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#although Midgard seems to have plenty of those as well
nyxlaufeyson · 8 days
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Put to the Test (Pandora's Box)- Chapter 8
Main Masterlist - Pandora's Box Masterlist
A/N: Kinda basic chapter, we all probably saw it coming, but necessary and I think unique enough to be enjoyable.
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The rainbow colors engulfed them once again, and Pandora arrived back on Midgard with a weight newly lifted off her shoulders. Loki and Thor stood next to her, and they landed on a grassy patch behind the tower.
Tony and several other Avenger’s were waiting there for them, and so the trio went up to them. Pandora received congratulations on her newfound freedom, and Tony insisted they all went inside for drinks. He was a bit wary that Loki was still there, since he was supposed to leave after they found Pandora, but Thor explained that he was there under official Asgardian orders. Plus, there was a case that required magic expertise. Despite the many rough patches in the relationship between Loki and the Avengers, they could use his help.
They made it to the common rooms, and Pandora took a seat next to Loki on a couch. Drinks were passed around, and she happily took one. Natasha was sitting nearby, and struck up conversation. “So, what are you going to do now?”
Pandora shrugged. “Not entirely sure. I suppose I shall just take things one step at a time. Although, I would like to get out of my current dingy apartment. Never liked the place, but it was convenient for the situation I was in.” 
At this, Tony made his way to a seat across from her. “I know a place, if you're interested.” He said, and the other people in the room seemed to suddenly be listening in to their conversation.
She raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Pray tell, where might this place be?”
Tony sent her a smirk. “Just in the heart of New York. Fast-running wifi and all the amenities you’ll ever need. All while running on a clean, self-sufficient energy source. Although, it does come with a job.”
Pandora caught on quickly, and she narrowed her eyes. “And what would this job entail?” She asked. At this point, most other conversations in the room had ceased, everyone focused on her and Tony. 
“You know, saving the world, superhero stuff, all that jazz.” Tony said, taking a confident swig of his drink. “It’s got a nice salary, you know, and plenty of benefits.”
She looked around the room, eyes flickering from Avenger to Avenger. Could this really be her life? Could she be one of them? “I wouldn’t want to impose.” 
Natasha laughed. “Impose? Please. You seem level-headed enough, and me and Wanda need help keeping these idiots in check.”
Tony threw his hands to his chest in mock offense. “Who are you calling an idiot?!” He exclaimed, before turning back to Pandora. “Seriously though, we already took a team vote. Well, except for Thor, because he wasn’t here. Thor?”
Thor gave her a grin. “You’ve got great potential. I would be honored to have you as a teammate.” 
That left one person who hadn’t had a say. Of course, Loki might not be viewed as a normal Avenger, but it still mattered to Pandora. She turned her glance to him, and he gave her a silent nod in confirmation.
“Well then, when do I start?” 
~~~~~
It took less than a week before Pandora felt more at home in the tower than she had in centuries. Wherever she had lived in the past, it was always with the notion that it was temporary. She never felt the need for any decorations or too much furniture, as it was going to be left behind anyway.
Even the few times she did try to decorate those places, they never were ‘home.’ It was just the place where she happened to sleep in. 
As she sat in her new room, on an extremely comfortable couch, she looked at everything she had done to it. When she first got the room, it was already pretty nice and furnished. But, they had given Pandora full creative control, so she used it to make things a bit more her style.
There was a bookshelf that she used to hold all her novels in one corner, with a little reading nook set up next to it. Blue accents were everywhere in the room, matching the shade of her hair. She had a desk set up as well, with a new Stark computer sitting on top. Beside it, the flowers her brother had gifted her in the vase that Loki had conjured. It was odd that they hadn’t wilted.
But it wasn’t the luxurious room that made the place feel homey, it was the people. Even if she hadn’t yet formed deep connections with her new teammates, she wasn’t in solitude. Everyone was friendly and she enjoyed their company. As much as she tried to be independent, and she was, she could not deny her need for companionship.
A knock sounded at her door, so she got up and opened it to find Loki. Out of everyone in the tower, Loki had to be her favorite. Not only had they hit it off on Asgard, but there was just something about him that made Pandora feel seen. After decades of hiding, she found herself desperately wanting to be seen.
He smiled at her, and she smiled back. “Are you ready?” He asked, and Pandora nodded. Today, she was set to be evaluated on her abilities. This would help them sort out what her strengths and weaknesses were, so that they could assign missions based on skill sets.
Even if she was confident in herself and her abilities, she was still nervous. Most, if not all, of the Avengers would be watching and assessing her. She might not know everyone on a deep and personal level yet, but she still yearned for their acceptance. What if they thought she wasn’t good enough?
Loki seemed to notice her inner turmoil. “Are you nervous?” He asked, and she gave him a sheepish smile. 
“A little.” Pandora admitted with a shrug. She knew that it wasn’t logical that they would be unimpressed, but she couldn’t help it. Not after being rejected once by the people she loved.
He patted her on the shoulder as they walked down the hall. “You shouldn’t be. Everyone save for me and Thor are human, yet you are not. That already gives you a jump on strength, stamina, and speed. When you filter in the magic, you exceed each and every person in this tower. Except for me, of course.”
Pandora laughed, and Loki chuckled. “Gods, you are so full of yourself!” She joked.
He shrugged with a smirk. “When you’re surrounded by idiots, it is often hard to not be.” His smirk softened. “But, really, only a few of us here have magic. Sure, Thor has lightning, but it’s not really magic. That’s just a singular trick. But me and you, even the red witch, we are the ones that can really do some damage.”
His words soothed her, and they made it to their destination. They had to split, since Loki needed to go up and behind the room to a viewing area, behind reinforced glass. He turned to her, looking her in the eyes. “Good luck. Not that you’ll need it” 
He gave her a genuine smile, and she nodded. “Thanks.” With that, he departed, and she stood in front of two large, heavy-looking doors.
With a deep breath, she opened them and walked in. The room was huge, and at least a few stories high. The walls were stark white with weird metal plates spaced out over them. In the corner of the room lay weaponry. She was told that the room was a simulation room, where technology was used to simulate different situations and scenarios. 
Somehow, the technology was advanced to the point where she would be able to feel some things, but she wouldn’t get seriously hurt. For example, she could feel and take punches, but a knife wouldn’t be able to puncture through her skin. 
On the very upper part of the front wall, was a dark glass window. Craning her neck upwards, she was able to make out Tony and the others. Loki was up there with them, and he sent her an encouraging smile and a thumbs up.
After a moment, the speakers allowed her to hear them through the wall. “Alright, Princess Leia, let’s see what you’ve got.”
Pandora rolled her eyes. Tony, ever the nickname-giver, had taken to calling her Princess Leia. All because of her hair, that always seemed to be in space buns. They weren’t even the same style, since Pandora’s were braided at the top, but he didn’t care. Apparently, the hairstyle was enough of a similarity to gain her a semi-permanent nickname.
“We’re going to start with simple enough stuff,” Tony informed her, “Go ahead to that table in the corner and pick a close combat weapon.”
She looked over the table of sharp tools and weapons. Each of them had different pros and cons, good for different situations. “Do I get any information on what I’m going to be doing?”
If she squinted hard enough, she could make out Tony shaking his head. “Nope. You might not get that information about the field either. Sometimes, you gotta make do. All you know is that you will be in close proximity with the enemy.”
Pandora sighed, settling on a pair of daggers. A sword would be good for something large and singular, but daggers were easier to fight multiple beings at once. She just hoped she wouldn’t be asked to fight some sort of dragon. Daggers wouldn’t be of much help then.
When she turned back to the front wall with daggers in hand, the lights in the room changed their hue, and she saw holograms begin to form. “And one more thing,” she heard Tony say, “avoid using magic.”
With this, she frowned. “What?” She asked. “Why?”
“Never know when it won’t be accessible, plus we need to see your combat skills without any magical aid, now, stand in the middle on the black x” He said, and she nodded, moving to the center of the room where there was an ‘x’ taped.
Suddenly, the room turned blue as a graphical, intangible wall swept the room. No longer was she in a near-empty space, but instead in a grass field. Six people appeared in a circle around her, and she held her daggers at the ready. 
The first one lunged at her, so she kicked them in the stomach and turned around to meet her two more of them about to pounce. She took her daggers and stabbed each in the stomach, quickly pulling the weapons back out of the flesh before continuing to fight.
Fighting six individuals at once proved difficult, but not impossible. As long as she focused her attention on whoever was closest to landing a blow, taking them out, and moving on, she was fine. After going back around to all six, making sure they were out for good, the bodies of the enemies disappeared. 
A television–sized hologram screen popped up in front of her, and she read her statistics. Five minutes and thirty-two seconds, six enemies down, and, most importantly when on the real battlefield, no fatal wounds received.
The grassland disappeared, and the old room came back. “Good job,” Tony’s voice projected from the viewing room, “hold onto those daggers, that was just a warm-up. Now we’re going to send you to a city that is actively being destroyed. Your goal is to eliminate as many of the enemies as possible, while helping to get civilians to safety. There is a building with a horse statue outside, that’s where you want to get all the civilians.”
Pandora nodded. “And how do I differentiate the enemy from the public?” She asked, although she figured the enemy might not be visibly different. 
“Well, if they’re shooting at you, I would say it’s safe to assume that they’re the bad guy.” Tony said, and Pandora rolled her eyes at the obvious. “This simulation will be longer than the first, since it is the major team situation that we must be prepared for. Try not to kill any civilians.”
A table appeared in front of her, with different guns and weapons. “Grab whatever you need for this, and don’t worry about the bullets ricocheting off the walls. There are no real bullets in them, although you’ll feel the recoil. Oh, and for this you can use your magic.”
She was glad to be able to use her magic, it always boosted her confidence in her performance, even if she could kick ass without them. Stepping up to the table, she grabbed a simple handgun and created a magic holster to hold it. She held onto one of the daggers, putting the other away so she could use her fingers to work her magic without interference. 
The room around her faded away, and it was replaced with what appeared to be a copy of a half-destroyed San Francisco. Pandora had actually lived in San Francisco for a few months, but it was too hot for her liking.
She surveyed her surroundings for a moment before she heard footsteps in her direction. She hid behind a broken wall, peeking out to see a man in a black mask with a gun. Right behind him was a small child and their mother, attempting to hide. Pandora wanted to go ahead and strike the man, but she had to confirm that he was the enemy and not some random civilian who happened to be wearing a mask. He did have a gun, but it also was an extreme situation. It was America, like it or not, lots of people had guns and would probably use them at the end of the world.
The child with the woman made a sound, and the man turned around and pointed the gun at them. That was all the reason Pandora needed before tackling the man to the ground and disarming him. She used magic to knock him out, not wanting to scare the child. It might be a fake child, but it made her feel better. She had scared enough people as it was. 
“Follow me.” She said to them, although she was unsure where the building she needed to get them too was. Picking a direction, she tracked her way through the rubble, stopping every now and then to take down an enemy that decided to pop up. 
Unfortunately, one caught her by surprise and managed to knock her to the ground. Before he could do anything, though, she flicked her fingers and his neck snapped. It wasn’t messy, the only evidence was a loud pop. 
She got up and found a few stragglers here and there, and soon enough she was leading a group of around ten. Because it was just her luck, she heard a cluster of voices just around the corner. She rushed the people into a nearby building, telling them to stay put for a moment.
There was a group of five outside, and not all of them were human. In fact, one looked like an octopus. But now wasn’t the time for pictures, so she grabbed her gun and quickly shot two in the head before ducking behind a car. 
As the two she shot fell to the ground, gunshots and yells were thrown her way. Working under the assumption that the two she shot were already incapacitated, she moved to the right of the car and threw a piece of trash she had grabbed to the left. 
The three remaining foes went towards the sound, giving her the opportunity to shoot two more in the back of the head. The last man managed to turn around in time to fire out a round at her, so she had to roll and hide again. While she did this, she dropped her gun, so she opted for magic instead. 
She didn’t see the man fall through the hole she created in the ground, but she could hear him scream as he reappeared a hundred feet in the sky and plummeted to the ground. Satisfied, she went back to where the civilians were and got them out. In the distance, she saw the designated safe building with the horse statute, and managed to get everyone in without incident. 
This went on for a while: locating civilians, eliminating any threat, and getting said civilians to safety. She was pretty confident she did fine. It wasn’t exactly hard, and she even found herself having some fun. Maybe joining the Avengers would be something that proved to be a good thing. 
Eventually the room faded back to normal and her statistics showed up in front of her. 
She had spent  twenty-eight minutes in the simulation, eliminated 26 enemies, and gotten all of the civilians to safety without receiving fatal wounds.
“Good going Leia.” Tony said while she could hear a little clapping from the room around him. “That was the main portion of the test. But, there’s one last thing for us to test.”
Steve turned to Tony. “There’s only two parts. What are you planning on doing?” 
Tony ignored the captain, continuing to speak to Pandora while pressing buttons on his screen. “Use whatever weapons you need, and your magic. You’ll be needing it.”
And with that, Pandora was sent into a sandy desert. There was nothing around her, and all she could see was sand and a blue-gray sky. She even felt the wind, blowing small specks of sand on her. 
At first she didn’t see anyone, but as she looked closer, she spotted a herd of people charging towards her. Enough of a crowd that it wasn’t feasible for anyone to fend them off alone. “Seriously?” She called, although she wasn’t sure who she was talking to. The window enclosing the team was invisible to her.
Unbeknownst to her, Steve was shaking his head in the viewing room. “Seriously? Tony, you pull this shit on all the new recruits. I’d like to see you try to hold your own in there.”
Tony grinned with a shrug. “What? It’s not like they can really hurt her. I like to see who can beat the latest record of how many of them someone can take down before they receive a simulated fatal wound.”
Natasha shook her head. “This is why people don’t like you, Tony.” 
He put his hand to his chest in offense. “What do you mean? Everyone likes me, Natalia.” Natasha rolled her eyes and Tony chuckled. 
“Anyways, as I was saying before Natasha insinuated that people don’t like me, Witch Wanda over there,” he pointed to Wanda, “holds the high score of a hundred and twelve. Which is slightly scary.” 
Wanda smiled. “I’m flattered you’re scared of me, Stark.” 
Back in the simulation room, Pandora was trying to come up with a plan. Logically, she knew that the team couldn’t expect her to defeat this big of a mob alone. However, she was determined to not go out without a fight. 
As the hoard got closer, she saw that not all of them were of the same species. Of course they weren’t, because that would mean they have the same strengths and weaknesses. Pandora called on the ancient lines of magic she pulled on, holding them at the ready.
She hadn’t expended a lot of her magic on the first two tests, which was good, because she definitely needed it now. As the first line of the crowd neared her, she sent out a blast to knock them down. They were not indisposed of, but it was enough to gouge just how much magic she needed to spend to push them around. 
With a quiet reminder that none of this was real, she charged into the fight. In doing so, she held out her hand to the eyes of some of the crowd, altering their vision so they would now see some of their allies as their enemy. 
She could have just disguised herself as them, but this way they took themselves out faster. Pandora had magical weapons that she switched out time to time, slashing, stabbing, and blasting her enemies. 
But, even with confusion amongst the crowd, she was still outnumbered. She pushed through, picking up men and slamming them around to take out the others. She lost count of how many had fallen by her hand, the only thought in her mind to do better, to take out more.
Eventually though, she slipped up and ended up with a fake dagger in her skull, sending her back into the simulation. She was out of breath, panting, her face frustrated. 
Even if she had lasted 22 minutes, killed 154 enemies, and only ended up with one major injury, she still felt like she could have done better. She was unaware of the dropped jaws of everyone behind the reinforced glass of the observation room, unaware of the new record she had just set.
“I could have done better.” She whispered, but pushed the thought aside. She already had plans in the future to come back to this room and achieve a higher kill count. 
For a long few minutes, nobody said anything down to Pandora. It wasn’t until she looked up at them, expectantly, that someone said something.
“Uh, that was incredible. You should see the look on the guys’ faces right now.” Wanda said, laughing. 
Tony cleared his throat. “Yeah, yeah. Anyways, good work today. None of the opponents were real, but the sweat is. Go get a shower, I don’t want you sweating on the expensive furniture.”
Pandora laughed, and bid a goodbye to her new teammates before she exited the room. To her surprise, Loki was there to greet her. 
“That was amazing.” He said, eyes twinkling. “ You were amazing.”
Pandora turned a little red, rubbing her neck. “Thanks. You don’t have to exaggerate though. I want to know if I actually did well in the eyes of other people.”
Loki looked shocked. “Are you kidding? You beat the other witch’s record of kills in that last simulation. You did better than even I might have done, and that’s saying a lot, of course.”
She laughed. “Thanks, mischief, I appreciate it.” He began to walk her back to her room, complimenting her magic usage and her skills with daggers.
They made it to her room, and Loki said goodbye. She closed the door and let the weight that she wasn’t good enough fall from her shoulders. Pandora knew that she belonged there. Loki knew that she belonged there. The team knew that she belonged there. The voices telling her otherwise stopped at that moment, she told herself.
To wash them away, she got into the shower, and allowed herself to cry. To cry for the things she had been through, to cry for the child she once was, and to cry for the newfound sense of belonging that she now felt.
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nukyster-blog · 2 years
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Adrift chapter 10) from the ground he lingers
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.-.-.
“Ivar…” Piglet warned.
But he ignored her, continuing his pesky little game.
“Ivar-,” Piglet repeated, this time with a harsh undertone, “stop it, he's a person!” 
Ivar laughed, shaking his head before throwing another berry in the opposite direction of Stum. The man-child clumsily rushed toward the small piece of fruit and spun on his thick heels when Ivar threw another berry, again in the opposite direction. 
“He’s a mule, at best,” Ivar pointed out and picked up a small rock. When he threw it, Piglet smacked the back of his head before speeding up to Stum and stamping her foot down over it to prevent the poor young man from breaking any more teeth. 
“You are such a bastard!” Piglet raged, clapping one hand on her hip while using the other to point at him, “what’s wrong with you?!” 
Now, that was a very good question indeed, it effectively reduced his smug attitude to a much cooler form; preservation.
“I am bored,” he declared with the stance of a two year old.
  “Well, I can entertain you with a story about a tyrant who doesn’t get any supper tonight,” Piglet threatened, “here, do something useful, stir up the fire,” shoving a long branch into his hand, she charged off on a quest to find food. Stum easily picked her company over Ivar’s, and even Utstott chose to follow the person with the highest chance of success at scoring him some scraps.
Dejected, Ivar stared at the frail fire. Small flames curled and swayed, casting shadows. He fiddled with the branch between the smoldering twigs and dry leaves. The flickering and crackling of the burning wood was hypnotizing and oddly comforting. It kept him occupied while he waited and gave him a meager bit of purpose. 
The tip of the branch lit on fire and he retracted it, bringing it close to its face and blew it out. It was stupid, but there was some sense of pride within him from stirring up their humble campfire. After weeks of being fully impaired, in pain and completely reliant, it was nice to do something. Provide warmth and light, keep wolves away. 
It was one of the many things that made him so resentful of Stum. Because that imbecile was clueless about how valuable he was to their little group of outcasts. Stum was a grand master of chopping wood. Stum was a strong conveyor, a protector, and while holding an axe came across as extremely intimidating. 
As long as you didn’t snarl or bark at him, that was.
Stum was his superior and Piglet’s favorite. Stum managed to keep Piglet’s fears at bay and ignited the flame of her nurturing and caring nature. Stum’s mere presence made her smile, lit up her eyes, and eased her burden; taking care of him. 
.-.-.
Airborne, Utstott glanced down peacefully at the odd couple beneath him. One stood out, whipping and smacking his arms around to avoid branches hitting his face. The other was a mere shadow, the only hint of her presence: the flashing of her teeth and white of her eyes. 
Although there was plenty of forest fruit during the summer season, the humans grew hungrier by the day. Fresh meat hadn’t appeared on the menu for a long time. Het Teerkind, wasn’t skilled in making traps and the newest member of their group…well, lacked the brains.
Utstott had been able to scrap his own meal together, but aside from worms and a few field mice, he had nothing to offer. 
Besides, Utstott didn’t like sharing. Those silly humans should be grateful for his mere presence. He could have left Midgard a long time ago, yet felt obligated to reappear everytime his troubled savior was in danger.
And danger had seemed to remain on their tail; why couldn’t those silly humans pick an easy life? A quiet life, within the safety of this forest. Away from wolves, rough rivers, angry farmers and-
Utstott’s list of former dangers was cut short as the bird sensed the sound of drunken, bellowing laughter. 
The white raven dove into the shadows and reappeared above a prominent, well-established camp. It had a few huts made from branches and an outpost large enough to provide one person a high view into the valley. 
Utstott landed atop the outpost. Taking notice of the obviously inebriated person on watch in the wooden tower, Utstott scanned the valley and cackled angrily as he spotted smoke in the air; smoke which gave the camp residents a free map to the whereabouts of his humans. 
Before the drunk beneath him could take another sip Utsott soured into the sky, made a loop, and dashed into the cramped space of the outpost. 
Like a cat in a sack, Utstott pecked and scratched until the drunk scurried down the ladder of the tower. The drunk’s high pitched cries alerted the rest, and it didn’t take long for five more men to rush to the center of the camp. 
Finding their mate, bleeding and too drunk to mumble a simple sentence, the clear leader of the crew smacked both cheeks and shook him by the shoulders.
When the drunk was able to utter without a slur, Utstott was long gone into the shadows.
.-.-.
Ivar woke up, rubbed his eyes and wondered if he was still dreaming. The scene in front of him could simply never occur in this world. 
Piglet sat crouched down in front of him, her ragged dress pressed up and she was peeing. 
“Piglet?” He muttered, “if you are this scared of losing the way I can teach you to navigate by stars right this instance. No need to piss over all over camp!”
“Shut up!” Piglet whispered through gritted teeth and kicked sand over the moist remains of Ivar’s delicately curated fire.
Squatting down to her knees, Piglet rushed by his side and hastily pressed her hand over his mouth. Her bulging eyes and the sweat of fear trickling down her face told Ivar to comply immediately as he held his breath. 
Leaning in close to his ear, Piglet whispered: “there are men, close.”
He could feel her heart gallop against his chest. Without a moment to lose, he wrapped his good arm around her neck and whispered back: “pull me away from the campfire.” 
Piglet managed to drag his deadweight into tall grass, and from their current position the smoldering remains of the fire was barely visible. They, too, would be barely visible if any perpetrators happened to find their camp. 
“Where is Stum? And Utstott?” Ivar mumbled.
“I- I don’t know, I lost them on the way back!” Piglet whimpered.
“The axe? Where is the axe?” 
“I don’t know,” Piglet repeated, defeated and in tears.
“One job Piglet, one job!” Ivar hissed through his teeth, “gather food without getting any crooks on our tail, how hard can it be?!”
Silent tears ran down her cheeks, easing Ivar’s angered tone: “do not weep stupid girl, I will protect you, they will not find us.” 
In his words lay empty promises, “we’ll find Stum back, I know we will. He is your shadow, remember?”  
Piglet’s nod was everything but convincing, but she rubbed the tears from her face and found a way to carry her fear. 
“We do what we do best,” Ivar continued, the tip of his lip touching the side of her ear, “we wait and observe.” 
.-.-.
They’d rubbed mud and clay on their hands, limbs and face. Finding shelter in a natural hollow of the ground, they’d covered themselves with leaves and sticks; a perfect hideout for when daylight would break again. They lay locked against each other, sharing every breath and heartbeat. Piglet’s feminine frame somehow seemed to fit perfectly with Ivar’s broad and robust form. 
Every so often Ivar’s breath would hitch, and each time the tiny hairs on Piglet’s neck would stand alert. It hurt to lay still for so long, his aching arm pressed stiffly between their bodies, while his good arm remained tightly around Piglet’s torso. 
Ivar found it ironic; he’d done his absolute best to push her away, yet the thought of any men taking her away made his insides lurch. 
His mind raced to block out the warmth and comfort his aching body received from holding someone else this way; from holding her. He struggled to keep his firm grip around her pragmatic and rough, a necessity to overcome their current situation. 
But there lay fear in his embrace; fear of being gentle. Giving her the slightest impression of genuine care could be lethal in the long run. Because this was Piglet he was holding so close; this was the young woman who’d he seen live through horrors placed upon her by men. 
And although she called him half a man, he was still one of the monsters she feared the most. 
 Dawn arrived and so did two men; judging by their appearance it was quite clear they were dealing with rookie pillagers. Young men; outlawed for numerous crimes. Those types tend to stick together, safety in numbers. 
And of course, if you were planning to ambush travelers a set of extra hands were very helpful. 
Ivar’s hand traveled upward, smothering the whimper that escaped Piglet’s mouth. Both held their breath as the two men ambled alongside their hiding spot and began to ravage their camp. Their furs were picked up, collected, and so was their water bag. One of the two whistled as he raised up their axe. He made a swinging motion, dripping with bravado, and felt compelled to pull up his sleeves and flaunt his abs to his fellow; who was much shorter and had a pudgy build. 
The braggadocio made another swift move with the axe, and if it weren’t for the pudgy fellow’s instinctive recoil, the Tub would have been missing his head instead of just a string of hair. 
A heated debate ensued in Dietsch and, although Ivar couldn’t understand their words, it was clear Tubs was beyond angry over the reckless action of Braggadocio. 
But the young man with clearly more muscle than brain was higher in the pecking order and with a few nudges and stomps made, Tubs remembered his place. 
Braggadocio swung the handle of the axe over his shoulder and motioned for his fellow to hurry up and collect the rest. 
Ivar was certain that if his right hand wasn’t wrapped in a sling he would have been able to dominate and annihilate those two. 
“Well, it’s good to know our axe was just a damn few feet away,” Ivar sneered sarcastically in Piglet’s ear when he was sure the two outlaws were far enough away, “was a damn few feet away, by the God’s Piglet!” 
“-Do not dare to put the blame on me!” Piglet cut him off and shoved his arm off of her, “don’t you dare!” 
Ivar bit his tongue and anger, it was useless to point out all her flaws and oversight. Besides, if he wanted her to be the protagonist in his ad hoc plan, he could not afford another argument. 
“Piglet,” he started, knowing full-heartedly she was not going to like -she was going to hate him for- his plan, “we need our axe back, I cannot take out any men in my current state. So I need you to tear off just a little more of your skirt.” 
.-.-.
Utstott watched the two outlaws as they dawdled over a herd path, content with their meager loot. Their loud chattering drowned out the sounds of the forest, birds taking flight from their nests and fleeing in an instant. 
Utstott was the only animal who did not fear the two rude intruders. Like a loyal watchman he trailed above them, cawing feverishly. 
His relentless squawking was a necessity; it muffled the rustling of leaves and crunching of twigs as two bare feet tried to catch up. 
Het Teerkind was a pawn, a quick and stealthy pawn, who managed to pick up a handful of gravel along the way.
From a safe hideout behind ferns and bushes, she threw a pebble and managed to hit the muscular outlaw on the back of his head.   
Instinctively, the Braggadocio punched Tubs straight in the face. 
Tubs howled out from pain, his meaty fingers enclosing around his bloody nose. Dietsch exclamations echoed through the forest and ceased the moment another pebble hit the back of Braggadocio’s head. 
The source of the annoyance revealed herself, het teerkind sprung from her hideout and sketched a brief bow in their direction, assuming a regal pose. 
Both outlaws stared gobsmacked at the dark wildling who bared her teeth and launched a handful of gravel their way. 
Het Teerkind bolted as the two outlaws began their pursuit, unaware they were set to fall into a bear trap. 
Being chased sparked a primal fear in het Teerkind, this could be lethal and at worst- she could end up being nothing more than a share between the men. So, she ran as fast as her strong legs could carry her, she did not need to pretend the devil was chasing her. 
She ran, screaming breathlessly as she zigzagged alongside trees, ducking under branches. Her pursuers struggled to keep up, their loot and size being a disadvantage. 
Luckily, her terrified screams were an excellent lead; the Braggadocio yelled at Tubs to keep up as the space between the two outlaws grew. 
When Tubs managed to falter, Braggadocio shook his head and sped up, determined to catch the wench who hit him twice in the back of the head. 
As the trees diverged, it was easier for the young man to gain on her; the distance between him and her diminishing with each step. 
Seconds before he could claw his fingers into the black matted curls ahead of him, his target did something odd; she took a little leap.
Her reason for doing so became immediately clear; a string of ripped skirt had been pulled tightly between two tree roots, tripping the huntsman.
Braggadocio tumbled over; palms instinctively pressed forward to prevent bashing his forehead.
The ground beneath him stirred and rumbled; a face appeared from behind a blanket of leaves. 
Utstott watched with delight at how the cripple rose from the soil, headbutting the young man who straddled his chest while raising a moss-clad stone high into the air.
The cracking of human bone silenced the area. 
Utstott watched as the cripple brought up the stone once more, hurling it down without reservation-caving in the backside of the young man’s skull. Blood spattered, staining the soil, the grass. It dripped down the young man’s chin, moments before his arms started to spasm and give in. 
Cognizance left the flesh, but the body wasn’t ready to give up the fight. 
For several moments, the cripple struggled to shove the convulsing limbs away from his face before delivering a final blow directly to the temple, ushering in a welcome surrender. 
Utstott was more than pleased; knowing he will feast tonight. 
.-.-.
Ivar needed Piglet to help push the deadweight off his torso. Before sitting up fully, he shot her a humble grin; it was meant to be apologetic, for his kill was sloppy and chaotic. 
He realised Piglet wouldn’t read remorse from his expression alone, as he noticed warm blood running down his face. It wasn’t his, but he rubbed it away, fruitlessly. His skin was a mess of blood, soil and grime. At his side lay a dead body, fingertips still twitching and empty eyes staring up into the sky. The greenish moss-covered rock was crimson at one side and Ivar studied it for a moment, turning the heavy weight in the ball of his hand. 
“Axe,” Ivar exclaimed pragmatic and stone-cold, “please,” he added, reluctant to lose the humble bit of partnership he and Piglet share. 
The handle of the axe felt firm in his hand; just in time as the next opponent stumbled into view. This kill would be less sloppy and much easier. Rotating the axe directly over his head, Ivar brought it forward and released it at eye level. 
Simultaneously with the cracking of ribs, a guttural cry howled through the forest.
Ivar scrunched up his nose; aggravated by his failure. Using his left arm threw off his aim; the blade had embedded itself into the ribcage; not straight between the eyes as he’d wanted it to. 
The corpulent young man spat up a mouth of blood; his fingers managed to form themselves around the axe sticking into his chest. In an idotic last resort to either take the pain away or survive, he tried to extract the blade. 
It was a hilarious spectacle to watch; a man on his last resorts, pulling and pulling while organ failure set in and blood spewed onto the ground. 
Well, from Ivar’s point of view that was funny anway. 
“Axe, please,” Ivar spoke, a humorous twinkle flickered in his eyes as he cackled loudly when Piglet’s legs failed her and she dropped down to her knees. 
He was on top of the world now; killing twice in a row, with only one arm. And with only a stone and an axe. 
“Piglet, axe!” He was not being polite anymore, the rush of survival kicking back in.
“I am not touching him,” Piglet stammered empty, cradling her chest and sniffling like a weakling. 
Ivar cursed at her under his breath and pulled himself forwards with his good arm; his useless legs pressing and kicking forwards the best way they could. It was hard; withdrawing the axe from the ribcage. But Ivar managed after puffing up his chest and giving it a vigorous pull. 
The sound of the blade extracting made Piglet’s stomach turn and Ivar could hear her retch from behind. 
He ignored her, flexing his neck and biceps. He was aching, all muscles above his torso were aching. But the blood in the air stirred up something from deep inside of him. Sucking in air through his teeth he undid the knot of Piglet’s makeshift sling. As the fabric fell, Ivar stretched his right arm. 
He needed to bite the insides of his cheek when pressing both palms onto the forest floor; the pain radiating from his right shoulder was almost blinding. 
But he’d forced his body through worse before, and so he took a trembling swing forward using his arms. Stifling a moan, he was surprised his right arm was steady enough to carry all of his weight and, although it was small progress, he reclaimed being mobile. 
Gritting his teeth, he turned to Piglet, keeping the triumph to himself; for others mobility was as ordinary as being able to breath. 
“You carry the axe, furs, and water bag,” he ordered gravely, forcing his voice to stay steady, “hide that bird’s nest of yours away, I no longer need your scarf,” he nudged his chin towards the forest, “we’ll go find that retard of a shadow of yours.” 
.-.-.
A/N: After a bit of a writer's block this chapter was a treat to write. WIth basically no guidelines aside from ‘something with Ivar killing outlaws’, I just took a freedive. Halfway I was a little bit of ‘shit it’s such a bad idea of Piglet losing Stum’, but in the end Ivar managed to save the day. Not sure what I enjoyed most; write the murder part or the part which Ivar was holding Piglet. 
Also kudos for all who can write smut, seriously I struggled through getting two characters to LAY together. 
As always, thank you so much for reading and sticking to this story.
Xoxoxo Nukyster
The kickass beta: @sarahh-jane
The tagged ones:
@youbloodymadgenius
@xbellaxcarolinax
@saldelys
@shannygoatgruff
@pieces-by-me
@apenas-mais-uma-pessoa
@readsalot73
@lauraan182
@conaionaru
@sarahh-jane
@peachyboneless
@adhdnightmare
@khiraeth
@funmadnessandbadassvikings
@ dekusdante 
If you’d liked to be tagged, please let me know:)
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theowlandthekey · 4 years
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Embracing Hel
Embracing Hel
Three roots standon three ways under Yggdrasil’s ash: Hel under one abides, under the second the Hrimthursar, under the third mankind. -Poetic Edda, Grímnismál, Stanza 31
Who is Hel? In the vastness of Norse mythology, she is rarely given much due. She does not go on adventures for glory and fame as many of the other gods do. She does not seem to bother overmuch about the future of the world like Odin, nor does she stir up trouble like her father, Loki. She’s content in her dominion of the death, Niflheim, and seems well placed out of the troubles of men and gods. So much so that it often feels she is neglected when compared to the rest of the pantheon.
Hel is featured as a character only once in the Prose Edda, when the god Hermoor rides to Hel on behalf of Frigg and offers her a ransom for the return of the god Baldr. Hel agrees, stating: “If all things in the world, alive or dead, weep for him, then he will be allowed to return to the Æsir. If anyone speaks against him or refuses to cry, then he will remain with Hel.” Baldr was well loved and so it was thought this would be easy to accomplish. But when the jotunn Þökk refuses to weep, Baldr is consigned to remain in Niflheim in service of Hel.
In nearly all other mythos, Hel is mentioned only in passing, referenced rather than focused on. Every other god gets a myth where they are the protagonist of their own story. So why is Hel overlooked? Because of the fear she inspires at the prospect of a life lived without note or valor? Because her appearance was considered so repulsive that, while acknowledged as a goddess, she was put as far away from Asgard as physically possible so as to avoid offending the others with the sight of her?
As much as I love Norse paganism and link myself to it, I find plenty of people who speak with Odin and Frigg, Loki and Thor. Never once have I met someone who says with a smile that they speak to Hel. That’s fair. How many people do you know talk to Hades or Osiris or Mictlantecuhtli on a regular basis, even among the gothiest of pagans? Why even bring this up at all? Last December (2019), I was doing a Krampus Walk with a bunch of women from the International Wenches Guild. (That’s a whole other story.) At the end of the walk we gathered up in a local alternative religion shop to warm up and grab a few things for the pre-Yule rush. Up on the shelf, something naughty my attention. It was something I'd never seen before in all my years of goblin-like hoarding of witchy stuff. A statue of Hel looked back at me, sitting on a throne with a knife in one hand and a bowl in the other. By her side was a wolf, and her skull seemed to be grinning at me with interest. I went back to that statue three times, telling myself I didn't have the money to be spending on things right now. But when I picked her up to examine her, I knew I wasn't walking out of the store without this statue. I brought her home, placed her on my altar, put a few coins in her bowl, and there she stayed.
And then Covid-19 hit.
I've never been one to rely on religion in times of trouble. It's never done much for me one way or the other. I've long held the belief that witchcraft involves handling your own shit before calling on anything else to help out. But this? This is one of those things that is well beyond the control of most humans to handle alone. It's emotionally exhausting, mentally taxing, and physically dangerous. We're all doing the best we can, wearing masks, sanitizing, washing, distancing, doing all we can to prevent things getting worse despite the best efforts of the world to remind us that we are inevitably only human and the risks are infinite. It's humbling to say the least. So, it's in this time of stress and disorientation that I find myself drawn to Hel.
Family Ties
“The following night the goddess of death appeared to him in a dream standing at his side, and declared that in three days’ time she would clasp him in her arms. It was no idle vision, for after three days the acute pain of his injury brought his end.”
-Gesta Danorum, Saxo Grammaticus (12th century)
Hel's name means 'to hide/to conceal', giving it a cruel humor. She was, after all, respectfully banished from Asgard due to her physical appearance, or perhaps because Odin foresaw her part in future events. She is described as being half blue and half flesh colored, though the depiction has altered over the years to mean half flesh and half corpse. Hel is said to be gloomy, dour, and even fierce looking, which suggests a woman with little time for nonsense within her realm. Despite all this, she is said to have a vast hall called Éljúðnir and many servants as befits her station. Everything that surrounds her seems to speak to the fears of the people who believed in her. She has a bowl called 'Hunger,' a knife called 'Famine,' curtains called 'Misfortune,' and a bed named 'Disease'.
On the plus side, she does have a dog named Garmr, said to be the 'goodest of boys'.
The best of trees | must Yggdrasil be, Skíðblaðnir best of boats; Of all the gods | is Óðinn the greatest, And Sleipnir the best of steeds; Bifröst of bridges, | Bragi of skalds, Hábrók of hawks, | and Garm of hounds.
-Poetic Edda, Grímnismál
Her father, Loki, is well known for his mischief and chaos. But her mother, Angrboda, remains largely overlooked beyond being acknowledged as the mother of Loki's three 'darling' offpsring. Angrboda, being a jotunn, is not well looked upon as the Aesir seemed to find themselves constantly at odds with the jötnar. The Aesir and the Vanir form the two principal tribes of gods within the Norse pantheon, the forces which held the world together and brought forth order in which life could thrive. While the Jotunn were more elemental, primordial beings who were born from chaos and presented challenges to the structured order of the world.
It's important to note that Hel is not the only goddess who fits within the overlap of Norse mythos complex Venn diagram between the Aesir, Vanir, and Jotunn. Loki himself is Jotunn as is Skaði, while Freyr and Frejya are Vanir. However, Hel's connection to Angrboda as her mother and Loki as her father seem to be enough to condemn her in the eyes of the ruling Aesir, as well as make her a subject of fearful respect.
Her brother, Jormungandr, is the infamous Midgard Serpent. The middle child of the brood, Jormungandr was tossed from Asgard by Odinn into the ocean where he was said to grow so large he encircled the earth and bit his own tail. If you're familiar with gnosticism (or Full Metal Alchemist) you would recognize the ouroboros symbolism inherent in the mythos as connecting Jormungandr to the cycle of life, death and rebirth, another primordial concept. At Ragnarok, the serpent will be said to release its own tail and fight Thor, both of them doomed from inception. Thus, the old world will end, and a new cycle will begin.
Fenrir, Hel's younger brother, is likewise doom driven, foretold to devour Odinn at the end of the world only to be killed in turn by Odinn's son Víðarr. The theme of the bound monster, I believe, is connected to the concept of man trying and failing to forestall his own fate. Another primordial concept of change as an inevitability.
And yet there is Hel. Out of all her family she seems to stand alone as the most consistent of her bloodline. The black sheep in a family of black sheep. No sagas recounting her heroic adventures, no epics building to the rise and fall of greatness. Only a goddess fulfilling her function to take in those who died of sickness or old age. It is not known for certain whether she survives or dies during the events of Ragnarok, only that Loki will have 'all Hel's people with him' during the final confrontation.
Symbolism
Throughout my research into Hel's mythos, it's clear she was viewed with begrudging respect by her own people. As a goddess, one couldn't afford to be less than deferential when dealing with her (assuming of course that they dealt with her at all). But how they felt about her can be discerned from the associations given to her through her items and surroundings. I began to collect a series of symbols associated with her. Each one tells us something about how she was perceived among the Norse people, and gives us some interesting modern-day interpretations when applied.
50/50 – In all the descriptions of Hel, she is said to be half flesh and half either discolored or corpse-like. Like most cthonic deities, she has a liminal quality to her, being representative of a transitional state of being. Balancing neatly between life and death, Hel is a crossroads deity, guarding over the boundary lines (though not traditionally associated as such). She has the ability to release those sheltered under her threshold, although she demands a price as is her right. This also puts her squarely in the category of a liminal being, one whose mere existence challenges the social classifications of the time. Liminal beings are often described as both immensely powerful and dangerous, depending upon the situation and perception of society. They are undeniably eerie, and yet inspire awe for the way in which they transcend limitations of the self.
Hel's Hall – Éljúðnir is the hall of Hel, located within Niflheim and aptly named as her realm is said to be barren and cold. It's said to be a mansion, and it would have to be considering that she is responsible for sheltering everyone who didn't die gloriously in battle. Her hall then becomes a symbol of her status, a recognition of her as a goddess with her own realm and duties. With hospitality being such an important social factor to the Norse people, I find myself hard pressed to believe Hel is needlessly cruel to her guests. Like any mead hall, it is a center for social activity as well as her residence, if a somewhat foreboding one.
Hunger, Famine, Misfortune, Disease – It seems Hel is often deemed responsible for all of the troubles that plague humanity. A rather dire proposition, but isn't it better for someone to oversee these things rather than letting them run amok? Given her connection to the primordial forces of chaos, it seems fitting that Hel, the stable one in her family, is relied upon to control the disorder that society faces from time to time. The objects deemed as a part of her entourage are significant to her personality. Even in the modern times, these troubles are never far from humanity’s mind, with much of the world facing them on a daily basis. *A bowl (Hunger) is often symbolic of receptiveness, or of fertility, neither of which seem to fit Hel herself. For many the bowl represents a scrying tool, portending to the future. It's not unusual for cthonic deities to be connected to omens and portends. So, it may well be that the 'Hunger' her bowl represents has less to do with wanting food and more to do with our hunger to know our own fates. An empty bowl representing the unknown fate of humanity as a whole may present as a bit nihilistic, but it does seem to fit. *The knife (Famine) as a tool which represents the ability to defend or attack. A knife can help fix a meal or it can protect a family. In this case, 'Famine' represents not only the absence of plenty, but the seeming inability to provide for one another, thus weakening everyone as a result. Famine is not just about food, it's about the failure to provide. For a society that was heavily reliant upon all of its people to survive day to day, this would have been a terrifying concept.
*The curtains (Misfortune) are used to draw over the windows and shut out the light. This is what 'Misfortune' does. It clouds reason and empathy and makes it difficult to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Curtains can also be symbolic of one’s desire to hide from the world, to shelter themselves or to keep others from finding out something they find shameful. It may feel safe, as if we are only protecting ourselves. But Hel's curtains are, I believe, named Misfortune for the sake of choosing whether or not we draw them closed or open them up.
*The bed (Disease) is often used as a symbol of intimacy or rest. A bed named Disease could also easily be a colorful metaphor for STIs, though in this case I believe it was meant to represent the fear of dying in ones bed of old age or disease, thus missing out on Valhalla. For Hel to have a bed named Disease suggests an unexpected nurturing aspect to the goddess, as the sickbed is often where we find ourselves the recipient of the most care from others.
In this way, I believe Hel's tools exist as a reminder to society that these things will always exist, and that in order to combat them, people must constantly struggle against them to better survive together.
Garmr – Another in the long list of ferocious subterranean hounds associated with cthonic deities, Garmr was said to be her guard dog, standing bloodstained by her side. He is her faithful protector, as well as the guardian to the underworld. The hound is often a symbol of loyalty and ferocity, but in this aspect I believe it relates more to the black dog associations with death and ill omens. Again, I've yet to see anything relating to Hel being a seeress or an oracle of any sort, but there always seems to be some connection between death gods and omens of the future.
Hel in Practice
Change is uncomfortable. Humans have always preferred stability, even if it's inequitable, because we'd rather function in practice than succeed in theory. Hel is a paragon of balance within chaos, affording the opportunity to change and progress through the inherent suffering of life as it is. And yes, I'm aware of how nihilistic that comes off. But here within the instability of our current world, I find a kind of comfort in that rational. Change is eternal. Tomorrow is an unknown. Control what you can and stay by the people you care about. Keep moving. You are not dead yet.
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Rune: Hagalaz “Hail”
- The rune of Hagalaz is practically unanimous with misery. Which makes it's appearance less than desirable during a reading or when found in the day to day. That being said, some degree of unfortunate occurrence is unavoidable in life. It is unalterable. However I find it's distinction kind of like finding a crack in a dam. You now know there is a problem. Maybe you can't 'fix' the problem, but you can stem the damage and keep the outcome from being worse than it absolutely has to be. Hagalaz is about weathering the storm and coming out the other side of it knowing the work that must be done.
Realm: Niflheim
- Niflheim is one of the nine realms of Norse Mythology. A world of coldness, fog, and the primordial darkness. Ymir was born here. Hvergelmir, the source from which many rivers flow, begins here. Níðhöggr the dragon/serpent dwells here, gnawing at the roots of the World tree Yggdrasil. So it would seem Niflheim is a a place of beginnings, endings, and ultimately change. According to the mythology this is where those who died too old, too young, or on the sickbed end up. And yet for all it's forbidding geography and weather, Hel is said to be put in charge of caring for those who arrive. Hall: Éljúðnir
- If Hel is meant to care for those who did not die in the glory of battle. Many times we see this as crowds of dead souls wandering endlessly in the freezing mists. But when I think of Hel's hall of Éljúðnir, I think of a place which is a respite from the cold. It is said to be sprayed with snowstorms, meaning that it stands against the raging storms of the realm, providing shelter to those who dwell within. What if her hall stands alongside Valhalla and Fólkvangr? What if she is the world-weary and cunning inn-keeper who offers bread and mead to those brave enough to find their way to her doors?
Appearance: Dour and fierce looking in expression. Half flesh and half dead.
Tools:  knife (Famine) bowl (hunger) curtains (Misfortune) bed (Disease)
Color: black white grey/silver blue dark purple
Animals: wolves/hounds serpents ravens worms
Plants: yew/ash wormwood rosemary mistletoe mustard seed blackthorn
Offerings: tobacco garlic figs mushrooms rye bread black cherries dark chocolate mead coffee, black espresso
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singtotheskiies · 4 years
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an intervention was needed // thor x platonic!reader
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request: Hey hey! I hope you're well & safe ☺️ can i request a fluffy but more platonic thor x reader, it's kinda specific: the reader is an asgardian and she's bff with Thor, basically like a sister. So he finally comes back to fight in Endgame after being depressed and shutting her out, and they reunite and there's a lot of feels and he just feels like a disappointment and a mess but she's like.. aw my sweet asgardian boi :( ill take care of u now, and oof i got carried away 😅 ty in advance hun!!
summary: after the fall of asgard, thor shut you out from his life completely. five years later, when that life is in danger, you take it upon yourself to fix things—if you are able.
words: 1497
warnings: infinity war/endgame spoilers, angst (sO much angst dude i never write it but this time,,,, i did), fluff at the end tho;)
a/n: i am SO sorry for the delay in writing this imagine—school has been very tough recently because teachers still feel the need to assign hours of work every day. however, this was a wonderful request, and i am absolutely loving writing, so please keep sending ‘em in!!! i love you all💕
✖✖✖
There were plenty of upsides to being Asgardian—increased reflexes and fighting skills, the ability to down enough liquor to make mortals stare, and of course your special power—the ability to heal physical wounds. Due to your fighting and healing abilities, the Avengers had taken you on as a valuable asset to their pursuit of justice. You had been on Midgard for a few years, now, and while it gave you great joy to be able to help, it was also the root of many of your problems.
You hadn’t been there when Asgard was ravaged by Thanos. Instead, you had been with the rest of the Avengers, discussing a possible threat in Seattle. You had felt the devastating pull in your gut that alerted you of something wrong in your home world. Instantly, you bolted to your feet, screaming for Heimdall to transport you so you could help in any way you can. You shouted your throat ragged, but you learned three unbearable days later that there was no more Bifrost tower and no Heimdall to defend it.
To make matters worse, you suffered not only the loss of your homeland, but also the presence of your best friend Thor. He had entered your room after those three days a broken shell of a man. You had tried to get through to him, to connect and mourn over your losses, but he had been nothing but cold to you.
“You cannot understand my grief,” he told you in a cold, distant voice you could barely recognize as his own.
“We are both Asgardians, Thor!” you cried. “We mourn for the same land—the land of our fathers and mothers before us.”
“And where were you when that land needed your help?” he snarled, turning and glaring at you.
“I screamed Heimdall’s name for an hour,” you spat indignantly, tears beginning to burn their way down your cheeks. “No one was there, it wasn’t my fault!”
“I had to watch my own brother die,” Thor choked, unable to control the tears welling up in his own eyes. “Thanos murdered him like he was merely an insect—but he was my brother. Do you have any idea—“
“Loki was also an acquaintance of mine, and I view his loss with no small sorrow. I cannot imagine the pain you must feel, my friend.”
“Friend,” Thor spat. “I hardly think so.”
“Please, Thor, rid yourself of this anger—I do not recognize you.”
“Perhaps it is for the better.”
With that, he spun Mjolnir and flew to gods-knew-where. You were so numb that it took you hours to notify Tony of the gaping hole through the building.
✖✖✖
You stood stock-still, emotions swirling from shock to embarrassment to pure confusion as you took in the man in front of you. He hadn’t shown his face on Earth the whole five years, and you were completely shocked at what he had done to himself. “Thor?” you breathed. “Why are you—um—well—“
He looked down his nose at you, tilting his sunglasses down with the hand that wasn’t holding a can of beer. Squinting, he tried to realize who he was speaking to. His realization was so slow that you could literally see it blooming across his features. When he recognized it was you, he merely turned around, mumbling something about wanting a Bloody Mary. You stared blankly after him as he stumbled out of the room, your mouth hanging open.
“Not sure what happened there,” Steve said as he came up behind you. “Clearly he hasn’t been taking things well.”
“Yes, I can see that,” you managed.
“Are you doing okay? I know you guys had a fight of some kind the last time he was here.”
“Yes, yes. I’m going to see if I can talk to him and find out what’s going on,” you decided. “He cannot fight like this.”
“I agree,” Steve said, wishing you luck as he left to confer with Natasha.
Although you tried, you had no luck throughout the day in getting Thor alone—mostly due to the fact that you were in meetings nearly constantly, and he seemed to be in a drunken stupor for every single one. It was sort of the elephant in the room for everybody, and you could tell more than a few of them were wondering if he was even capable of fighting in this state. Even you had your doubts about your former friend, so you decided to take matters into your own hands.
As it happened, you didn’t get your chance until late that night, when most of the Avengers were in their rooms thinking about the subjects of the day’s meetings. Taking a deep breath, you set your jaw resolutely and made your way through the numerous corridors to Thor’s room. Your heart pounded, but you furrowed your brow defiantly. You were Asgardian, and you definitely had the strength to help Thor out of—whatever this was.
At least, you hoped so.
You knocked on the door and were met with silence for several moments. Raising your knuckles, you were just about to repeat your action when you heard a faint mumble.
“‘s there?”
“It’s me.” You inhaled deeply, praying you wouldn’t be electrocuted on the spot. There was another, even longer silence, before—
“C’me in.” You were floored at his response, but recovered and turned the doorknob softly. The sight you were met with broke your heart.
Thor sat on the floor, leaning against his bed with tears tracking their way down his face and into his beard. Cans of alcohol littered the floor, and you could smell the sickly-sweet stench from where you stood. You forgot the five years of silence in an instant and rushed to his side, sitting down next to him.
“Thor?” you managed, and he turned his tear-filled eyes on you. As he took in your worried face, his own crumpled and he began to sob anew, nearly falling into you as you wrapped your arms around him. You simply let him cry for a while, rubbing soothing circles on his back with your thumbs. Eventually, he sat back up, his motions slow and sad. “What is it?” you ask.
“Seeing my brother die—my home laid waste—how do I move past that? How can I live knowing what has happened? I was unable to save Loki or Asgard,” he said, his words falling with deadly conviction. His voice lowered even more as he finished. “I couldn’t—I couldn’t even save myself.”
“Oh, Thor,” you whispered. These five years must have been pure hell for him. His eyes were tortured as they looked into yours, and without thinking, you took his hand as you spoke.
“What you have witnessed will no doubt haunt you for the rest of your life. I say now as I did five years ago that while I mourn with you, I cannot fathom how deep your sorrow must be. I can tell it has plagued you these last five years, and I only wish I had tried to fix things earlier. Thor, you could not have done anything more to save our world and everyone in it. You may be a god, but that does not mean you do not have limits. You fought hard, my friend. And I am proud of you. I am.” He was watching you intently as you spoke, tears renewing themselves as you went on.
“But this—“ You motioned to the alcohol scattered around the room. “This is not like you. You do not deserve to fade away into nothing, brought down by your own devices. Instead, you must take your grief and rage and use it as motivation, use it to heal. Only then can you find within yourself what you so desperately need. And I will be here every step of the way to help you through.”
Thor’s eyes overflowed again, but this time you could sense relief radiating off him. He drew you in for another hug, and you held him tight, knowing this is what he had needed to hear all this time. “Thank you, my friend,” he whispered in your ear.
“I am happy to do it, Thor. I would do anything to help you,” you told him sincerely.
“I must also apologize from the depths of my heart for shutting you out. The only thing my actions accomplished was create more hurt for both of us. I needed you by my side and instead I pushed you away.”
“It was only natural, Thor. You were grieving and were unsure of how to handle yourself. All is forgiven now,” you said, smiling at him. “Now, if you feel able, shall we go to the kitchen? I find that Midgardian food is most helpful in times like these.” You stood up, extending a hand to him.
And for the first time in five years, Thor felt hope coursing through him and found that he, too, was able to smile.
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enchantedlokii · 3 years
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We Don’t Have To Be Ordinary
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: language, depression, mention of suicide attempt
Characters: Loki Odinson, Thor Odinson
Mentioned: Odin Borson, Brunnhilde, Bruce Banner, Korg, Miek, Heimdall, Tony Stark, the Other, Thanos, Ebony Maw, Cull Obsidian, Corvus Glaive, Proxima Midnight, Frigga, Malekith, Jane Foster, Amora, the Lurking Unknown, Hela Odindottir
Loki had become accustomed to his new life. New Asgard was different. Not that he minded. He had always loved Asgard, but the place had become more of a prison than home to him since his spiral years ago. He never truly felt safe there after his mistake, and he enjoyed the new start. And as much as he acted as if he hated Midgardians, he enjoyed Midgard. Earth.
For one, Norway was cooler than Asgard. It was more suitable for him, and he didn’t constantly feel too warm like he often did in his old home. It made it easier for him to help with the building process, and he was comfortable most nights with only a window open, a gentle night breeze rustling the curtains and pulling him into a deep sleep.
Then there was the laxity of the place. Of course it could be more the fact that it was Thor who was king now rather than Odin, but he didn’t constantly feel trapped by his duties. Sure, he still had to help out. He was still a prince, although he had questioned his brother if he truly deserved the title now, and he had to make appearances. But on a normal day, he could just relax. He didn’t have to worry about dressing up or donning his armor. Even if he was simply walking the streets, no one was bothered by the more casual attire he preferred. Thor often did the same, so it didn’t really matter all that much.
For a long time, he would join Thor for dinner along with Brunnhilde and Bruce. Sometimes Sif or Korg and Miek would join them as well. Even Heimdall had sat at the table with them on occasion. It was lighthearted. One might even call it fun.
Every night, Thor would invite Loki to stay with him. He had originally intended for his brother to live with him permanently, adding a room furnished for him when it was built, but Loki insisted he would be fine on his own. Occasionally he did accept the request. He always said it was because he was too tired to walk home and told himself it was to please his brother since he went through the trouble of building the room for him, but sometimes he just felt safer knowing that Thor was in the next room.
The Asgardians has been lucky, really. When they had come to Midgard, Bruce had gotten in contact with Tony. He had agreed to help fund the building of the city; both buying supplies and hiring workers to help get the job done faster. He even helped get in touch with the Norway government to make sure everything was completed legally. They hadn’t had any trouble, and every Asgardian knew Norwegian; though it was a bit difficult because of how the language had developed over the years from the ancient Norse that they were taught in school.
What surprised Loki was that no one objected to him being on Earth. Many of the Midgardians he had spoken to knew who he was, and some had been a bit timid, but no one had showed up in an effort to take him away. He was glad, additionally, that no sparkling portals had opened up under his feet again so the sorcerer either didn’t know he was there or had come to his senses. Even the remaining Avengers — they had learned from Tony that the team had split in the past year — knew he was there and had made no efforts to take him into custody under SHIELD.
Overall, Loki thought, things were great. He thought that his life was finally starting to turn around. That was, until the city was completed.
It was a slow change. At first there were still a lot of duties. Loki didn’t kind, really. They were different than the duties he had grown up preparing for, and much less boring. He just had more time on his hands now, often having a chance to sleep in of the morning or sit by the window and read. He didn’t have many books yet, but he was sure that his collection would grow to fill his private library that he had built for himself.
There were days that being alone became too much. He would start to feel lonely and would find himself wondering the streets. Sometimes he would just listen to the noise of the city and speak to those who passed him. He might even entertain the children of the city with his magic if they asked him to. Other times he would visit Thor (and Bruce, who was staying with him until he left for New York) or even Brunnhilde on occasion.
The dinners started to grow less frequent as the work tapered off. Eventually, Bruce left for New York. Loki hated to admit it, but it hurt watching him leave. They had grown to become friends in the past months, and he knew he would miss him. He promised to visit, of course, but it would still take some adjusting.
Over time, Loki didn’t see as much of his friends as he had become used to. He understood, of course. Thor was busier than ever with the duties of being King of Asgard. Brunnhilde was working on a sparring facility and had even mentioned trying to recreate the Valkyries. It was more for the sake of tradition that necessity, but Thor seemed to believe it was a good idea. Loki had plenty to do himself, but his duties were more steady. He never really felt busy, having time to himself nearly every day.
As the days passed, his workload grew lighter. Adjusting to Norway proved to leave room for more leniency, and Loki started having full days to himself. Eventually, he only had to attend a few scheduled events from time to time and take care of scattered legal obligations. He thought that was something he would enjoy, but he was so wrong.
As a child, Loki loved alone time. He spent a lot of time in the library of the palace when he wasn’t busy, or practicing his magic. He preferred solitude over the crowded hallways upstairs. That was before the Fall, however.
It was ironic that he called it the Fall, really. He knew what he was doing that day. He didn’t feel like there was any reason to keep living. Not when his entire life had been a lie. Not after he had tried to kill his own brother. Not after he had made such a huge mistake. He only felt worse when death wouldn’t claim him and he was left to float through darkness for what he later learned would be several months.
It was when his fall ended that he met the Other. The Other, who introduced him to Thanos and the Black Order. At first he had just been glad to not be alone anymore, but that gladness soon faded as the torture began. Because Thanos showed no mercy. He continuously weakened him until his mind was in such a weak state that he couldn’t fight off the power of the Mind Stone.
Even then, there were lapses. He would try to push a way from the mind control. He almost did, at one point. A dazed feeling had came over him during the fight when Thor was speaking to him, telling him to look around at the destruction the Chitauri were causing. He had snapped out of his trance for a moment before it washed over him again, staying in place until the Hulk had smashed him and the blow to his head had knocked him back to reality.
Only for him to go back to being confined to a prison cell. It wasn’t as bad as the Void. At least he had light and saw other beings. Frigga tried to make him comfortable, bringing him books and furniture to make the cell more homely. Still, he knew that he was deteriorating. He had nightmares and flashbacks, sometimes waking up thinking he was in the Void once again before a guard would come into view and he would remember that he was back in Asgard.
Then Malekith killed Frigga. That was Loki’s breaking point. He had known something was wrong. He felt that something was different even before the guard had come to send him the message.
At that point, he went wild. He lost control, destroying his cell. Broken glass scattered across the floor as his lamp shattered. Sharp fragments impaled his feet as he paced, leaving blood on the stone beneath him, but he didn’t care. He welcomed the pain like an old friend.
Despite it all, the one thing he wanted was for someone to visit him. He was alone. He hated being alone. Part of him had thought that Thor would come running as soon as Frigga died, breaking the shield and holding him in the way he had when they were younger. He had hoped that he might be allowed to leave the cell long enough to attend her funeral. But they left him to mourn alone.
When Thor finally came, seeking help to avenge their mother’s death, he saw an opportunity to escape the loneliness. He knew enough magic that faking his death was easy. Physically, it was simple, but it hurt watching Thor grieve. He thought it was a show at first. He was only pretending to care because Jane was there, perhaps. He learned later that he was wrong. That Thor had been heartbroken. Maybe that’s why he chose to stay with his brother instead of leaving the Asgardians after Ragnarok, but he wasn’t sure.
But as he started to be alone more and more, he started to doubt himself. He worried that Thor only kept him around because they were brothers. He worried that the people only tolerated him because he was a prince. He worried that they wished he weren’t there. He worried more than anything that no one wanted him or cared about him; even Thor.
It was those spiraling thoughts that kept him inside. He started leaving less and less. Some days he would never leave his bed. He wouldn’t eat. Some nights he didn’t get any sleep. Other nights he kept waking up from nightmares. He was a mess.
Loki had been in bed for days when he heard a knock on his door. At first he had just rolled over, burying his face in his pillow and hoping whoever it was would leave. Then the knock came again. He sighed and pushed himself out of bed and twisted the doorknob open. He squinted a bit at the light, glancing up to see that it was Thor standing in front of him.
“Loki?”
“Hey,” he replied simply, moving a bit so Thor can come in.
“Are you alright?” Thor asked as Loki closed the door behind him. The two moved towards the couch, sitting down near the edge. “I haven’t heard from you in days.”
Loki blinked up at him, surprised by the amount of concern in his tone. His eye seemed to sparkle with worry as he looked him over, and when Loki glanced over his shoulder at the mirror on his wall he realized he looked awful. He stared for a moment before quickly changing his appearance. “I’m fine,” he told him, turning back. “I just hadn’t got out of bed yet is all.”
“It’s nearly nightfall, Loki,” Thor pressed. “You couldn’t possibly have been in bed all day.”
“So what if I have?” Loki asked, raising his voice a bit as he stood up. He hoped that his brother couldn’t see how tense he was as he started to walk around, making himself busy straightening the few trinkets he had on his shelves. He could feel Thor watching him, but tried to ignore him.
“You missed the dinner,” Thor prompted, causing Loki to freeze. He searched his mind and then moved to the calendar on his desk, making a fist and slamming down on it as he saw the scribbled note.
“Sh*t,” he muttered. There had been an important dinner the night before. One that was meant to be a sort of memorium for his mother. One that he hadn’t wanted to miss. He felt himself falling into the seat at the desk, bringing his hands up to grip his hair as he fought the overwhelming emotions that washed over him at the realization. He could cry later, right now he had to put on a brave face.
“Hey,” Loki was surprised by the softness in Thor’s voice. It was a tone he rarely used. One that he couldn’t remember his brother ever using on anyone other than him. One he hadn’t used in so many years that it made his throat feel tight. He felt a hand on his knee and glanced down to see his brother crouching in front of him. “No one is upset with you for missing it. We’re only worried about you.”
“I’m fine,” Loki told him sharply, bringing his knee up to throw Thor’s hand off. His brother only moved it to his shoulder then, rubbing a thumb over the thin fabric of his shirt. “Thor.”
“I know you, Brother,” Thor said, an air of certainty in his voice. “You are definitely not fine.”
“Why do you even care?!” Loki asked, standing up and pushing his brother away before walking towards the mirror. He didn’t look at it, instead keeping his gaze fixed on the floor. “I’m a f*cking monster, Thor. You shouldn’t even. . . I’m not even your brother.”
It happened before Loki even realized. He summoned energy using his magic and blasted it at the mirror, shattering it into crystals. He froze at the sound, a flashback taking over. Him and Amora in Odin’s vault. A crystal striking the Tuning Fork and summoning the Lurking Unknown. The creature feeding off his fear.
He was pulled out of it as Thor rested a hand on his shoulder. He realized that he was on his knees now, glass cutting through his clothes in several places. He breathed heavily as Thor carefully started to pull them out. “You are my brother, Loki,” he said gently. “You will never be anything but that.”
Loki felt his chest burning as he stared at the broken mirror. He felt his disguise falling, his appearance becoming frazzled. “I should have been arrested,” he breathed.
“Hm?” Thor prompted, putting a hand on Loki’s cheek to force his brother to turn towards him.
“The Godseye Mirror,” he explained, his breathing growing more rapid. “I broke it.”
“Amora broke it,” Thor told him.
“No,” Loki pressed. “She-she couldn’t summon enough energy. I-I put my hands on it and it shattered. She took the blame because she saw how terrified Odin became of me. She took my punishment. I-it should have been me.”
“Loki.”
“I fulfilled the prophecy.”
“Loki, look at me,” Thor said sternly. Loki blinked up at him in response, falling silent as he searched his brother’s eye. He could see nothing there but concern and sincerity. “Did you see the vision in the Godseye Mirror before it broke?”
Loki shook his head. “But we know what he saw. He saw me at Ragnarok.”
“Did he?” Thor prompted, leaning back. “Think about it. . . No one knew about Hela at that point. What if. . . What if he saw her and had to say it was one of his sons so that he didn’t reveal her. Or maybe. . . You two look alike. Maybe he was confused. Maybe the vision wasn’t clear and he saw the black hair and just assumed. We don’t know that he saw you, and even if he did, it wasn’t true.”
“The way he looked at us. . .”
“Loki, what he saw in the vision was a warrior leading the army of the dead,” Thor said. “You didn’t do that, Hela did.”
Loki blinked a few times, searching his memory for that day centuries ago. What Thor said made sense. The pieces didn’t fall perfectly into place.
“And, I mean,” Thor started, catching his attention. “The Godseye Mirror warned Father of the war with Jotunheim. . . Without it, we would have never had you. Surely it wouldn’t have warned us of the war if you were not meant to be here.”
Loki was silent as Thor continued pulling fragments of glass from his skin. When he was finished and Loki hadn’t replied, the elder brother helped him to stand and led him to the bathroom, sitting him down on a stool. “I’m going to go get a bowl and some clean clothes,” he said gently. “I’ll be right back.”
Loki shook his head and grabbed Thor’s wrist, looking up him. Thor looked back down with a worried expression. “Something’s wrong with me,” he choked out, feeling his strained facade breaking. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing is wrong with me you, Loki,” Thor said softly, crouching in front of him and taking his hands. Loki forced himself to look him in the eye despite the tears he could feel brimming in his own. “You’re not okay right now, and there’s nothing wrong with that. There is nothing wrong with you.”
“When I fell. . . Let go. . .”
“I know, Loki,” Thor said sincerely, squeezing his hands. “I don’t think I realized it until I met the others in New York. . . But I know that you were hurting. I shouldn’t have let it get that far.”
“It’s not your fault,” Loki told him, his voice breaking.
“And it’s not yours,” Thor assured him. He hesitated for a moment. “Is it okay if I hug you?”
Loki hesitated for a moment, looking down at his bleeding arms and torso. “I’ll get blood on you,” he murmured.
“I don’t mind,” Thor said with a small smile before gently raising up and wrapping around Loki’s smaller frame. Loki tensed at first, then melted into the embrace, loosely wrapping his arms around Thor. He pressed his face into his brother’s shoulder, squinting his eyes shut to fight against the tears that were flowing down his cheeks now.
“Thank you,” he breathed out, feeling Thor squeeze him a bit at the words. “I love you. I-I never stopped. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Thor whispered. “I know. I love you too.”
Loki felt a small weight lifting off his shoulders. Because even after everything that he had done. After trying to kill Thor years ago. After New York. After faking his death. After Sakaar. After Ragnarok. After all of that, Thor still loved him. He still claimed him as his brother after knowing that they shared no blood.
Thor carefully pulled away, his hands lingering on Loki’s shoulders. “We’re going to get you cleaned up,” he started. “Then we’re going to go home. I don’t want you to be alone right now.”
“The mirror. . .”
“I can send a guard to clean it up later,” Thor promised. “Will you be okay alone for a minute?”
Loki nodded in response, watching as Thor left the room. He sighed, lowering his head and taking a shaky breath. For a moment, his mind flickered back to the night Amora had been arrested. He sat in his mother’s chambers after the fight with the Lurking Unknown, his knees pressed to his chest as she prepared a spell to heal his bruised ribs.
He had raised his voice at her that night. He had pressed her to tell him the truth, only admitting that he and Thor had been eavesdropping on her and Odin in the process. He had begged her to teach him how to use his magic that night, and she told him that she would. It was the first time he ever remembered her going against her husband’s wishes, and she did it for him. He had asked her that night what would happen to him.
“Patience, my son.”
Her words echoed in his mind almost as if she were there saying it now. A small warmth grew in his chest he felt a faint smile touching his lips. He hated that he missed the dinner in her honor, but he had a feeling that she wouldn’t be upset with him. Not when he thought of her so often. He knew that she was well aware he hadn’t meant it when he said she wasn’t his mother. That didn’t mean he didn’t regret it, but it helped. It helped knowing that she never stopped loving him as her son. That she raised him as her own even knowing the ice that run through his veins. That she believed in him when his father didn’t.
Loki was far from okay. He wasn’t sure he would feel better anytime soon with the darkness that seemed to follow him recently. But he knew that Thor would be there for him. He wouldn’t fight this alone, and in time he would heal. He just had to be patient and all would be well in the future. The sun would shine on him again.
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marinaaniseed · 4 years
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Dark ‘n’ Stormy, Pt: 10
Summary: Asgardian v. Pizza buffet A.K.A. The Stuffing Chapter.
There’s a teeny, tiny bit of important plot before we get to that point. I’ve tried to very clearly flag the point of no return, so nobody get their undies in a twist if you continue and don’t like what you read.
Length: 6.7k-ish. Much like our hero, I may have overdone it this chapter...
Notes: The slices of pizza are of a size that works for you. If you’ve seen Bad Times at the El Royale, one of the scenes may seem somewhat familiar to you. My unending thanks go to @nobzob​ for encouraging me and for beta-reading this. Also, I made a deal with @thors-soft-cheeks​ that I would write this chapter, so hopefully it meets your expectations :)
Warnings: Eh the usual. Kinky food stuff, smut, drinking, swearing, brief mention of periods and babies, mental health wonkiness, Asgardian politics.
That summer was scorching.
“It’s as hot as hell out there,” you proclaimed one afternoon, collapsing onto the settee, sweat running down your face.  
“But Hel isn’t hot,” Thor observed, his head tilted to the side in confusion like an overgrown Labrador puppy. Geri and Freki mirrored his pose from where they lay on the floor.
“What do you mean it’s not hot? Isn’t it supposed to be full of fire? To burn the sinners? That’s what they taught us at school.”
“Ah, is this from one of your Midgard stories?”
“No,” you said indignantly, before softening. “Well, I suppose so. But a lot of people take them very seriously.”
“Hel is on Niflheim. It is full of cold, mist, and ice. It is where my father imprisoned my sister. You mean it’s as hot as Muspelheim outside, yes?”
“Which one is Muspelheim again?” You’d tried to follow Thor’s explanations of the universe, had even tried to learn the Asgardian language with him. You weren’t stupid, but you were no Jane Foster, either. It was hard to unlearn many of the things that you thought were facts.
“The one where I was captured by Surtur,” Thor explained, wincing a little at the memory of how Asgard had been destroyed.
“The fire demon guy?”
“That’s the one,” Thor said, wandering off to the kitchen to grab you a drink of water. Handing you the glass, he sat down next to you, removing some of the strands of hair that had stuck to your face with sweat.
“How’re you feeling about tomorrow?” you asked, once you’d finished gulping down the water, giving yourself brainfreeze in the process.
“Quite nervous,” he admitted. “And you?”
“Nervous for you, I suppose.”
Tomorrow was the anniversary of New Asgard’s founding, and a day of celebrations were planned. Traditional tournaments and games, feasting, drinking, dancing. But it was also to be the day when the results of the vote would be announced.
After the census, there had been a consultation. Every adult Asgardian had been asked their thoughts on how they wished to be governed. These answers were collated, and a vote held. Every option was there and the Asgardians had to rank them in preference. If none of the options received over 50% of the vote, then the least popular one would be eliminated, and those who had voted for that option would have their second preference counted. On it would continue until an option received the requisite amount of interest. It wasn’t a perfect system, but you all hoped it would lead to an outcome that most people were vaguely in favour of.
Thor and Brunnhilde had agreed, both publically, and privately to honour the result, whatever it was. You worried for them both. There were plenty of outcomes that neither of them particularly desired. Some of Thor’s friends, visiting New Asgard for the celebrations, had kindly agreed to count the votes, as neutral outsider.
Thor was doing a lot better, although he still had days where he wobbled. Taking responsibility for some of the smaller things, especially the animals, had given him more purpose. You didn’t want it all to be undone by the result.
“Perhaps we should go out for dinner tonight,” you mused after a while, your hand resting on Thor’s. “We could walk into Tønsberg, get away from everything.”
“Yes, that could be good.”
STOP HERE IF YOU ONLY WANTED THE PLOT NECESSARY BITS. IF YOU CONTINUE AND THEN BITCH ABOUT THE KINKY SHIT, THAT’S ON YOU. I WARNED YOU.
Thor had been working on his anxiety, venturing a little further each day with the dogs, or riding on one of the horses. He regularly made it into Tønsberg now. There was one restaurant in particular that had caught his eye. A place where you can eat as much pizza, sour cream and salad as you want. He wondered just much pizza he could eat.
That was the thing that he’d noticed, now that food was becoming a pleasure again, not a means to distract from his feelings. He enjoyed eating. Not just in the way that most people enjoyed tasting something delicious. There was something erotic about it, the cocktail of pleasure and pain as he pushed his stomach to its limits. Yes, he definitely wanted to find out how much pizza he could eat. He’d even heard they did dessert pizzas now, although he wasn’t sure if the restaurant did those, or even if he’d like them.
It’d probably be like how you’d described deep-fried Mars bar and ice cream to him: They took a bunch of things I love and turned it into something I hate.
Thor wondered if you enjoyed watching him eat, helping him to eat. He hoped you did, suspected you did. You always made a little too much, brought back an extra little treat, ordered too much then shared, or more accurately, gave it to him. He’d seen the way you looked at him when you thought he wasn’t paying attention. Sometimes he’d push out his stomach a little more or pretend to scratch an itch, moving the hem of his top up to rub the flesh he knew you wanted to touch. It was worth it for your reaction, every time. Widening eyes, rosier cheeks, a smile that told him how much you loved him. Then, of course, there had been the feast. You kneading and feeding him at the table.
Yes, you definitely enjoyed it.
For a long time, he’d felt like his fat gut was something to be ashamed of, that made him unworthy of the affections of another. And maybe you were the only one, maybe you were a cosmic anomaly. That didn’t seem right, but even if you were, of all the trillions that existed, now, in the past, or in the future, you were here in the right place, at the right time, to love him.
That felt good. It felt different. And he realised that what he had known in the past was lust, awe, fear. It was far better to be loved than to be feared, though anyone sensible would still exercise caution.
It hadn’t been easy, to accept this version of himself - when you spend over a millenia with roughly the same body, it takes a while to adjust. It’d be a fine day indeed when a person was judged on what they did, not what they looked like. But for now he would settle for having someone not be repulsed by his body, but actually attracted to it.
Your insistence on touching him was uncomfortable at first. It chafed at the edges of his esteem and confidence. But now it was familiar, something he welcomed, something he sought. His hand would move yours to his stomach when you were sat together, holding it there. He always asked if you wanted to join him in the bathroom, to lather him up, and gently apply lotions. The majority of the time, he fell asleep as the little spoon, you holding onto him as though he was the most precious thing in your life. Even though they woke him up, he found your sleep twitches endearing, the way your fingers tried to press and grab his hairy tummy as it rounded out in front of him.
In fact, the only time he really got to be the big spoon was during your period. He had, in his defence, offered to use his powers to rid you of the inconvenience, but you liked the reassurance of knowing that you weren’t pregnant. You had, however, allowed him to ease some of the side-effects. During that time, you practically begged him to hold you, to be the big spoon. I like it when you press your stomach into the small of my back, you told him, it’s like a warm, squishy cushion to ease my pain. He didn’t like that you were in pain but was glad to be of help. He hoped his fingers resting on your abdomen soothed the cramps he knew you felt, but kept to yourself. Perhaps one day his fingers would rest there and bring comfort to his unborn child?
***
You’d taught him how to use Google, and he’d looked up when the restaurant was least likely to be busy. Being in crowded places was getting easier, but Thor still preferred to avoid them. Most Norwegians tended to eat earlier, so the restaurant was fairly quiet when you arrived just after 9pm.
Sliding across the dark brown leather seating of the booth, you began looking at the drinks menu.
“Why does friend Hulk get his own drink and I do not?” Thor queried, pointing at a brandy cocktail. Looking at the little picture printed in the menu, you can see why they’d named the green drink after Banner’s alter ego.
“Well, it’s not named after you but I think this is pretty close,” you countered, indicating the Dark ‘n’ Stormy.
“I am not dark.”
“No, no you are not. But you do like your storms,” you said, with a smile. “Or there’s this one,” you added, showing him the Angel Face.
“You flatter me far too much, my love,” Thor said, taking your hand in his. “This one is you,” he decided, pointing at the Flirtini.
“Very good,” you laughed. “Any other cocktail matches you can see?”
“This one, the Red Russian. That is Agent Romanoff. The Brooklyn, that is Captain Rogers. Long Island Iced Tea is Stark.”
“I understand the first one, but not the other two?”
“Those are the names of the places where they are from.”
“Ah, I see. I thought this was more appropriate for Steve Rogers,” you said, showing him the Old Fashioned. Thor laughed, long and hard at that one. It startled the few other people in the restaurant with you, but you didn’t mind. Thor had been so stressed lately, you’re just pleased to hear him laugh again, to see him relax a little. You decided to up the ante a little bit and earn your match with the Flirtini.
“So, bear,” you said softly, so he had to cock his head towards you to hear you. “I was thinking after the dinner, we could try these three,” you smirked, spreading the fingers of your free hand to point at the Sex on the Beach, Slow Comfortable Screw Against the Wall, and the Screaming Orgasm.
“Only three?” he grinned. “I think this one is relevant to your interests,” he said, moving the hand he held underneath his shirt while gesturing to the Hairy Navel. That earned a laugh from you, not as loud as Thor’s but just as mirthful.
A quiet, but pointed cough from the end of the table drew your attention to your server. His name badge said ‘Tor’ and you wondered if he realised who your dinner companion was.
“Can I get you any drinks?” he asked.
“A Flirtini for me, please,” you answered.
“And a Dark ‘n’ Stormy for me,” Thor added. “Tell me, how does this pizza buffet work?”
“Well, there is a pizza bar over there, behind me,” Tor said, gesturing. “You just take a plate and serve yourself, you can have as much pizza, salad and sour cream as you like for 134 kroner. It’s only our most popular pizzas but there’s something for everyone.”
“And there is no limit to the amount you can have?” Thor clarified, and that was when you realised why you were here.
“No, we just ask that people don’t take more than they can eat. Oh, and the kitchen closes at 10:30 so that we can close at 11. So yeah, go right ahead and I’ll bring your drinks over to you in a few minutes.”
With that, Tor turned on his heel and went to the bar.
“I see why we’re here,” you smirked at your lover as you made your way over to the pizza. “You’ve got your work cut out though,” you added, showing him your watch.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Thor said, beginning to think this was a bad idea.
“You want to see how much pizza you can eat. A lot more than I can, that’s for sure.”
You moved along the pizza bar, assessing your options, looking at the little signs in front of each of the cheesy wheels. Cheese and tomato, ham and pepperoni, ham and mushroom, spicy chicken, Thai chicken, beef and béarnaise, meat feast, chorizo and Ventricina, cauli truffle, vegetarian, beef and onion, BBQ chicken, Parma and truffle. If this was just the most popular ones, you were intrigued to see just how extensive the full menu was. You shoveled a couple of the more interesting slices onto your plate, added some sour cream to dip the crusts in, and grabbed a token amount of salad.
Both you and the drinks were at the table long before Thor. He had a plate in each hand, with a mountain of pizza on each. It was a wonder he hadn’t lost any slices.
“I wanted to try them all, so I got two slices of each,” he said, by way of explanation, your shocked expression not as subtle as you’d hoped.
“Did you get any sour cream?”
“Oh yes. I put some on every slice before I stacked them up.”
You wondered how he was going to taste the different flavours if they were all slathered in sour cream. It didn’t matter, as long as Thor was happy, that was the important thing. Your plate was empty but you were content to drink and watch the man next to you munching away on his stack of slices. You’d seen competitive eaters, inhaling their food, they could barely be tasting it. Thor wasn’t slow but you could tell he was savouring each slice. A purr when his tongue met a salty slice of pepperoni, a moan as hot mozzarella melted in his mouth, a satisfied smile as he bit into a portion heavy with sour cream. The textures, aromas, the heat of the jalapeños combined with the cooling richness of the dairy. He was focused on what he was eating, enjoying it as more than just sustenance. He was making love to his senses.
Your cheeks were warm, and it wasn’t just a flush from the alcohol. No, you were enjoying watching Thor enjoying his meal. It felt wrong, it felt dirty, voyeuristic, even, to feel aroused by this. You had to wonder, did pizza really taste that good to him, or was it something more?
Chancing a glance at Thor’s lap, you could see his erection pushing up against his underbelly, and being pushed away by the soft swell of his belly. Thor was so engrossed in his food that he didn’t notice your wandering hand until your fingers danced over the prominent bulge.
“Enjoying yourself?” you asked, an eyebrow arched teasingly.
“Ye-yeah,” he responded, stopping with a slice partway to his mouth. You took his other hand and moved it to your mouth, sucking his index finger while maintaining eye contact.
“What about now?” you asked once you’d released him.
“You’re making this a lot harder.”
“What, this?” you replied, applying more pressure to his crotch.
“Yes, no.” It was fun to watch Thor when he got flustered like this, torn between his desire to maintain decorum and his more carnal desires. “You’re making it a lot harder to focus on enjoying my pizza,” he finally managed.
“Ah, I see. Well, it must be quite cold now,” you said, eyeing the last few slices. “I’ll get us some more.”
Thor was glad for the respite. Between you and the food, he was extremely turned on. If it weren’t so public, he’d ask you to do something about the erection he was sporting. For now, though, he settled for undoing his trousers, giving both his tummy and his cock a bit more room.
“They just brought out a new, cheese and tomato, I thought you’d like to enjoy it while it’s hot,” you said, sliding a plate with five slices in front of him, the cheese bubbling slightly.
“That’s half the pizza,” Thor noted with a frown.
“You snooze, you lose. I wanted the best for my big man. I think you’ll enjoy it a lot more when it’s fresh and hot,” you said, touching his tummy under his shirt. “You wanted to see how much pizza you can eat, and I want to help. I’ll get you a few slices at a time so that it doesn’t go cold. You can tell me when to stop. Oh, I brought you some sour cream to dip the crusts in and I ordered some more drinks. It must be thirsty work eating all that pizza.”
The feel of your fingers pressing into his still pliable flesh, as you ate your slices, spurred him on even more.
“Y/N, there’s something I need to explain…” he started.
“Shh. You eat your pizza. I think I know what it is.” Thor looked at you confused but shoveled another slice into his mouth. “You’re enjoying your food, I know you are. It’s just like at the feast. It’s arousing you, I like it.”
“You do? Even though it’s weird, even if I get fatter?”
“Shh, shh. Let me bring you another plate, do you have a preference? I’ll tell you exactly what I think when I get back.”
“Um, may I have some more of the Thai Chicken please?”
“Certainly.”
Thor fiddled with the hem of his top and gulped hard on his drink, terrified about what you might say. It was one thing you enjoying his larger body, but you might have a very different opinion about him enjoying eating and actually enjoying his size. He enjoyed the size difference between you, he felt powerful, owning his space, and if he was honest, he was beginning to really enjoy his softness, how sensitive he now was in places.
One of his original two plates was slid back in front of him, with two slices of Thai chicken and three of ham and mushroom on it.
“There were only two slices left, so I thought I’d bring you something else as well,” you said by way of explanation. Tucking his hair behind his ear, you brought your lips close and began to tell him your answer.
“What you do is up to you, it’s your body. I’m just happy to see you happy, to see you enjoying yourself. However, if you’re happy like this, if you enjoy your food and maybe get a bit bigger, I’m certainly not going to complain. Not just because that would be rude, but because I’d enjoy it. I mean, you know how much I enjoy this tummy of yours.” Your hand returned to its previous position, to emphasise your point. “I definitely wouldn’t be upset if there was more of it for me to admire and play with.”
You moved back a smidge, to see how Thor was taking it. He was trying to remain calm, to eat his pizza, but his heated cheeks and heavier breathing let you know he was enjoying your words.
“Well, you know how much I enjoy it when you press your weight down on me, I think that’d be more fun with a bit more weight behind it. Or how about when you take me from behind, think about all that extra power to pound into me with. Think about how small I’ll look in the mirror when I take you into my mouth. I like the thought of your bigger belly bouncing on top of me, jiggling beneath me, or just being extra cushioning for me to cuddle into. My big, strong, soft, sex god.”
Thor trembled next to you, trying to resist the urge to throw you on the table and fuck you right there. He was on his penultimate slice, so you took one of the empty plates back to the pizza station. You could sense the stares from the people who’d noticed your frequent trips but, fuck ‘em. It was an all-you-can-eat buffet, and that’s exactly what you, or more accurately, Thor, were doing.
“Beef and béarnaise, for my beefy bear,” you said, sliding the plate in front of the blushing god. Nobody had touched that pizza since you’d got him the cheese and tomato, so didn’t feel bad bringing him the remaining eight slices. You left him in comparative peace for this plate, gently rubbing his belly and checking out the restaurant’s menu on your phone.
“How’re you feeling?” you asked as he neared the end of this particular round.
“I’m feeling pretty tired, it’s a bit of a struggle, but it feels so good. How much longer do we have?”
“35 minutes. You’re doing really well,” you encouraged. He was starting to feel full, less doughy under your fingertips. The buttons on his shirt were certainly running into difficulties and you feared their relationship with the soft, denim garment would be short-lived. You were curious as to why Thor had chosen a slim fit shirt in the first place but chose not to comment. It was a pleasure to see all of his soft curves on display outside of the bedroom.
“I think I can manage some more. What were you looking at on your phone?”
“Oh,” it was your turn to blush. “The restaurant has its nutritional info online, I was seeing which pizzas were the most calorific, just in case you wanted a little push.”
In truth, Thor didn’t know exactly what calorific meant, but he could tell this was something that interested you. You’d eagerly accepted his little (ok, big) kink, he could indulge yours.
“Well, why don’t you bring me some. I always like to push myself,” he said, adjusting his position so that his stomach no longer pressed into the edge of the table but rested upon it instead, a generous slither of flesh revealed where his shirt failed to cover him. “Maybe another of those stormy drinks as well, please.”
You almost tripped over yourself in your hurry to bring more food and drink to your full-bodied lover, rich and satisfying, to be enjoyed slowly like a fine Shiraz. Thor laughed a little at your eagerness, it was endearing how you wanted to please him, to take care of him. He hoped you took care of yourself with the same enthusiasm.
Three slices of ham and pepperoni, and five slices of Parma and truffle made their way back with you. Shortly thereafter, Tor dropped off another Flirtini for you and a pitcher of Dark ‘n’ Stormy.
“I wanted to make sure you were well hydrated,” was your answer to Thor’s look of surprise. Admittedly, the cocktail probably wasn’t that hydrating, but Thor had asked for it, so you just made sure that he had enough. You sipped on your drink, watching him battle on, determined to beat the pizza. It was a very different opponent to one he’d find on the battlefield, but Thor had set himself this challenge and he wasn’t going to back down. The staff were watching you nervously, concerned you’d make them wait all night, but you would be gone at eleven, no problem. As Thor began to slow down, you noticed him glancing between your phone and the remainder of the pizza.
“What is it? Are you ok? You can stop if you want, it’s ok,” you worried at him.
“No, no. I can do this. Can you get me what is left? You might need to help me eat them, but I can do it,” he insisted, chest heaving as he panted through the last slice.
Dutifully, you went to gather up what was left, balancing them carefully on two plates. You weren’t entirely sure how you would help him eat them, but he was single-minded in his task, and there was nothing you’d be able to do to stop him. Once Thor had set his mind to something, he was hard to reason with. You either had to get out of the way or hold on tight until he was done.
The pitcher was balanced on top of his taut tummy, shirt stretched dangerously tight around it, as Thor sipped his cocktail through a straw.
“Is that all that is left?”
“Is that all?” you asked incredulously. “I’ve got you three each of the chorizo, BBQ chicken, and cauliflower, two slices of vegetarian and meat feast, and four of the beef onion. That’d be more than enough for most people, are you sure about this?”
“Absolutely. I’m not most people. Asgardians are known for their feasting.” The pitcher was set back down with a thud.
You couldn’t really argue with that.
The first few slices went down well, but then he really began to struggle, gulping down his drink to try to rid his mouth of the cloying cheesiness. Your fingers traced over the swell of his tummy, trying to soothe him.
“That’s good, that helps. Feed me?” he pleaded.
“Ok, you make yourself comfortable and I’ll help.”
You stacked up two slices of the same flavour, bringing them his mouth, and chewed through them, less thoughtfully than before, as he massaged his aching tummy. He was a sweaty, gassy mess, with cheese and sauce stuck in his beard, but he was very pleased with himself when he finally finished the last slice.
“Are you impressed?”
“Very. You managed 69 slices,” you giggled.
“What is funny about that?”
You leaned in and whispered it into his ear. That wasn’t something you’d tried yet, and tonight certainly wasn’t the night for it, but it was definitely something to try another time.
“Finish your drink, I’ll go pay,” you told the full and flustered thunder god.
He was more than happy to finish the pitcher, he needed something to help him cool down. He hadn’t known there was a name for what you’d described, but he definitely liked the sound of it.
***
In the end, it wasn’t the buttons, but the fabric itself that capitulated. After you’d settled up, you’d found Thor sitting awkwardly with this arms across his waist, cheeks flushed fuchsia.
“Are you alright?” you asked, concerned that the pizza had, in fact, beaten Thor.
“My shirt…” he mumbled, moving a hand to show the gaping hole to the side of the placket, allowing a sizable chunk of flesh to be on show.
“Ah...hug me from behind as we leave, I can cover you,” you suggested. It was a slightly awkward exit, Thor pressing into your back. You thanked the staff and eventually made it into the street. “Perhaps we should take a taxi, get you back home quicker?”
Thor mumbled his agreement. It was a fairly quiet evening, so ordering one was pretty straight forward. Ever the gentleman, Thor went to open the door for you.
“Oh, love, could you hold my bag for me, please?” you said with a pointed look at his torso.
Never had he been gladder to hold something in his life. A shield would’ve been preferable, would’ve covered more, but he had to work with what he had.
***
Safely home, Thor was glad to unbutton his shirt, breathing a sigh of relief. He was lucky his jeans were almost painted on otherwise, he might’ve lost them on the journey, stomach spilling out of them.
“Hey, Y/N. Do we have anything sweet?” he called from the kitchen, where he was feeding and fussing the dogs. It was pretty tricky to bend down to their bowls, but he just about managed it.
“Erm yeah. I baked a couple of cakes for tomorrow, why?”
When you got no response, you decided to put some music on, content to let Thor do his own thing. Some Deep Purple while you slumped on the settee, letting Loki slither over you.
It was the second song, Hush, when Thor reappeared, dancing into view with a plate in hand, generous slice of cake on top, and a fork in the other, swaying along to the music. You couldn’t take your eyes off him. The dogs were dancing around his feet, trying to join in, and even the snake seemed to be eyeing him up as he moved remarkably gracefully towards you, swinging his wide hips in time to the music, stomach bouncing along in front of your face. Your mouth didn’t know whether to go dry or to salivate everywhere at the sight before you.
He eased himself down next to you, abused cushion sinking beneath his weight.
“I fancied something sweet after all that pizza,” he said. “This is an excellent cake, my love, you’re very talented.”
“It wasn’t exactly meant for you, but I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” you answered, a little sad that the honey cake you’d worked so hard on was now missing a decent wedge.
“There’s still another cake, it’s fine,” he replied with a smile. “Asgard will still get to sample your handiwork.”
“Can I get you anything to drink with that?”
“Maybe some milk?”
Milk? What about a milkshake, you wondered to yourself. Thor clearly was intent on pushing himself to his absolute limit, so why not help him further?
He gave you a slightly reproachful look when you approached with the biggest glass you could find, filled with your concoction. Thor had wondered why you hadn’t taken so long, having finished his cake, and what you were using the blender for. Now he knew.
You’d blended together whole milk, peanut butter cup ice cream, a generous dash of bourbon, chocolate chips, and chocolate syrup. It was topped with whipped cream peak coated in chocolate sprinkles. A metal straw poked out the top.
“Thank you,” he said, accepting the monstrosity. You hadn’t made him a full-on freakshake, but there was certainly a lot to take in. Thor sipped it cautiously, he didn’t want to get brainfreeze, balancing the glass on top of his over-full belly. You curled up next to him, careful not to jostle or apply too much pressure, kissing the flesh that jutted past the open fabric of his shirt, rubbing gentle circles into his swollen gut.
“You did this on purpose,” he observed around the half-way mark.
“You wanted milk, you wanted something sweet, you wanted to push yourself. I’m just helping you get what you want,” you replied with a grin. “You don’t have to finish it, but it’d be a shame to waste it.”
That was what spurred him on to finish, even though his body was pleading for him to stop. He really enjoyed how full he felt but this was definitely the last thing he was going to have.
“I love how big and round you are,” you commented, fingers delicately tracing over the mound of his stomach. “I can’t wait to get you to bed.”
Thor’s cock, which had never become less than half-hard, immediately sprang back to life. He gulped down the remains of the shake, a horny, panting mess.
“I absolutely cannot eat another thing,” he gasped.
“Oh, very good. I am impressed. Rest here a moment.” You took the glass, the cake plate, and fork to the kitchen, before grabbing a flannel from the bathroom.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, mucky pup,” you said, tenderly wiping away the worst of what was caked around Thor’s mouth and in his facial hair. “How’re you doing?” you asked, cupping a soft cheek in your hand.
“I think I would like to lie down for a bit, I’m quite tired,” he admitted. You couldn’t blame him, just watching was tiring enough. You stood up and offered him a hand. Thor didn’t really need you to pull him up, he was more than strong enough to do it himself, but he appreciated the gesture nonetheless.
“Go get comfy, I’ll do the washing up, let the dogs out, and join you in a bit,” you told him, groping his bum as he shuffled past. “Hey Thor,” you added.
“Yes, my love?”
“If Captain America has America’s ass, do you have Asgard’s ass?”
“I think we could find a smaller one to represent us as a people,” he noted, blushing a little.
“Aww, but I like this one. It’s so shapely and round.”
Thor rolled his eyes with a grin and lumbered off to the bedroom, keen to free himself from his clothes.
***
When you eventually joined Thor in the bedroom, you were surprised to find him still awake, albeit barely. His clothes were in a messy pile to one side, but that barely registered, because sprawled on top of the duvet was a very aroused, naked thunder god. He’d unbraided his hair so that it fanned out behind him on the pillow like a halo. One arm was behind his head, the other rested on his rounded tummy.
“I thought you were tired?” you queried, looking down at the dozy Asgardian. “I was expecting you to be asleep, not putting on a show.”
“Well, I was hoping you would take care of me, give my belly a little rub,” he replied with a grin.
“Only your belly needs taking care of?”
“Ok, maybe some other bits of me might like some attention.”
You rummaged around in the bedside table until you found your dry oil spray. Pumping it liberally, you made sure Thor’s belly was well coated before you settled down with your head on his chest, kissing and licking a nipple, while your hand smoothed over his stomach. Gently rubbing and kneading, you took your time, worshipping your way down to the soft underbelly where he was most sensitive. You avoided touching his cock for as long as possible, but it was hard to ignore, the head nodding against the underside of his rounded abdomen.
“Ah,” he hissed as you brushed against his erection. “I would much prefer it if you used your mouth for this part.”
Giving his tummy one last circular rub, you rolled away from Thor and moved to the very end of the bed, positioning yourself by his feet. You took one foot into your hand and began to knead it, pleased to see that the pumice was working. Thor writhed in your grasp, desperate for you to give his cock attention, but you wanted to string things out. You kissed your way from his ankle to his thigh, ignoring his erection, before massaging his other foot and repeating your journey up that sizable leg.
“My love, please,” he begged.
“Please, what?” you asked, knowing he couldn’t see you smirking.
“Please give me some release.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean.”
“Please...pleasure me, with your mouth.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that?” It was mean to torment Thor, yes, but also worth it to hear the increasing desperation in his voice.
“Please, I’m begging you, please. Please could you just suck my cock,” he whined.
“Oh! You mean like this?”
There was a strangled cry, then, oh fuck, yes, repeated above you as you took him into your mouth. You started slowly, licking and flicking your tongue around his head before gradually moving further down. Propped up on your elbows, you massaged the tops and sides of his packed gut, head gently butting into his underbelly, nose nudging into his soft hair as you moved up and down his length. You knew he wouldn’t last long, had seen how excited he already was, but it was still a surprise how quickly you felt his thighs trembling beneath you. His cum was thick, almost as thick as the milkshake you’d made him, and you swallowed it down. Making sure to clean him with your tongue, Thor gave an involuntary shudder, his cock now far too sensitive.
You pulled away, content to fall asleep next to the exhausted Asgardian, chest panting and stomach heaving from the exertion.
“My love?” Thor managed to huff out.
“Mmm?”
“I have one more request.”
“And want is that?”
“I want to taste you.”
You shuffled up the bed to kiss him, pressing into his sticky, soft, pink, marshmallow lips. His facial hair tickled as you deepened the kiss, but you didn’t mind. Drawing back, you took the time to admire Thor’s face. He looked happy, content. His smile was warm, his eyes sparkled, his brow was less creased, more carefree.
“That wasn’t quite what I meant,” he admitted, hurrying to add, “not that it was bad! It’s just I wanted to, uh, eat you. Eat you out.”
“I thought you couldn’t eat another thing?” you teased.
“For you, I will always make an exception. None of the wonderous tastes to cross my lips this night shall compare to yours.”
You suspected that might not strictly be true, but you didn’t have the heart to tell Thor that.
“I fear I may not be able to move from this position. You shall have to sit on me,” Thor sighed with mock melodrama.
“I think I can agree to that,” you grinned. After all, it wasn’t every day a god invited you to sit on their face. You straddled Thor and held onto the headboard, lowering yourself slowly, making sure to support the majority of your weight with your knees. Thor began to lick you, slow and languid strokes of his tongue like you were the sweetest dessert, made only for him. You slowly began grinding your hips back and forth, trying to get him where you wanted him. After the way you’d teased him, it was only payback that he make you wait, but you were eager for more.
Now that he’d had his release, Thor was far more interested in taking his time. A powerful hand moved up to grab your left hip, keeping you in place, while the other hand reached up to massage your breast, pinching your hardened nipple. Thor could feel himself getting hard again. How could he not, when everything was you? All he could taste, all he could smell, the feel of your thighs against his soft cheeks. The overwhelmed, urgent little noises you made, and when he looked up, your breasts bouncing above him, that blissed-out, happy look on your face. All of it was for him, only for him. He was the only one who got to see you like this, to make you feel like this.
And he fucking loved it.
When you came it was hard, insistent and drenching. It was like turning his face to the heavens during a thunderstorm of his own creation. Thor definitely preferred this position. His height, in fact, his size in general, meant lying down between your thighs wasn’t the easiest position. But this. This was good. His lips on yours, lovingly kissing. And if he was honest, he liked how it made you the one in charge. Every roll and slide of your hips let him know how much you enjoyed what he was doing, there was no second-guessing here. He was your plaything, your means to carnal bliss, and he couldn’t give you enough.
You’d tried to be restrained during your first orgasm, biting into your arm, but the second one had you positively screaming. The dogs were alarmed, barking and scratching at the bedroom door, but it didn’t matter. Thor released his hold on you and you slid off to the side, face-planting into the pillow.
“I did a good job, yes?” he inquired.
“Mmm, yes. Thank you. Sleep now,” you said, as much to him as the pillow.
“I’ll be right back, my love,” he said heaving himself up. “I must reassure the dogs...and perhaps wash my face.”
***
Geri and Freki soon calmed once they realised all was well. Thor washed his face thoroughly and returned to the bedroom, setting a pitcher of water and glass on the bedside table. He’d opened all the windows, yet it was still absurdly hot. Not that you seemed to notice. You’d rolled and wrapped the duvet around you like a burrito, one leg hanging out. Thor climbed in beside you, careful not to disturb you. No need to spoon you, you’d find your way to him soon enough. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever had such a thoroughly satisfying night. Not that he’d be able to enjoy nights like this too often, he didn’t want them to lose their wonder, but it seemed a fitting way to spend it, to indulge himself, on what might be his last night of reprieve before the burdens of a king were his to bear once more.
@morganhoran1671  @innerpaperexpertcloud
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beccarooni · 4 years
Text
Alone
(A.N: Day 1 of Thorbruce week! Prompt: Alone)
Thor was yelling again. 
Bruce didn't know how he managed it - keeping up with threat after threat long after the demigod’s voice should've gone hoarse from overuse. Fists that should've tired hours ago still pounded on the wall in front of them, arcs of lightning that should've been draining Thor of energy still appeared occasionally from the corner of Bruce’s vision. 
He could only imagine how Thor looked now. Probably ragged, although less ragged than him. He'd always held this princely aura about him, even when he was muddling round the tower, barefoot, stumbling his way towards a coffee machine. He was always regal, in a frustratingly handsome way that only the prince of a space kingdom could pull off. 
So, ragged, but not too ragged. Angry, that was a certainty given the amount of times he'd heard Thor's voice threatening to tear Ross's arms from his shoulders in the past few hours. Bruce reckoned Thor was about four more hours away from asking to speak to a manager. Maybe tearing someone's arms off was the Asgardian equivalent of that - Bruce didn't really know. He'd ask Thor for confirmation, but his own voice didn't seem to carry through the walls as well as Thor's booming tones did. He'd have to scream for Thor to even hear him, and as of right now his energy was focused solely on shaking whatever tranquilizer they'd pumped into his system so he could hulk out and get them out of there. 
The thudding started again, the buzzing of static and the flickering lights above that was the sign of a thunderstorm. A sign of metal that creaked with the false hope of escape, of scorch marks lining the irritatingly pristine white floors of the prison. 
This should've given him hope, he knew that much. Thor was yelling, he was angry, which meant he wasn't dead or hurt - Ross hadn't managed to even lay a finger on him yet. But the yelled words held a sense of fragility that was somehow even worse. 
Thor was faltering, words slipping back into the Shakespearean dialect from what seemed like so long ago, when the earth was still Midgard and Midgard was still uncertain and scary and wrong. 
Thor might've been angry, but Bruce could tell. He was also afraid. 
He wished he could see him. Could place a hand against the glass and tell him things would be alright, tell him to save his energy and stop hitting the walls, to smooth his hair and let him be vulnerable again. Bruce wanted to wipe the blood from his knuckles and ask him to trust him, just this once. 
Hulk would appear. Or Tony, or Cap, or hell, maybe even Asgard would take issue with their capture. But someone would come for them. They weren't going to be left alone in this. 
But as it stood now, all he could do was listen. Place a hand against the wall and feel the buzzing of static as Thor conjured blast after blast against it. He let it ground him, keep his mind tethered to his body. And when his chest felt too tight to breathe or the lights above stung his eyes, he could focus on that - the ever present reminder that Thor was still here, still with him. 
Thor had told him once, when the Bifrost was glowing and Asgard was calling his name, that the storms above were for him. 
'Every time the rain falls and the sky lights up with thunder,' Thor had kissed his hand then, wiping away his tears with his thumb. 
'Every time it storms, Bruce Banner, I will be thinking of you.' 
He shut his eyes, pressing his forehead against the wall of the cell to somehow get closer to the sound. As if he could push himself through the wall itself and land, safely, in the eye of the storm. Bruised fingers clung to whatever surface he could, as another arc of lightning flashes in front of the cells. 
He wasn't alone. Thor was here. 
He wasn't alone. 
***
The next day dawned, and Bruce could feel his mind beginning to clear. Memories started to come back to him, conversations and papers and places that had all led to this moment. To him, on his knees inside of a cage, owned by a man he'd never expected to see again. 
Ross had been in at some point during the night. He'd marked when the arcs of lightning had reached almost vicious proportions, casting the senator’s face an eerie shade of blue as he'd spat out threats and gloats to him. Muffled by glass, he'd heard Thor's voice, yelling promises of his own. 
'You don't touch him.' Thor had all but snarled, eyes ablaze with enough voltage to light up a city, fists curled tighter until there were imprints of his nails against his hands. 
'He's under my protection, and so help me God, you will not harm him.'
Ross had smiled curtly at that, promising Bruce to pick up where he left off last time. He'd heaved out a sigh, when all he really wanted to do was scream. He wanted to pound his fists against the glass, to cry out that this wasn't right, that he was a person, not some lab experiment that Ross could do what he liked with. 
But that would take energy. Energy that could be better spent saving them. And so, he'd remained quiet. He'd bitten his tongue and tried to push back the memories of a bloodstained childhood where even the slightest sniff was an invitation for violence. 
Thor tried to comfort him, as best he could. Whispered comforts barely reached his ears through the walls, but they reached. They were there. He heard every single one of those oaths, declarations that soon, Banner, we'll be back at home, and you can wear that sweater that you like, and I'll make us some tea, and we can watch the stars or a movie or even just each other - but it won't matter, because we'll be home. 
He'd held onto those words, let them cover him like a blanket. Home had been such a foreign concept to him up until a few years ago. Home had been somewhere he could never get back to, a person who he'd lost forever. He'd had houses, rickety things that barely served a purpose except to keep the rain off of his back. But home, his home, that was all too new. 
Thor hadn't seemed like he'd be a home to him, not at first. No, at first he'd been loud. He'd been shouting battle cries, smashing hammers into walls, and seemed to try and distance himself from earth whenever he could - through stubbornly wearing his armour to press junkets to refusing to relinquish his peculiar manner of speaking. 
But, then they'd gotten closer, somehow. 
He'd seen vulnerability. Armour that wasn't used to distance but to protect, outlandish capes and bright fabrics that drew people's eyes to the style, rather than to the man wearing it. The right amount of chainmail made someone seem braver than they were, even when they didn't feel like it. And the language, it became a safety net. A turn of phrase that had been drilled into him since childhood (a childhood that began long before Bruce's ancestors had even landed in America) to prevent him from stumbling. 
Thor had become a person, in his eyes. A kind, warm-hearted person. He was a friend, someone to trust, and then through time and misadventure had somehow become more than that. 
Bruce's hand wandered over to the grate, as the lights dimmed and night fell back over the prison. He reached for the static, for the company, and imagined Thor was doing the same. Imagined that maybe, just maybe, Asgardians had some innate ability to sense radiation, and that Thor could feel him, too. 
Thor wasn't alone. Bruce was there. 
Thor wasn't alone. 
***
Days passed, with Bruce's brain piecing itself back together. It was a slow process, often painful at times, but it marked a sense of progress. An unrelenting movement forward, despite how his memories tried to drag him back into the shadows. 
At some point, Hulk's voice began to creep back into the corners of his mind, sluggish with sleep. Too weak to change bodies again, that much had been established. But it was a comfort, being able to talk to someone who he knew could hear him. 
He talked to Thor every day, but he knew in his heart that Thor couldn't hear him. The walls were too thick, the barriers too great. He passed on messages from Hulk, for a short while. Mostly surrounding the topic 'Is Blondie ok? Why can't see Blondie? Is he there? Can he see us?'
Bruce had tried to calm his worries as best he could. 
'Yes, Thor's fine. We can't see him because of the wall. Yes, Thor's there. He can't see us because of the wall.'
'How does Banner know?' Hulk had grumbled, worry ringing in his voice as much as he'd tried to hide it. 
'Look, we can feel it.' Bruce touched a green-veined hand to the grate, letting out a slow and careful breath as the bite of static reached his fingertips, the sensation crawling nearly to his elbow. 
 'That means Thor's there. And that he's ok.' 
Hulk had seemed satisfied with that, and had drawn back into the depths of Bruce's mind. Doctor's orders - plenty of rest, and all that. 
He hadn't had the heart to tell him that there was usually more ways to tell that Thor was there. He didn't want to scare him more than he assumed he already was, even though he knew Hulk could probably tell something was up. 
Hulk didn't have to know that Thor had stopped talking two days ago. He didn't have to know that Bruce could usually hear every word he'd said, because when it was Thor, how could you not? Hulk didn't have to worry over why Thor had gone silent, but was still in the room. Didn't have to conjure images of what could've happened to him, what was powerful enough to silence a God. 
Bruce could make those assumptions himself. Let the worry eat him alive, and spare the part of him that could get them out of here. 
As long as he had the storm, he had hope. And as long as he had hope, so did Hulk. 
A part of him wondered about what would happen if his worries turned out to be real. About what Hulk would do if confronted with another loss. He'd already experienced so much in such a short time - he was born from it, forged in it. Mjolnir had been crafted from a dying star, or so Thor had said. And in the same way, Hulk was crafted from the fires of Bruce's life. Symbols of peace and protection, tinged with gamma radiation, that had equal capacity to create and destroy. 
The more poetic of people would describe that as destiny. As the pull of soulmates that plummeted Thor to earth in the first place. 
Bruce called it luck, that Thor had found them. And that he had found him, in turn. Of course Thor had wanted to believe in fate and Norns and prophecies, and Bruce was happy to entertain him. He was more than happy to receive long winding ballads and compliments that somehow managed to compare his eyes and his smile to the stars scattered across galaxies. He didn't understand them, but he liked them. He liked the way Thor made him feel. He liked Thor, full stop. 
Laying in the corner of the cell, Bruce found his fingers wrapping tighter around the metal, with an intensity that almost roused Hulk from his slumber. He hushed him back down, and tormented himself with the thought that he really didn't want Thor to go. 
Thor was a supernova, trapped in a thin layer of skin and muscle. He was storms, he was rain, he was lightning shooting up the string of Benjamin Franklin's kite and key. He was a creature born of the universe. He didn't deserve to die inside a cage, separated from what he loved by concrete and machinery.
'I'm here, Thor. I'm here. Don't give up on us, please.' Bruce whispered into the grate, shutting his eyes against rapidly forming tears.
'We're not alone.'
***
'BannerBannerBruceBruceBruceBruceWakeUpWAKEUPWAKE-'
Bruce shot forward, gasping for air as he was forcefully yanked out of what little sleep he'd managed to get. For a few terrifying seconds, all he heard was a pounding in his head. The rush of blood roaring past his ears like white water rapids, filling the empty space with an unbearable static. He clamped his hands over his ears, drawing in breaths like a fisherman trying to pull in a shark. 
'Hulk?' He groaned, coiling his hands first into his hair, and then letting them fall to trace patterns down his face until they landed in his lap, hugging his knees close to his chest. 
'What is it? I told you, we need rest so we can get out of here.'
'Important.' Hulk grunted, and Bruce felt a phantom sensation crawling across his spine - hands that were too big trying to hold him into consciousness. 
'What's important?'
'Thor gone.'
Bruce sighed, shaking his head slowly. He began the painstaking journey across the floor of the cell, over to the wall, as he repeated back his usual mantra to the boiling presence inside his mind. 
'I told you, he's not gone. You just can't hear him because of the walls.' For the first time in a few days, Bruce was able to clamber to his feet, shivering at the feeling of cold tiles against bare skin that reminded him somehow of every hospital he'd visited. 
'If the static is there, he's there.'
'Static gone! Thor gone! Why Banner not listen?' 
'It's not gone, your skin is probably just too thick to feel it. Look.' 
Bruce reached out his hand to the grate, trying as best he could to roll his eyes and remain the passive scientist Hulk already thought he was. His bruised fingertips traced the wires and patterns inlaid into the wall, following the trail to what he knew would be the comforting buzz awaiting him. Awaiting them both. Hulk would see that Thor was fine, and since he was being so talkative they could attempt a transformation. Providing that went well, they'd leave, and go back to the promises of tea and stars and blankets and comfort and -
Bruce's blood ran cold. His fingers touched metal that was cold and unresponsive. No resonance. No sound. Nothing. 
'Where Thor?' Hulk's voice was timid now. Asking a question he almost didn't want to know the answer to. 
'I...I don't know.' Bruce swallowed nervously, trying to bite back the tide of emotions currently pooling in his stomach.
'He's supposed to be here. They didn't take him out while I was asleep, did they?'
'No. Would've heard.' 
"Thor?" Bruce managed to croak out, his voice hoarse from disuse.
He pressed up against the vent, ignoring the shooting pain of the metal biting into his ear. 
"Thor, are you there? I can't...we can't hear you. Please, can you say something?"
Nothing. 
"Thor, please." Tears were running down his face before he even had time to register them, as he pulled himself impossibly closer. 
Please, Thor. Please. 
Don't leave me alone.
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catchester · 4 years
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RULE | Chapter One
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Blurb: Loki won at the end of Avengers and imposed his rule on the people of Earth. Now Thor has returned to free humanity from his tyranny . . . only the humans don't seem very keen on that idea.
Former anti-Loki terrorist, now Loki's fiancé, Rhiannon, meets Thor and his warriors and attempts to show him the improvements that Loki has made to society. Can Thor put aside his prejudices, or will he ruin all the good Loki has done under the guise of freeing the Earth?
Chapter One
Present Day
Rhiannon watched as the beam of light hit Trafalgar Square and after sharing a look with the guards on either side of her, she took a deep breath, plastered a smile on her face, and prepared to greet their guests.
“I am Thor of Asgard,” a voice boomed before the light of the bifrost had even dimmed. Just in case everyone hadn’t noticed the giant beam of light, the lightning strike hitting his hammer a moment later, along with the accompanying thunder, ensured that hardly a soul in greater London failed to notice his arrival. “I have come for the traitor, Loki! Where is he?”  
“Oh crap,” Rhiannon sighed, her smile falling away.  
The passers-by were crowding around the arrivals, jeering and this being a busy metropolis like London, the crowd quickly swelled. 
“Help me make a path,” she said to her two guards as people began throwing things, and they helped her push through the crowd to the middle where Thor and his friends were waiting.  
“Everyone, please,” she turned her back to Thor, trusting her guards to literally watch her back while she addressed the crowd.  
The crowd quieted almost immediately.
“Nothing is going to happen to Loki, you can go about your business safe in the knowledge that Loki invited his brother here, and all is well in the House of Friggason.” 
The people now just looked confused and curious.  
“Please do not jeer our honoured guests.” She ducked as a coffee cup sailed past her and judging from the startled grunt she heard behind her, hit found its target. “Or throw things at them.” She lowered her voice and tried injecting some warmth. “Remember the uncertainty you felt when Loki became our leader, and try to understand that our visitors know nothing of how life on Earth has changed in the past eight years. Be kind to them.”
There were some murmurs from the crowd, but mostly they just seemed curious now, and eager to see what was going to happen.  
Rhiannon turned back to the Aesir. 
“Prince Thor,” she bowed but not particularly low. “Welcome to Earth.” She stood upright and kept her gaze on Thor, ignoring for the moment the Warriors Three and Sif, who had accompanied him.  
“Where are the others we travelled with,” Thor demanded, “the Einherjar?” 
“Loki does not wish to fight with you, Thor. He couldn’t allow you to bring your soldiers here, but he allowed your friends through. He hopes that you will show patience and allow me to show you how well the Earth is doing.” 
Thor looked around and saw a world much like the one he’d had come to when he was banished to Earth by Odin, except no one here was looking kindly at him now.  
“Where is Loki?” Sif demanded, stepping forward. 
“I’ll take you to him. I’m Rhiannon, by the way, people generally call me Rhi or Ray.” She held her hand out and after a hesitation, Thor shook it. “These are my friends, Sarah and Peter.” 
“Guards, more like,” Sif murmured.  
“True,” Rhiannon nodded. “Loki insisted, I’m afraid, but we all know that human guards could do little against Aesir warriors.” 
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Rhiannon,” Thor butted in to ease tensions. “These are my friends, Fandral, Volstagg, Hogun, and the Lady Sif.” 
Rhiannon bowed her head at each as Thor pointed them out. “Very pleased to meet you all, I’ve heard much about you. If you’ll come this way, I’ll take you to Loki.”  
She turned and walked away, her guards staying close but not crowding her. The crowd parted for them and slowly began to disperse, although all eyes remained on them.  
Thor followed after her but he was clearly nonplussed. 
“I’m a little confused by events,” he admitted, falling into step beside her.  
“I’m sure,” she smiled. “I’ve arranged lunch not far from here, so we’ll have plenty of time to chat.”  
“Why did my army not come through the portal?” he asked again.  
“Loki’s magic has been keeping you off Earth, or Midgard, as you call it. When he decided to let you visit, we thought it best not to allow the Einherjar as well. We don’t want to start another war, and I’m afraid humans would be sadly out matched by your people.”  
“You speak as if you would fight for Loki.”  
“Did you not hear those people when you first arrived?”  
“It was a trick, some kind of mind control. Loki clearly has you all in his thrall!”  
“No.” Rhiannon smiled and shook her head. “When Loki first arrived, there was much resistance. I was a part of it, and I tried to assassinate him on many occasions, but over time it became clear that he wanted what was best for the Earth.” 
“I don’t believe you,” Thor challenged.  
“I don’t expect you do, but a lot has happened in the eight years you’ve been gone.” She stepped up to a door and opened it. “Please, after you.”  
Thor strode into the restaurant and looked around. “Where is Loki, I thought you were taking us to him?”  
“I am, but I didn’t say he would be joining us for lunch. Loki is in Europe at the moment, and we will be joining him there.” 
They were shown to a table and all sat down.  
“If Loki knew we were coming, why not open a portal to his location?” Volstagg asked.  
“Because I advised him not to,” Rhiannon explained. “From everything he’s told me about the Aesir, you’re a ‘hit first and ask questions later’ kind of people. I and others knew you wouldn’t believe anything Loki had to say, so we advised him to be elsewhere when you arrived. I volunteered to come and meet you, then as we journey to him, you can see for yourself how happy we are under his rule.”  
“No, it’s a trick,” Fandral said, but with a slight smile on his face, as though he expected Loki to pop out yelling ‘Surprise!’
“There is no trick,” Rhiannon assured them, looking to Sarah and Peter who nodded in agreement. 
“Honestly, life is way better now,” Sarah agreed.  
“And our wages have gone up like 70%. I think the average wage increase is about that too.” 
“And what do you do?” Thor asked them, sounding wary.  
“We’re police officers,” Sarah replied.  
“Don’t you have a uniform?”  
“I asked them not to wear it,” Rhiannon explained. “I thought it best if we all dressed casually.” 
“But what about weapons?” Hogun asked.  
“British police don’t carry guns,” Peter explained.  
“We have got Tasers,” Sarah offered, “although I seriously doubt that scares you lot.”  
Thor shuddered slightly but too much was happening for Rhiannon to ask the reason he disliked Tasers. 
“We’re here to make sure Rhiannon is safe, crowd control, that sort of thing.” Peter added, but Rhiannon wished he hadn’t said that.  
“Crowd control? Do you often get mobbed?” Fandral asked her.  
“Since her engagement to Loki was announced, she does,” Sarah offered.  
“You’re marrying Loki?” Sif sounded disgusted.  
“Yes,” Rhiannon said, no shame on her face at all; she might not have wanted to address this but she wasn’t ashamed. “The head of the London resistance is marrying the nasty invader she tried to kill three times. Is that okay with you?”  
Sif scoffed but Fandral laughed, asking, “Should I offer my congratulations?”  
“No need to sound so hesitant,” Rhiannon assured him. “I’m very happy with him.” 
“I think perhaps you’d better start at the beginning,” Thor suggested.  
***
December 2012
The plan had worked perfectly. Over the past few months Rhiannon and three of her comrades had worked their way into Loki’s personal staff and carefully, a little each day, smuggled in the explosives and equipment necessary to make a bomb. 
The electronic components they smuggled past security inside a mobile phone and the plastic explosive was moulded into the shape of a teddy bear and clipped onto her handbag, like a keyring. It had the consistency of plasticine or playdough and after being kept in the fridge overnight, was quite solid, she and the others just had to be careful not to knock it on anything. 
Rhiannon was employed as one of Loki’s secretaries, her job, along with five other women, was to distil reports from around the world into helpful bulletins for Loki, ranked in order of urgency. 
Rhiannon had got the job because as well English, she was fluent in Spanish, French and German, as well as knowing a little Portuguese and Dutch.
Her three co-conspirators were working as cleaners since that gave them access to his office, and some of the cleaning chemicals they used, such as acetone and hydrogen peroxide, could be used to make bombs and would increase the payload of their device. Each evening they cleaned his office and day by day, they built the bomb, sometimes hiding electrical components, sometimes hiding the plastic explosives. The cleaning fluids were being ordered a little at a time and would be brought to his office on the cleaning cart and would just be used to enhance the explosive power of the plastics. 
The cleaners worked in pairs and work schedules changed daily for security reasons, so those cleaning Loki‘s office weren’t always paired with a fellow rebel and able to leave supplies, but slowly they built up enough plastic explosives and they waited patiently until two of them were tasked with cleaning his office on the same night.
Since Loki’s timetable varied, Rhiannon’s task was too manually set off the bomb when he entered the office. She, along with the other translators, worked from an office near Loki’s so they were on hand for breaking news, and she had a clear view of him arriving each morning. 
That day she got in early so that the bomb could be detonated the moment Loki arrived, hopefully before he had any meetings so that no one else would be hurt. The bomb was in his desk so Loki would receive the full blast, while they had calculated that this building should be able to withstand the force of the bomb, although with the added cleaning chemicals, Rhiannon wasn’t as sure of that as she would have liked. It was possible that some people may be hurt but with a little luck, she was confident that Loki would be the only fatality. 
There had been other attempts on his life, of course, but they probably hadn’t planned as well as Rhiannon and her friends had, but she knew their plan was good and she really thought that they would succeed. She thought that the other assassination attempts had failed because of incompetence, or poor planning, or any number of mistakes which could derail even the best plans. 
Well her plan would not be derailed, she thought as she spied Loki walking past her office. She grabbed the detonator, which looked like a mobile phone and she jogged out of her office, walking behind Loki. 
It was still early so the place was quiet, most people who had arrived for work were in the breakroom, eating breakfast or topping up caffeine levels before they got started. She saw two other people in their offices as she passed them and she could only hope that they would be okay. 
Loki cut a very elegant figure in his suits and were he anything other than a monster, she would be admitting the view right now, but he was and she had a job to do. 
Her breathing was ragged and she did her best to control it, worried that even from ten feet away he might hear her, but he never turned around. His assistant wasn’t outside his office yet, and Rhiannon gave thanks that another person was out of danger. 
Loki entered his office and Rhiannon stopped moving as soon as his door closed. 
“One one-thousand,” she whispered. “Two one-thousand, three one-thousand.” The cleaning staff had carefully timed how long it took to walk from the door to sit behind the desk. “Seven one-thousand, eight one-thousand-”
Her sweaty thumb pressed the call button and . . . nothing happened. 
She pressed it again and again and again, stepping closer in case she was too far away, although this should work over a distance of 50 feet, she’d been told, and through walls. 
Then an almighty bang nocked her off her feet, just in time for a heavy wooden door to sail past where her head had been moments ago. 
They’d done it. They’d done it! People began to scream as she grinned. THEY’D DONE IT!!
It wasn’t until he walked out of his room, covered in soot and with his suit torn and scorched but otherwise unharmed, that the truth dawned on her. It wasn’t that those other people hadn’t failed or messed up, it was that human weapons couldn’t harm him. Well, maybe a nuke, but she didn’t have one of those handy. What she did have was the paring knife she had stolen from the kitchen weeks ago and stored in her desk.   
In for a penny, in for a pound, as her mum used to say, she got to her feet and with a primal scream, ran at him, the knife held before her.  
Needless to say, he stopped her with ease by grabbing her wrist.  
He looked furious but after a moment his features cleared as he recognised her and she would swear he looked hurt. 
She almost felt bad, after all, he had trusted her. But it didn’t matter how personable he was, he was an alien conqueror and he  deserved  to have his staff turn on him.
His features hardened once again but other than perhaps holding her wrist a little too tightly, he didn’t harm her, even although she kicked and struck at him in an attempt to get free.  
“Take her to the cells in the basement,” he told the security guards as they arrived. 
She was dragged away but she turned back as she heard Loki roar, just in time to see him put his fist through the wall beside his door. 
Although they hadn’t come into work, her friends and co-conspirators were quickly rounded up and placed in the cells beside her by lunchtime. 
She expected torture, or at least questioning. Instead her cell was reasonably comfortable, the food was the same as was served in the palace above and there were no screams of torture from the other prisoners. She kept asking what was happening but the guards wouldn’t tell her. 
After her second night in the cell she was taken out and she thought that now was when the horror would begin, especially when she was brought in front of Loki. The guards sat her down on a chair opposite the desk Loki sat behind, then they stood either side of her, guarding her in case she made a run for it, which, even with horrible odds, she was seriously considering.  
“Leave us,” Loki commanded and although the guards shared a look, they left the room.  
Loki watched her like predator and although she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, she stared back and tried not to show how frightened she was.  
Finally he sat forward. “Why did you try to kill me?” he asked his tone conversational, and perhaps a little confused.  
“You invaded my planet. You enslaved my people!” 
“I’m trying to help!” he yelled, slamming his fist on the desk and causing her to flinch. He seemed disgusted by her cowardice and he got up and began pacing.  
“We don’t need your help!” she yelled, finding her courage once again.
“Of course you do!” he snapped back. “Your politicians are corrupt, you place profit over human life, you allow the elite few to hoard your wealth and resources, you pollute your planet, harm and kill each other- I could go on. You need help. Help I can give.”  
“We believe in democracy and we didn’t elect you,  King  Loki.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Whatever you’re called, we will never agree to your rule because it’s undemocratic.”  
“Your system is flawed, your elected officials are out for themselves, not the people who elected them, and decisions are made via backroom deals, not the democratic process they would have you believe is happening.”  
“And you’re above it all?” she scoffed.  
“I simply want to make Midgard a better place.” 
“You can’t!”  
“I have,” he argued. “I’ve reversed as much damage to your atmosphere as I can, caused by your pollution. I’ve invested in new technologies, I have plans to improve the infrastructure globally, beginning with developing countries. Already drought and food shortages are almost a thing of the past.” 
“Yes, and people are working on those projects because you’re forcing them to! We are not slaves!”  
 “They aren’t slaves!” Loki growled. “They are paid a very fair wage for their work and no one has been forced into anything.”  
“Except living under your rule!” 
Loki gave an exasperated sigh and sat back down. “What would you do?” he demanded.  
“I don’t understand.”  
“If you were me, what would you do?”  
“Kill myself.” She glared at him. 
Loki glared right back. “Assume everything I’ve told you is true, that I want to help the people of Midgard, and that I have no suicidal tendencies. What would you do?”  
Rhiannon shook her head but the bark of laughter that usually accompanied such an action wouldn’t come, and instead she found herself actually considering the question. 
Then it occurred to her that he wanted something from her. 
“I’ll tell you, I’ll answer any weird and wonderful questions you may have, but only if you free my friends.”  
“The guards didn’t tell you? They’re already free.” 
“They’re…?”  
“Free, yes. No one was hurt so your only crime was property damage, and as you can see, I’ve already repaired that.”
He gestured around himself and she realised they were in the office that she had blown up, and it looked as good as new. She’d just assumed they were on a different floor or something. 
“Imprisoning you would only add credence to your claims that I’m a monster and I have no wish to martyr you or your friends.” He leaned his head back against his leather office chair and looked at the ceiling. “You can go too, if you wish. I don’t expect you’ll want to keep your job here, will you? It’s a shame, you were very professional.” 
“This is a trick.”  
“It’s not.” He looked over at her and sat forward. “Go on, go. Leave, see for yourself.” 
She didn’t move.  
“GO!” he yelled, bringing his hand down on the desk with such force that it sounded like a bullet and she flinched again, but that gave her the impetus she needed to leave so she ran from the room.  
She sprinted outside the building and found her friends waiting on the street. So he really had let them go.  
They seemed as bewildered by the turn of events as she was so they made their way to a local café so they could talk.  
They wondered if it was a trap, if perhaps they were bugged and were supposed to lead the authorities back to other members of the resistance, but they each went into the toilets and could find no bugs or homing devices.  
They bought new clothes and shoes anyway, dumping the old ones.  
They checked into a cheap hotel for a few nights but nothing happened, no strange people were seen watching or following them. Rhiannon even returned to the palace and waited outside a few times to see if they would follow her when she left, but nothing happened. She couldn’t help looking for signs of the blast while she dawdled though, although the only sign was some lighter bricks on the building’s exterior wall.
After a week her friends left London and returned to their families, but Rhiannon found herself returning to the palace.  
She knew now that Loki wasn’t going anywhere because human weapons simply didn’t kill him. A nuclear bomb might but since the news had reported they had all been disabled by some hackers, that was unlikely to be a viable option, for a while at least. So if Loki was their leader, then she could at least do something to help ensure that he ruled them well. What was the saying, if you can’t beat them, join them? 
She stood outside the palace for the best part of an hour, walking up and down the street, trying to pluck the courage up to approach. 
She’d been surprised when she’d heard that Loki had taken over St James's Palace rather than somewhere like Buckingham Palace or Westminster, somewhere more intimidating and with more prestige. Built in the 1500s St James’s was really rather modest for a palace. 
He’d eventually expanded to take over Clarence House, Lancaster House and York House and Rhiannon suspected it wouldn’t be long until he had to clear out more surrounding buildings as his staff needs increased. 
Finally she decided she was being an idiot and taking her confidence in hand, she strode up to the security guards and handed them her bag. She saw them looking for the little teddy keychain that used to be attached to her bag but they didn’t say anything to her, just searched the bag and handed it back. 
She nodded in thanks and approached the reception desk.
“I’d like to see Loki,” she told the Linda, the building’s receptionist.  
“Is he expecting you?” Linda sneered. She liked Loki. Most people here did, or they pretended to.  
“No, but he asked me a question and I have an answer for him.” 
“He’s busy today but if you want to take a seat, I might be able to find five minutes for you.”  
Rhiannon knew Linda had no intention of letting her see Loki, but she knew she must be notorious around here and if she sat in the lobby for long enough, word would eventually reach Loki.  
***
Loki was trying to suppress a smirk as Rhiannon was led into his office, although he wasn’t exactly trying hard.  
“Couldn’t stay away?” he asked. “Because I’m sorry to inform you, but we’ve filled your position.” 
“You asked me a question, I thought you might want to hear the answer.” 
Loki considered her for a moment, then gestured to the chair opposite. She sat down but perched on the edge, unsure how her words would be taken. She couldn’t help glancing around however, looking for any trace of the bomb blast. 
“Would you like refreshments?” he asked, the picture of civility. He was wearing another beautifully tailored suit again, one she would admire if it were anyone else wearing it. 
“No, thank you.” The civility of the encounter unnerved her but she was used to controlling her fear around him.  
“Straight down to business then. So what’s the answer, what would you do if you were me?”  
 “If you’re really serious about being a good leader, I’d fire almost everyone around you.”  
His head tilted to the side as he considered her. “Interesting. I can’t wait to hear your reasoning.”  
“You’re surrounded by sycophants and dilettantes,” she explained. “Everyone on Earth hates you, except those who could see that you were… inevitable, and to protect their own interests they sided with you. People like that never tell you the truth because the truth can alienate, they only ever say either what they think you want to hear, or what benefits them.”  
He seemed receptive to her idea and she wondered if it had occurred to him too. 
“So who would you suggest I replace them with?” he asked.
“People who want the best for Earth, maybe even people who don’t like you and will tell you the brutal truth.” 
“And where do I find such people?”  
“I’d start with the Avengers,” she told him. “You’ve got a Russian in the Black Widow, then you have someone who has travelled extensively, often living among the lower classes with the Hulk, a billionaire in Iron Man, an orphan raised in care with Hawkeye and,” she smiled slightly, “a pensioner in Captain America. They're a fairly diverse group.” 
“You know a lot about the Avengers,” he noted. 
“Most resistance fighters do, they’re our inspiration.”  
Loki’s smile widened.  
“I’d add a few more women to that list,” she continued, “Make the balance of your advisers 50/50.” 
“And people from other continents,” Loki added.  
“Of course,” she nodded. “But I was going to suggest you have representatives from different countries and regions form a council, so they can tell you what they need because while there’ll be a lot in common in what each region needs, England for example, will need vastly different things to, say, the Middle East.” 
“What does the Middle East need that England does not?”  
“ISIS needs to be stopped, everyone needs to stop bombing Syria, which also needs rebuilding. Some regions still have misogynistic things like honour killings, female genital mutilation, some places don’t let women go out alone or drive. And that’s just off the top of my head.”  
“Good advice indeed,” he flashed her a predatory smile. “Thank you for coming back.”  
She scowled, unwilling to acknowledge that she felt good being praised by this monster, or that she liked his smile.
“Thank you for seeing me,” she stood up. “And good luck.”  She got to her feet but Loki’s voice stopped her from leaving.  
“You’re wishing me luck?” 
She met his penetrating gaze. “If you mean what you say and you want to make Midgard a better place,” she shrugged. “I can’t kill you, so my only hope is that you’re telling the truth, in which case, good luck with it.” She turned and walked towards the door. 
“How would you feel about being one of my advisors?” Loki asked, stopping her in her tracks once more.  
Rhiannon turned back slowly.  
“Why?” 
“Because you’ve just proved that you can be brutally honest.”  
She wondered why she was hesitating. She hated this man, had hated him for 7 months in fact, so much so that she should just tell him to go to hell and storm out.  
Loki stood up and came around the desk.  
“You’re tempted,” he told her smugly. “You clearly have nothing to go home for or you wouldn’t have come back.” 
“I wanted-” 
“You could have sent a letter.”  
She stared at him as he approached, feeling rather like prey that was being stalked by a predator. It wasn’t a bad feeling though, more . . . exciting.  
“I have a life to go back to, a job, a home-” 
“But I can give your life purpose. If you work with me, you can literally change the world.” He passed behind her and her breath caught in her throat as she imagined him speaking directly into her ear with his silky-smooth voice. “How many people can say that?”  
“What are the terms?” she found herself asking.  
Loki came back into her eyeline and shrugged. “A hundred thousand pounds a year, accommodation provided, you’ll have to travel with me most of the time.” 
Her jaw dropped open in shock. “Is that what you’re paying your advisers right now?” 
“The lesser ones, why?”  
“That’s at least three times what teachers earn! And for what, giving you an opinion now and then?”  
Loki’s mirth fled and Rhiannon felt a frisson of fear.  
“What?” he demanded.  
“You want to pay me three times what a teacher earns for a fraction of the work.”
Loki looked appalled. “These people teach your children! They are quite literally entrusted with the future of your civilisation, and you expect to attract the best by paying them a pittance?” 
“No, I don’t, but teachers pay wasn’t my decision.” 
“Well your government’s then, why do they pay so little?”  
“I suppose because they can, because they don’t value teachers, and they don’t have the money to pay much.” 
“Why not? Your economy is thriving.”  
“True, but when the richest one percent in the world are hoarding half of the world’s wealth for themselves, then have the gall to use tax havens to hide trillions, it’s easy to understand why governments aren’t as rich as they could be.” 
“Why don’t your lawmakers do something about it?” he demanded.  
“Have you looked around your followers, Loki?” she demanded, starting to lose her cool now. “They are all part of the one percent, and they’ve all sucked up to you so that you let them keep their billions. Who gave you this place,” she gestured to the building around them. “Do you think most Londoners live in places with 60 rooms? Newsflash, they don’t. Most people who work in London can’t actually afford to live here, because rents are too high and wages too low, and no one but the super-rich can afford to actually buy a London property. You were given this place, and all the others you stay in, by wealthy people to keep you sweet, and guess what? It worked!”  
“One percent own half of the world’s wealth?” he asked.  
“Yes.”  
“No wonder your teachers are so poorly paid.” 
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Text
Lost & Found:  A Widow’s Memoir
Part 2:  In Which I Discover The Truth About A Blue Cube.  And Hope.
** Loki x OFC. A continuation of my re-imagining of Loki’s motivation behind his actions in Infinity War and how they relate to his widow’s journey during the aftermath. Angst, fluff, and hopefully good feels with a bit of PG-13 swearing.**
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It’s not every day you open your door to find a 1,500-year old space Viking on your doorstep. But I married his brother, so I should have expected it at some point.  I think maybe I was just hoping it might be under different circumstances and not because he was bringing news I’d hoped to never confirm.  And, for the record, Thor shockingly appeared looking like nothing I’d seen of him on all forms of media in years prior.  Although still bearded, his golden “Loreal” locks had been shorn into a darker, Gladiator-style crop.  And bizarrely his eyes were two completely different colors (I always meant to ask him about that, but maybe i should be glad i didn’t have the chance).  He was also wearing decidedly un-Asgardian attire - the red curtain replaced with black jeans and a heather-gray hoodie.  But nothing was as unsettling as the expression he wore - dark, stony and full of nothing good. 
The sight of him produced a sinking feeling not at all unlike the ones  dramatically represented on all those Law & Order shows when the cops show up on a person’s doorstep - they’re either there to arrest you or tell you someone has died.  And I knew i wasn’t being arrested.  Tears surged into my eyes as i managed a weak smile. “Well...he finally brought us together....”  I faltered, catching my bottom lip with my teeth as i pushed back another wave of tears before going on.  “...forgive me for saying I wish he hadn’t.”  
One of the things Loki always prized in me was my strength - my ability to keep my chin up when everything else was collapsing around me.  But that was always because i knew he was MY strength.  And now my strength was gone.  Before I realized what was happening, Thor had gathered me into his arms and I had started to sob quietly as my entire body trembled with the violence of my own grief.  I’d struggled to hold myself together while Loki had been away this last time, hoping with every sound I heard - real or imagined - that I’d walk around a corner to find that he’d appeared, like he always did.  But he had never been gone that long before, and with each day that dragged on without him, my hope faded like a slowly sinking sunset.  
Thor said nothing as he held me, but i could feel the heat of his own grief and anger radiating off him like a furnace, the otherwise sunny day now suddenly cloudy and threatening.  After a moment or two, I fought began to get hold of myself, forcing down the tears as I gently pushed away from him and stood aside so that he could pass through into the home I once shared with his brother.  Upon closing the door, i watched as his eyes scanned the room, noticed them coming to rest on a photo setting atop the mantle over the hearth - a black-and-white photo I’d taken of Loki, smiling gently as he held our sleeping infant son, the child resting peacefully against the security of his father’s chest.  It was my favorite picture of both of them, because it told a truth about Loki no one knew.  When Thor finally spoke, it was with the quiet understanding of someone who’s just realized that they were completely wrong about someone they’d misjudged.  
“No wonder that wizard thought he was a threat to Midgard.  All that time he was ruling Asgard, he was actually living here, with a family.”  
I didn’t know who he was referring to when he mentioned a wizard. And i didn’t ask (after discovering that we were not alone in the universe, i found the fewer questions asked, the better, unless it concerned Asgard). It was no secret that Loki wasn’t exactly well-liked on Earth (when your husband is referred to as “Asgardian Mussolini” or “Horned Hitler”, you find it best to just accept that trying to change people’s minds might be difficult). But after offering Thor a seat and hearing his explanation as to the events that had unfolded after Loki had returned to Asgard that last time, I actually felt rage towards an entire galaxy who would never really understand just how he had changed.  Oh, and by the way - i know it sounds strange when i talk about his coming and going as if i’m talking about a husband who was always traveling on business.  But essentially that’s what he was doing.  At least that’s how i had to frame it in my mind - he would leave, he would be gone for a few days, and then he’d come back.  It was our normal.  And it was good.  But when days stretched into weeks, i knew something had gone wrong somewhere.  
As Thor sat telling me just HOW wrong, I fought back another wave of tears.  When he got to the part about Loki’s theft of that glowing blue crack cube during the middle of the destruction of their planet, my sorrow had transformed into anger that closely skirted rage.  Especially when Thor explained how he died and why.  But there was something in his story that gnawed at me.  Something that didn’t seem to make much sense.  It wasn’t until Thor told m that Loki had explained his brother should find us if something happened that a possibility began to sink in.
“Wait...explain to me again about this goddamn blue box,” i said.  “What did it do?”
“It allowed him to travel anywhere.  It allowed us to return to Asgard after the Bi-Frost was ... out of service.”
“You mean that bridge thing you broke with your hammer?”
“How do you know about that?”
“Because I was married to him for 4 years?  We didn’t just hang out making babies and talking about how beautiful he was all that time.  I mean, don’t get me wrong...there was plenty of both going on, but we did talk about other things.  He wasn’t exactly a mute, your brother.”
“Yes.  I broke the bridge thing with my hammer,” Thor conceded.  “But the Tesseract brought us home.  Which means it could have ....brought HIM home.”
We both looked at each other, a realization slowly sinking in.  Thor kept on talking.  “You know, all of it makes sense now.  Everything.  Why he was trying to turn me in on Sakkar, claiming he wanted to stay there, then stealing the ship, even why he asked if i thought it was a good idea for him to come back to Earth.”
“Because he’d always lived under the radar here.  He knew if he came back with you, it wouldn’t be that way anymore. With Asgard destroyed, my guess is that he took the cube as a backup plan to get home in stealth mode, but never had the chance to use it.”
“Which is why he told me about you before Thanos boarded the ship.”
I lowered my head, the tears i no longer had any interest in battling now streaming down my cheeks.  “He knew he was going to have to sacrifice himself.”  
There was no certainty behind any of this, of course.  But Loki had saved an entire realm of people.  It wouldn’t have made any sense to then put them all at risk out of pure selfishness.  Not that he wasn’t capable of that sort of thing at one time, but quite a lot of shit had gone down in the 4 years since foolish jealousy had driven him down a path of petty desperation.  The man i knew and loved had come too far to knowingly jeopardize anyone’s life again.  
So, it seemed Thor and I had arrived at a conclusion that gave both of us some comfort amid the grief.  And, at least for me, the first glimmer of hope I’d felt in quite a while.....
@cleve98 @sabine-leo
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trashpanda-13 · 4 years
Text
Suit and tie
word count:1926
You attend a masquerade ball in asgard in honor of lady Sith and prince thor but end up catching someone else's attention...
Warnings:smut,swearing and I think that's about it. P.s if I've read this before on wattpad that is because I also have an account there.
Please don't copy my work thank you.
You walked into the grand ball room, your big ass dress trailing behind you this was annoying the living shit out of you and you couldn't wait to get home and remove the god damn thing you were only at this bloody ball because of your high status and your family thought it would be most improper for you not to attend especially as it was a royal ball. this however meant that the King, Queen and Princes were going to be there. The ball was supposed to be for the engament of Lady Sith and Prince Thor but we all knew that that was bullshit and was infact thrown for Prince Loki to try and get his royal ass engaged so the King and Queen wouldn't have to look after him anymore.
Personally I thought Prince Loki was incredibly sexy but I also knew I had little to no chance even talking to him. this ball was also a masked ball which was my least favorite type of ball because you never know what kind of psycho you could be having a conversation with so I think I'm just going to sit this one out. 
Your outfit consisted of a long black dress covered with silver glitter around the edge. The dress had a black hood fitted to go over your head and you wore a brown leather plague doctors mask. This outfit had you stand out from most people as there outfits consisted of bright oranges and other earthy colors. Only you wore black outfit you and one other person who was wear a outfit that came from Midgard you knew this as most Asgardian outfits for males consisted of long tunics and robes but this man was wearing a black suit with a emerald green tie his mask was a 1/3 face mask made from black velvet but with a gold pattern swirling up oneside. From what you could see of his features was he had emerald eyes and gorgeous high cheekbones.
You wanted to go and speak to this man and find out more about him but it seemed that you didn't have to go and talk to him as he had already spotted you and strode over. 
"Whats a pretty lady such as yourself doing all on her own at such a time and where is your date may I add?" His words where soft and his voice has slick and sexy.
"I'm by myself because I dislike people and as for my date no one likes me so I don't have one." I replied simply.
"Well if I may could I possibly be your date." He asked cooley.
"One, I don't even know you and two, why would you want to be my date." something inside me told me I shouldn't have said that.
"one i wish to be your date because you are exceedingly beautiful in my eyes I've always loved a girl who's different." He then leaned in close to my ear and whispered "I can't believe you don't recognize me after all I am burdened with glorious purpose."
Suddenly I realized who it was and he could see you knew so he took your hand and bowed as he said "Loki of Asgard and God of mischief." Before kissing the back of my hand with his soft silky lips. "And who might you be."
"(y/n) (l/n) goddess of wrong doing." I tried to sound calm but my heart was doing back flips. Standing upright again Loki holds out his hand and says.
"What do you say we leave these bunch of bickering assholes and go up to my personal quarters." You gently nod and place your hand in his before walking up the grand staircase and into the living quarters of the palace. 
Once you were in his room you took a chance to look around and took in the sights. His large four poster bed was made up incredibly smart and there was bookshelf's lined with books mainly on magic but there were a few books from Midgard that he must of picked up as I noticed a book called 'A Game of Thrones' and a few others like that. 
He removed his mask showing of his beautiful features. He then walked over to you and gently puling your hood free and also removing your mask so he could see you better. Placing the mask down on a desk that we were standing next to and then placing his hands on on your face, cupping your cheeks as he looked down at you. Your heads slowly came together as he pulled his face came closer to yours. 
Sparks flew in your mind as his lips met yours and he kissed you making you kiss back. Your hands came up behind Loki's head and your fingers entwined themselves with his slick raven hair.
The kiss became deeper and more hungry as he licked your lip begging for entrance which you quickly accepted. His tongue entered your mouth and he started to explore every inch of it before you both pulled apart gasping for air as a single string of saliva still connected you both.
Loki's hands started to undo your dress as your hands started to take of his blazer. Once his blazer was off you moved on to his shirt.  He slowly slid your dress off leaving you in your bra and panties. He took a moment to look at you and him.
He gently picked you up bridle style and placed you on the soft moss colored sheets then removing his trousers he crawled on top of you in nothing but his boxers. You slowly traced a finger lightly over his abs and any scars that were on his chest. He chuckled lightly as he noticed you being almost hypnotized by his chest so he leaned in close to your ear and whispered.
"See something you like?" He then leaned down further kissing, sucking and nibbling on your neck and collar bone until he found your sweet-spot. When he found it you let out a light moan so he kept attacking that one area of your neck. 
The feeling of his tongue dancing across your skin was pure ecstasy and had you squirming under him lightly - a smirk came over his face as he continued to make you writhe under him with the simplest touches and licks. A light moan was torn from your lips, eyes falling shut as you felt him slowly kiss and bite his way down your body, leaving a trail of dark marks in his wake.
Your (h/c) hair ended up in a messy tangle under you, strands and wisps coming over your shoulders as he finally reached where you oh-so-craved for him to be. Feeling the first teasing lick to your pussy you writhed again, the sheets wrinkled under you now as Loki lifted his face away from your cunt. 
"Would you like something sweetheart?" He growled out softly, the deep rumbling  tone he used doing nothing to lessen your arousal.
"Please Loki, stop being an ass and please fuck me or something." You begged, messy hair now damp under you.
"Good things come to those who wait darlin'," he growled out softly to you, vanishing from your sight for a few moments you felt the smoothness of silk against the skin of your arms, tying them tightly together before tying them to the headboard.
"Trying something new are we?" You teased softly, earning a disapproving tut from your God as you felt his hands trail over you, almost touching where you desired him to but never actually doing so. Trailing his hands over your stomach he moved his fingers in minute circles, whimpers of need and annoyance coming from you as he did this.
"Don't annoy me at the moment darlin', I'm in control, I'm always in control and you should remember that before I leave you here." He threatened her with a soft smirk gracing his divine and annoying mouth. Muttering out a few choice swear words you stilled on the bed, to aroused now to argue, it would serve you no purpose, there'd be plenty of time for banter after this. 
"Good." He growled again "you're learning small one." He added, a triumphant grin, he knew you despised that pet name. Backing away for a few moments he watched you, your wide (e/c) eyes pleading as your raised your head, spreading apart your legs in a silent invitation Loki let out a semi-feral growl.
"Don't tease, the longer the tease, the longer you wait." He told you, a lustful gleam now in his eyes though - it did something, he wouldn't hold out much longer you knew that much. Moving forward you let out a breath of relief and felt his hands trail down, dipping towards your dripping center and brushing over it. A shuddering moan came from you as your head tilted back and you felt something pushing at your virgin pussy.
"Gods, please, slow down, I haven't done this before." You admit, a scarlet blush blossoming over you (s/c) cheeks,
"Gods? No, that's something for an entirely different time beauty although remind me of that later." Behind the joke it was obvious that he was somewhat surprised at your confession as his hands drifted over your body more gently, disarming you as you relaxed under him - until pain blossomed in your pussy as he shoved in almost entirely, making you let out a scream of pain.
"It'll fade soon beauty, it'll fade, just wait, you'll feel better in a few minutes." He promised although it didn't feel like it to you at all. Sure enough what he said was true and had you rolling your hips against his in an attempt to get more friction. Seeing that grin on his face and him feeling your frantic attempts of getting him to start thrusting into you he obliged, watching you pull at the binding in an attempt to escape it.
Your head fell back, eyes shut as a warm coil snapped inside you and with a cry you came, Loki continuing to piston his hips in and out of you with no regard to what had happened, prolonging your orgasm because of his thrusts. Flipping you over you were down face down on the bed he continued to thrust in, each one more vicious and feral than the last. With your clit rubbing against the bed you let out more moans, the stimulation becoming to much as you clenched around him again and heard a deep moan from behind you as Loki hit his climax, hard. His heat spread deep within you as you felt him envelop you as he flipped out over, still inside you.
Waking up with a jolt you looked around, your bed chambers were still, black silken sheets bunched beneath your hands. It was dark, you were alone and... and none of that had happened. Realizing this your shoulders slumped, breathing still erratic from the dream as a dark figure emerged from the shadows, a wolf like smirk plastered over his face.
"Have a nice dream?" The dark haired God asked you "I could hear your moans from the other side of the palace." He growled as the bed dipped under him and he joined you, emerald eyes glittering and hand sliding down - Gods, maybe dreams like that weren't so  bad after all.
"Gods? No, not yet, remind me of that later though."
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Note: if anyone wants a tag for future work feel free to ask and also if u have any requests but be lenient as I don't get a log free time to write but I'll try my hardest.
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tarithenurse · 5 years
Text
All is fair in Love & War - 4
Pairing: Loki x fem!reader Content: angsting, imprisonment, sexual undertones, killing, suffering, sneaking about, doubt, reluctant epiphany, more angst...the usual. A/N: This is a semi-AU in the sense that it is in a sort of medieval/fairy-tale setting, but Loki and MCU’s version of Nordic mythology still applies. If you want a tag, just let me know! I’ll be more than happy to hear anything on this as the continuation depends on popularity/feedback.
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4. Gilded cage
You are not restrained for long, thankfully. Loki appears briefly to release you but does not utter a single word. Later a servant arrives with clean clothes (all dresses of fine fabrics and lavishly embellished) who helps you dress. She too leaves without giving you any information on what will happen. Another equally silent servant arrives with more wood for the fire.
Hours pass with nothing to do but walk about in the room, stare out of the window, and tend to the fire. By the time food is brought to you, it seems as though you have been starved for days. Perhaps time passes differently? Maybe the windows are enchanted to show me the wrong time of day? Either way, your stomach is growling at the sight of the steaming meal which is carefully served upon the little table by the fire together with a fine glass and a carafe of wine. You should at least hesitate to consider the option of poison in this meal despite the safety of the last, but it seems a waste of effort for the god to go through all this trouble only to kill you in such a manner (not to remind yourself that he has not seemed averse to violence). And so, you sit for the first time in one of the wide chairs, almost getting swallowed by the cushions and furs until you manage to rearrange them.
Grilled fish, vegetables, some type of mash. All of it smells of herbs and spices, most of which you cannot identify despite the mouth-watering effect it has. The cutlery is finely wrought of silvery metal. Perhaps the knife can serve as a weapon. It looks spindly, but it is better than nothing. For now, however, it will continue to be used as intended by the maker. A satisfied hum escapes you at the first bite.
“Glad you like it.” You almost choke at the sound of Loki. “No need for that, I’ve brought you something.”
That’s easy for him to say! There is plenty of reason to fear the madman and whatever he may have brought, so it is with a wary mind you watch him walk over to take the remaining seat. In his hands is a stack of books, all of them considerably thinner and with lettering on the spines that somehow is…simpler. Clearer. Gaudy colours grace some of the volumes.
“Please…you can continue your meal,” he urges, a smirk dancing on his lips, “I will show you these in the meantime.”
Not daring to enrage him again, you do as you are told trying hard to enjoy the taste of the food like with the first bite though your appetite has gone. Putting the stack aside, the god grabs the first book and holds it up for you to see. Only three letters are at the front and he points to them, as if explaining to a child, and announces that they spell out “A B C” which (according to him, at least) are the first three letters of the alphabet. Inside the book, each page is devoted to just one letter, and pretty images of things beginning with that letter (again you have to trust Loki on this) are depicted in pastels.
“Tell me, what is your name?”
It slips out of you before you can think better of it. Flipping through the pages, he reaches the page where the first letter in your name should be rendered and judging by the images, it may be correct.
…   LOKI’s POV   …
Putting the cutlery aside, the young woman, [Y/N], reaches out for the book with eyes round with wonder. Of course, he lets her hold it and watches as she traces the letter with a slender finger. He can almost recall the same wondrous feeling from his own discovery of the treasures words can hold. The power.
“What are the others? Your highness.”
She still feels compelled to show I am not her king in any way she can, Loki muses, but does not comment on it. Taking the children’s book back, he leaves through it until he has spelled out her name. In this moment, there is no fear. The air between them sings with victorious curiosity, sending warm ripples of her scent each time she reaches for the book to study it closer.
Then he takes another from the stack and opens it for her to see the pages with him. The smile on his own lips cannot be supressed when she scrunches her nose and wrinkle her brows in an effort to find any semblance in the few lines of text on each paper. This will be much easier than I thought.
“Your food is getting cold, little mortal.” And then he begins to read for her while she finishes the dinner.
…   READER’s POV   …
One day takes the other and a pattern starts to show. The morning includes a lavish breakfast with exotic fruits followed by a warm bath. Unfortunately, you are no longer taken to the bath hall by the kitchens, rather a smaller (though still full sized) tub is brought to your chambers each time and both filled and emptied by a flock of servants, people who do not say a single word to you…in fact some even scowl although you try to be kind to them, reminding yourself it is not their fault they have been born to serve someone like Loki.
It is odd, though. Looking at these people and their master, one would not think they hail from the same kingdom because these beings have subtle signs of the horrors you have heard ascribed to the god: nails reminiscent of claws; teeth too sharpened for comfort; lumpy scars and tattoos littering what skin there is to see. Their skin…each has an undertone of grey or blue reminding you of frost-touched mountains. It makes your own skin look as if it is burning in comparison.
Having people attend to you is disconcerting, making you heave a sigh of relief when the last one has left, locking the door behind them. If you are to be alone, then you would rather be so without anyone around you. And so, you while they day away in solitude, silently happy for the books that give you something to do with your mind – learning to read is not a skill most people possess and if you ever make it home again, then you know your fortune will be made thanks to this.
Home. More than once, you catch yourself staring out the windows (on a good day even pushing the glass pane aside to let the fresh air and shafts of sunlight in). Somewhere out there, maybe behind the forest at the horizon, is your homeland suffering under a decade-long war with the very same person whose prisoner you are. Because that is what you are. No luxury can change that you are locked in this room, held at Loki’s mercy until he bores of you…but so far, he has not. Each evening he arrives when your dinner has been brought and sits to read for or with you.
Tonight is no exception, and though the book he is reading from is too complicated for you to master your skill with you are hanging at his every word. He is telling a vaguely familiar story of the creation of the kingdoms. He calls them “realms”, but there is no doubt he means the same. Once there was peace (everyone knows that), but things changed as kings and gods broke treaties and grew greedy. The worst wars were between Asgard and Jotunheim, and the peace was new like the first leaves after the winter when the king of Midgard sought to grasp his opportunity, delving into a strife that still rages.
“No, that’s not right!” you exclaim with indignation. “Your highness, you cannot make me believe we- my country, my king would attack unprovoked?”
“Unprovoked?” A chuckle escapes Loki. “Resources and greed has been the motivation for worse deeds throughout history.” Reaching to the floor, he grabs a roll parchment and spreads it on his knees.
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(Author’s note: decided to keep it overly simple because I’m no cartographer)
During your time in the army, you have seen enough maps to recognize what you are looking at although most of those hadn’t been anywhere near as detailed or for that matter featuring the entire world! All the maps you saw had to depict where to go to find the enemy. Blue and red lines zig-zag through the pastels of green and any variety of earthy hues you can think of, sometimes punctured by larger blotches of the first colours. Black dotted lines lead to the red blotches and you find lettering there.
Testingly, you begin to spell your way through a word that looks oddly familiar. “S-sjo…ö…sjöb-leek…lik. Sjöb-lik…OH! Sjöblik!” The capital of Midgard is penned out carefully on the map.
“Well done.” One of those unreadable glints plays with the green of his eyes, but it is gone and he is pointing at the mark. “That is where your kings sits, safe and sound while his loyal subjects fight and die for him.” He points to a red line between Midgard and the area to the east. “This border had been unrivaled for centuries. After the war, truce came about due to the death of the former king of Jotunheim, Laufey, and many thought this realm defenseless. Leaderless. They were wrong, as it turned out.” Loki chuckles coldly.
Again, indignation and rage bubbles within, making you slam the glass of wine you would been holding on the table with a clang. “How dare you?!” He does not answer, does not even look at you. “Look at me! You call yourself ruler. You mock my king for hiding behind safe walls, yet don’t you do the same this very moment? Why should I believe a word you say to discre–“
He is upon you faster than should be humanly possible, one grabbing your hair to force your face upwards while the other is raised as if to strike you. Instinctively, your jaw clenches, but the hit never lands.
“By Odin’s –“ He pauses to look you over and blow a wayward strand of black out of his face – “Why did I think it was a good idea to take you in? You do not want to learn the truth, stubborn mortal.”
“Learning’s not the same as accepting everything without question!”
A sharp tug of your hair tilts your head painfully, but it is the hurt in his eyes that silences you. “You think I would simply lie to you?”
“I know some of the names you go under. Silver tongue. Lie smith.” Your eyes are beginning to prickle, still you do not look away.
“And yet it is lies you seek to hold on to.” Seemingly lost in thought, he clicks his tongue a couple of times. “I suppose there is only one thing to do, then.”
Loki’s got you on your feet and drags you along. Thankfully he is favouring a grip on your upper arm rather than pulling you by the hair like some savage. At first the path is familiar: down the corridor and the stairs until reaching ground level, then the path differs and soon you have lost your way. It doesn’t matter, he won’t leave me ought of sight.
The two of you come to a halt to allow him a chance to open a smaller door that leads you into what must be some sort of storage mainly housing clothes and fabrics and...my gear! It is all there. Boots, leather armour, breeches, all of it. You grab it eagerly, happy to hold something that feels familiar. Safe.
“Change.” The god smirks at you from where he is leaning against the closed door. “And be quick about it.”
There is nowhere to hide from his gaze. Resigning, you tug at all the silly ribbons to loosen the dress which soon pools on the floor, allowing you to continue. All the time, you feel the bile of panic burning in the back of your throat. Even at the encampments on the way to and at the front, your fellow comrades had had the dignity to allow the women to sort their affairs in private, yet this so-called god shows no such manners. He is no king. Never will be. Finally dressed like the night you fell into his trap, you look for the few weapons you had.
“Do not be foolish. I would not trust you with my life.”
The words sends chills down you spine. Yet I have to trust you. There is no reason to voice the thought, because he must know what any sane person would think when at his mercy.
Silently, he leads you through the courtyard to the stables where he orders the stable boys to prepare his horse. The saddle is surprisingly simple, you manage to notice when an enormous steed is brought out moments later. Black like his hair, the beast blends in well with the night despite the torches and braziers. Standing before you, it bows its head to smell the shaking hand you present to it. Please, be kinder than your master, the prayer loops in your mind, and it is rewarded by the soft nudge of a muzzle begging for strokes and scratches between the ears although you have to stretch to reach.
All too soon, the calm moment ends. Loki lifts you onto the back of the horse before following swiftly and settling behind you. No matter what you do, you cannot avoid being pressed against his chest, caged by his arms and legs as he nudges the animal forward in what soon turns into a dashing gallop through the impenetrable darkness. Gripping the leather of the saddle tight, you try to focus on the movements of the horse rather than those of the man even as he sometimes slips an arm around you waist to pull you tighter. He’s simply making sure I don’t try to escape, the logical side of you reasons…even when his nose is buried in the hair by your neck.
“Now listen carefully, pretty mortal,” the cold  breath speaks in your ear, “I am taking you to the front, but I cannot have you betray our presence once there, so I will cast a spell to silence you, and I will be carrying you tied up to prevent you from doing anything…foolish.”
Naturally, there is a lot you want to say to him about that. Appease him. Yes, if you play his game then you might be lucky that he lets his guard down long enough for you to get away because surely, he cannot carry you all the time. Probably. Strong muscles are pressing against your back, butt and thighs, and somehow you do not fully believe that normal stamina has anything to do with any of…him. Also, there is his magic to consider.
“I know you are weighing you chances.” Once more a cold hand finds your midriff before blatantly sweeping over your chest (thank the gods for the barrier of the leather armour) until finally coming to rest on your throat. “I cannot recommend it, although it would a delightful change of things to truly hunt you down.”
Now that you believe.
The horse comes to a halt in, judging by the smell and sounds, a forest. How the creature and the god can have navigated the place without running headfirst into a tree or something is far beyond logic. You want to ask, but the hand on your throat burns hot and cold, stealing your breath away as your windpipe spasms uncomfortably. It is not painful, simply…wrong.
“ – !” None of the curses leave your mouth.
Feeling the air stick in your lungs, your tear Loki’s hand away, your nails digging into the skin before he manages to restrain you.
“Shush, breathe. Just breathe.” Somehow, he manages to soothe your frayed nerves. Shallow gasps turn into deep inhalations that in turn combat the tension in your shoulders, neck and chest. “Much better. I will restore your voice once this endeavour is over. Now, we have to walk from here.”
You feel him sliding away, and although you do not hear it, he must have landed on the ground too because a moment later his hands are on your waist and he pulls you down to stand next to him, both of your wrists in one of his large hands. Familiar golden-green-glowing dust emanates from his fingers and lights up the narrow space between you as it coils around your wrist where it turns into metal, cold and hard against the skin, but by then the light disappears. Blind once more, there is no warning before Loki hoists you onto his back and wraps you legs around his hips where he keeps them pinned as he begins to move effortlessly through the night.
The jostling motion continues for a long time, or so it feels, and you almost cannot believe it when you finally see a flicker of fire between the black silhouettes of tree-trunks and bushes. As Loki reaches the edge of the camp, it is evident that this is no little outpost.
The colours of the Midgardian army can be seen everywhere despite a thick layer of dirt and the worn condition of the fabrics, both a telling symbol of the state the forces are in. Most are asleep, exhausted and hungry as they are it is impossible to truly get any rest (you remember this all too vividly), and the few that should be on guard are fighting the urge to mimic their comrades. They’re not fulfilling their tasks! The enemy is walking through the camp, silent as a cat he moves from shadow to shadow and not a soul stirs as he passes, allowing him unchallenged access to enter the biggest tent in the camp.
In there, things look different. You have never been inside any other tent than your own (which was more of a shelter than an actual tent) and you are stunned at what you see in the soft light from the embers in the firepit. An actual cot is covered, improved with furs and a few cushions so that the man sleeping there suffers none of the hardships his men does. Of course, you expected the captain to have more favourable conditions, they were all thanes or chieftains and as such their status would merit certain comforts. But to see this leader snoring comfortably next to a low table with the unfinished scraps of his meal made you shake with anger. Chicken, vegetables, barley-mash, even fruit and wine! More than he could eat and drink, which contradicts everything you have been told on the “consequences everyone suffers from Loki’s invasions”.  Apparently, some suffer less than others.
“Look.” The god’s whisper makes you reposition your head to his other shoulder so you can get a clear view at the item he is pointing at.
On the table (a real, proper, wooden table) are documents in gnarly handwriting, but it is a crudely drawn map that has caught your captor’s attention. The borders are familiar thanks to the landmarks and the letters inserted in the rivers’ flow. The arrows signaling troop movements and planned battlefields, however, tell a different story than the one you were told by your superiors. According to the orders you had listened to, had memorized, the Midgardians were fighting to take back their own lands which had been stolen by the instigator Loki who, according to your king and commanders wanted nothing more than to wipe your homeland off the face of the earth. That is not what the map shows. Each arrow crosses from Midgard to Jotunheim.
“See that river?” Loki points to a set of somewhat parallel likes snaking across the parchment. “This used to be the border. You can even see the old line has been blurred, here.” Tapping his finger to indicate where for your sake. “We would need to walk west for two days before reaching where Midgard ought to begin.”
Having no words, you are left to nod mutely. Whether he cares remains a mystery to you because he has become engrossed in the letters, studying the (for you) impossible handwriting before stuffing them inside the leather armour together with the map. When did he change? Only now do you realize that the refined shirt has been gone for a long time, replaced with an outfit similar to the one he had worn the night you found him. It doesn’t matter. Why should you care what he wears? Truth is you do not, of course. The whispered sound of metal calls you out of the nonsensical babbling of your mind to see Loki leaning over the bed, a long knife gleaming in his hand for half an eternity before it is plunged into the unsuspecting Midgardian. Bloodshot eyes flutter open, locking briefly with his killer’s. Then they see nothing but the emptiness of the afterlife.
You have seen people die before, both naturally and by the hands of someone else. Witnessing the murder of this gluttony commander, it is the fact that you do not feel sorry for him that shocks you to your core. Lost in a debate on whether or not you are losing your soul, you pay little attention to Loki’s actions as he makes his way through the camp by seeking out the armouries, the enclosures for the beasts of burden. Bit by bit, he sabotages all he can, before eventually returning to the cover of the forest and the darkness there.
“This is what I do.” He still whispers although the enemy, the Midgardian camp, is safely behind. “Each night after we have read, I head out to gather information and delay the next wave of attacks to prevent meaningless bloodshed on both sides. You must understand this too.”
The rest of the journey back to Loki’s keep is passed in silence even though he restores you ability to speak once you reach his horse which has been waiting exactly where he left it.
The next evening, the god only visits briefly in your fancy prison to inform that he will be away.
It is a promise he keeps which at first feels wonderfully freeing but soon brings a new emptiness to the stale routine where the only other company grows increasingly hostile and negligent. Meals become simpler (still filling, at least), and the bath is replaced by a single bucket of cold water and a cloth in much the same way that the clothes suddenly are simpler too. You are not lacking anything, as such, but it is clear to you that only Loki has been the reason for the lavish attention you have received before and most likely it is their fear of him, or warped loyalty, that is keeping you alive.
Then comes the day where no one sees to you. Then one more…and one more. You keep the thirst at bay by drinking sparingly from the bucket of dirty bath water, prizing yourself fortunate that you had not poured it down the loo after use when no one had come to collect it as usual. The temperature, however, is a different matter: during the day, the room is cool, but at night the place does little to insulate against the dropping temperatures that penetrate the walls and the glass of the narrow windows. Some mornings, you wake to frost on the furs and pillow, and ice on the water in the bucket. No one comes. You grow lethargic from the hunger that no longer bites and tears at your insides but simply…is. At least sleeping can take your mind away from it.
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loraneldin · 5 years
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Part 2 of Eight Pack
Part 1
They stop hugging before anyone comes looking for them. Bucky asks if they need to tell the team what happened, and when both Steve and Tony affirm, he decides to give the explanation directly to the team.
He is supposed to talk to people. It is healthy, he has been told.
The talk goes over… better than expected. Bucky starts with an apology. He doesn’t want them to think he turned into a power-crazed alpha. But then he has to explain what he was thinking.
“With the way you guys interact every day, the stuff you do in sparring seems—” Bucky struggles to find the word.
“Awesome?” Clint suggests.
“Unnecessary?” Natasha says without real conviction.
Thor says, “…Hardly discernible from a real fight?”
Bucky swallows. Thor doesn’t look like he is poking fun or thinking Bucky is being ridiculous.
“On Asgard, warriors that fight together share an almost familial bond,” Thor adds. “On the training grounds we might clash, but there is always respite after to strengthen those bonds.”
“That sounds an awful lot like a pack.” Bruce’s voice is calm which makes his words not less jarring, at least to Bucky. And from the looks of it for Steve too. Natasha is harder to read than the rest of them when she wants to be, but right now she is visibly frowning.
Thor just shrugs. “If that is what Midgard calls it.”
“No one is talking about being a pack,” Steve says.
Tony throws up an eyebrow at that, taking another look around the gathered team. “We could probably do with some bonding time though. Any suggestions?”
“Movie night?” Sam supplies.
Everyone shrugs or seems to consider.
“Game night?” Bruce asks.
“Mario Kart.”
“No, Clint.”
“You really don’t want to play Monopoly with me,” Tony throws in.
Everyone is suddenly discussing what they definitely will not play, and Bucky can’t follow any single argument. At least they have opinions on this.
Tony claps his hands. “Okay, six pm tomorrow. Everyone can bring one game. Whoever loses the first one, chooses the food.”
-
Sam takes Steve and Bucky shopping for games in the afternoon, pointing them towards classics like Pictionary. But of course, they get distracted by the amount of selections. Bucky actually buys a Star Wars Monopoly and Sam tries really hard to not read something into that. This is until Steve shows up with Twister. He sighs and picks up Scrabble, thinking they might as well make it a trifecta of group conflict.
It doesn’t end as terribly as he thinks, though. Board game night is fun. Chaotic, but fun.
They start with a round of Trivial pursuit that Thor loses very clearly, although Steve and Bucky don’t do too well either. Nat wins and gets slightly enraged commentaries from Tony which satisfy her immensely. Which Sam figures is Tony’s whole point.
As Thor gets to choose the food, they order from the barbecue place with giant portions. No one is too miffed about it as they have a varied menu and everyone finds something.
The chaos starts when they get to Taboo after that. They just split the groups straight down the table, which turns out to be a bad idea. Everyone has done one round of explaining, and before Tony there is a thick stack of correctly guessed cards. Steve is holding the five their team got in one hand.
Clint and Natasha are just eerily good at the game, either one of them saying a word or two and emoting with their eyes before the right term falls with certainty from the other one’s lips. Tony talks a mile a minute, never using a single taboo word, and Bruce may be a little slower but he is inventive, and the other three just shout out whatever comes into their heads until the next card goes onto the stack.
Steve, Bucky, and Thor on the other hand… have a harder time.
So after the first round The Great Discussion starts.
“If we do this, it has to be fair.”
“We could do a draft…”
“It’s just Taboo. You’re a sore loser.”
“Tony and Natasha can join our side then?”
“No way.”
Most noticeably to Sam, Tony and Bucky are not arguing like the rest. Bucky follows what is going on with rapt attention, and Tony is watching Bucky. Finally, they make eye contact.
Tony says, “Do you want a hug?” and although he doesn’t say it loudly, all talk stops.
Bucky smiles at him. “It’s not bad. I know they’re not actually fighting. This is kind of fun.”
“That’s good but not what I asked. Maybe I can be more clear. Could I get a hug?”
A surprised smile grows on Bucky’s face and he nods. Sam has never noticed the way that Bucky’s smile never went the whole way before. Only now, where it creates crinkles around his eyes, the difference is apparent.
Tony ends up in Bucky’s lap, and Sam finds himself unable to not ask, “Is this part of game night now?”
“Why, do you need a hug too?” Steve asks, and Sam is not sure if he is earnest or poking fun at him.
Sam figures it is worth taking the chance. “I would like one.”
Thor stands up, and for a moment, Sam is afraid he wants to sit down on his lap too. It must be readable on his face by the dirty laugh coming from Steve. But instead, Thor pulls him up into a bear hug. It is nicer than Sam remembers a simple hug to be. Thor’s arms somewhat shield him from everything else going on in the room for a minute, but after Thor lets him go again, it’s apparent that the rest haven’t been missing the opportunity.
“Maybe Twister wasn’t such a weird idea after all,” Sam murmurs, and Steve exaggeratedly waggles his eyebrows from where he has both Clint and Bruce in his lap.
It is relaxing. If someone would have described the scene to Sam, he’d have asked in what world a group of grown-ups from all three designations could hold each other where hugging was just that: hugging. And as much as Sam would say that his teammates were absolutely attractive, right now it doesn’t matter. Apparently, they have more group cohesion than they gave themselves credit for.
“Either we get this scene over to the couch and make a proper group snuggle out of it, or we go back to games night.” Tony says with a laugh from where he is still perched on Bucky’s lap.
Steve answers, “I think we can manage a little bit of both.”
And so they end up playing different games with two or more of them cuddled together, playing as one team, for Scrabble or Pictionary or even Poker at the end of the night. All the relaxing also means lots of pheromones released into the air. It’s mostly dominated by pleased omega, they being the largest group in the room. 
Sam sure has no complaints. Although he himself probably smells of a wild mix of omegas, betas, and even another alpha from where he ended up in close contact with Bucky during the unavoidable round of Twister.
Seeing them all like this and being in the middle of it settles something inside Sam he didn’t know was agitated. The mention of pack made part of the team highly uncomfortable, understandably. And this is sure far away from social convention, but everyone is comfortable. They probably should worry less about what they look like from the outside or what name a stranger would give this situation, but instead, concentrate on what they need and, from what Sam is seeing, breaking down these invisible barriers is something they have needed for some time.
As things wind down, Natasha plops down on the couch next to Sam. “You think we will regret this tomorrow?”
“Introducing Thor to Poker?” Sam asks back. He knows that is not what she is asking, but he also knows that she isn’t actually asking.
“We won’t be going back to the way it was before. It’s not something you try to downplay the next morning and act as if it never happened after.”
Sam hasn’t expected that anyone would want that. “But you liked it?”
“I sure did,” she leans her head on her hand, studying Sam as if he is giving her plenty of new information. “But if we aren’t going back, where are we going?”
Part 3
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r 0 a D w O r K a H e A d
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I certainly hope it does - why? Is there a reason it should not?
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occasionalfics · 6 years
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The Ones To Go, 3 (Thor X Reader)
masterlist | the one to stay masterlist | the ones to go masterlist | chapter 1 | chapter 2 |
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Summary: After one last peaceful evening, it’s time to go to Midgard and prepare for war.
A/N: So I have some news. It’s not good or bad, and it’s really just that chapter 2 is the only explicit NSFW chapter. There’s plenty more fluff to be had, but a lot of this surrounds...well...war. I say this as if there was more than one smut chapter in The One To Stay (there was only one of those too!) XD 
Also the newest trailer for Infinity War has me REALLY fucking scared for Asgard. What If I just pretend that our fics are canon because, after doing a predictions project and having someone mention that hey maybe Thanos attacks Thor at the beginning of the movie, I’m terrified! I swear if they use the, “IS THIS YOUR KING?!” thing like in Black Panther...I’m gonna be really upset.
But that’s a month away. For now, Asgard’s safe on (Y/N)’s planet, right?!
Warnings: I don’t think there are any for this chapter! Enjoy! :D
Words: 3,940
The sun was warm on your skin, although it wasn’t high in the sky. Dawn crept along the horizon, gently waking you as a cool breeze blew past. You groaned and forced your eyes shut tight, but you were awake, and there was no running from what needed to be done.
You wanted to stay in the garden, naked and at peace, forever. But of course you did - who would want to leave when the King of Asgard was wrapped around them in quiet slumber? Someone that didn’t know what it was like, you supposed, as you gently stretched and attempted to sit up.
“No,” Thor whisper-whined when you squirmed. “It’s not time yet.”
You laughed and kissed his shut eye, but still went to sit anyway. “It is,” you said. “Unfortunately, your Avenger friends need our assistance.”
He kept his arms around your waist and refused to open his eye, so you bit your lip to hide your smile as you tackled him, pushing him back so you lay over him as you had the night before. Your body was tense and sore, but it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle. There was little that compared to the burn in your side from your father’s fireball - the last thing he’d ever given you before you killed him.
Thor finally looked at you. “But this is so much nicer,” he whispered as you trailed fingers around his forehead.
“Yes,” you said, “but the galaxy is depending on us to do what we do best.”
“Make love like we did last night?” he asked with a chuckle. “Populate the universe because we’re both just that good?”
You kissed him quickly, then shook your head. “I wish that were the case,” you told him, holding back any hint of sadness. He needed you to be strong, and so you would be. “But we must fight. We should also get dressed before our guests come looking for us.”
He groaned again, and his smile fell, but not entirely. He looked so content, and you wished more than anything that you could stay for just...half an hour more. But you couldn’t. Thanos was on his way to destroy the world, and you needed to get to Midgard before he did. So Thor nodded slowly and said, “Fine. If you insist, my Moon and Stars.”
He’d never called you that before, but you liked it. It made you think of your mother’s trident, and the night you’d spent in her meadow. You remembered telling your mother that you loved Thor, and that you were marrying him - and she approved. If she were watching over you now, you thought that she might be rolling her eyes and laughing at how childish you acted when you were in love.
You gave him one last kiss before pushing against his chest to sit up. Your muscles yelled at you, but you ignored them as you stood up, then helped Thor stand, too. He stretched, and in his full glory, you saw how beaten and battered his body really was. He had scars all over, some fresher than others, and yet he still looked like the God he was. You let out a quiet gasp, thinking of how fitting it was that he’d married a Goddess of War - in more ways than just tactical advantage.
The both of you cleared the blankets and pillows from the garden, throwing them on the bed inside because it wasn’t as if you’d be sleeping there for some time anyway. The maids would clear it away before sundown in any case. And speaking of, you found two packs filled to the brim sitting by your full-length mirror. One had Thor’s armor sitting on the floor in front of it, and the other was guarded by your mother’s trident. You made a mental note to thank the next maid that came in for the preparations.
You and Thor dressed in relative, comfortable silence. Instead of a dress, like you would’ve preferred, you wore dark trousers and a red tunic. You braided your hair, pushed your feet into your grimey and quite un-Queen-like boots, then helped Thor finish placing his armor on.
“Should you not have armor of your own?” he asked.
“I do,” you responded, lacing up the back of his chestplate. “I think the maids already packed it, though. Should I expect to need it upon arrival?”
“Maybe not,” he said softly. You finished with the plate, then he turned around to face you. “You’re sure we can’t spend...one more night here? Alone?” He placed one of his large hands on your face, and you sunk into it.
“I want nothing more,” you said. “But what I want is irrelevant. We’ll be back before long, populating the galaxy, as you so crudely put it.” You gave him a sarcastic smile before detaching from him slowly. You went to the packs by the mirror, picked them up, and handed his to him. Then you grabbed the trident and waited for him to be ready to head out.
“I can’t decide if I like you more as a Queen or a Warrior,” he said, his eye slitted as he smirked.
You returned the gesture and shrugged. “You married both, so you don’t have to pick.”
He came over to you, kissed you once more, and held you as close to him as he could get you. You loved thinking that even if he needed you to be strong, he was strong, too. Neither of you had to do this alone, and that was comfort enough to know you were doing the right thing as Queen.
When he pulled back he said, “You’re quite right. Thank you for the reminder.” The he winked at you and put his hand in yours, and then you left the room together.
You went to the field from which Thor had departed when he’d left with Brunhilde and Bruce. Doctor Strange was already waiting with Loki and Heimdall. Your brother and sister-in-law waited at the base of the small hill you had to climb to get to the field, but they followed you and Thor with somber glances. You’d almost forgotten the weight of your mission after the night before, but their expressions brought most of it back.
Thanos. Infinity Stones. Midgard. You reminded yourself that you were determined to come home alive, to bring Thor back so he could finally rest and be King. You needed normalcy, if only for a little while. Long enough to bear children and watch the kingdom grow.
You hadn’t realized it until you heard the marching, but your army followed you up into the field. They wore their armor proudly and stood tall, moving as a unit as they were trained to do. The procession was long and loud, but when you finally made it to Doctor Strange, everything went quiet and still.
You’d been so preoccupied since Thor had come back that you hadn’t even asked how you’d be getting to Midgard. You remembered how he and Doctor Strange had appeared the day before, in a rip in space surrounded by orange sparks. That was the obvious mode of transport, given that there was no ship to board in sight.
“Are you ready, Your Majesty?” Doctor Strange asked you.
You held Thor’s hand tighter and nodded, forcing a stoic glance onto your features. The Doctor swung his arms around as if he were casting spells. His hands ignited in an orange glow, and then sparks burst through the middle of the air. A rip, much like the one from the night before, appeared between you and the mountain ranges beyond the field. A scene of tall grasses and sun like the one from the previous night appeared, widening until you saw a city between the grass and another mountain range.
“Where is that?” you asked, staring at the glistening buildings that all seemed to have a bright blue hue to them.
“Wakanda,” Thor said. “It’s where the Avengers are stationed at the moment.” He brought your intertwined hands up and seemed to be encouraging you forward. “Step through.”
You looked at Doctor Strange, who nodded, his hands still raised toward the rip. You refused to let go of Thor’s hand and ended up dragging him through the rip with you, but it all happened in an instant. One moment, you’re standing on a familiar field and the next you’re walking on the softer Midgardian soil.
Off toward the mountains, you saw something of a camp had been set up. Tents and hastily built buildings sat in disorganization. People bustled around, some in suits of armor, some in civilian clothes. Some didn’t look Midgardian at all, but you were far enough away that you couldn’t actually place them.
“Ready to meet the team?” Thor asked, stepping close to you.
You could feel how wide your eyes were as you shook your head. “Not one bit,” you said. “But let’s do it.”
He led you across the grass field to the camp. Loki and Heimdall followed, then your army, and finally Doctor Strange. You missed the rip closing behind the doctor, as you were too busy looking all around. A large ship zoomed overhead from the city outward, a blue light emitting from the jet below it - the sight made the breath catch in your throat as you watched it.
“So this is Midgard,” you said as the people in the camp began to notice your entourage.
“No,” Thor said with a small chuckle. “This is Wakanda.”
You didn’t quite understand the joke, but you were sure you would soon enough.
Doctor Strange somehow made it to your side in no time. He ended up taking the lead into the camp, nodding and greeting people as your small parade made its way between the tents and buildings and vehicles. Everything was chaos inside the camp - people moved and yelled and worked, and you tried to watch them as closely as you could, but you were moving too quickly to focus on any one person.
Someone called Thor’s name from ahead. You looked around Doctor Strange to see a man that, under other circumstances, might be mistaken for Thor’s actual brother or cousin or some other not so distant relation. He had short blond hair and was, frankly, shaped like a triangle. His shoulders were broad, his waist was slim, and he walked with a gait that exuded confidence without being intimidating or offensive.
“Steven!” Thor said enthusiastically.
“Another one?” you asked, barely audible over the din of the camp. You glanced from Doctor Strange to this new Steven as he came to Thor and threw his arm over the shoulder farthest from you. They embraced briefly, halting your procession in what felt like the center of the camp.
When the new Steven pulled away from Thor, the new Steven turned to you. “Captain Steven Rogers,” he said as he bowed. “At your service, Your Majesty.”
You almost blushed, but clearly this Midgardian Steven knew who you were. Maybe it was clear, with your body so close to Thor’s, your hand in his. You wondered what he’d told them of you, though you were sure you’d find out soon.
Thor leaned toward you and whispered, “Captain America,” before Steven stood straight again.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Captain,” you said, more as a pleasantry than a genuine sentiment.
Steven hardly seemed to notice. He looked at Thor again and said, “The team’s all together. For once.”
“Then let’s join them,” Thor said, more jovial than he had reason to be. At least, that’s what you thought. You’d come to Midgard knowing you had a war to fight, but Thor was greeting this man and speaking of the team as if he hadn’t seen them the day before.
You tried to remember that it was possible that Midgard ran on a different time schedule than your planet. Maybe he’d been gone a week your time, or Midgardian time. Maybe this new Steven hadn’t been around when Thor had left - there were too many possibilities running through your head for you to pick one, so you pulled yourself closer to Thor and walked quietly beside him.
“Um, Brother,” you heard from behind. You and Thor both turned your attention to Loki, who was watching his surroundings closely. “Did I really need to come? The last time I was here… Well, I’m not so sure the Avengers will look kindly upon my return.”
“You think?” Thor asked sarcastically.
You rose your brows at them both and asked, “How much trouble did you cause?” pointedly at Loki.
Heimdall chuckled. “Too much,” he muttered before Loki glared daggers at him.
Captain Rogers cleared his throat. “You didn’t say you’d be brining Loki,” he said as if he hadn’t just heard what Loki had said.
Thor shrugged. “We need all the help we can get.” He looked to you and saw the confused look on your face then. “When we have a moment, I’ll tell you,” he said as Doctor Strange and Captain Rogers held the flaps of a large tent open.
The lights inside were electric and bright, like Thor’s lightning. You could see everyone inside as they all turned to you. You weren’t entirely sure what to do with yourself, so you stared back at them, attempting a look of grace and control instead of the embarrassed fear you felt inside. You forced yourself to breathe and remember who you were - Queen, Goddess, Warrior. You were expected, or at least Captain Rogers had made you feel as if you were.
“Hello!” Thor called as if he were greeting a room of fans instead of these Avengers he kept mentioning. “I’d like to introduce my wife, Queen (Y/N).”
Most of the room bowed. You weren’t sure how you felt about seeing so many of these people Thor considered friends all showing you the tops of their heads, but you knew it was the proper thing to do. You’d have to get used to it, as Queen. So you gave a brief nod before Captain Rogers led you to two seats at a long table.
You realized your army had not come into the tent. That was for the better - there were too many people seated around the table as it were. Loki and Heimdall joined the thrall, standing behind you as you turned toward a levitating screen against the opposite side of the tent.
A middle aged man with dark hair stepped up to the screen. He walked as if he owned the ground below his feet, and you watched him carefully. “Alright,” he said. “Now that Crocodile Hunter’s back, we can get down to business.”
You furrowed your brows, but Thor only squeezed your hand. You figured this was something else he would explain later, when you had time.
“We’ve got about 20 hours before Thanos’s expected arrival. We’re still not sure how many of the Stones he has, but we have three. In 12 hours, King T’Challa will give the order to set the disguise around Wakanda proper, but it’ll do nothing for us out here.” The man, who still hadn’t introduced himself, began to pace. “How many troops did you bring us, Atlantica?”
The room fell silent. A few of the people around you turned to look at you, but you were focused on the man at the front of the room. He stared silently as well, and then Thor shook his head.
“She’s never been to Midgard, Tony,” he said. “We’ve brought at least six thousand troops. Our army is small but fierce.”
“Right,” this...Tony...responded. “So we’ve got that.”
Symbols moved on the screen behind Tony, but you couldn’t make out what they meant. You could read Midgardian English, could identify most Midgardian symbols for numbers, but the screen was using some other form of communication. You did notice a little Trident appearing on screen with a 6k beside it, though.
“Who else are we missing?” Captain Rogers asked from further down the table.
Tony turned to the screen, examined the symbols, and shrugged. “No one that I can think of. And I’ve thought of it all.” He gave a smile that didn’t seem genuine one bit, but you tried to ignore it. There was something pompous about this man, but he didn’t appear threatening. Just full of himself. You’d allow him to call you whatever he pleased, so long as it got you home alive.
“Then all we can do is prepare,” a dark skinned man at the head of the table called. He was dressed in pristine, dark cloth that was tailored to him. His brown eyes were wide, observant, and the silver pointed necklace around his shoulders caught your attention.
“So it seems,” Tony responded. “In the meantime, we’ve got a Midgard virgin we have to christen or…something that won’t end with Point Break ripping me limb from limb.”
People all along the table stood then. You’d just sat down, but the meeting was already over. You tried not to think too much of it - they clearly had gone over much of the strategy already. The Avengers (and then some, you thought) were as prepared as they could be, with so many unknown factors at play. You sighed when you thought of things that way - as a plan of war, rather than an indescribable, incredibly short meeting.
You stood as well, turning to face Loki. “Not a peep about you so far,” you said with a smirk. “Point Break over here though,” you said with a nod at Thor. “I don’t even know what that means, but it somehow fits.”
“It’s a movie,” Captain Rogers said as he came over to your cohort. “Well, a movie and a remake.”
“I don’t...know what that is, either,” you said. You hated this already. Feeling out of the loop, out of context. You did know that Captain Rogers, with his sweet smile and adorable, understanding eyes didn’t mean to make you feel stupid, but you did.
He shrugged, though. “A movie’s kind of like...a story that people act out on a screen.”
You nodded, forcing a smile at his attempt to include you. 
“Point Break’s about these guys that get stuck on the side of a mountain...or something. Tony’s been calling Thor by that name for...god, has it been years already?”
Thor shrugged as he stood. “I ignore it, honestly.” He looked at you and said, “Tony Stark will say whatever comes to mind. Sometimes he’s, but not always.”
You nodded, then saw the dark skinned man from the end of the table approach. He brought a shorter, slightly darker girl with him; her hair was woven into small braids of different colors that were all tied together in a fascinating shape on the back of her head. The man and girl bowed, and after Thor and Captain Rogers returned the gesture, you did as well.
“My love, this is King T’Challa of Wakanda, our gracious host for the coming battle,” Thor told you. “And his younger sister, Princess Shuri - possibly the smartest Midgardian I’ve ever met.”
The girl scoffed with a smirk. “Possibly? Please,” she said. “Everyone knows I’ve got the highest IQ in this tent. Easily.”
Thor chuckled, and you smiled with him. “I don’t doubt it,” he said.
King T’Challa looked somewhat unimpressed, but not so much that it seemed rude. He shook his head, then turned to you and said, “I just wanted to welcome you to Wakanda. Your husband’s told us a great deal about you.”
You stole a glance at Thor and said, “All good things, I hope.”
“He said you nearly broke his trachea when you met,” Princess Shuri said, a certain playful spark in her eyes. She smirked, too, sizing up the trident at your side.
You shrugged. “I had to get his attention somehow,” you said, smirking as well so that King T’Challa would know you were joking.
He turned to Princess Shuri and warned, “Don’t get any ideas,” before she stepped past him to get a closer look at your mother’s trident.
“You should know me better, T’Challa,” she said, her eyes scanning the tines and points. “I don’t fight with my hands. Mostly.”
You kept your eyes on her, but not because of the trident. She was young - she had to be an adolescent among Midgardians, you figured. But she’d been in battle? You wondered how old children on Midgard were allowed to fight, though, to be fair, it wasn’t as if you weren’t born the Goddess of War. You’d been fighting, in some way or another, your whole life.
“This is excellent metalwork,” Princess Shuri said. She flicked her eyes to yours and asked, “May I?”
You remembered asking your mother something like that once, long ago. You liked the Wakandan Princess, so you looked at her brother for approval first. He shrugged, so you handed her the trident carefully, making sure she could bare its weight before removing your hands completely.
“How old is this?” she asked examining the details in the handle.
“It was my mother’s,” you said. “So probably ancient, but I can’t be sure.”
“Does it do anything?” she asked.
You looked at Thor for answers, but he shrugged. “Well, I’ve been able to direct lightning at a target with it before.”
“So it’s just a trident?” she asked, a mixture of disappointment and curiosity in her tone. “An excellently sculpted trident, but a large fork nonetheless.”
“Shuri!” King T’Challa warned.
You shrugged once more. She was right; her assessment was fair, and you weren’t at all offended. “The might isn’t in the weapon,” you told her. “But in the warrior.”
“Right,” she said with a nod. “Goddess of War, of course. But.” She stood the trident up and looked over it from top to bottom before going on. “As Goddess of Science,” she said, earning her a roll of the eyes from her brother behind her, “I can enhance it. With your permission, of course.”
Your face turned to an expression of curiosity. “Enhance it?” you asked. “Is it not formidable on its own?”
“I’m sure it’s as formidable as the person wielding it,” she said, still with the playful spark in her eyes. So young and full of promise, you thought. “But it can do more. I see its potential.”
You stared at the trident, your mother’s prized possession. It was her symbol, her weapon, and she’d given it to you in your time of need. But your mother was the Goddess of Nighttime. She had pull of the moon, which commanded the tide, which changed everything it touched. Your mother had tried to change your father, and that had gotten her killed. You tried to find some comforting gesture from on high, hoping she would reach out to you to let you know whether or not altering her trident was okay. But nothing happened.
The weapon was yours now. You had some idea of what Thanos was about to bring to Midgard. If Princess Shuri could...enhance the trident, make it more useful to your cause, why should you not allow her to? King T’Challa gave no signal that this was not a good idea. If he appeared to trust her with science, why shouldn’t you? Besides, it might be rude to deny her such an opportunity in her own country. You didn’t want to think that you had to accept her offer. Still, you were curious to see what she could do.
“Surprise me, Princess,” you said.
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otak-me · 6 years
Text
C O N S T E L L A T I O N S (A LOKI X OC FANFIC)
CONSTELLATIONS INDEX
SUMMARY:
Exiled from Asgard, and stripped of his magic, Loki finds himself landed on Midgard.
Cast from his home, and thrust into a world he once attempted to conquer, his bitterness is
more than aggravated. Loki is furious, and yet as his anger is uncontained and wild, he
finds himself vulnerably laid into the palms of these mortals that he sees as so inferior.
The mortal that finds him, though, is much more intriguing (and less... Well, mortal) than
he thought Midgardians to be.
Enter Valentina Rossiére, a woman with fire that could sear into your soul burning in her
eyes and a tongue quick as a whip. Whilst at first she seems to be simply a strangely
behaving midguardian, she somehow manages to break through to Loki's broken mind,
and find a part of himself he had thought had been long destroyed. With a bit more than a
reluctant mind, and an empty heart, Loki finds himself not only forced into submission into
the mundane lifestyle of a human being, but into an unsuspected whirlwind of emotions
that he never knew existed.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
CHAPTER 1: A N D R O M E D A
COLD.
It encompassed her entire being.
Her muscles grew frigid and her bones grew tight.
She grit her teeth in frustration.
Her toes were going from white to grey by now, and her eyebrows knitted together in irritation.
"Fuck this!" She threw her hands in the air, hurling herself off the couch and paced to the thermostat, turning on the heater, her fingers twitching from being suddenly moved, "I'm just gonna have to call him, I can't go without heating for this long!"
Her lips were slowly regaining colour as the heaters blasted, and her teeth gnawed at the cracked skin in the left corner of her bottom lip.
Her silver eyes darted across the room to her black snake, Baphomet, that was happily lazing under the lamp, and she grumbled under her breath at him, "Lucky bastard, getting a constant heater and not needing to worry about electricity bills." His head tilted a tad towards her, and he seemed to smirk impishly at her.
She rolled her eyes, heading towards the kitchen and pulling out a mug.
It was getting into the colder months now, and it was slowly approaching the one year anniversary of 'The Battle of New York' or "The Time Iron Man Saved The Day By Shoving A Nuke Into A Giant Glowing Asshole Of Death" as Tony Stark so pompously preferred.
The electricity bills would be going up for Valentina these next few months. As much as she loved the winter, Valentina wholeheartedly loathed the expenses that came with it. More food, more electricity.
It was exhausting.
You would think that after living for so long, she would have accumulated a fair stash of money, and she had, but it was scattered all over the globe. She didn't want any suspicious links to her bills and life being up for grabs by any pesky organisations.
Valentina still had to work to keep her living expenses manageable, as she wasn't exactly living in a hovel.
Her 'humble' abode was located miles away from the closest store, buried within the forest of pine trees and high-reaching birch trees. It was a large brown and green house, similar to that of a cottage, but much larger.
It had two floors, the first floor containing the entrance, the kitchen, the loungeroom and the office, and the second floor containing the master bedroom, spare bedroom, bathroom and library.
Although there was a main room dedicated to books, the winding staircase that spiralled up from the first floor to the library area was walled with bookshelves too.
Most rooms withheld at least one bookshelf (minus the bathroom), the kitchen with cookbooks and whatnot, the loungeroom with Valentina's favourite series, the office with lots of technology, science, and mathematical textbooks, the staircase with historical and fantasy, her bedroom with 'currently reading' books, more of her favourite series, and her oldest, most precious books, the spare bedroom with the 'classics' with Shakespeare, Edgar Ellen Poe, J.R.R. Tolkien, George Orwell, F. Scott Fitzgerald etc.
In the loungeroom was a large flatscreen above the fireplace, Valentina's collection of movies on either side of the fireplace in drawers, above the drawers short bookshelves, and above the bookshelves hung a collection of animal skulls that she had scavenged in her walks through the forest.
The skulls were a constant reminder of how she must live her life; cherish the lives around you, and never let their memories fade.
Her snake, Baphomet, a beautiful black water moccasin Cottonmouth, was in a large tank behind the couches, lazing his life away like a no-good freeloader.
Valentina loved Baphomet, she had found him half-dead on the side of the road, attacked by some disgusting men with a shovel. She managed to stop the men from murdering the poor reptile, but he was still badly injured. One of his eyes was gouged out, and he had plenty of broken ribs. Valentina had been in tears as she commenced surgery on the poor creature, her tears mixed with the blood stained on her hands.
She stayed away from town for a while after that, as she couldn't stand to face anyone after seeing such a horrid sight.
Nobody really cared about Valentina, save for the old man Strickler, who had been quite close to her in his younger years. He stopped seeing her as often once he had met his wife and gotten married, though. Valentina still liked to visit him every once in a while, just to make sure he was still doing well. He always said that she was a sight to behold every time she visited, with her 5'8, petite stature, heart-shaped face, full, cupid's-bow-less, rosy lips, porcelain skin, silver eyes and long, silver hair.
She really did stand out.
It was back when she first started approaching the years of 80 that her hair started turning grey, along with the hair of her friends around her. It seemed to stay that way for the rest of her years.
The rest of her years being the last 358 years, of course.
The young skin certainly did look strange with the naturally silver hair, but lately it had become less questioned, due to hair dyeing becoming a more popular beauty fad.
Her frame never seemed to change, always lean, but toned, petite yet firm, pale and never-changing.
She was an anomaly amongst men, and had been for the most part of her life. She had long accepted this fact, and worked her lifestyle around it, preventing as much heartbreak as possible; getting close, but not too close, making friends, but never having attachments. She cherished the lives of others, but had accepted that the light would eventually fade from their eyes and leave her alone once more.
Alone, always alone.
Her life had become a haze of standing on the sidelines, watching people's lives streak past her in a daze of overflowing emotions, filling as much emotion as possible into each moment, cherishing each second before their inevitable cease of existence.
She watched as empires rose and fell, people came to power, were overthrown, then spoken about as if they were partial fantasy, when she had met those people when they were children, or traded goods and services with their mothers.
She was an anomaly among men, an anomaly that was barely teetering on the line of existence and living.
She was alone.
CHAPTER 2: ANTLIA
Word count: 1132
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