#yes an “attempt” to “help” but paired with an unwillingness or inability to figure out *what* would actually help first

[strsburn]

destiny led me to you | loki

pairing - loki laufeyson x female reader

synopsis - driven by the heartbreak of losing your entire world by the hands of thanos, you set out to find him, leaving destruction in your path in multiple universes; thus creating a horde of branches in the timeline and catching the attention of the TVA.

but you would do it all again if it meant you could see him once more.

notes - this is hopefully going to be a series, depending on the feedback i receive, i plan to follow the episodes only slightly because i dont want it to be an exact copy of the show.

[THIS WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR LOKI SERIES]

idea credit ( @horrorisunknowntoyou ) thank you for the inspo and allowing me to run with it!

warnings - death, violence, angst, and possible smut (in later chapters?)

wc - 2.4k

MASTERLIST • AO3

"Dread it, run from it. Destiny arrives all the same." A wrinkled hand reaches for your chin, running prune colored fingers along your jawline, doting; mockingly.

Your heartbeat pulses loudly in your ears, eyes glazing over with exhaustion and pain as you attempt to glare, the notion in vain as the titan merely chuckled amusedly.

"I can see great power in you, little one. An infinity stone pulses beneath your every vein. Tell me, where is the tesseract?"

You remain silent.

"We don't have the tesseract, it was destroyed along with all of Asgard." Thor interjects weakly from where he lies, his body held tightly in the arms of the black order.

Guilt sweeps across your being as you make eye contact with Loki, sharing a single nod as you both know what you must do.

Thanos grows annoyed with your unwillingness to comply as he walks over with loud steps, his footprints visible as he raises his gauntlet up, the power stone shining threateningly close to Thor.

"The tesseract, or your brother's head. I assume you have a preference." It's not a question. Merely a statement, one that Loki knows he must prove unbothered.

"Oh, I do. Kill away." To anyone else it would seem he couldn't care less about his brother's demise, but you know your love better than he does himself and you catch the glance of fear that washes over cerulean eyes.

You can only watch in trepidation as the stone makes contact with the God's head. Agonized cries escaping as his skin is burned by the mere power of the stone.

Loki does his best to look unaffected, but you catch the hitch in his breath as he batters inner turmoil. the universe, or his brother.

"Alright, that's enough!"

Loki turns his palm up, as a familiar blue cube materializes in his hand. The eerie blue glow casting a shadow upon his face.

Thanos steps away, smug. You force yourself to look away from Thor's accusing gaze.

"You truly are the worst, brother." Thor shakes his head, eyes disappointed but not surprised.

As Thanos moves to take the stone from his hand cerulean blue eyes make contact with your own and you feel a wave of fear wash over you as you recognize the look in Loki's eyes.

"I assure you, brother. The sun will shine on us again." He does not move his gaze from your own and you can't help but feel this is an unspoken goodbye.

"Your optimism is misplaced, asgardian."

"Well, for one thing, I'm not asgardian. For another, we have a hulk."

In a blur of color you are shoved from where you lie, a slithe figure covering your own as you breathe in the familiar scent of cinnamon and leather.

"We don't have much time, my love. I just want you to know that I love you dearly, and I am grateful for the time I had with you. May I see you again, in Valhalla." His eyes are teary and you barely process his words, as his hands grab hold of your face and pull you into a kiss.

The kiss is desperate, filled with love and grief and you can only briefly kiss your love back as he steps closer to Thanos, rambling on about undying fidelity.

You catch a glimpse of silver behind his back and you gasp as realization sets in.

You move to reach him just as he leaps for Thanos, the knife poised for his head, frozen in mid air as the stones across his knuckles pulse.

"Undying fidelity, you should choose your words more wisely."

You cry out as Loki struggles in his grip, his skin fading blue. You crawl forward, legs aching as you reach for him, your progress hinged by your inability to walk.

"You will never be a god." The rasped words are followed by a snap as his neck gives out beneath Thanos' hands.

A tortured scream rings out and it takes you a second to realize it's your own. A broken sob leaves you as you crawl forward to reach where Thanos has carelessly thrown the body of your love.

You heave as your shaky fingers caress his face, his lifeless eyes staring ahead as you clutch him to your chest.

You rock back and forth knotting your fingers in his hair as you plead for the nightmare to end.

"No resurrections this time."

A portal opens and closes behind you, yet you make no motion to move.

You simply close your eyes and welcome the sweet release of death as the universe explodes around you.

N E W Y O R K 2 0 1 2

"'Coordinates for search and rescue, on my way now.' I mean honestly, how-" Loki is promptly shut up by the mouth guard that decorates his face, courtesy of his brother.

Displeasure makes an appearance as Loki is led to the elevator followed by the avengers that quickly file in. The only source of entertainment being the temper tantrum the green beast throws as he is denied entry. Loki can hardly contain his glee as he waves mockingly as the doors close.

As he is led to the ground floor his cuffed hands clinking annoyingly with every step he glances wearily around himself, dreading the lecture that is sure to come once he reaches asgard. He has no doubt in his mind that Odin will find perfect reason to throw him to the wolves, lest his mother get involved.

As he contemplates, his attention is caught by the sound of his brother calling for help, the guards holding him, attending to what he perceives to be a heart attack, to none other than the man of metal.

He watches, confused as a small stature kicks the case holding the tesseract away from view as the others tend to Stark.

Looking around bemused he watches to see what will conspire next. Before any other move can be made a shout is heard as the doors to the staircase along with the wall is torn apart, the hulk making his distaste for the tedious activity known.

For once since meeting the beast he feels thankful, as the case holding the tesseract is knocked open, the familiar cube sliding towards his foot.

A beat passes and grabbing a hold of the familiar cube he glances around, vanishing in a thin cloud of blue.

T V A U N K N O W N

Hurried footsteps echo down the corridor as the man moves with barely contained excitement. Tie swinging to and fro, a slightly wrinkled hand pulls at the collar of his neck nervously.

Mobius had seen many variants in his time at the TVA. Yet, none had ever come close to interesting as the file he currently held in one hand. Variant L1130 or Loki, as he was called, was perhaps one of the most complicated cases he had come across.

Born as a legend of mythology it was quite unbelievable to know that not only was he real, but he happened to be in their custody for creating a new branch in the timeline. Mobius could only hope Renslayer would agree to allowing him to be the God's superior.

Entering the courtroom, Mobius sits down and watches with rapt attention as Loki attempts to bargain with Ravonna. His plans are foiled as he tries to call upon his magic in a last effort to escape.

Mobius feels it's time to intervene when Renslayer makes it clear he is to be executed.

"You have no idea what I am capable of!"

"Actually I might have an idea of what he is capable of." He offers as he makes his way up to the stand.

His plea must be written across his face as Ravonna leans over to look at him directly.

"Whatever you're planning, it's a bad idea." She warns.

Nonetheless she reluctantly lets him go and Mobius has to fight off the urge to fist pump the air as he escorts Loki down the hallway.

"Oh, I'm Agent Mobius by the way." He offers a hand that is quickly ignored.

He can practically see the distrust written on Loki's face, his eyes calculating every move he makes.

Mobius is hardly surprised that as soon as he enters the room, his back turned to the God as he adjusts his projector, Loki is surging forward to attack. He doesn't even bat an eyelash as he clicks a button on his remote, resetting the God as if the action never even happened.

"C'mon, let's take a look at some of your greatest hits." Mobius waves a hand, as Loki curiously sits down, eyes trained on the projector.

He finds himself staring back at a hologram of his attack on New York. His blue eyes darting back and forth with glee as chaos erupts around him.

A feeling of something akin to shame runs down his spine as he recalls his reign of terror on the city, an illusion of preying on the weak to hide his own fear, lest he fail and succumb to Thanos and his minions.

Loki clenches his jaw, arms crossing over his form in an attempt to hide himself as he turns to avoid the screen.

"I see no point in this-"

"No, no wait, this is just getting good." Mobius grins as he points to the screen and Loki finds himself once again face to face with another variation of himself.

He briefly recalls the time he had lost a bet to Thor and had to change his form into that of a ginger haired man wearing a clean three piece suit, claiming he had a bomb and required over two hundred thousand in midgardian money just to see if he could pull it off. He did, in fact, pull it off, but his mother was not happy as well as the midgardians who failed to solve the case, naming him D.B. Cooper as they had no clue as to his real identity.

His attention is pulled to the screen as a familiar voice of silk enters the scene and he watches as his mother speaks to his future self, his eyes drawn into her face.

"Then am I not your mother?" He hears her ask. Yes, you are.

"No. You are not." Loki's eyes start to mist as he watches the look of hurt pass over his mother's features before she schools her expression into one of contempt.

"Always so perceptive, about everyone but yourself." She decides.

The screen flickers and he sees himself talking to an intruder, his voice amused as he suggests the monster to take the stairs to the left.

Then, his mother, Frigga, lying on the cold ground, a puddle of red growing rapidly beneath her body as her eyes remained closed.

His breath hitches, anger now licking up his spine. He turns sharply to Mobius who smartly remains silent.

"What is this! Some cruel joke? Where is she?! Where do you have her?"

Mobius steps forward, expression neutral as he speaks.

"She's dead Loki. This is the future, it's destined to happen, again and again because that's how it should be."

Loki falters his eyes narrowing as he spits "You're lying! I'll kill you!"

"What? Like you killed your mother."

There's a split second of silence before an angered shout is heard, a chair splitting the air as it crashes into pieces along the floor.

Before anything else can be said Mobius is summoned by Hunter B-15, his eyes falling to Loki who remains silent and he leaves with a slight tinge of guilt burrowing in his chest at the haunted look in the God's eyes.

"You think yourself so sly don't you." Loki looks up at the unfamiliar voice as the projector suddenly comes to life, a new image flicking gently on screen. His eyes catch upon your form and he watches in awe and wonder as you sit beside his future self.

"I don't think, love. I know." He grins leaning in to steal a kiss from you that leaves you both breathless.

He watches as your eyes are filled with nothing but love and adoration for him as you lean into his side.

"Loki?"

"Yes, darling?"

"Do you believe in soulmates?"

Loki tilts his head in contemplation as he looks to you, before a soft grin pulls at his lips.

"I didn't until I met you. I know that no matter who or what tries to tear us apart, we will always find a way back to each other."

A smile breaks out onto your face and Loki watches in stunned silence as the clip ends with the two of your voices fading into laughter.

"You two are meant to be together."

Loki turns as Mobius slowly comes to a stop behind him, his expression thoughtful.

"I don't enjoy hurting people you know." He responds, motioning towards the screen in reference to his attack on New York and the death of his mother.

Mobius doesn't respond, and he takes that as a sign to continue.

"I do it because I have to. Because I've had to." He looks down as he fiddles with his fingers.

Mobius hums as he replies.

"Why? Why do you think that is?"

"It's part of the illusion. It's the cruel, elaborate trick conjured by the weak to inspire fear."

Realization lights up in Mobius' eyes as he answers back.

"A desperate play for control. You do know yourself."

"A villain." Loki sums up.

"Not the way I see it."

There's a mutual silence between them before Mobius sighs.

"Look I can't offer you salvation but I can offer you something better. A fugitive variant has been killing our minutemen."

"And let me guess, you need the God of Mischief to help you stop him."

"That's right."

"How could I possibly be of use to you?"

"That's the thing. The variant we are hunting, we believe is y/n." Mobius looks towards the projector where your image is still.

"I beg your pardon?"

U N K N O W N

Mutilated bodies line the floor as a hooded figure steps over them, eyes glowing an unnatural hue.

"Is it finished?"

"Yes."

A wicked laugh fills the empty space as a portal opens in the deserted land, a set of footsteps following through.

"I'm coming for you, my love."

#loki series #loki x reader #loki laufeyson x female reader #tom hiddleston #loki spoilers #fanfic #loki fanfic #bizzarebarnes

[justanotherone16]

He pressed send. And then he waited. The extreme tedium of simply waiting was not something that Mycroft Holmes could tolerate. His brother’s erratic behaviour and inability to accept the normalities of every day life was well known, and indeed Mycroft’s unwillingness to play along with the inane and mundane of ‘normality’ could well be inferred. Few people, however, successfully inferred or recognised that Mycroft’s consequent impatience manifested as restlessness too.

Dr Watson would surely come. He always does. Mycroft drummed his fingers rhythmically on the black folder that rested upon his lap. In times gone by Sherlock didn’t have a Dr Watson that Mycroft could go to with sensitive information, or emotional conundrums. No, in times gone by, he just had to take it straight to his brother. All things considered the widening of the tiny pocket of trust around Sherlock was a good thing; there was considerably less chaos.

A thick film of fog choked London, almost Dickensian in its persistence to blanket the city. November was in full swing and the days were drawing in rapidly. Today, the fog and the biting, piercing cold only served to cheer on the early darkness, that was knocking at the door in spite of it being just 15:42.

Mycroft was so lost in his pondering that he was somewhat startled when the car door opened suddenly and the familiar figure of John Watson ducked into the car and settled next to him.

The scent of winter air clung to John’s coat and his cheeks were rosy with cold. He rubbed his hands together in a feeble attempt to warm them.

“I hope you’ve planned at a stop at a coffee shop, I’m freezing my bollocks off” John joked as leaned back into his seat and blew hot air in between his hands.

Mycroft pushed the small red button near his window which rang through to the driver. “The closest Nero please.”

The car pulled away slowly and joined the chaos of the London afternoon traffic. “I didn’t expect you to agree, should I be worried?” John asked lightly.

Mycroft didn’t speak, he just opened the folder in his lap, which had been fulfilling a singularly percussive purpose while he had been awaiting John’s arrival. Mycroft took 3 separate pieces of paper and passed them wordlessly to John.

John’s brow furrowed as he scrutinised the contents, trying to understand the context. “Okay so three dead men... yeah I don’t get it. Why are you showing me these?”

Mycroft took a deep breath, placed the folder on the seat beside him. “Jonathan Callaghan, Zachary Noble and Jack Sharpe. Long-term heroin addicts that Sherlock has had previous associations with. All overdosed on Tuesday evening.”

“Shit... how?” John shook his head as he perused the documents, wincing inwardly at the photographs.

“Their heroin was laced with a fatally high level of fentanyl. It would seem that the quality of heroin circulating the streets of London is categorically unsafe.” Mycroft gave John a knowing look.

“I don’t think he’s using”.

“No, he isn’t. I would know”. Mycroft assured John.

John put the paper down and turned to face the elder Holmes. He was balding quickly now; ageing fast.

“Right so, why are you telling me?” John asked.

Mycroft rubbed his face with his left hand and when he spoke, there was more than a hint of resignation. “Because Sherlock will hear of these deaths soon, and more I should imagine. Many of his homeless network will fall victim to this. And... Jonathan in particular, was quite close to Sherlock, well about as close as anyone could get to him during this time of his life. Jonathan saved his life three times. Once he personally provided mouth to mouth and administered adrenaline that I had provided him with. The other two occasions he called me, even on pain of death from Sherlock. I... well I will always be grateful that Jonathan was with Sherlock in those... instances.”

John was sat dumb struck. That was a lot to take in; a great deal to unpack, with a man who rarely paused long enough to unpack anything.

“So, Sherlock will be upset? I’ve never heard him mention any of them, or Jonathan?” John tried.

“I should think so... He rarely discusses his past with drugs, I think because the regret, shame and fear of the power it had over him is too much. But, I do fear when he finds out he will be somewhat aggrieved. I don’t believe he will seek out drugs to cope with that, given what he will know about the chemical composition. But I can never be sure with Sherlock. And when I saw, saw these photos of these men. Men I have interacted with, men who have saved my brother’s life on more than one occasion- dead... I can’t help but picture, in my worst nightmare, Sherlock in the same state. This news will come to him. Not from me, probably not from you. But he will hear. And once again Doctor Watson I must ask you to look after him. Please.” Mycroft’s voice was uncharacteristically small. The pain of the past and anxiety for the future swam in his eyes.

“Of course I will look after him. Always. Although, for all of Sherlock’s complaining it doesn’t sound like you’ve done such a bad job yourself. In these kinds of conversations, I am increasingly surprised that Sherlock was alive to meet me.” John lowered his voice too. He didn’t see eye to eye with Mycroft and he never would. And there were half a million things that John wanted to tear into Mycroft for. But the care he had for his brother was clear and unrivalled.

“Thank you, John.” Mycroft smiled weakly.

John smiled grimly in return. “So alongside being there for Sherlock and keeping an eye out. You know he will pursue this. Try to find the source and stamp it out?”

Mycroft nodded and took a long sharp breath. “Yes I know. And I’m sure he will be successful. I’m primarilh concerned at how he will take the passing of Jonathan, Zachary, and Jack. You know... He went back to find them once he had gotten clean himself, for his longest period of sobriety, not long before he met you. He offered to fund their own rehabs. All three men declined of course. For various personal reasons.”

John was consistently surprised at what he did not know about Sherlock. While the pair of them virtually ignored the swathes of Sherlock’s life that were taken up by being high and shooting up, the effects and associated risks seemed to lurk everywhere.

“Perhaps I should tell him? Tell him what you’ve told me so that we have some control of the situation?” John asked.

“No. Sherlock won’t appreciate the idea that I am soundboarding you. If you must bring it up. Tell him only that I had made you aware of the lethality of heroin currently for sale in London and nothing else.” Mycroft firmly answered.

The car stopped outside a cafe Nero and the driver got out of the car, locked it, and strode into the shop to order coffee.

“When Henry returns with your coffee, walk back to Baker Street. Sherlock will assume you got the Metropolitan line at 4pm.” Mycroft said conspiratorially.

John nodded and defaulted to silently waiting for the driver to return with his coffee. “Are you okay Mycroft?” John asked seriously.

“Me? Yes of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

John just eyeballed Mycroft, trying to the best of his ability to convey a ‘don’t be dense, I’m not fucking stupid’ sentiment in response.

Mycroft stood down his defences and sighed. “Yes, I am okay. Just, let me know how Sherlock is. And... I’ll, well I’ll thank our lucky stars that Sherlock did live past 30. And have a quiet toast to Jonathan Callaghan, who saved my brother 3 times and deserved far more than he got in life. That’s your coffee John. Don’t worry, it’s decaf, soya milk, one vanilla syrup shot. Text me if you need anything.”

A steaming cup of coffee was passed back to John. He couldn’t help but notice the Christmas theme on the cup- that time already?!

“Right, yes, yeah. Thanks for the coffee and, um take care. I’ll be in touch.” John said climbing out of the car, the chill in the air swiping at him as he did so.

#johnlock #my fic #sherlock