farther away until they feel like the interior of a dream. he’s aware of thor beside him, aware of the size of him, the warmth of him, but it feels like someone else’s memory. like recalling a childhood version of himself who still believed those broad shoulders meant safety and devotion and unwavering loyalty. like recalling a time when thor’s voice breaking on his name meant something. this time it doesn’t break. this time it sounds resigned.
that’s the word that keeps circling. thor used to meet him with fire, with rage, disappointment, that messy, earnest anger that meant he still expected better of him. that he still wanted something from him. thor had yelled, begged, thrown himself into battles and arguments, clung to hope like a fool who didn’t know when to let go.
this version of him .. loki hardly recognizes it. thor is distant. thor is done. the space between them is a choice. deliberate, settled, worn into something like acceptance. thor no longer seems to believe loki will ever change. no longer seems to be waiting for him to turn back. and loki, who had always mocked thor for caring too much, finds himself staring at the elevator doors because the alternative is to face the exact moment thor stopped trying.
he can’t make his mouth form words. he opens it, parting his lips, some instinct in him scrambling for speech, for explanation, justification, apology, more provoking, anything, but nothing surfaces. nothing feels safe enough to say. so he closes it again. presses his lips together so tightly a faint tremor rips through them before he forces them still. a hard frown forms and then breaks almost immediately. when he finally speaks his voice is steady only by force:
“yeah. it’s probably for the best that we never see each other again.”
it’s a lie. it’s a test. it’s the last card he has to play. he doesn’t believe them, but he offers them anyway, carefully, watching for the reaction. because he needs to know. he needs thor to contradict him. he needs the protest, the familiar stubborn denial, the no, brother, don’t say that. he needs proof, any proof, that thor hasn’t fully let go, that he hasn’t lost even the tiniest fight for him. this is his last resort, the final thread he tosses across the widening gap between them, hoping thor will grab it.
but thor doesn’t.
thor gives an unreadable, indifferent reply.
“that’s what you’ve always wanted.”
no argument, no correction, no you’re wrong. just a fact, or at least what thor believes to be one. and then the pat on loki’s back, a gesture not of closeness but of closure. a goodbye that says you wanted this.
loki stays absolutely still. he presses his lips together, sealing the sharp inhale that threatens to betray him. his eyes remain fixed on the metal doors, and he stays silent while he tries desperately to look neutral. if he doesn’t, thor will see everything he’s worked centuries to hide: that he didn’t want this, that he never wanted distance, that he only pushed because he couldn’t imagine thor letting go.
and then the memories came, because loki’s private archive was a treacherous thing, and he could not help but pull out examples, compare evidence, tally advantages like a thief counting spoils. thor as child, a grin because loki had managed that trick with the coins; thor in armor, laughing as loki slipped away from palace tutors; thor in the rain, waiting with a hand tucked behind his back while loki arranged his hair again. thor who had always believed, stubbornly, that the thing loki did best was be loki and that love would rearrange itself around whatever chaos he made.
thor who had given second chances casually, constantly, without counting.
loki thought of all the times he’d leaned into that generosity, how convenient it became to assume the hand that reached would always be there to steady him. he had grown used to a safety that was not owed, used to pushing and then being pulled back, to saying the worst things and watching thor correct them with stories, with gentle remonstrances, with a laugh that reframed his misdeeds as pratfalls rather than betrayals. it was a dangerous habit. it was a habit he’d built his life on.
so when the test he’d planted bloomed into that soft, devastating acquiescence, it didn’t feel like victory at all. instead it felt like a door closing. there was no roar of anger. there was no frantic reaching. there was only the subtle, steady thing thor had become: compassion folded into practicality. he had given up the fight, not out of cruelty, but out of exhaustion or grief or simply the pragmatic knowledge that people were what they were and could not be remade by will alone.
loki caught himself wondering if thor even realized how precise his absence of protest was. did thor know he had surrendered before loki had asked? had thor given up months ago? or had something gentler happened—had thor’s love simply rearranged itself into a space that no longer required argument, a kind of resigned acceptance that hurt more than any fight? thor’s forgiveness had been a safety net, and loki had learned to test its elasticity. he had tested it so often he’d forgotten what it cost the person who held it.
he thought of thor’s hands, big, clumsy, the same ones that had once mended toys, that had once steadied a small brother’s wobbling feet, that now knocked brains out of scavenger guards without hesitation. those hands were both gentle and destructive; they had held him and pushed him away in alternating rhythms. how easy it had been, historically, to mistake steadiness for endlessness. what did he want thor to be? was it love? pity? vindication? some grand reprise where thor declared a stubborn loyalty and loki stepped back into a role of redeemed prince? or did he want the simpler thing—proof that he was not beyond rescue in thor’s eyes? he had planned to provoke an argument to see the shape of thor’s devotion, to see whether the brother he’d once been the center of still burned.
thor’s agreement, so casual, so unadorned, answered with terrible clarity: he had stopped fighting. not with hatred, not with malice, but with the kind of tiredness that comes after grieving, after watching someone you love choose themselves again and again. thor’s love had been patient long enough to be patient no longer.
loki had expected a storm and received a weathered calm. and calm, he knew, was not always peace; sometimes it was the last thing left after a long burning. he tried to catalogue the sensation—was this relief? betrayal? a small, naked sorrow?—but his practice was deceit, not self-compassion, and he found himself ironing his face into neutrality instead. he did not want thor to see what the admission cost him. he did not want to show how, in the span of a single casual sentence, a whole ecosystem of assumptions around their relationship had collapsed into a quiet, impenetrable fact. loki felt, absurdly, the urge to test him the way he had tested everything else. to reach behind him and squeeze until thor reacted. to say anything that might provoke the old warmth. to be rescued, once more.
but thor did not shift, did not bristle, did not even glance over. he only stood there, tall, proud, like someone who had survived a thousand storms and no longer feared thunder. the understanding that rebuilding would take more than one man’s strength. it would have been easier if thor had shouted. if he’d burst into anger or longing or disappointment, anything that revealed even a single ember of the brother loki had always expected to see there. but no. thor’s hope had been worn down, chipped at by years of relapses and betrayals, by promises made and broken, by the slow erosion of believing in someone who refused to believe in themselves.
a lie. a betrayal. a tear in the thread between them. each time, thor stitched it back together with stubborn belief. each time, loki pulled harder. and thor, gods, thor, kept giving him another chance. not because he was naïve but because he loved his brother with a force that refused logic. he saw potential in loki the way sailors see constellations: as something that guides the lost home.
but even constellations fade when the sky is smoke-choked long enough.
you cannot make someone change if they have no desire to change.
thor had to learn this lesson slowly, like touching a hot forge again and again because he wanted to believe it would cool if he endured long enough. loki was many things, clever, charismatic, strategic, but he was not selfless. he was not ready to surrender the parts of himself that burned others. he had taken thor’s faith and fed on it. he had taken thor’s loyalty as proof that he could do anything and still be forgiven.
Hi can u do a fic where loki and thor reunites after loki s2
Hey I hope you still want this lol
Time Period: 2025 post endgame BUT pre multiverse of maddness
Summary: Loki sees the threat of Dr. Strange in the multiverse and travels to Earth 616 to warn them of his arrival. While he's there, he runs into Thor, who for the past few years has been under the assumption he's dead.
A.N. I HAVE NOT WATCHED THOR LOVE AND THUNDER. Once again, this mainly came from my sick brain. I did however take a ton of inspiration from that one What if episode and Doctor Strange: Multiverse of Madness.
Dr. Strange was crossing the multiverse at an alarming rate. To sit back and not interfere with other universes would be negligent in Loki's eyes. He was a protector of all strands of time, and Dr. Strange was a threat to that.
Loki searched through countless strands for a universe where the heroes stood a chance against Dr. Strange. After almost succeeding hope, he found Earth 616. In all honesty, this universe was shoved to the bottom of the stack when it came to looking. In this world, he had been dead for many years. Loki had no idea how the inhabitants of this world, especially his brother, would react to his sudden return.
But now was not a time for deliberating over what he should next. With each passing moment, Dr. Strange grew more powerful, and more universes were drained of their power. Loki breathed in deeply; he accepted his challenge and changed his appearance to a simple Earth commoner and opened a portal to the timeline.
~
It has been 13 years since Loki had seen it last in New York, and times have changed. Immediately after closing the portal behind him, he walked a few steps before being transported to this Earth's Sanctum.
"You do not belong here," 616 Dr. Strange said plainly. In his voice he sounded bored, as if Loki was the third disturbance he had come across today.
Loki immediately dropped the disguise and Strange's eyes widened. "I understand your surprise," Loki began. He raised his hands slowly in front of him with his palms facing out, as if to calm a stray animal. "But I must explain. You are correct, I do not belong here, and I have a terrible warning to give you."
Strange's eyes narrowed, and he transported them both into a windowless room with only two chairs inside. "Take a seat, Laufeyson. And I hope you don't mind the sudden change in scenery. You see these runes are etched on the walls so that only truth can be spoken in here. Now please," Strange sat down and Loki stayed standing, "do continue."
"I have accepted a new role after my disappearance with the tesseract. Many, many things have happened since then but none of those matters. What does is that I can see all strands and branches of time. You're Earth is in great danger." Loki's voice was hurried and the fear he had was bleeding through every word.
Strange listened intently, "I am familiar with the existence of other universes. But my sight only goes so far. What is this danger you speak of?"
"It's you." Strange's eyebrows furrowed. "Another version of you." Loki began to illustrate what he said with his hands. He was using every tactic he could to send this message. "A Strange in another universe became aware with the knowledge of other universes. And has begun draining the power from them. He's becoming a multiversal threat and this Earth is the only strand I've seen with the hope of defeating him."
"So, another, evil, version of me is currently trying to conquer the multiverse and we are the only universe you've seen that can conquer him?"
Loki sighed in relief, "yes. That exactly."
"Great." Strange transported them back to the lobby of his sanctum. "I will alert my kind so that they can be prepared. In the meantime, I would alert who you can. And if you see Thor..." he trailed off and gave Loki a knowing look. "Try not to see him."
As Strange was about to leave he said, "And don't bother with those disguises. The best way to be taken seriously is the be completely honest. Which I'm sure is a new concept to you."
~
Loki was glad he had familiarized himself with where this Earth was in its timeline. He would hate to have made the mistake of going to the former Avengers tower. He stepped out of the portal in front of the new campus and waited for the internal system to alert those inside of his prescence.
Bruce had been brushing up on a new recipe when F.R.I.D.A.Y. alerted him that... Loki was on the front porch? He checks the camera and low and behold, Loki was on the front porch.
The doors for Loki opened and Bruce came downstairs to meet him. "Loki? But Thanos, and... F.R.I.D.A.Y. tell Thor to come to the campus as soon as possible. Tell him it's an emergency."
"No! No Bruce you don't understand. I come to tell a warning and nothing more."
"I refuse to hear anything until you explain where the hell you've been. And I don't want to hear THAT until Thor is here."
Bruce left no room for discussion. So, Loki has to face his brother. He only hopes that he understands that he is no longer, HIS brother.
~
"Thor is now on the front porch." F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice bounced off the walls and echoed in Loki's head. He knew of his demise in this world, and even if that is not what happened to this current version of him, he missed his brother. He had not seen any of his family outside of the tapes at the TVA or even the strands of time he had seen in so long. He had no idea how he would react once he saw his brother in person.
Thor's voice boomed through the halls as he yelled, "Banner?! Banner?! I was told it was an emergency. What could be the proble-" his voice was caught in his throat. "No. It is not possible."
Loki stood from where he was sat and slowly turned to face his brother. Thor continued, "It cannot be true. Banner, I am seeing him again. Tell me it is false." Loki looks his brother in the eyes, and he feels the tears form.
"Brother..." Loki begins.
"Banner, he is speaking to me. They almost never speak. This one also looks so much more real than those in the past. Tell me I am seeing things. Tell me it's not real." Thor's fear is apparent in his tone. He was bridging on the verge of panic.
"Brother please. I am real, but I must explain-" Loki raised his hands in hopes to calm Thor. He took slow steps forward and Thor shuffled.
"Banner! Loki is advancing on me and-" Thor's breath catches in his throat. The backs of his legs hit the edge of the couch, and he falls back onto it. Without breaking eye contact with his brother he shouts, "Banner help me!"
"Alright Loki that's enough. Lay off him for a second." Loki took a step back and Bruce came in front of him. He pulled Thor into a tight hug to help him calm down. "You can see him?" Thor said between choking down air. "This whole time you could see him too?"
"No. Those other hallucinations weren't real. But this is not a hallucination." Once Thor's breathing returns to a semi normal cadence, he lets go of Bruce. He looks at his brother again in disbelief.
He reaches his hand out to Loki; his eyes are unreadable. Loki reaches out and takes his hand. Promptly, Thor yanks him into the tightest hug. "Was it all a lie? WAS IT ALL A LIE?"
"No, no, no, Thor-"
"I saw you die! I saw Thanos crush your neck and I begged to be taken with you!" Thor sobbed into Loki's shoulder. "I never stopped mourning. I think of you every day, brother."
"Thor. Listen to me, I am not your brother." Loki put his hands on Thor's shoulders. "What? What are you talking about?"
"I am still Loki. And I am still your brother. But I am from another universe. The Loki from this universe, I am afraid to say is gone. I am not here to fill his place. Only to pass on a warning and then leave."
"Leave?" Thor whispered.
"If it could be any other way, I would do it. But my time here must be short lived."
Thor pulled himself together then asked, "So what is this threat?"
The air in Thanos’s throne room was not merely still; it was dead. It was a vacuum of sound and hope, a cavernous space where light seemed to go to die, absorbed by the cold, metallic surfaces. It was into this suffocating silence that Thor erupted.
He did not enter so much as violate the chamber’s quiet grandeur. The massive doors, carved with scenes of forgotten genocides, exploded inward, shorn from their hinges by a crackling storm of lightning and rage. In the whirlwind’s heart was Thor, his youthful face a mask of grim fury, his borrowed Earthly jacket smoldering at the cuffs. With a grunt of effort, he heaved the colossal, unconscious form of Cull Obsidian into the center of the room. The titan’s body hit the polished floor with a wet, final thud, skidding to a halt at the foot of the dais.
Upon that dais, upon a throne of fused asteroid metal, sat Thanos. He did not startle. He did not rise. His chin, resting on a gauntleted fist, merely tilted a fraction of an inch. His heavy-lidded eyes surveyed the defeated Black Order member with the mild disinterest of a scholar observing a common beetle.
“You will return Loki, monster,” Thor’s voice was a low thunderclap, strained with a fear he refused to show. He was fifteen, a king’s son bred for war, but in this moment, he felt like a lost child shouting into a abyss.
Thanos’s voice was a deep, grinding stone, devoid of malice or interest. “He is free to leave, if he desires.”
The statement was so absurd, so antithetical to the monster Thor had built in his mind, that it left him momentarily speechless. Then, a shadow detached itself from a pillar at the side of the room. A figure stepped into the murky light, and Thor’s heart, which had been hammering a war drum in his chest, stuttered to a halt.
“Loki?”
It was his brother. And it was not.
This Loki stood taller, his lean frame filled out with a harder, more defined muscle. The youthful softness of his twelve-year-old face had been planed away by time or torment, leaving sharp cheekbones and a defined jawline dusted with a hint of stubble. Fine lines, born of stress not laughter, etched the corners of his eyes and mouth. He looked a decade older, a man where a boy should be. A new, cruel-looking staff was clutched in his hand, its tip glowing with a sickly, familiar blue light.
“Hello, Thor,” the not-Loki said. His voice was the same, yet deeper, layered with a weary, cynical resonance that was utterly foreign.
“Loki?” Thor whispered, the name a plea.
A ghost of the old Loki’s smirk touched the new one’s lips. “I’m okay, little brother, really.”
The old joke. The reflex to needle Thor for being the elder. The thought was a flicker of hope. He’s in there. He’s still my brother.
Thor took a step forward, his hand extended, his voice softening into the tone he used when Loki had night terrors. “I do not know what he has done to you, but it is over. You are safe now.”
“You’re right,” Thanos intoned from his throne. “He is safe now.”
Thor’s head snapped up, a lightning-hot glare directed at the Titan. “I wasn’t talking to you.” He turned back to his brother, his voice insistent, desperate. “Loki, please. Let us go home.”
“But I am already home,” Loki said, his tone one of flat, chilling certainty.
“No,” Thor’s voice broke. “You are not.”
He moved quickly, closing the distance and grabbing Loki’s arm. The muscle under his grip was taut, unyielding. Thor glared defiance at Thanos. “I’ll be back. This isn’t over.”
Then, Loki moved. With a strength that shouldn’t have been his, he shoved Thor away. The shove was augmented by a pulse of unseen energy that sent Thor stumbling back.
“You didn’t listen to him,” Loki said, and for the first time, a crack appeared in the cold facade, revealing a hot, coiling anger beneath.
“Loki?!” Thor gasped, more hurt by the push than any physical blow.
“Just like you never listen to me! To anyone!” Loki’s voice rose, the anger boiling over. He thrust his new staff forward, and a concussive blast of energy, the color of a sickly sun, slammed into Thor’s chest. It threw him across the length of the throne room, crashing against the far wall with a groan of buckling metal.
Thor pushed himself up, his vision swimming. “Brother, stop—”
“He said I could leave, if I want to!” Loki shrieked, advancing. He fired again. Thor rolled, and the blast obliterated a stone pillar behind him, raining debris down upon them. Loki stepped through the dust cloud, his eyes glowing with the same venomous blue as the stone in his staff. “And I don’t want to.”
From his throne, Thanos gave a slow, approving nod. “Good. Now, bring him to me.”
Loki was on him in an instant, a boot planted on Thor’s chest, pinning him to the rubble-strewn floor. The weight was immense, unnatural. Thor looked up into the face of the brother who had been his shelter, his confidant, the only one who truly understood the weight of being Odin’s chosen weapon. The one who knew the bruises under his armor were not all from training.
“I won’t fight you, Loki,” Thor choked out, surrendering not to the foot on his chest, but to the agony in his heart.
Loki smirked, a horribly familiar expression made alien by the context. “Good. That will make my job a lot easier.”
He raised the staff. The tip, housing the Mind Stone, pressed against Thor’s temple. It was not cold, but unbearably, psychically warm. “You think Father’s love was a burden?” Loki whispered, his voice now intimate, a venomous serpent in Thor’s mind. “It was a leash. You were his favorite hound, his perfect little child soldier. He’d pat your head after you won his battles for him, and you’d wag your tail, never seeing the blood on his hand was the same as the blood on your hammer.”
Thor cried out, not in physical pain, but in psychological agony. These were Loki’s truths, the secrets they’d shared in the dark, the fears they’d confessed to each other when the weight of Odin’s expectations became too much. Loki had been his sanctuary. Now, he was using that knowledge to tear him apart from the inside out.
The staff glowed brighter. Thor’s world dissolved into a kaleidoscope of his own worst memories: Odin’s disapproving glare after a failed lesson, the sting of a wound ignored for the sake of appearing strong, the crushing loneliness of being a prince, a weapon, never just a boy. And through it all, the constant, the solace, was Loki’s presence. Now that presence was the source of the torture, twisting every cherished memory of their solidarity into a weapon.
Loki leaned down, his older, harder face the only clear thing in Thor’s swimming vision. “You ran to me when he hurt you,” he hissed, the Mind Stone flaring. “Where will you run to now?”
And as Thor screamed, his mind fracturing under the assault of his own past, Loki, his brother, his shelter, simply watched, his eyes glowing with the satisfied light of the Titan’s will.
“Must you commune with her every morning?” You huffed, hunched over as your chambermaids tightened your corset.
“It’s only right to bid farewell to a lady in the morning who has shared your bed the night before” Thor shrugged, dismissing your coldness.
“So your infidelity must be paraded around the palace for all to see just so you can say goodbye to Sif, the harlot, in the morning” you spoke bitterly.
“Have care how you speak” Thor answered warningly, your eyes meeting in the reflection of the mirror in front of you.
“Or what? Is it treason to speak ill of the future king's concubine?” you laughed mirthlessly “surely it is I who should be standoffish, I should be the one spouting threats” you opined.
“Let’s measure you against the other one” one of your chambermaids spoke, untying your corset before helping you get out of it. You narrowed your gaze at Thor through the mirror as his eyes moved across your sparsely clad body.
“You are truly audacious” you spat, crossing your arms over your chest as another chambermaid began tying a piece of material around your waist that appeared to be the makings of a new skirt.
“You are my wife are you not?” Thor replied, a small smile gracing his lips.
“Not by choice” you shot back.
“But my wife nonetheless” he countered “and is it so wrong for one to gaze upon the bare body of one’s wife?”
Before you could reply, a knock sounded at the door. Despite only having your lower half covered, you nodded at the chambermaid to answer the door, uncaring of your state. Nudity wasn’t frowned upon in Asgard like it was in your realm besides, you didn’t feel greater than simply being Thor’s object. It was almost liberating being in a state of undress around others here.
“Brother” Loki began, stepping into the room and faltering at the sight of you. His eyes moved across your body with haste, lingering at your exposed breasts before moving down and meeting the floor.
“Loki” you greeted, turning your head a little to look over your shoulder at the Odinson turning red in the face.
“I can come back” he insisted, taking a step backwards as if your body paired with your utterance of his name was offensive.
“No need, anything you need to say to me you can say in front of her” Thor urged, hitting Loki’s shoulder causing him to clear his throat as your gazes met for a split second before he turned away.
“I don’t like to speak of war and such in the presence of ladies” Loki answered, gesturing to yourself and the chambermaids fixing another corset on you.
“I don’t mind, speak freely” you advised him.
“If you wouldn’t mind brother” Loki answered, gesturing to the door.
“Very well” Thor sighed before leaving with Loki.
With Thor out of the room, you physically deflated, a sadness covering your face as you thought about your matrimony. No, it wasn’t a choice but something you cherished nonetheless. Something you hoped he did too which was evident he did not. Instead, he spent his days talking about Sif and his nights plunged inside of her whilst you spent your days alone and your nights even more lonesome. The cost of uniting two realms at war. Just as one of your chambermaids began to undress you again, Thor barged inside.
“I’m afraid I must leave for a few days,” he announced.
“What? Why?” You questioned, “we have that event to go to on Alfheim.”
“Yes I know but there’s some unrest, unrest I must deal with before it turns into a conflict” Thor explained.
“But—”
“And Loki will accompany you” Thor decided, practically dragging Loki into the room.
“What?” You and Loki both questioned in unison.
“Yes, it’ll be perfect, Loki is sworn to protect the crown meaning he can accompany you and assure your safety” Thor beamed.
“Alright” you agreed, giving Loki a small smile before he and Thor left again.
“My lady I—” Loki began, glancing at you as he spoke.
“Y/n” you interrupted “just y/n”
“Y/n” Loki began again, the sound of your name almost sounding foreign on his lips, sweet even “I’ll ensure your safety, I am a mere holler away” he smiled chastely.
“So all I must do is shout your name down the corridor and you’ll come running?” You joked.
“Well yes but—”
“I jest” you interrupted with a smile “thank you Loki”
“Will she be joining you?” You questioned, sitting on the chaise lounge with a book in hand as Thor decorated himself in armor.
“And what if she is?” He asked, his gaze not meeting yours “is that not better? Perhaps I’m leaving you and taking her to keep you out of the crossfire”
“Will she be joining you?” You asked again, firmer.
“Maybe” Thor answered, his eyes meeting yours as a coy smile spread across his face.
Raising your hand, you threw the book in his direction, the mirror fracturing in the corner as the book hit it before falling to the floor.
“If you impregnate that sloven whore then—” you began, standing to your feet.
“My heir will be born of pure blood” Thor urged, stepping towards you “it will grow in a royal womb” he continued, placing his hand against your stomach “it will know it’s parents as king and queen of Asgard” he finished, his expression dangerous, almost scary “Sif is merely fun” he shrugged, dropping his hand and turning around “yes, yes she will be accompanying me, entirely for sex.”
Huffing, you stormed out of the room, heading towards the gardens to clear your head before you exploded, branding the palace walls in a coat of blood, flesh and madness. You tried to fight it but you couldn’t stop the tears that began forming in your eyes. You didn’t know whether it was the anger or the betrayal that was causing you to cry but either way, the tears began flowing heavily down your cheeks. You remained silent as you walked through the gardens, your tears were muted after years of stifling them. You continued to walk before you noticed a small stream of light coming from one of the corners almost like a lantern. Peaking your head out, your eyes widened at the sight of Loki with what appeared to be a chambermaid. His lips brushed against her cheek before they gently moved against her exposed shoulder. She moved her head to the side, granting him more access as he kissed her skin before the sound of a branch snapping underneath your foot caused him to glance up. Your eyes met, his gaze burned, eyes narrow in anger at being interrupted before they rounded realising they had fallen onto you. You swallowed, quickly turning away and walking off as you wiped furiously at your damp cheeks.
“Y/n, wait” Loki called after you, excusing himself as he chased you through the gardens. It didn’t take long for him to catch up with you “you’re crying” he noted as you tried to push past him “what’s the matter?”
“I didn’t mean to interrupt, I’m sorry” you apologised, freezing as his finger met your chin, tilting your head upwards.
“What’s wrong, has he upset you?” Loki questioned seriously, the pad of his thumbs swiping against your cheeks, wiping away your tears.
“He-he doesn’t” you began, feeling doltish as you looked away from Loki.
“Y/n” he prompted softly, causing you to look at him again.
“He doesn’t love me” you admitted out loud, the words ringing in your ear making you cry again.
“Oh y/n” Loki began, pulling you against him, his arms around you “everybody loves you” he affirmed “even Thor, albeit in his own way, but he loves you nonetheless” he spoke, smoothing his hand up and down your back.
“Even more than his mead?” You joked, speaking against Loki’s chest.
“I think he may just love you more than that” Loki smiled as you began to laugh.
“I’m sorry, I’ve interrupted your—”
“No bother” Loki interrupted you “merely a tryst between friends” he dismissed “now how about we drink a little of that beloved mead?” He suggested.
