#sakaarian blue

[anonymousewrites]

Portal to My Heart (Book 1.5) Chapter Eleven

Loki x Reader

Chapter Eleven: On Sakaar

Summary: Loki and (Y/N) work on getting the Grandmaster's trust.

            “Here is your room,” said the guard, opening the door to what was apparently a honeymoon suite.

            (Y/N) and Loki smiled as they stepped in and the door was shut behind them. A room of red and white stood before them with wide windows overlooking the city below. It looked nice enough. Two sets of clothes lay on the bed in front of them.

            “Oh my god, really?” (Y/N) groaned as she held up the outfit she was supposed to wear.

            Loki smothered a smirk. “Quite the dress.”

            “Shut it, my dear,” snapped (Y/N). “At least yours covers all of you.”

            “It is blue, though,” said Loki distastefully. He preferred green.

            “Better blue than so showy,” huffed (Y/N). And I just got to wear not formal clothes, too…

            “Unfortunately, Grandmaster expects us to behave, so we should change,” said Loki.

            “Yeah, yeah, I know. I don’t want to get fried,” said (Y/N). She nodded a door leading to an adjacent room. “I’m assuming that’s a bathroom. I’ll change in there.”

            Loki nodded, and (Y/N) went into the bathroom. Loki put on the Sakaarian outfit, sighing at the blue and purple scheme instead of having his preferred green.

            “Man, I’m not going to like it here,” said (Y/N) as she stepped out.

            Loki’s brain froze for a moment as he took in her appearance. Seeing it laid out on the bed didn’t do justice for how it ended up looking on (Y/N).

            The corseted top was a navy blue with gold overlay, and a golden skirt and sleeves hung over blue fabric. The gold under the bust has flower inlays, and chains fell over her neck from sleeve to sleeve. A slit up the side of the skirt highlighted her leg, and it fell to her knees. Gold wedge heels supported her as she stood with her hands on her hips.

            Loki was thanking Grandmaster for his choice since (Y/N) looked incredible. She was more divine and godly than Loki could ever be.

            “You look nice,” remarked (Y/N), looking at his simple but classy new outfit. “I like you in other colors.”

            “Thank you.” Loki liked his outfit much more knowing (Y/N) liked it. “And you look nice as well.”

            “Thanks.” She smiled and chuckled sheepishly. “You’d think that I’d be used to fancy outfits by now after being on Asgard so long, but I’m not.”

            “Well, this is slightly more daring than Asgardian dresses,” remarked Loki. He took (Y/N)’s hand and raised it to his lips, kissing the back. “But you look beautiful in either.”

            (Y/N) turned pink, and her heart fluttered at his praise. She stood straighter, somehow more comfortable knowing that Loki liked it. “Yeah, yeah,” she muttered in embarrassment. “Let’s get to this party.”

            Loki chuckled. “Indeed.”

l

            (Y/N) and Loki stepped out of the elevator into the Grandmaster’s party room. People were dancing and drinking abundantly already. (Y/N) stuck by Loki’s side as they walked to the bar to grab some drinks to blend in.

            “Hey! If it isn’t my two newest friends!” said Grandmaster. “Looking great, guys.”

            “And feeling great,” said (Y/N), plastering a smile on her face.

            “Thank you for the gifts,” said Loki.

            “Anything for you two,” said Grandmaster, winking. “I think we’re getting along, so, hey, want to make sure you’re happy.”

            “And we’re honored,” said Loki, kissing ass to gain trust.

            “Yes. We are,” said (Y/N).

            Grandmaster grinned. “Don’t have too much fun without me,” he said before mingling with other guests.

            (Y/N) and Loki drifted to the edge of the party.

            “So, we’re stuck here,” murmured (Y/N).

            “Yes,” said Loki.

            “How are we going to make the best of this?” said (Y/N).

            “First, we’re going to dance to seem like we’re having a good time,” said Loki.

            “Well, we could be, I just need a few more drinks,” said (Y/N) brightly, downing her drink.

            Loki chuckled and pulled (Y/N) onto the dancefloor, keeping her close as others dancing to the techno music. Loki wasn’t accustomed to this type of dancing, but luckily for the pair, (Y/N) had been clubbing on Earth, and this didn’t feel that different, so she just pulled Loki in and kept them close as they bounced and twirled to the music, letting the beat guide her.

            Under the cover of the music, (Y/N) spoke quietly. “I’m assuming we’re going to overthrow the Grandmaster?” she said, arching an eyebrow.

            “Of course, I just need to get into his good graces,” said Loki, twirling her closer. (Y/N) laughed and shook her head at his confidence. Swaying her to the music, he smirked at her. “You’ve become rather comfortable with revolution. I thought you didn’t approve of taking over other lands.”

            (Y/N) rolled her eyes. “Revolution is different from conquering, and I don’t like the Grandmaster. He has slaves; he has to go.”

            “Of course,” said Loki. He spun her. “So we’re agreed?”

            (Y/N) smirked at him and raised a hand where blue light gathered for a moment. “When the time is right." She frowned. "But then we find out if Asgard and Thor are alright."

            Loki nodded in agreement. “Yes. We’ll need his trust first.”

            “Good thing you’re not known as Silvertongue for nothing,” said (Y/N) teasingly.

            “I can assure you, they call me that for many reasons,” said Loki, leaning closer and pulling her closer.

            (Y/N) ignored the flutter in her stomach at the insinuation. “Well, then, you should have no trouble becoming friends with Grandmaster.”

            “Neither should you,” remarked Loki. “You can be diplomatic and persuasive when needed.”

            “Thanks,” said (Y/N) with a playful wink. “But I was thinking I’d be better suited to getting into the mainframe here and stealing passwords. Then we’d have resources.”

            “Excellent idea,” said Loki. He leaned into her ear while pulling her hips closer, keeping up the appearance of a couple as they danced and plotted. “We will stay here for a bit, and then we can inform Grandmaster that we’re going to slip out for some ‘fun’ and get some work done.”

            (Y/N) grinned and suppressed a shiver as he spoke into her ear. “Right.”

l

            “Hey, hey, hey, where’re you two going? The party’s still going!” said Grandmaster as (Y/N) and Loki made their way to the exit.

            (Y/N) giggled and put her hand on Loki’s chest, playing up her tipsiness as Loki held her close. “Oh, we know, but we just wanted to, you know, have some…personal time?” She grinned at Loki.

            Grandmaster grinned and wagged his finger at them. “Naughty, naughty.” He clapped Loki on the back. “Have fun, you two, and invite me some time!”

            Loki put on a smile as they left the room, and they both let out a breath of exhaustion as the elevator doors slid closed.

            “He’s going to be tiring,” sighed (Y/N).

            “Indeed,” said Loki. “But I prefer him flirting with us to him melting us.”

            “Can’t argue with that,” said (Y/N).

            “So, can you really get us into the mainframe?” said Loki.

            “Yeah,” said (Y/N) with total confidence as the elevator doors opened and they stepped into the hallway leading to their room and others. “I hacked SHIELD. I can handle this place.”

            Loki believed her. She had never failed in anything before. “I’ll watch for guards.”

            “Thanks.” (Y/N) made her way to a computer set up between several rooms. She had seen a worker earlier using it to look up guests and information on who was staying there, so (Y/N) knew it was connected to the system.

            She turned on the computer and opened the panel beneath it to get to wiring. And then she set to work. (Y/N) grinned as she worked. It felt good to be hacking again. It had been way too long since she had the rush of breaking into all the files and data that people tried to keep hidden.

            “Wow, Grandmaster has a lot of stuff he isn’t using,” said (Y/N) as she went through the various ship files and access codes. She grinned. “Mine now.”

            “How far along are you?” said Loki.

            “Nearly done. I’m memorizing some of the codes so I can get into the system faster next time,” said (Y/N), scanning the lines of code popping up before her. “Got it—”

            Loki pulled her up and slammed the computer closed. Moving quickly, Loki pushed (Y/N) against the wall. He pulled one of her legs up around his hip, effortlessly holding her up as one hand held himself above her. (Y/N) instinctively held her hands on his chest in surprise at the action.

            “Loki, what—?!” gasped (Y/N), staring at him wide-eyed as her heart went a mile a minute.

            “Guards,” he murmured, leaning close to her.

            Sure enough, guards were rounding the corner, and they hurried quickly past (Y/N) and Loki as they spied the “intimate couple” and didn’t want to stick around for very long.

            (Y/N) and Loki remained frozen until a few moments passed with no one else appearing.

            “I think they’re gone,” said (Y/N), but she hadn’t moved, staring at how close Loki’s body was to hers.

            “Yes,” said Loki absently, his mind far too busy realizing his hand was supporting (Y/N)’s thigh and he had put them in quite the situation. He snapped out of it and let go, stepping back before his thoughts got away from him.

            “We should head to our room. You know, to, uh, keep up appearances,” said (Y/N) awkwardly.

            “Yes. That’s a good idea,” said Loki.

l

            Loki and (Y/N) stood in their pajamas and avoided each other’s gaze as reality set in. They had been too busy to pay it any mind earlier, but now they were noticing one extremely important fact about the room they were in.

            It had one bed.

            (Y/N) crossed her arms over her, thankfully, normal tank top and shorts pajamas. (She had worried Grandmaster would give her a nightgown or something, in which case she would have simply refused to change and found her Earth clothes). “One bed.”

            “Yes,” said Loki.

            Silence.

            “Well, I’m not sleeping on the floor,” said (Y/N).

            “Neither am I,” said Loki.

            “And we need to keep our cover,” said (Y/N).

            “Yes, we need to seem like a couple in a honeymoon suite,” said Loki.

            “So we’re agreed?” said (Y/N).

            “We both keep to our sides,” said Loki with a nod.

            “Fine,” said (Y/N).

            “Fine,” said Loki.

            Silently, they crossed to their sides of the bed and got in.

            Loki glanced at (Y/N) as she lay stiffly in bed. “Is this your first time in bed with a man?” He had no idea how to deal with the situation in any other way than teasing her.

            (Y/N) scoffed. “This isn’t that type of thing at all, and even if it was, I’ve shared my bed with men and women, this isn’t my first rodeo.”

            Loki found himself gritting his teeth at the idea of others with (Y/N). “Well, you can relax. I don’t have any dishonorable intentions.”

            “…I know.” (Y/N) turned over slightly to face him, and Loki leaned on his side. “Despite everything, I trust you.” She smiled.

            Loki blinked in surprise and felt his heart beat faster pleasantly. “Thank you.”

            (Y/N) closed her eyes and pushed her head farther into the pillow. “Yeah, you’re welcome.”

            Loki smiled and looked at (Y/N)’s peaceful expression. I could get used to this. He closed his eyes and listened to her calm breaths as he drifted off.

l

            (Y/N)’s eyes opened to find herself staring a pajama shirt. She looked up to see Loki’s face, eyes still closed. During the night, both had moved closer, their heads at the inner edges of their pillows as they lay together in the center of the bed. (Y/N)’s legs had twined with Loki’s, and his arms were around her.

            “Loki?” murmured (Y/N).

            Loki’s eyes didn’t open, and he didn’t wake up, but he hummed slightly at her voice and pulled her closer. (Y/N) couldn’t help a fond smile and closed her eyes again.

            Hey, she was on a strange planet with strange people and only the man she loved with her. (Y/N) wasn’t about to break the moment. She reached out and held Loki to her.

            She’d enjoy the peace while it lasted.

            And she didn’t notice Loki’s eyes open and the smile appear on his face as he held (Y/N).

Just a super cute Loki x MC chapter -Mouse

Taglist:

@alexpangender

@technikerin23

@kikster606

@neenieweenie

@h-l-vlovesvintage

[paragonrising]

list of scenarios \ ✧ / accepting @benevolentgodloki​ sent: nude + defend 

Carol was on a luxury liner touring a remote section of space, pretending to be… what had Loki called them? Sakaarian Delegates? Well in actual fact, Loki was pretending to be the delegate, while Carol was playing his companion.

It went without saying, she hated this plan. They’d bickered over numerous things, but in particular: the disguise, because Sakaar did not have delegates, in fact it didn’t have much of anything at the moment because while the Grandmaster had been overthrown, there were a dozen skirmishes happening for control. So who Loki was pretending to represent, was being strategically unsaid. He’d cleverly managed to avoid naming anyone, and she felt that many on this ship had their heads so far up their own asses that they didn’t know anything anyways.

Carol had hastily exited the grand hall when the opportunity arose. She didn’t care to be surrounded by people that on any ordinary day she’d be fighting. They’d tracked a particular arms dealer to the yacht, but hadn’t been able to locate him so far. And after hours of pretending to be refined, patient, and understanding to the plights of rich, idiotic dictators,  she’d opted for a break.

If she had to hear ‘oh, she’s feisty!’ one more time she was going to blast a hole through the hull and let this nightmare cruise sink into the gas giant they were orbiting.

She was thankful to be back in their room, which was honestly nicer than whole planets she’d been on. It was fit for a king, everything was silver and gold, sparkling, encrusted with diamonds, silken sheets and there were about three serving bots that catered to the occupants' needs. Carol’s scowl, which was deep and showed her broiling frustration, wavered when she passed by the mirror. She paused.

She’d never been one for dresses, and when Loki had said she needed to wear one for this occasion she’d laughed. The tulle gown she wore was a shimmering, elegant deep blue piece that was so wholeheartedly out of character for her. Loki had conjured it… crafted it? Honestly, she hadn’t a clue where he’d gotten it from, but looking at herself now – it was beautiful.

She tilted her head as she regarded herself. Nope. She wanted it off. Whether it was magic, or real, or made of damn stardust, she didn’t care. Carol marched towards the bathroom with purpose. She’d get out of this ridiculous dress, and come up with another plan to catch this Houdini of a criminal.

Being out of the fancy garb, and awash with hot water, she began to feel closer to herself again.

 “Excuse me,” a bot said, levitating near Carol, drawing her out of her idle thoughts. “But you have guests.”

She frowned, how long had she been in the shower? Did it mean Loki? “what?”

She barely heard the thwomp of the gun going off before a circular device struck her shoulder and unleashed a powerful shock through her body, causing her to stagger back. Carol glared towards the doorway, where a blue-skinned man wearing green armour, sporting the insignia of Starforce on his chest stood.

Carol dashed out of the shower, smashing a gleaming fist into his face. They skidded across the floor before she and her unconscious attack came to a stop–surrounded by Kree assassins.

Funny story, there wasn’t supposed to be a squadron of Kree in her quarters.

“Let me guess,” she quipped, “you’re here to talk to me about my car’s extended warranty?”

Apparently, they’d never heard that joke before. Or maybe they didn’t find her funny. Three more of those devices struck her, all unleashing deliberating pain through her body. She blasted two of the men, before she yanked one device from her skin and smacked it onto a soldier’s forehead, watching with smirk when that same horrible jolt coursed through him with a satisfying electrical buzzing. A golden radiance enveloped her, and her eyes turning white as she prepared to sunder the entire room--

Suddenly there were Lokis everywhere, and the soldiers were helpless as they began dropping like flies. They shot and swiped uselessly at the ones nearest to them, but found their attacks failing to strike. It took them a moment to realise that they were steadily being defeated, until the last collapsed to the floor with a dagger in his back.

There was that moment, brief as it was, that Carol forgot that she’d been attacked while decidedly unclothed and wet. The firefight had seen the lighting in the room destroyed, so the only illumination offered was Captain Marvel herself. She watched him, wondering why he hadn’t said something clever or snippy. He was just staring.

Realisation came to her, and dread rushed through her veins as the glow around her flickered out in embarrassment. Being buck ass nude in front of the God of Mischief was not part of this plan. A noise stuttered out of her which may have been the beginning of a sentence in hopes of saving whatever dignity she had—but then a deep green cloak was draped around her. Carol hastily grabbed hold of it and pulled it shut, a bashful, but utterly thankful smile managing to appear as she glanced at Loki, but was unable to hold his gaze.

“Thanks.”

[paragonrising]

Carol’s head tilted her head as she listened. She wondered if he’d always been like this – clever and quick, someone who avoided the straight fight and preferred politics and persuasion over brute force. Maybe that’s why he failed when he attacked Earth, because he’d attacked it and the Avengers head on. She imagined if Loki had approached Earth in a decidedly less hostile manner, he’d have conquered it.

Or gotten close. S.H.I.E.L.D would have figured it out eventually, as would the Avengers.

A gentle laugh escaped her as she took his arm, “two drinks, then I make no promises.”

Carol gave herself some credit, she was getting better at pretending none of this bothered her. She kept her comments to herself as they moved about the ship, greeting a number of corrupt, horrible dignitaries and warlords. She could not, however, ignore when one particular asshole decided to reach out to touch her.

Carol reacted on instinct, snatching the man’s wrist as his hand encroached, and twisted until he was forced down onto a knee. His hissed out an alien explicative as she held him there.

Well, this was awkward.

“You shouldn’t touch what doesn’t belong to you,” she advised, “it’s impolite.”

For a beat, there was tense, uncomfortable silence. The man’s friend, a red-skinned, vaguely squid-like creature, burst out laughing. His jacket gleamed with an enchanting blue light, and the three tentacles sprouting off his head sported gold tattoos. 

“Told him Sakaarians full of surprises,” he clapped Loki heartily on the shoulder. “You train your female in the fighting pits? Very impressive. Where you get her? I need three.”

Carol released the offender, who glared at Loki. On closer inspection he appeared human – except his eyes. They were black, and his teeth were pointed. He was dressed to the nines, adorned in expensive fabrics, and jewellery. 

“You think you can just let your bitch attack me?”

Loki gave a good-natured laugh, recognising the matter-of-factness of her query.

"Both. Neither. It's probably for the best if they don't know for certain, but my name in these circumstances could well work to our advantage. True fear would make people careful and difficult to approach. Whilst I have an untrustworthy reputation, so do most of the people on this ship. On Sakaar I was a socialite, an avid smooth-talker and partygoer. Elsewhere, a foolish defector in over his head. If anything, they will mistake me for an incompetent nobody and have all the more reason to slip up in our presence. I'll be just another one of them in their eyes, dealing in shady business away from my home. Evidently there will be some benefit in not having shown them my true potential."

He offered his arm.

"Shall we? If you can contain yourself enough not to supernova until after at least a few drinks?" he teased.

[elenatria]

Making a separate post (and trying not to hijack too much).

thesaltofcarthage

@elenatria omgs the yellow cape is TOTALLY an action figure accessory. (In fact, it came with the Loki action figure that I got. I ditched it. It’s ugly.) And I totally agree with you about the fun of the flashy comic book/’80s aesthetic. I actually don’t care for Sakaarian blue because it’s… muddy? there’s definitely yellow in it. It’s not a true, clear blue. Completely goes with the planet and the storyline; I just don’t care for the color.

I read Loki’s interactions with the Grandmaster (and also no disrespect to shippers) as Loki doing whatever he had to do to survive and claw his way out of the pits. The Grandmaster is bananas, and murderous, however much fun Jeff Goldbum was to watch, and whatever Loki did with him (sugar daddy, boy toy, flavor of the week, concubine, sex worker, etc.) was about Loki trying to find an advantage and, you know, not get murdered by gladiators or a melty stick, not about a consensual, equal relationship. But that’s my reading, and I don’t insist that anyone else read it that way. :)

I know which interview you mean, which is part of why I read it that way. It’s the Grandmaster decking out his newest sugar baby in his colors, marking Loki as his possession.

@thesaltofcarthage​ noooo you ditched the yellow cape noooooo ahhahahahaha NOOOO. XD *tiny yellow cape fetish*

Tbh I removed it as well as the helmet (and I’m keeping them separately) because I prefer him without his accessories. I like him plain, standing side by side with Thor right next to my salt and pepper set so I can gaze at them every time I wash the dishes lol. I would have gladly paid for at least one of their Hot Toys figures but then I thought $250 are not worth it if you can’t even undress them or give them sexy poses  lol.

(Humongous champagne glass alert).

Muddy, I see what you mean. Somehow I don’t mind its muddiness, I don’t know why. Maybe because it reminds me of the colours of a beetle...? But you’re right, it’s not a clear blue. And yes, it completely goes with the planet and the storyline. There’s a reason why Loki was dressed like that only in Sakaar.

Ha! You’re scratching an itch I’ve been trying to ignore for a year now, you know that?...

I don’t like to discuss this publicly, not only because my best Thorki friends happen to be Frostmaster shippers as well (and I love and respect them to bits) but also because the  last time I reblogged something saying why some of us won’t accept that relationship as 100% canon I got hijacked by “WHY THE HELL DON’T YOU LIKE/ACCEPT FROSTMASTER, WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU, LOKI WAS HAVING FUN AND WHY NOT BLAH BLAH BLAH” and I was like.... stfu...? This is my blog...? You either respect my opinion without aggressively intruding  (which was in no way hijacking your posts) or you don’t...?

And normally I don’t discuss about things I don’t like, I blacklist them. Out of sight, out of mind.

But now that I found you let me stretch my legs and say that...

Indeed that’s how I see this relationship as well. Loki had to survive. I don’t know if he was thrown into a cell or in the arena like Thor was, probably not, he’s not the warrior type, and he didn’t qualify as “food” either because the minute the Grandmaster cast eyes on him he saw a different type of delicious “meal”. Loki knew that and  he took advantage. 

I have no doubt whatsoever that Loki too had an obedience disc planted on his neck (he’s a powerful Asgardian god after all) that he gradually convinced the Grandmaster to remove. We know how, he “gained his trust”, and the obedience disc is a nasty little thing even if the Grandmaster finds it “erotic” (because OF COURSE he would, it’s the equivalent of shackles and chains, right?). That whole scenario may be sexy to some (the tentacles too), but to me it’s icky. Don’t ask me why but I’d rather die in the arena like Thor was willing to do than “befriend” a lunatic and abusive tyrant like the Grandmaster. Maybe it’s the prude in me, or the “freedom or death” motto my country has brainwashed us with since childhood. With your shield or on it, that kind of stuff.

Jeff Goldblum is WACKY and GORGEOUS and FUNNY AS HELL and he represents everything that’s good about Ragnarok. But if you strip his character from all the funness, he’s abusive af, and he knew Loki would leave him the minute he got the chance (”Where do you think you’re going?”). And the Grandmaster, like any self-centered abusive tyrant, doesn’t like losing his toys. Because don’t tell me Loki was anything more than a glorified dildo to him. Some shippers like to think that Loki found his real family in Sakaar but real families don’t put obedience discs on people.

So it’s not exactly a relationship based on mutual respect and equality. It’s not a relationship based on free will and choice.  It’s not like Loki *wanted* to stay on Sakaar no matter what - he abandoned a very much alive Grandmaster to help Thor and save Asgard. It’s more like he had no choice and he thought, since he was a sex slave and all, he might as well enjoy his time there. And there’s nothing truly consensual about it, not when the Grandmaster stops him in his tracks and you can see Loki not reacting, holding back, fear in his eyes. I have no doubt whatsoever that he had the time of his life and loved being a sugar baby, being treated like a doll or a Pretty Woman or what have you. But that’s... concubine mentality, isn’t it? Slave mentality. I just don’t have the stomach for it.

Again, I have no intention whatsoever to kink-shame master/slave shippers, the film was out one year ago, who cares anymore. And let’s face it,  I’m  jealous on behalf of Thor, monogamy is my kink so to speak. But I mean you can even forget about the sexual subtext, forget about it - it’s still frustrating to see your own brother “having fun” and pretending he doesn’t know you when you’re tied up in a chair; and then learning that he got to be friends with that psycho. Which, of course, is totally in character for Loki, it’s what he would totally do (isn’t that what he kinda did with Thanos and the Black Order? Adopt, adapt and improve). OF COURSE Loki had no choice, Thor failed to see that in that cell only because Loki was being so nonchalant about it. I kinda see now why Taika haters were so pissed off. XD Taika’s Loki was too “light” and carefree for them.

“It’s the Grandmaster decking out his newest sugar baby in his colors, marking Loki as his possession” - *gags* X__X  Yeap. That’s their relationship in a nutshell. Because if the Grandmaster didn’t mark his territory, if he didn’t proclaim his ownership over Loki, who would?

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the one thing I can’t stand about Ragnarok, the one thing I will never accept. Because to me that whole relationship is so so dark and twisted and toxic. There, I said it.

Now I’ll stfu. Because it’s only a movie, and I can still ship Thorki with all my heart and soul. 

[leavengersassemble]

Loki was chill af in this movie, all the shitty things that have happened to him  just roll off his back now because he has ascended to villain nirvana. 

[nincompoopydoo]

DEBRIS AND MISERY

TRUTH AND LIES ; PART 3 / ?

PAIRING: Loki Laufeyson x Female!Reader WORD COUNT: 3.5k SUMMARY: You and Loki make a trip to the open market which leads to a flurry of thievery, arrests and an almost death. A/N: Hey hey, I guess I’m just updating this series on no porper day because I’m a bitch for procrastination wohoo! There’s so much going on in this chapter, probably a little too long but I hope you like it <3 gif from this gifset by @hiddleston-daily WARNINGS: Swearing, laser rifles, electrocution, intended execution, Loki being annoying. support my writing through ko-fi💖 MASTERPOST ; MASTERLIST

“So, what do you propose?”

Loki questions, walking beside you through the winding pathways of the outskirts of the city of Sakaar. Stalls propped up on stilts, colorful fabric hung overhead as a shield from the blazing sun of the afternoon. He’s dressed like a Sakaarian, drapery of vivid and bright colors, similar to yours—both passing through, hiding in plain sight amongst the crowd of contrasting species.

The place inevitably stinks, living up to the planet’s nature.

Yet, it’s a world of textile mania. Everywhere he looks, there’s a pop of color, radiant and brilliant. Whether it’s the clothes of the locals, the paint that adorns the structure of their faces, or the streaks of blue and red cascading down the walls of the city in the glimmer of the sun.

Your eyes seem to glow in the reflection of the sunlight; the shawl conceals the crimson scar well enough—barely recognizable in your disguise. Your gaze meets his. “Well, I propose we steal one of the Grandmaster’s ships. They're the only ones that are strong enough to enter the Anus.”

Loki flashes you a look, “You have to stop calling it the Anus.”

Your rapid steps come to halt at the foot of a stall, an extensive table with miles of crates filled with an array of vegetables and fruits. Some wiggle their way through the crowd of customers, some rigorously examining every blemish of each fruit while others attempt negotiating the prices with the distraught-looking vendor with a face of sapphire.

It’s a pastiche of a Pieter Bruegel painting. And the two of you are seemingly animate characters at the center of it.

Loki trails closely behind you—much to your dismay— shouldering a two-headed lady by accident, both heads snapping at him with blazing eyes. He mutters an apology as she quickly disappears into the crowd. He turns and nearly loses sight of you, instantly shouldering his way to stand beside your figure as you hum with amusement, brows raised. Your head tilts, eyes on him once more. “Oh, I’m sorry. Would it help if I called it the ‘giant red hole’ instead?”

He blinks. “You have somehow made it sound worse.”

You hum once more, cautiously gazing at the hectic vendor. “It’s one of my many talents.”

With a swift motion, he follows your fingers that delicately pluck one of the odd-looking blue enlarged berries from the stand, sliding it into your stash in a matter of a split second.

He’s almost impressed.

“I suppose thievery is one of your many talents.”

It’s both a question and a statement—Said in a tone of near mockery. Loki is starting to get on your nerves with the unnecessary commentary on every decision you made that led the two of you to this very moment—a routine you’ve repeated for years before his arrival. Oh and he’s well aware of the growing aggravation towards his sheer presence. It’s a feeling he’s no stranger to. It feels like home.

Your once monotony interactions are now turned into a muse for Loki’s own entertainment.

“Look, you really don’t have to announce and narrate every aspect of your silly observations like we’re in a stupid play. Especially, when I’m doing something that’s fairly frowned upon—”

“Fairly frowned upon? Really?”

A groan escapes from the scowl of your lips. You look like you’re about to kill him.

“Just shut up, for God’s sake.”

You snatch him by the wrist, forcing your way through the sea of Sakarriaans. Your grip is surprisingly firm—he scoffs, twisting his arm out of your grasp almost in a child’s manner. “Would you stop that?” he says as you lead him away from the bustling crowd, a corner where two perpendicular buildings meet. You turn to him in a somewhat exaggerated attempt to express your resentment towards him, pulling the shawl away, revealing your face as you hold your pointer finger to him like it’s a weapon. Loki instinctively staggers back in his stance. “No, you stop that!” you hiss, advancing towards him. “I told you not to mess with my shit and what you did there, that’s messing with my shit.”

Again, he finds himself caught in the act of your fury and frustration. He quickly notes that you seem to have an uncontrollable temper, and it’s unpredictable. You’re living in a constant predicament, one slight prod and you’ll burn, spontaneous combustion and you’ll burn right through everything, God or not.

You sigh, caressing your cheek. “I’m sorry, it’s just...I’ve been alone for so long and this,” You gesture between the two of you, “I never thought it’ll be possible to experience this again.”

Loki arches a beckoning brow. “Which is?”

You blink once, then twice, pursing your lips. “Company.” you punctuate it like it leaves an unpleasant taste on your tongue—you’re embarrassed to reveal a side of vulnerability. Like you have been in a constant fight to build the walls around you, to keep your guard up at all times, no matter the circumstance or cost. Whatever happened between you and the Grandmaster, destroyed the remains of your personality, your ability to feel like a human being and coping and living with the knowledge that you will never get off this planet and never return home for years. You deserve a fraction of his reverence, not sympathy.

Forced into the realm of independence with no one to cry out to. Your life oddly and eerily reflects his. He can’t help but feel that maybe it’s fate that hauled him out of the Bifrost, sending him flying into Sakaar and crashing into the very home you reside within.

His mouth runs dry for the first time because there’s nothing to say. You apologize even when you don't need to and the part of you that protrudes is your honesty—a part of you that differs from himself. You’re truthful, even to a stranger. Nevertheless, he nods.

A yell from a distance captures your attention, a man on the other end of the pathway that leads to the markets, dressed in the armor of red—a Sakaarian guard, armed with a laser rifle. The guard, unfortunately, might recognize you, with your face out in the open. Your scar makes you stand out like a sore thumb. It’s every criminal’s nightmare.

You discreetly turn your head towards the wall in a desperate attempt to hide your identity even though you very well know, there’s a significant chance it isn’t going to work. Your figure is now close to his, he can almost feel the erratic beating of your heart. You’re...afraid.

The sentry on patrol nears the two of you, expression unreadable, concealed under the mask of red strokes like warrior paint. His voice is low, authoritative. “Everything alright here?”

He must have noticed the commotion during the heat of your argument, perhaps recognizing the tone of your voice which does not help with the plan the two of you are drafting to get off this planet, or maybe, he is just genuinely concerned. The latter seems improbable by the way the guard stands, hands hovering over the trigger of the rifle.

Loki decides it would be best to negotiate and pretend everything is fine. He would much rather avoid a fight because he would hate for you to end up dying as a prisoner in the arms of the Grandmaster. Well, because you’re on his way out. Nothing more.

He turns to the sentry with his usual charming smile, palms raised to indicate he means no harm. It's an image of vulnerability. The guard seems to relax at this, fingers moving away from the trigger of his weapon although his posture remains sturdy.

He’s alone, no other guards are lurking nearby. If anything were to happen, at least it will be two against one.

How foolish.

“Everything is quite alright, kind sir. It’s just one of our...common little spats, nothing more. The missus says I don’t give her enough attention and well, you would know how that turned out—”

You nearly choke at Loki’s words. Out of all the possible reasons, he chooses a lover's spat as an excuse. An incredibly absurd and petty lover’s spat.

Now, you're his fucking missus.

The armored man is unfazed by Loki’s charm; he doesn’t seem convinced. He turns to you, gesturing to your figure with his rifle. “Show your face, ma’am.”

Loki is quick to step in. “Sir, I believe that would be rather embarrassing for her. You see, she has been crying, and it’s not a pretty sight. Red all over, bloodshot eyes—you know.”

You roll your eyes. Now, all you want to do is send your palm flying across his face. Hard.

Once more, the guard doesn’t completely believe Loki’s explanation.

Loki turns to you discretely, extending his open palm to you. He whispers lowly. “Do you trust me?”

You simply shake your head.

Nevertheless, you take his hand.

Before you know it, you’re being hurled by the arm, head first and now the two of you are in a full-out sprint, spinning, and weaving from every pedestrian. Your shawl is long gone, Loki has magically switched back to his original Asgardian outfit. The sentry tails behind the two of you, close enough to hear him speak through the telecommunication device attached to his armor. “It’s the girl—Scrapper 170!”

The two of you dive down an alley, the sentry starting to gain. Loki turns to you mid-sprint with an exasperated look. “Scrapper 170? What is that supposed to mean?”

“Now is not the time, Loki!” you groan, voice trembling with every land of your quick feet against the ground. The sentry halts and aims. A flash of purple passes you by an inch. You duck instinctively, feet stumbling and your hand leaves Loki’s. The laser beam crashes into a wall, leaving a massive hole in it. You hear a woman shriek from the other side through the hole.

You round the corner, catching the glimpse of not one but three guards running after you. You instantly spin away to see Loki just about a meter ahead. You power through, catching up to his side. The alley breaks into a clearing, leading you back to the open market that teems with the same hectic and rowdy crowd of Sakaarians. Another shot fires at the two of you; it blasts like a hand grenade—the crowd screams. Loki is shoved away from you and with a turn of your head, you completely lose sight of him. Another blast of the rifle, you duck in time as it hits the crate of fruits behind. You kamikaze down the little avenues lined with vendors and shops, careening through the labyrinth. There’s a sentry at every turn, emerging from the crowd, behind the counter, tent flaps, and crates.

Amid the chase, you halt at a dead end. Behind you, the guards are catching up. At the corner of your eye, you spot Loki on the other side of the market, a few stalls away. His eyes are wide, and you’re trying to catch your breath. You step forward, ready to make his way to him when suddenly you hear something tick by your ear, then a wave of excruciating pain burns throughout your body—muscles spasms all over, you could barely control your own body any longer. Then, complete darkness as you felt your knees give out, face hard to the ground. The last thing you heard was your scream.

-

Maybe, you are meant to live your life filled with events of deja vu—a life of full circles and time loops. Maybe, you are meant to live a life of crime with the constant disability to learn from your mistakes, having been caught on numerous occasions because as soon as your brain awakens from its weakening of electrocution torture, there’s a familiar sense of aftermath pain, the sight of colorful grand walls, the feeling your hands cuffed to a rock metal chair and the grinning smile of none other than the Grandmaster.

You are stuck in a cycle, and you’re never breaking free.

The Grandmaster calls out your name with an almost chilling enthusiasm to his tone.

“At last, we meet again, 170! I’ve missed you, you know. You, uh, you really were something, huh? Intelligent. Pretty. Brought me lots of great stuff. Like that guy—What’s his name? Oh! Ares, God of war. He was a brilliant champion. Now, look at you. All dirty, disgusting and that hideous scar, ugh—” The Grandmaster cringes, gesturing to your figure with that melt stick of his. You flinch as he nears you, deciding how much you hate that shimmering golden robe. “Though I’ll have to admit, you are good at hiding. It’s almost annoying...Do you agree, Loki?”

He turns and you follow his gaze. Loki stands by the corner, looking almost sheepish. Your eyes are now immense, face painted with hurt and betrayal albeit you don’t necessarily demonstrate it. Loki averts his gaze to the Grandmaster. “I suppose.”

The silver-haired man laughs with a wagging finger to him. “I like you, Loki. I really do.”

You cringe at his words. He turns to you, smile gone.

“Hey, now you are going to tell me—I mean, really tell me—who exactly you are and where you’re from.”

You spot the furrow of the God's brows. His voice is faint, like the time at the market, asking you to trust him. “Is she not from Earth?”

The Grandmaster seems to be taken aback by Loki’s sudden question, narrow eyes bouncing between the two of you. Then, his mouth curves into an apparent ‘o’. “Oh, I see what’s going on. Wow. You actually believed that little story of hers? That she’s from a planet called Earth and an astronaut? Oh, you poor thing,” He speaks through his chuckles, amused by Loki’s expression of bewilderment.

So much for being truthful.

“You know, I always have the intuition for liars like you. So, there was no way you could have faked it all the way through.” His attention is on you, but you’re too busy looking at your unlikely ally or you dare say your partner's unreadable manner. Blank face. Usual posture. You hope to spot a hint of sympathy or sadness in his eyes. There’s nothing.

You can’t save yourself and neither can he.

You, after all, betrayed him in terms of your unknown identity. It’s expected he wouldn’t do the same. Yet, this is Loki getting a taste of his own medicine. If it weren’t for your imminent death, you would find this situation rather amusing.

“So, are you going to tell us the truth?”

Your gaze returns to the taller man. “No.”

You’re not sure how to feel about that single word being the last word you speak.

The Grandmaster blinks then shrug coyly. “Oh well, that’s quite a pity,” he moves around, gazing at the surrounding guards, hand on his hip. “So, uh, we’re doing this, huh?”

No one in the room moves or speaks.

He sighs, extending the melt stick to you. “Yeah, okay...See ya, then!”

You shut your eyes, ready to succumb to the pain of being liquefied. You wonder if it hurts and that the past victims you have witnessed were being dramatic as they screamed for the end of their lives rather than the pain itself. In all honesty, you’re terrified although you believe you shouldn’t be. Death is inevitable, after all, and you’ve been prepared for many years, living in hiding.

This is it. This is when you finally rest.

You miss home. Wherever that is.

“Wait!”

Your eyes are wide open, they fly to Loki who has his arm stretched out, nearing the Grandmaster. The melt stick is inches away from your face. The Grandmaster spins away from you, attention directed to Loki. “Really, Loki? I was so close to having the pleasure of melting her!”

For an Elder of the Universe, he could erratically act a lot like a child. A child with an obsession with control and murder. Psychopathic child.

You observe the two enter an argument of whispers and dramatic hand movements. Then, the colorful psychopath in that hideous shimmering coat swivels in his stance, gaze at you as a heavy sigh escapes his lips. “Fine. I guess I don’t have to know who exactly you are. On behalf of Loki here who seems very keen on keeping you alive, you are pardoned,” Your mouth flies open in response. “But! I’m putting you on probation. 142 will be keeping a close eye on you. So, yeah. Lie to me again and I’ll have you executed for real.”

The Grandmaster walks away and your wrists are released from the cuffs of the chair.

Loki retains that darn smirk on that charming face of his.

-

The slave quarters seem huge from the last time you were here. In comparison to your unstable shack of a home in the outskirts of the city, anything cleaner and brighter than that shithole was enough to fulfill your heart’s desire for an ideal place of residence. It’s the same room you occupied before you fled and went into hiding. You recognize the markings on the wall, roman numerals, hidden in the corner by your bed, counting the days since you arrived on Sakaar. That was years ago, maybe a decade—you lost count.

There’s a knock on the door; it swishes open to reveal none other than Loki, dressed in a different but relatively similar outfit to his original Asgardian clothing. It’s blue instead of green. You abruptly decide you like the way it brings out the specks of blue in those irises of emerald.

You cross your arms. “So, I assume you got caught, but I want to know how the hell did you not get this thing?” You tap the obedience disk on the curve of your neck. His smile curves into a smirk. “One word: Silvertongue.”

Your snort, nearing him. “That’s two words.”

Loki simply rolls his eyes. “No, it isn’t. It’s two—it doesn’t matter.”

That deafening silence wave over the two of you. You purse your lips.

“Why did you save me back there?”

The God blinks, shoulders squaring. There’s a sudden tension in the air.

“Well,” his head tilts as he clears his throat, trying to form the right words. He wets his lips. “If someone manages to trick the God of trickery himself, maybe that someone is worth saving.”

His response startles a distinct silence from you—the silence of awe and contemplation. He says you're worthy of saving, a sentence you never thought you’ll hear from the man who crashed through your roof and proceeded to be threatened with a dagger. The man who seemed to have some sort of inclination and ambition to annoy the death out of you. It’s bizarre how life works, how two diverging lives end up intertwined with one another in the most unlikely circumstance, and how time truly heals. It mends the wounds of the lonely, the ones who were told they were never enough.

Maybe scarce and scarce turns out to be enough after all.

You see yourself in him, a complex mind and a misunderstood heart. It’s frightening how you somehow understand, and you somehow don’t simultaneously.

People are complex. Life is complex.

He watches you with that same look when he initially heard the vocals of Freddie Mercury.

You’re no Freddie Mercury, you know that.

Your voice cuts through the silence. “Thank you.”

Loki seems to snap out of what felt like forever, responding with a curt nod.

“I’ll see you at dinner then,” he says, backing away into the hallway as he readies himself to leave. “And please, wear something better than that hideous heap of trash.” He gestures to your figure; your clothes are rugged and filled with dust and sand.

It’s your turn to roll your eyes.

“We can resume our plans to getting off this planet after that,”

With a smug look, he spins on his heel and leaves. The door closes with a whirring sound. You feel heavy.

And God, you need a drink.

You quickly locate the drinking glasses, in one of the cabinets above the kitchenette. As you rummage through the rest of the drawers and cabinets in search of a bottle of something, a soft hum from the other side of the room catches your attention.

Your figure spins and you’re met by the sight of a group of materialized armored soldiers, clad in black. You heave a profound sigh of relief, a grin curving upon your lips.

“You guys finally found me! What took y'all so long? I’ve been stuck here for ages—”

“It appears to be a standard sequence violation.” one of the armored men say with an A-50 scrawled vertically on his helmet in orange.

You furrow your brows, feeling your heart stop. “Wait, what—”

“On behalf of the Time Variance Authority, I hereby arrest you for crimes against the Scared Timeline.” Hunter A-50 speaks. There’s a wave of sympathy flashes upon his expression. “I’m sorry.”

The cup falls to the floor, shattering into serrated pieces that surround your feet. Your heart begins to pound. As the other hunters grasp onto your arms, you are hauled through the translucent glowing doorway. Then, you hear the words of A-50 that struck your heart like a dagger.

“Reset the timeline.”

TAGLIST:

@lareinedususpense

@poubxlle

[howfarethestars]

thorkyrie week day 1: au

this is kind of late lmao i forgot about thorval week, and i’ve been working so much that i haven’t had much time to write </3 but i do have a little something i can post. it’s short but it’s here! it’s an au in which val is the gladiator thor fights when arriving on sakaar. i wanted to write a part two to this, and i might still do that later on, but for now here’s the beginning

Brunnhilde wrapped a calloused hand around her shin guard and pressed it flush against her leg. Her fingers, clumsy thanks to the copious amounts of alcohol she consumed in the past hour, struggled to fasten it into place. The roar of the crowd over her head grew steady louder. Norns, she was so late. Had they already announced the contender? The rumbling chorus of drunken cheers did not give her an indication. The buckle of her left shin guard snapped into place by some miracle, and she grinned to herself before hauling the other one up to her leg.

“Wow,” the Grandmaster’s unmistakable voice rang out, muffled but still clearly audible over the din of the crowd. Brunnhilde let a curse fly from her lips as she straightened suddenly, hopping on one foot to secure her shin guard. “Look at all of you!”

“Just give me a damned minute,” she muttered, sprinting up the ramp to her spot. Her swords rested heavy at her hips, aching to be drowned in blood. She ran calloused fingertips over their hilts, as if she was whispering, Just a moment longer.

“What a show! What a night!”

Brunnhilde rolled her eyes. What a show, alright. Just as manufactured as a roadside circus. She’d long been freed of the obedience disk that held her captive in the Grandmaster’s tower, slave to his every whim, but she had not been free so long that she’d forgotten how this worked. There was a champion chosen every few centuries. They were raised on a pedestal, treated like royalty, until the Grandmaster grew bored of them and let them be killed off. When Brunnhilde had been chosen, she’d spent the time before a fight pacing in worry, wondering if this fight would be her last. Now she just took a swig from the flask she kept stashed on her belt and dared the contender on the other side to entertain the thought of taking her down.

The Grandmaster hadn’t let up, rambling on about the sportsmanship of the bait—no, he called them “undercard competitors”—that had died before she would enter the arena. There was a time when she would mourn them. There was a time when she was them.

“It’s main event time,” the Grandmaster purred, working over his crowd like this wasn’t the hundredth time they’d heard this same spiel.

Now that the threat of stumbling out into the arena drunk and off-cue had passed, Brunnhilde found herself hopelessly bored of it. She never knew if the Grandmaster was bored, either. His moods shifted so suddenly. There had been nights when he skipped the pomp and circumstance and tossed her out before the contender was even in the starting gate.

“Making his first appearance tonight, though he looks quite promising, ladies and gentlemen! Watch out for his fingers: they make sparks!...the lord of thunder!”

The name got an eye roll out of her. Tonight would be easier than usual, then. Some cocky bastard. He may even refuse to fight a woman. She smirked as she imagined driving her swords deep in his smug chest.

The boos from the crowd subsided, and the Grandmaster began again. “Now, it’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for…”

Brunnhilde stepped up to the gate.

“...your champion…”

She bounced anxiously on the balls of her feet.

“The Valkyrie!”

The gates gave a mighty groan as they were pulled back and away from her. She’d long learned not to flinch from the sound of the crowd or the flashing lights. She stepped out proud and tall, chuckling and waving her arms over her head to get the crowd going. She let her eyes drift to her competition, and her jaw nearly dropped in awe. Damn, he was hot. Cropped hair, at least a head taller than her, muscles sculpted like a god.

“Shit,” she muttered under her breath, adjusting her grip on her swords. She actually felt a little bad about ruining that pretty face, right up until it twisted into pure fury as he charged her. “Shit!”

The “Lord of Thunder” ran at her at a blinding speed with both his swords raised over his head. He growled as he caught up with her and swung down. She blocked his blade, but the force knocked her back in the sand.

“How dare you?” he growled, swiping again at her side. She hopped out of his reach. “You dishonor the name of the Valkyries to use their title this way.”

Now it was her turn to be pissed. Who was he to tell her how to use her own damn title? She drove her elbows down onto the crown of his helmet, but all she managed to do was knock her armband off.

Thunder boy took a step back, holding both his swords at arm’s length. “Who are you to call yourself a Valkyrie?”

Brunnhilde’s eyes smoldered. “I don’t answer to you, Thunderer.”

“The Valkyrie were elite warriors of Asgard,” he said, and Brunnhilde rolled her eyes. She dodged another attack. “as prince of Asgard I have every right to protect their legacy.”

Brunnhilde’s stomach plummeted. He took that brief moment of weakness as an opportunity to knock her legs out from under her. Her backside collided with the ground with a spray of sand. Pain jolted through her back, but anger was quick to replace it. She snarled and kicked upwards, aiming for his most delicate area. He jumped back out her reach, but she scrambled up after him. Whatever training she usually fought with, it was forgotten as blind rage took over her. She tackled him around the waist, and they tumbled to the ground together. She pummeled him with balled fists until his helmet broke under her hands. She raised her arms above her head for the final blow, but he reached up and snagged her arm before she could.

“Y-you are a Valkyrie?”

“Aye, and you’re about to breathe your last, princeling,” Brunnhilde snarled, wrestling free of his grasp.

She wrapped her hands around his thick neck and squeezed. The heel of her palm was situated right over his diaphragm. She could feel his consciousness fading. Vindictive joy had just started to settle into her chest when he gasped sharply and his eyes glowed bright blue. She had just a second to panic before lightning burst fourth from his body and blew her halfway across the arena.

White stars danced across her vision. The smell of burnt leather seared her nostrils. Through bleary eyes, she saw the prince stand and look down at his lightning-wrapped hands with shock all over his face. As if he didn’t know what he was capable of. Maybe he didn’t.

Valkyrie shook her head and pushed off the sand. Her limbs felt alight, there was a buzz in her head. But she gave her swords a twirl and stalked towards the glowing man on the other side. It was probably the last thing she’d ever do, but she’d do it anyway. Just as she adjusted her weight to run, the familiar sound of an obedience disk buzzed in the air. Blue spindles of toxin spread through his convulsing body, and he dropped to the ground, dazed.

Brunnhilde stomped towards him and sank to her knees by his side. His eyes were hooded, but there was an apology in them. Sympathy twinged in her belly. But only a tiny bit.

“Many apologies, your majesty,” she murmured, then slammed the hilt of her sword into his temple, knocking him unconscious.

The Grandmaster’s goons were quick to enter the arena, just as the crowds started spilling out. Typical. Sakaarian attention spans were notoriously short. Though, in their defense, Brunnhilde usually left around this time, too. As two Sakaarian guards lifted his limp body into their arms to be dumped outside for the scavengers, Brunnhilde couldn’t shake the guilt gnawing at her.

“Wait!” she called before she could stop herself. They stilled, confusion written all over their strange features. Or she guessed it was confusion. It was hard to tell. “Take him to my room. I...I have plans for him.”

She tried to give her voice a suggestive lilt, but it just came off as desperate. Either way, it worked. The two guards chucked to themselves before dragging the god’s boots through the sand. Soon enough she stood alone in the center of that arena.

Brunnhilde leaned her head back and let out a groan.

What had she gotten herself into?

[lokislittlesigyn]

A Day’s Work - Pt.1

Hi everyone!! This is an older fic I started a while ago and was pretty happy with. It seemed a good opportunity to get started with posting things. Basically, this is a random au (may simply classify silly/nonsense fics into a separate au category of their own) based around Marvel, focusing on Loki and my own interpretation/characterization of his wife Sigyn. hence... you know, my blog name and pfp and. yeah, you get the picture.

Pairing: Loki / Sigyn (basically an oc based off the marvel/myth namesake)

Warnings: The Collector being creepy (as usual), some capture but don’t fret! It’s short-lived.

Summary: The Guardians of The Galaxy have been, well, guarding the galaxy on their own time. But when a handsome reward for the safe return of an Asgardian princess is released, they may get more adventure than they bargained for.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Peter, you're an idiot." Gamora took a seat in the Milano’s cockpit, releasing a loud sigh.

"Yeah, yeah, I know..." Peter turned the ship, and within seconds the were on their way to Xandar. "It's not my fault that guy had literally the ugliest mug in the galaxy."

"He was not carrying a mug," Drax piped up from behind them, furrowing his brow at Peter.

"Face, then! Ugliest face."

"I disagree." Drax settled back into his seat. "You have the ugliest face."

"I am Groot."

Peter glared over his shoulder. "If you don't cut it out, I swear I will turn this spaceship around." Soon, the bunch of misfits reached Xandar. Landed, and took the opportunity to roam the city - partly in search for unclaimed bounties.

"Okay, since we haven't had the best luck under Quill's leadership lately, I’m electing myself as new leader of the group," Rocket smirked, holding a tiny baby Groot on his shoulder.

"Hey!" Peter huffed, "That Sakaarian was just one guy. One dude out of the whole universe. Every one of us has had a - a slight disagreement, over a keg of beer."

"I am Groot."

"Okay, except you. But you don't count."

"I am Groot!"

"All right fine, you count!"

Gamora rolled her eyes, walking over to a large, white wall, containing a screen that was shifting between advertisements. "Hey, come look at this." She put her hand up, stilling the screen.

Peter furrowed his brow, his hands on his hips. "Reward for the safe capture and return of an.. Asgardian? Asgardian princess?"

Rocket whistled. "Gorgeous."

"Yeah, I guess she's pretty-"

"I was talkin' about the money."

Peter's eyes settled on the bounty price, then widened. He grinned. "How do you guys feel about a rescue mission?" ~~~~ Sigyn awoke with a pounding headache. She blinked. Looked down at her bound hands. Great...

It was dark, but in the further reaches of the shadows she could make out the edges of rusty metal walls. In front of her stood an equally-rusted cell door.  Past it, another cell stood, identical if not for the fact it was empty. She stood, steadying herself against the wall. Voices came from down the hall.

"...won't remember anything. I gave her a double dose."

"Dunno, Asgardians are tough..."

"Not this one."

Two men stepped in front of her cell. Each wore patchy, well-worn clothes. One looked tanned and scruffy, the other had blue skin marred with scars.

"Oh look, she's awake," The blue one chuckled.

Sigyn stepped back, eyeing both of them. "Where am I?"

"That's not much'a your business, is it?" The man glared at her.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Knowhere." He smirked.

She blinked. "What... You must be taking me somewhere."

He nodded. "Knowhere. Hang tight, princess." Both men walked off, leaving her alone. She huffed, eyeing the door... Then noticed the clothing she had on. Interwoven leather and cloth, bits of metal, armored bracers on her forearms... Nothing like what those men wore.

What was going on?

She sat back down, defeated. Her headache became overwhelming, throbbing... She placed her head in her hands. ~~~~ Meanwhile, onboard the Milano, Rocket stepped over to a table in the center of the common area. "Now, behold." Rocket set a metal object that looked haphazardly thrown-together on the table. "A genuine Asgardian tracking device. Call it an A-T-D."

"You found a way to track Asgardians?" Peter raised his brows, arms crossed.

"Well yeah, why'd you think I called it an Asgardian tracking device?"

"I am Groot."

"Exactly! The nerve of some people!"

Peter rolled his eyes. Gamora spoke up. "How does it track them?"

"Now that is a good question." Rocket pressed a button on the side of the device. It started beeping slowly. "I won't reveal all my secrets, but it basically traces Asgardian DNA."

"Where did you get Asgardian DNA?"

Rocket grinned. "I have my ways."

"So we'll follow your tracker until we find the princess, grab her, maybe shoot some guys, and take her back to Asgard safe and sound?" Peter shifted his weight.

"That's the plan."

"..I love it. Good work, Rocket."

"Well, I am the resident genius." ~~~~ Soon, the Guardians reached Knowhere to the tune of Drax’s snoring, the tracker’s continuous beeping, and Suspicious Minds playing softly.

The tracking device released another loud, long bloop before returning to its rhythmic beeping - unfortunately, out of sync with the music.

"That toaster of yours better work," Peter huffed.

"I told you, Quill, it's already working. It's brought us this far, hasn't it?"

"We'll see. Asgardians are usually easy to spot anyway," Gamora stood, walking to the front of the cockpit. "They're loud and overbearing. Proud."

"Yeah but they've got a full medieval look, right? Armor and everything?"

"Yes, usually."

"So we're looking for a ren faire princess. Got it."

Rocket and Gamora exchanged a confused look. She shrugged.

The Milano landed, and the Guardians - after waking up Drax - began their search. Peter lead the way.

"All right, we should stick together. Remember what happened last time we came here."

"You ruined our chance at selling the Orb?" Rocket smirked.

"Okay, first of all, that wasn't entirely my fault." Peter huffed, glancing at Gamora. "Where should we start..?"

"I think we should follow the tracker," Gamora glanced around, "And keep an eye out for anything sapphire. Asgardians like wearing distinct colors - from her picture, it looks like sapphire is hers."

"Right."

"Hey, I got something!" Rocket held up the tracker, which had begun beeping faster. "This way!" He scampered off, the team in tow.

They reached the same bar they'd visited before,when waiting to meet the Collector.

"Geez, this thing is going crazy..."

"Rocket." Gamora said.

"I mean it's really losing its mind. Maybe I should've-"

"Rocket!" Gamora pointed to the betting table.

There, on the other side, the princess was being lead to the Collector's back room.

"...Oh."

~~~~

The two men from before lead Sigyn through a strange, crowded room, past droves of cheering spectators. What was going on? She tried bumping into people to get their attention, tried catching someone’s eye, but the blaster pressed to her back kept her lips sealed.

They reached a back room. Walked through a maze-like trail of glass cages, lead by a pink woman whose smile looked far too forced.

Sigyn looked inside the glass cages, gasping when one of the beings inside moved. What is this place? she thought, swallowing hard when they stopped walking. Sigyn stood between the rugged aliens who lead her, staring forward at the strange man before her. He lowered a contraption that looked much like a mix between binoculars and glasses, setting them and the precious stone he was examining on the table before him.

"May I present, Taneleer Tivan, The Collector." The pink woman nodded to him, then disappeared behind more glass cages.

"As promised," The blue man smirked, "An Asgardian. The princess herself. Safe and sound. Not a scratch on her."

"Oh," the Collector leaned over the table, studying Sigyn much like he had the stone. She tensed. Felt a chill go down her spine. "How you managed a feat such as this, I cannot grasp.." He walked around the table, reaching out to Sigyn. When she didn't move, the men forced her hands toward him. He took one, kissing it, gaze never leaving her face. "It is an honor, fair princess."

Sigyn was frozen in fear. She clenched her jaw, pulling away from him as soon as he'd let her. "I-I.. What do you want with me?"

The Collector only chuckled. "She looks reasonably healthy.." He grabbed her jaw, turning her face back and forth. She gritted her teeth, staring at him.

"About that..” The blue man smirked. “We want two million additional units. Seeing as she's a healthy, young princess, seems fair.."

"Yes.. Yes, that would be fair. Stellina," He called. The pink woman returned. "Transfer the units to these gentlemen."

"Wait- I'm not for sale!" Sigyn struggled against her captors. "I am not a princess! I don't know who you think I am, but-"

"Quiet," the blue man snarled. "We hit her with a big dose of Amnesiac Gas."

The Collector glanced at her with an amused expression. "How long until it wears off?"

The man shrugged.

"Well, never mind, then..." He sent Stellina to open one of the glass cages. "I trust the Asgardians have no idea you are here?"

"Not a clue," The other one snickered, "We made out in the dead of night. Didn't even know it was us takin' her."

The men started moving toward the cage. Sigyn's heart leapt from her chest.

"Wait- Wait, no, no no no, please don't! Please!" She kicked, managing to rip her arm away from one of the men, only to be firmly grabbed by the Collector himself, who kept one hand around her wrist, the other on her throat. "Now, little beauty, don't struggle so. I do not intend to hurt you." He brushed a finger across her cheek - gentle. Too gentle. Tears welled up in her eyes. "You will be a prize addition to my collection." In a swift movement, he pushed her into the cage, and before she could jump out, Stellina closed the door. It locked with a snap.

Sigyn slammed against the glass, tears flowing out steadily. "No! Let me out! Please, I beg you, I'll do ANYTHING!" She hit the glass with her fists.

"Pleasure doing business with you as always, gentlemen." The Collector shooed the two men off, then turned to Stellina. "Do something about that noise. But do not hurt her, or you will take her place."

Stellina bowed her head, then turned to Sigyn, who was still pounding on the glass.

[modestlyabsurd]

No Cinderella (Loki x Reader)

"What is taking so long?"

Oh, jee, who knows? Maybe it's all the straps? Or it could be the lack of fabric at all. Where is your head supposed to go? How is anything supposed to be covered with just glittery straps of black and gold silk?!

Your reflection looks back as every decision you've ever made comes full circle; naked in nothing but this tight, skimpy outfit. Everything is showing - everything. Your belly is exposed in a flattering but very uncomfortable way, as the strappy piece that's supposed to be the top covers very little. The bottom piece is least horrible part - with little green gems dangling from ribbons to accentuate your thighs and backside rather nicely.

But who the fuck wants their ass on display in a formal meeting with the ruler of the planet you're trapped on? Who wants that at all?!

"Earth to Y/N, please respond - we're wasting precious time," Loki complains from outside the bathroom door.

Frustrated and defeated, you sigh. "I can't wear this."

"What do you mean you can't wear it? What's wrong with it?"

"It's ridiculous! I look like a cheap French whore."

"Surely you're overreacting - "

You hear the knob turning behind you and throw yourself on the door, "No! Don't come in here - I might as well be naked!"

Loki skips a beat, and can't help the smirk on his face. "It can't be that bad."

"Believe me, it is."

He looks around the room, bouncing on the balls of his feet anxiously. The Grandmaster had invited you both to a celebration party in regards to another win from his fighting champion. Loki was quite pleased with the progress he's made with the Grandmaster in gaining his trust, despite the many wrenches you've thrown into the game. If it's not needing the functions of a Midgardian washroom, it's wasting complimentary room service. If it's not that, it's refusing to wear the clothes that the Grandmaster has had crafted and sent especially for you.

It's like you're trying to get you both killed.

"Look, at any rate, you can't keep rejecting the Grandmaster's kind gestures," says Loki.

You've already taken half of the garment off with a few straps still awkwardly looped around your shoulders. "I'm not gonna wear this thing. He'll just have to deal with it."

Loki's fists and jaws clench angrily. "You're going to make me look like a fool with your blatant rebellion," he bites. "And what then?"

"I could stay here and say I'm sick," you suggest.

He scoffs, "No, you can't." You both knew better. Loki crosses his arms, trying to think of an alternative. He won't risk leaving you alone, and either of you missing the celebration could be his downfall - your downfall.

The blue jewel doorknob twists and only your head peeks through. "I'm tougher than I look, y'know."

Loki raises his brows, "Oh, I'm sure. You probably don't even need me here to protect you. Likely don't need me at all."

"I didn't say that."

He turns to look into your eyes and finds you devoid of lies or sarcasm. He can't hold your gaze for too long; he doesn't have time to feel remorse right now.

"I'm sorry, Loki. But believe me when I tell you, no one wants to see what I just saw. Not even the Douchemaster," you cringe, knowing he himself sent that garb to you. Loki? He gets to wear something stylish and concealing. Yet you have to dress like a Vegas showgirl. How is that fair?

As if he's reading your mind - which he's not - Loki detects a pattern. A disgusting, possibly dangerous pattern. He stiffens. You're already vulnerable to a certain degree; it seems as though the Grandmaster would like to highlight that in a certain way.

"You got any ideas?" your voice peeps from the bathroom. Of course. He must fix everything as well. Luckily, an idea does come to mind.

Loki remembers the clothes you wore weeks ago when this ... mishap, first began; a simple tee shirt, a cardigan and blue jeans. As Midgardian as it gets. It would be a giant, bright red target on your forehead at an event such as this, where guests are expected to be formal, or at least culturally formal.

He then thinks of the formal category of fashion in Midgardian culture - something that he's actually developed quite a taste for over the years. The class and elegance it exerts is surprising, and could be substantial among the diverse range of attires to be seen tonight. He can conjure any version, any piece, any outfit imaginable at the tip of his fingers. It's been helpful even in the recent past.

"You've no idea how lucky you are."

"What?"

He huffs. "Nevermind. Are you ... decent, as you put it?"

You pull the red Sakaarian robe closer to your body. "Yeah."

Loki opens the door and your eyes widen, as your jaw drops simultaneously. In one hand hangs a beautiful, simple, slightly frilly knee-length teal dress. One of those you see displayed in the windows of bridal stores with four-figure prices. In the other hand was a dark red, floor-length ballroom dress, one likely displayed inside the bridal store with possibly with an even larger price. Both were approximately your size.

"Wow," you breathe, tongue feeling dry. "How did you ... where did they come from?"

Loki grins at your amazement. "A small bit of magic goes a long way."

Your eyes switch back from the dress to Loki as an airy laugh bubbles from your throat. "I can't believe it."

"What, the magic or the gesture?"

"Both," you blurt out, shaking your head. "Did you make them? Like, out of thin air? Or did they come from somewhere?"

"If I told you all my secrets, I'd either have to kill you, or marry you," he smirks.

You glance away.

He resumes, "Now, which shall it be? Will you be bold, fluid and entrancing like a fine wine? Or will you be graceful, poised and wild, like the oceans? It's entirely up to you."

Sure, Loki saving your ass is more of a business deal at this point. But all you want to do is hug him to release some of the gratitude in your heart. Instead, you clutch the robe tighter and stare at the outfits wondrously. It's as if they were made just for you; to make you feel confident and comfortable, not to make you look the most desirable. Loki, silently and persuasively waves the clothes.

Decisions, decisions. You sigh and purse your lips.

"Are you going to make me choose for you?"

"I mean, the red one is super nice, don't get me wrong. I love it. It just seems kinda high-maintenance, y'know? Plus it's always so hot in the rest of this place."

Then just wear the other dress, Loki thinks, but bites his tongue as another thought comes to mind. "The party could carry on into the late hours of the night."

"Do we have to stay that long, though?"

"We'll stay for as long as we're expected to."

Your heart rate picks up; he left no room for debate. He opens his mouth to further prove his point when cold air wafts around his hand - the blue dress was snatched and the door shut in his face without another word.

He blinks. The weight of the world he's buried himself in suddenly weighs heavy. You're both in for a long night.

~

The teal dress hugged you in the best ways. The modest neckline complimented the simple sleeveless design, and the skirt ruffled ever so slightly, just enough for you to swing around like a little girl. It was fun to do and it also gave you somewhere to put your fidgety hands as you walked. Helpful, indeed, since the atmosphere proved quite intimidating almost as soon as you stepped out of yours and Loki's living quarters.

The thumping of music vibrates in the soles of your flat shoes, and everyone you've passed has turned their heads; staring and gasping before looking away when you acknowledged them. You tried to think nothing of it - even as obvious as it was - and Loki made that a bit easier.

It seemed like he was taking huge steps, though it was likely his normal pace, but nonetheless it made you speed-walk just to keep up. Not wanting to look like a child keeping up with their parent in a grocery store, you fell behind at a comfortable distance. This gave you a clearer view of the Sakaarian passersby. Which isn't exactly what you were going for.

As he got a few feet ahead, amidst all the faces and bodies around, you locked eyes with someone in a shaded corner. A woman, who could've been Asgardian - or even human. Dark golden skin, elaborately braided hair, a bottle to her lips, and big, striking eyes staring into yours. Reading what she could in a split second's time.

Your feet keot walking. Her face imprinted on your mind long after she was gone.

Thump!

You jump a foot back. Loki looks down at you, a mix of amusement and embarrassment on his face.

"Watch where you're walking. And it's not polite to stare."

With your entire body tightened into a ball, you awkwardly dust off his arm that you bumped into. "Sorry."

For the rest of the way, you look at your shoes.

To Loki, he was merely jesting due to the overt staring on the part of everyone else. Normally he would glare daggers sharper than anyone in the entire palace, but instead he chose to keep his chin up and embrace the looks - be them mostly toward you. What can he say? He accidentally chose the perfect dress for you out of thin air.

He'd noticed you doing what he'd chosen not to, and stopped to watch. Your head was completely turned to whomever received your look, and the mischief in him knew you wouldn't look up. But after that, you changed. He found himself missing that little spunk you'd built up when a thick silence took its place.

You kept falling behind in walking pace, so Loki decided to slow down a bit. Keep you at his side to keep the message clear: you were not to be meddled with by anyone.

The music from the party grew increasingly louder as you got closer. Loki could feel your feelings, despite not being connected to you in any way or an empath of any sort. It bothered him, needless to say. Both the inlet to your energy and the energy itself.

He elbows you in the shoulder, and you jump - confirming what he feels. Your big, nervous eyes glance up at him briefly.

Loki couldn't help but smile. "Say something."

You sigh shortly. "Everyone's staring at me."

"Would you like me to remove their eyes?"

You stop in your steps, and the mortified look on your face was priceless. Exactly what Loki wanted - a bit of loosening up.

He laughs, "What? I'm only joking."

"Something tells me you're not."

"Ah, yes. The fine line between truth and lies."

"So you're a poet now?"

He laughs again. It warms you from the inside out. "Maybe I am."

The two of you round a corner into a dark corridor, where two armored bouncers stand before a large door. Lights strobe and flash beneath it and the music pounds through. Loki confidently gives your names and the guards let you in.

The air was warm with bodies of Sakaarian citizens, and immediately you're bombarded by servers offering drinks. You take one, dumbfounded, and turn around to see the door shut tightly behind you. Blood drains from your face. In its place is clammy dread; the only thing grounding you is the cold glass sweating in your hand. The drink is glowing green - when you smell-test it, the alcohol fumes make you gag.

What kind of formal party is this?

Unable to hear yourself think over the music, you rely on your eyes. People are stumbling already - a rainbow of drinks spilt on the floor as the lights reflect upon them. Silver statues of the Douchemaster stand everywhere you look; tiny ones, Oscar sized ones, and one large one at the end of the room. It's enough to turn your stomach. And then the real thing spots you.

When the Grandmaster bounces up to you, your hand juts out and thankfully lands on Loki. He hadn't left your side.

"Ahhh! My very special guests, welcome! Welcome!"

"Our dear friend," Loki bows, "thank you so much for inviting us to your celebration. We couldn't imagine a greater honor."

"Oh, psh! Stop. The honor is mine! And dare I say you both look ... ah, dazzling," the Grandmaster hesitates, his eyes glued to your dress. The dress that definitely isn't what he sent you. "Yes, dazzling indeed, but where is the lovely piece I had made for you, dear?"

You open your mouth to respond, but Loki places a silencing hand on your shoulder. "Well, as you can see, my suit arrived in perfect condition," the Grandmaster nods attentively, "but it seemed as though the piece designed for my friend had been badly damaged. Burned beyond repair."

The Grandmaster's yellow eyes widen. "Oh my, I apologize. I certainly didn't send it that way."

"Oh, of course not! We would never think so. It was likely the doing of an envious servant and thus, we were forced to improvise."

"Huh," the Grandmaster says. "I'll have a talk with Topaz about that. I send everything through her before it goes through the sla - ahem, servants," he smiles a stomach churning smile. Loki squeezes your shoulder gently and you hold on to it for dear life. He's all that's keeping you together.

The Grandmaster quickly dismisses himself to greet other guests, leaving you and Loki to your devices. The first thing you do is relearn how to breathe, and then how to swallow.

"Hey," Loki says over the music, "come on. Try to have a bit of fun."

"This isn't exactly my idea of fun."

He guides you over behind a red couch, a space without listeners. Guilt swims in his green eyes as he chooses his words carefully. "I know you don't want to be here. But we have no choice. This is all a part of the plan, alright?" he looks around. "However, I'm willing to compromise. We can leave in just a couple of hours, if you'd like."

You nod. "I would."

"Very well, then." Loki shifts, "In the meantime, relax a bit. I'm right here. I won't let anyone harm you, as promised."

~

Oh boy. Two hours, you thought. That's doable. What could possibly happen in two hours time? Well, a lot of things.

But one thing that definitely was not on the list was Loki getting white girl wasted.

How? you'd asked yourself. You either lost track of how many drinks he consumed, or he drank one laced with diesel fuel. By the time you realized it, he was stumbling and falling into a couch full of other drunk guests. A sloshed drink in hand, red faced, giggly, and continuing to mingle as if nothing happened.

You stood there, frozen. Thank God the Grandmaster was conveniently nowhere to be found.

Seeing Loki in such a compromising state - for both him and yourself - it left you speechless. It ultimately left you alone. Alone under the weight of everything, while he shambled around in an oblivious state of euphoria. If you were to say a tiny pang of betrayal didn't sting you a bit, you'd be lying. Matter fact, you could've strangled him.

To top things off, what does he do when he sees you standing there shamefully? Does he apologize? Does he make room for you on the couch like a normal person? No. He drunkenly offers for you to sit on his lap. In front of everyone.

And that's when you ended the party.

The whole way back to your living quarters you ignored the nasty looks from everyone around you in the corridors. It wasn't hard this time since you had to be responsible for a surprisingly heavy man-sized baby who's just learned how to walk. Countless times he nearly tackled you to the floor with just his sheer, uncoordinated body weight.

But none of that even compares to the difference in his speech. As if things couldn't get any more embarrassing, you discovered that not only is Loki indeed a poet, but alcohol brings out an imprisoned, flirty Shakespearean teenager from him.

"Oh, my dear friend - beautiful and delicate as thou are, carrying the weight of a God on her mighty shoulders! Heheh ... thy strength is growing, my blooming flower. I shall need to be cautious in my further steps - whoohoo!" he howls as he trips again from uneven steps, steadying himself on your arms and shoulders.

You look for a window to throw him out of. But these hallways are cruel.

"I - ehehe - I seem to be losing balance as my true heart yearns toward thee, sweet warrior. And in thy face I see the map of honor, truth and loyalty." You look up through strands of his black hair obstructing your view and find him blindly looking around; cheeks flushed, a big boyish smile on his face. Under different circumstances, you'd melt to a sticky mess.

"Lies."

Loki snickers and belches. "She’s beautiful, and therefore to be wooed; She is woman, and therefore to be won."

Somewhere distant, the old saying plays in your mind about a drunk man's words being a sober man's thoughts. "You clearly have no idea what you're talking about - stop trying to take such big steps!"

He laughs brightly, unreserved. Even though he stinks of stale liquor, it was pleasant.

After what took three times longer than it needed to, you arrived to your living quarters and keyed in the access code. Loki practically fell through the threshold and bounced off the surrounding walls. Jesus Christ, he was gonna hurt himself.

You guide him into his small little bedroom where you knew he'd be safe. Politely you turn away so he could change clothes - though he just "magicked" them, and much like earlier at the party he disgracefully fell into the bed.

In a fit of giggles he adjusted to a more comfortable position. You can't help but roll your eyes at how ridiculously out of character he is. And then you think of how many people saw it as well. Before you can stop yourself the words lightheartedly flow out. "You really made an ass out of yourself."

He clears his throat, "That ... is completely subjective, my dear. One fellow's ass is another fellow's aspiration."

"Uh-huh."

"If I were to say you were the most beautified, would you say that beautified was a vile phrase?"

"If you were sober, I probably would." Tomorrow feels so close, but with drunk Loki, so far away. You switch off his wall lamp as he yawns. "You want me to tuck you in?" you ask jokingly.

"What's that?" he chirps, to your surprise.

"It's uh," you gather yourself, "well, on Earth, it's when you tuck the blankets around someone to make them feel more secure at night. Parents usually do it for their small kids."

Loki licks his lips in thought. "I don't think that's something we do in Asgard."

Come on. How could you not tuck him in after hearing that?

With the soft blue blanket draped over his stupidly long body, you tuck it tightly around him - from his wiggly feet all the way up to his neck. Thoughtlessly, like a parent would do their child, you peck him on the forehead to finish.

In the dark you suddenly lock eyes, and he looks at you in a way that, in fairy tales, Prince Charming might gaze at Cinderella.

But this isn't a fairy tale. And you're no Cinderella.

Mixed up in your feelings, you make way to leave; you make the mistake of looking back and find Loki watching you go - as if you were leaving for a long voyage and he actually cared about you.

His eyes were glassy and dilated. "Why have you tolerated me for this long?"

You blink. The sadness and suddenness of the question rattled your skin. What choice do I have? you almost say, but don't. He knows that.

Instead, you reply, "I mean, you're not the worst roommate in the world. You're pretty nice, actually. Look at me," you motion to the slightly disheveled teal dress still hugging your body, "I should be thanking you, for fuck's sake."

He nods shortly, casting his eyes downward.

"I pretty much owe you my life at this point," you add.

Loki meets your eyes again, and this time, the solemnity in them is sharp enough to kill. "You don't owe me anything."

An itch on your neck bites you. You weren't ready for the deep change in tone. Shakespearean-man-baby was much easier to deal with; well, easier to ignore. Now it seems as though Loki doesn't want you to be gone, as he might soberly portray. Or it's completely the alcohol talking.

Either way, you let it comfort you.

~

holy shit guys im sorry i dunno what happened it just ... happened

tag list:

@sydneyss-worlddd @afinedilemma @fire-in-her-veinz @belladonnabarnes @drakesfiance @internetgremlin @dragon-chica @triggeredpossum @tarynkauai

[talentedliarloki]

embrace :   my  muse  abruptly  throwing  their  arms  around  your  muse,  hugging  them  tightly.

some  one  word  prompts . (    send   one   of   the   words   for   our   muses   to   interact   based   off   that   word   )

Time and space unzips and in march three (insulting) TVA agents to grab Loki roughly by the arms and pull him back to the interrogation room wherein Mobius waited, looking cross but more than a little frustrated.

Over Loki's shoulder, the rose-tinted doorway to the stone terrace sealed itself and vanished. Whatever means he'd been attempting to utilize to appeal to Lady Sif while in the crosshairs of her ire were clearly in vain; but he had believed, for just a moment, to have gotten through to her.

It would not have been the first time he'd played sincere and managed to skirt consequences.

"You can't alter details of a memory." Mobius' tone is matter of fact, and an interruption to Loki's subtle gratification, and the trickster notes the sounds of key strokes from Mobius' TemPad with an arch of his brow. He jerks in his captors' holds, lip curling when the gloved hands at his arms, elbows, and wrists cinch tighter like vices, and when another temporal doorway unfolds in front of him he can't help but level an annoyed glance toward Mobius before being forced through.

In passing, he notices this doorway is violet...

When light and time become level once more, he blinks hard and takes a moment for the private chambers of the Statesman to swim into clarity. Loki is clad in his characteristic leather, looking and feeling more himself than he had in eons, and before him—adorning an eye patch and looking for all he's worth like the Allfather himself���was Thor.

"Perhaps you're not so bad after all, brother."

He's got a mind to curse Mobius from whatever Hel-scape this is—to unravel him like yarn down to his very last cell—but Thor is looking at him expectantly, expression fond (and could that be pride?), and Loki's response is offered before he knows what he's saying.

"Maybe not."

"Thank you."

It's familiar, like déjà vu, but it isn't organic—he's never set foot on the Statesman; he didn't lead an army of Sakaarian gladiators to lend a hand in Ragnarok; he never emigrated to Midgard alongside a cache of displaced Aesir.

He catches the airborne top of the decanter Thor tosses at him. "I'm here."

And the words are barely out before Thor is across the room, throwing his arms around the trickster in a bodied embrace. Loki stiffens at the contact, hackles raised against the countless synapses firing in his amygdala. There's a weight in his gut...

No, not his gut. His heart.

Loki's arms wind around Thor's sturdy frame, weighted with fear at first. In spite of the flags being hefted in warning, he clung to his brother almost desperately as the heaviness behind his sternum deepened, demanding acknowledgement. Loki dared not look; his fingertips pressed into Thor's clothing with the sort of savage satisfaction that comes with having one's cake and eating it too.

The slight charge in the air was willfully ignored.

Suddenly, a rippling force reverberated through him and sensations slammed behind his eyes, disjointed and rushed, a pulsing strobe light of the experiences to come. The chilled dread of the Sanctuary II's shadow encasing their ship; the siege of missiles, the abrupt end of so many lives; more purple flares, a wash of green...

Offensive blue.

With resounding clarity, Loki discovered it wasn't plummeting guilt or an overbearing sense of homesickness that was pressing down on his heart. Rather—kept quite literally close to his chest the same way he had concealed the TemPad from Sylvie on Lamentis-1—it was the Tesseract.

And he knew without knowing that he'd stolen it from the weapons vault on Asgard before laying Surtur's crown in the Eternal Flame. He'd taken it without intention—but simply because he could; because he'd wanted to.

It feels like muscle memory. Loki raises a hand, fingers steepled to balance the cosmic cube as it materialized in his hold, eyes reflected by it. And isn't that the definition of madness? Repetition with the expectation of a different result.

"You'll always be the God of Mischief, but you could be more."

Repetition. Loki went rigid, eyes wide, and the talons of fright sunk in at last with a sear that made him suck in a breath.

"You really are the worst, brother."

Madness.

Is that what made Loki a Loki?

The revelation was flooring. A reverbrative force that had the trickster nearly gasping as the image of Thor evaporated from his arms and reappeared the same short distance as before, the lid of the decanter back in his hand, ready to be lofted, as the fabricated memory prepared to play out once more.

"Perhaps you're not so bad after all, brother."

Loki, eyes cloudy but dawning with realization, murmured in the smallest of wrecked whispers, "Maybe not." as the celestial burden of the Tesseract burned close to his beating heart.

He catches the lid again, breathes with more direness this time, "Brother, I'm here." but it doesn't matter. He's in Thor's arms again, without any right to be there, nerves rattling with grueling revelation: the Nexus event which led to his and Sylvie's whereabouts had been understanding. Purpose. Glorious? Not likely.

He could have had that glorious purpose then had he not stolen the Tesseract, all but leading Thanos straight to them; if he hadn't seized the Tesseract when it had skittered against his boot in the lobby of Stark Tower...

The bright lure of freedom diminished his life's joy in a mad scramble for power; for identity. He was made to be ruled...by his loneliness. The same loneliness that would have him forget that, all this time, Thor would have been by his side if all he’d done was allow it.

Before the rush of light and color reappeared behind his eyes and before Loki had to endure this annihilating truth once more, he grasped at Thor with stinging eyes and dragged in a ragged, devastated breath. "I'm sorry, Thor."

But the words would never be heard. Thor was already shimmering out of his hold and the miserable fiction was poised to play again.

[annes-andromeda]

Ragnarök: Asgard’s Twilight

Chapter 9: The Contest Of Champions

N/: Alright please don’t judge, I’m not very good at writing fight scenes. But this was pretty fun to write nonetheless😊 Also, I listened to this song while writing this chapter cause I thought it fit Bruce/Hulk perfect IMO. I posted this like a month ago, but it didn't get any traction so I'm posting it now.

“B-Banner?!” Thor exclaimed. He couldn’t believe it. So this is where Bruce went after Sokovia. He wondered how the jet could travel through space, seeing as it wasn’t meant for that sort of travel. Perhaps one of the Grandmasters scrappers took a wrong turn and found him? Either way, Thor knew it wasn’t really the time to ask.

Hulk didn’t answer him, simply grunting at the other fighters who immediately took steps back, with Thor being the only one to stay in place. He knew what the creature was capable of. He’s seen it first hand multiple times. But these men? Well, let’s say Thor wished them the best of luck.

The Grandmasters projection clapped his hands in excitement “Isn’t he a marvel, ladies and gentlemen?” He said happily before clearing his throat, putting on his ‘authority voice’ “Alright, contestants. Kindly get in position and let’s get this show on the road”

Thor alongside the fighters walked to a bright blue starting line. The wall in front of them came down, revealing long floating structures that glowed with neon lights. They pulsed like veins and moved in different directions. With his enhanced sight, Thor could see a tunnel that also contained bright lights.

“Now listen up everyone, and I do mean everyone” The Grandmaster stated “The Contest shall begin with a surf course. Each of the fighters will glide through these pathways and into the tunnel riiiight over there. Just, you know, try not to fall or anything”

He continued to explain “Once they enter the tunnels, platforms will move at high speeds, passing through some little rock formations that may or may not get in the way. I honestly haven’t tried half of these, but I do know they have rather...interesting results”

“Finally, the tunnel will end at a giant wind tunnel, where our fighters will fight real bloody to get the number one spot. So any codes or moral ambiguities you had? Yeah, just kindly throw that away. Cause we don’t want fair. We want a show! Am I right?!”

The crowd cheered in unanimous excitement. Thor looked over to Hulk, who was staring blankly at the course in front of him. On his neck, Thor could see an obedience disk. The same one he himself was wearing. Seems like the Grandmaster can’t hold down the giant on his own.

Loki tensed up, his gaze on The Vixen. He could see that she was planning something. For someone who’s supposedly seen many fights in her days, it seemed like not even she could stay away from this one.

Thor took a deep breath in, and then out. Putting all his focus on the course, he tightened his grip on his blades. Looking up, he could see the Grandmaster raise three fingers up. Thor turned to Hulk and the other fighters who were also preparing themselves.

The Arena went quiet. “Three...”

“Two...” Shuffling of feet on the soil, nothing but the breaths of anticipation being heard.

“One...”

Ding!

“BEGIN!!”

Immediately on point, all the fighters raced to the first course. Thor sprinted alongside them as the observatory ships moved next to them, catching all the action for the audience and guests to see. A projection of the Contest played in the arena, the sound of the cheering people fading as Thor continued on.

He slid on the pathways with ease. It seemed to be the same for some of the other contestants, but soon, three of them were falling off and landing on the hard ground below. Thor could only take a guess whether or not they survived.

Hulk, with his heightened abilities, was in the lead by a long shot. He was jumping and sprinting, never breaking a sweat. The fighters didn’t dare to get in his way, but Thor got closer. However, not close enough to provoke the green beast. Again, he knew what Hulk was capable of.

“Banner!” He exclaimed, running up next to Hulk “Listen to me! You can’t stay here! I need-“

But before he could finish, Hulk swatted him away with his giant fist, Thor tumbling all the way in the back. Loki looked on from above, wincing at the impact his brothers body made on the platforms.

Back below, Thor groaned in pain as he got up. Thankfully, his Asgardian physiology allowed for his body to heal much faster. His gaze moved up to the course, watching as the fighters got smaller and smaller as they got farther. Realizing he was far behind, he quickly got to feet and resumed his mission to get to the finish line.

He ran as fast as he could, sliding on the pathways quickly. His gaze, however, averted from in front of him to the corner of his eye. Whatever moved next to him, he could only see it as a blur. That was, until he actually turned his head.

“Wha-“ Thor muttered in confusion. A ship was flying above at high speeds, almost as if it was keeping up with him. The roof opened up, and three Sakaarians came out of it. Thor then saw what caught his attention.

A flying creature. A swan. With wings like shining crystals, illuminating specks of color.

Strange, Thor thought.

Was a small thought, though, as his mind returned to the Contest once realizing he had finally made it to the tunnel. He could see the contestants again, their faces of disbelief and annoyance almost humoring Thor. In front he could see Hulk still in the lead.

Sounds of grunts and punches were then heard, as the Sakaarians came into the scene and took two of the contestants out. They then took two more, but instead of fighting them, the Sakaarians took hold of them and carried them to their ship. There were now only three contestants left next to Thor and Hulk.

“Wow” The Grandmaster said from his ship “This is going a lot faster than expected”

Topaz turned to him, her face stern “Your excellency, you do know that ship belongs to the rebels? The ones that you’ve been trying to capture for half a century?”

The Grandmasters eyes then lit up “Oooh, right” he chuckled “God, I was getting so excited about the Contest that I just kinda forgot about them. Oh well, looks like I gotta take out the trash. Topaz, will you do the honors?”

His bodyguard was about to jump down into the course, but then, Loki stepped in “If I may” he began “Perhaps I could deliver them to you. You would find me a rather useful asset if given the chance”

A smile formed on the Grandmasters face, a sign of his approval “Perfect! You really are a good luck charm, aren’t you, Luke?”

Loki smirked. Oh, if only he knew. Jumping form the ship, Loki shape-shifted into a black hawk with piercing green eyes and flew into the tunnel.

Meanwhile, Thor had finally caught up with Hulk. Grabbing a weapon left by one of the gladiators, Thor used it to get Hulk’s attention, banging him on the side of the head, Hulk yelled in anger and pain as he tumbled forward, with Thor jumping in top of him to attempt to hold him down.

“Banner, please!” Thor exclaimed “You can’t stay here! The Grandmaster is using you to kill for sport!”

Hulk didn’t listen, however, grabbing Thor by the chest with his giant fist “Hulk stay!” He yelled “Thor, OUT!!”

Like a child throwing a rock, Thor was catapulted into the final course, where his body was thrown up by the air coming from the structure. On instinct, Thor grabbed one of the pillars to stop himself from hitting the ceiling or flying away into the atmosphere.

Below him, he could see Hulk trying to jump up to strike him, but was stopped by the three remaining contestants, who probably decided it was a better idea to simply band together to stop the Grandmasters champion rather than go at it alone. Thor would commend them, if not for the fact that the Hulk only got stronger as he got angrier. And well, Hulk was looking quite... pissy, right now.

He threw one of them towards the wall, which Thor winced at, and the other two were throw into the air whirlpool and outside, the two grabbing the sides of the hole to stay in the fight. For now, however, it was a face off between Thor and Hulk. He moved himself back down, trying not to get so close to Hulk.

Thor could then see the Sakaarian rebels come into view, taking out their weapons and sprinting towards Thor. But before they could get to him, green magic glowed around them and threw them out of the course back into the tunnel. Thor turned his head to see Loki fly in, blocking the other fighters attack and using his dagger to stab one of them in the shoulder.

There were now only two fighters left: Thor and Hulk. The rebels surrounded them, pointing their weapons at them and some even trying to contain Hulk.

“Ooooh, this just got exciting!” The Grandmaster could be heard saying “Topaz, pass me more of the snacks, will ya? I get the feeling this’ll be a fight where I’m sure to get my money’s worth!”

The rebels wrapped tight grappling hooks around the Hulk, with the ends of the hooks digging into his seemingly invincible skin and shocking him, working similarly to the obedience disks. Hulk roared in pain, trying to break free but being restrained.

Taking this time, Thor looked back to Loki “Thought you said you weren’t going to help directly” he stated

“I offered to stop these rebels for the Grandmaster. I told you I’d help indirectly” Loki answered his brother

The two then looked over to see the swan from before flying into the scene. It dropped down, and transformed into a person. Vixen, primarily. Thor and Loki looked on in a mix of confusion, shock, and even anger. Thor clenched both his fists and his jaw, Loki putting his hand on his chest to make an attempt to stop him “Brother, don’t. Stop-“

“ You ” Thor hissed

The Vixen put her hand in front of him “Lion, don’t. Just stay out of this. Please. We both wish for the same thing”

Loki furrowed his brows “Didn’t you say that this fight was one you would gladly skip?” He asked mockingly

Vixen was about to answer, but then heard the sound of Hulk groans and grunts. She stepped back a bit, turning back to the two brothers “This is a fight you’re not obliged to get involved in”

“No” Thor responded “But it’s a fight I intend to win” His eyes averted to Hulk, who also met his gaze. The beast clenched his teeth and roared like an animal. He flung his arms around, swinging the rebels like they weighed nothing. Thor ducked down to avoid the oncoming fighters coming straight towards him.

With brute strength, Hulk grabbed at one of the pillars, crushing it with his fists. He roared out in anger, the ceiling crumbling and cracking. Everyone braced themselves as rubble flew above them. Hulk then took the pillar he had practically ripped from the wall and used it to make a giant hole into a wall, causing more debris to fly everywhere.

In the blink of an eye and without him knowing, Hulk grabbed Thor by his ankles and slammed him into the rest of the wall, causing the Asgardian to fall into the hole. Hulk turned over to Loki, his eyes practically flaming with rage.

Putting his finger up, Loki shook he head “Don’t you dare-“

But Hulk didn’t listen. Like in New York all those years ago, he flung Loki by his legs and similar to Thor, threw him into the hole he made. The trickster landed next to his brother, wincing at the biting pain in his back “I hate it when he does that...” Thor groaned.

A predatory growl came deep from Hulk’s throat as he came down from above. Thor and Loki scrambled away quickly before they were to be squished by a giant green beast. Trying to defend himself, Thor grabbed at his swords and leaped into action. He swung the blades at Hulk, who blocked them with his own weapon, a giant mace.

Their arms shook as they stayed in place, eyes locked and adrenaline rushing “Banner, please!” Thor exclaimed. Hulk roared in his face, spit flying everywhere like an angry dog “Alright, fine! Hulk! Listen! You cannot stay here, these people are hurting you!”

“HULK STAY!!!” The beast bellowed, head butting Thor into a wall forcefully.

Above them, The Vixen watched anxiously as the battle went on. Beneath her mask, her eyes narrowed as she stared at both brothers interchangeably. She took a good look at their faces, and her breath hitched. Vixen clanged her bracelets together, causing them to release out small spikes.

With a giant leap, The Vixen jumped into action, spinning and hitting the Hulk in the back of his neck. It didn’t damage him, but it distracted him. She looked at Thor, who seemed to be confused, but before he could speak, he saw Hulk charging towards him.

A fire burned in Thor’s chest. He clenched his fists and his eyes narrowed, as Hulk jumped up and raised his mace. Time seemed to slow down when sparks began to fly from the tips of Thor’s fingers, flashing and growing as his anger boiled. Without thought, the sparks transformed into a strong bolt in Thor’s hand, his teeth clenching.

“ENOUGH!! ” He roared, taking the bolt and smashing it into Hulks face, causing him to fall back and his helmet breaking in two. Thor took his own helmet and threw it on the floor. His head felt like it was going to burst, blood rushing, heart pumping.

The stadium had grown quiet in dismay and shock. Above them, the Grandmaster was rendered speechless, his guests holding into their glasses, and covering their mouths, looking at one other with wide eyes. The Vixen stepped back a little, watching as Thor’s eyes glowed with a mixture of white and blue.

His arms sparked with lighting, the sheer power causing the floor to crack around him. Thor stared down Hulk, who was recovering from the blow. With his eyes flaming, the beast could only look on as Thor walked towards him like a predator to his prey.

Thor’s eyes moved to his brother. Loki’s mouth was slightly agape at the sight, but there was no fear in his stance. If anything, it almost seemed like he wanted to approach him to make sure he was ok. Less fright, and more worry. And perhaps, a little fascination.

With that, Thor calmed down a little, his eyes returning to their normal hue and the sparks dying down. In a low voice, Thor carefully advanced towards his friend “Banner...” He said softly “Hulk, please. I’m speaking to both of you. It’s not safe here. My people...they are in danger. My home needs me”

He extended his hand to the green giant “I’ll help you escape, just please don’t fight me. I don’t want to hurt you, I swear. I’m your friend, remember?”

Thor could see Hulk begin to settle as his eyes grew gentle. His hand came up slowly to be inches away from Thor’s. The Asgardian smiled fondly “That’s it. Shhh...” Thor’s hand came down to Hulks palm gently “It’s alright. Calm yourself, my friend, I’m right here”

In Hulks eyes, Thor could see that there was desperation, even a taint of fear. Pleading, even. Hulks breath was labored and heavy as he looked at his friend. The drive to fight was practically absent at this point. Thor knew that Hulk didn’t wish to cause him any harm, no matter how angry he was.

Hulks eyes then moved away from Thor, looking to his side. Thor turned his head and could’ve sworn that he was hallucinating.

“Nice work, big guy. We don't know where Ultron's headed, but you're going very high, very fast. So, I need you to turn this bird around, okay? We can't track you in stealth mode...”

Natasha spoke in a calm voice, which Thor could see Hulk react to in an way he’d never seen before. He put his hand out, almost to touch the piece of hair falling on Nats face and push it aside. Hulks large fingers grazed Nats cheek but to him, it felt empty. Not the same, he thought.

“...So I need you to help me out. Okay? I need you to-“

The projection then stopped. In his eyes, Hulk felt tears build, which Thor saw plain as day. He turned to Loki, whose hands were glowing green with magic until he put them down. Thor leaned towards Hulk and tried putting his hand on his shoulder “Hulk-“

A scream then erupted from the giant as the obedience disk was activated. He writhed in agony, his veins almost exploding out his body. His shrieks were loud enough to have Vixen and Loki covering their ears. Thor gaped in shock, kneeling down trying to comfort his friend “Hulk!” He keened “Bann-“

But his sentence was cut off when his own disk was turned on. Thor was on is knees holding onto his neck, clawing at it to try and remove it, but to no avail. Above him was the Grandmaster, who had a shit eating gin on his face as he looked down at the scene.

“Well, this was disappointing” He said through his teeth, his voice having clear indication of irritation, but he was hiding it with a mask “My best champion thrown into the dust and now, my favorite colleague turns out to be a little snake in the grass”

“En Dwi, please-“ Vixen began

The Grandmasters eyes lit up, and his smile was devilish “Oooh” he dragged on, turning his head to his bodyguard “Did you hear that, Topaz? Vixy here thinks we’re on a first name basis. Well that’s just...quite... idiotic of her, don’t you agree?”

Topaz nodded her head “Indeed...”

“Why don’t we throw her,” The Grandmaster pointed at Thor “and our newest addition into the Maw, huh? Add the green brute in there too. Seems like he’s forgotten who he works for”

He looked down to Loki and smiled “I can’t thank you enough Luke. I swear, those magic fingers of yours work like a charm! Could you be a dear and accompany Topaz to the Maw?”

Loki turned his head to his brother, who looked at him with furrowed brows. He crossed his arms together and summoned chains to wrap around Thors, Vixens, and Hulks wrists. Thor could see a glimmer of mischief in Loki’s eyes, almost like he secretly enjoyed making him look like the fool. And yet, the rest of his face spelled a desperate attempt to say “Don’t abhor him any longer”.

“Why of course, your excellency” Loki said with a bow “I can assure you, these turncoats will be a nuisance no longer”

“Oh wonderful! My word, you’re a real diamond in the rough!”

“I did promise my services would be of good use, did I not? I swear to you, your excellency, you’ll be getting your due reward soon enough”

[whirlybirbs]

✶ ┈ PART TWO !

summary: loki meets the grandmaster and you intervene. the agreement (it’s really not an agreement, okay, more of a cause of circumstance) of parading as a married couple happens and neither of you are very excited about it. pairing: fake!wife reader x loki, set in ragnarok. a/n: hehehe here’s another 1.7k of these two. READ PART ONE HERE.

The third time you meet Loki, he’s strapped to that contraption the Grandmaster uses to intimidate the new fighters.

You’ve had a long week.

You’d woken up in a trash heap, bruised and sore and somehow alive. You’d decided, wholeheartedly, not to think too much about it -- not that you had an option. After stumbling over an entire mountain of inter-galactic trash being deposited by the varying collapsing stars around the planets atmosphere, you were quickly descended upon by a terrifyingly pretty woman with a tight braid and white symbols painted down her cheeks.

She smelt like booze and swaggered like a practiced warrior.

You didn’t trust her.

“You a fighter?” she’d called out, tilting her head.

“Where am I?” you’d asked, narrowing your eyes.

“Sakaar,” she chirped, “Now, are you a fighter? Yes or no?”

The moment that followed was tense -- a bit like a standoff.

“... Depends.”

“Hm.”

She’d caught you in the neck with a tracker then, a smirk on her face the whole way. In one swift move, she’d thumbed open the control device in her hand and sent you convulsing to the ground.

“The Grandmaster likes the pretty, clever ones.”

Her condescending smirk was the last thing you saw before you blacked out.

You woke up in the same chair Loki’s strapped to currently, bleary eyed and confused -- that man, The Grandmaster as he called himself, had decided rather quickly that he liked you. Perhaps it was your sudden decision to praise him and his choice of make-up.

(That was a great way to make friends in the bathrooms of bars -- surely compliments are universal.)

“Who are you, then?” he asks with a slow smile.

“I’m a Doctor,” you say slowly, “I study astrophysics.”

The smile drops immediately.

“Boring.”

He’s about to wave his hands, then, send you off to some horrible fate, you’re sure.

“A-And I tell stories!”

(That wasn’t really a lie -- you had a minor in classics. If you recited the plot to Hamlet to any of the colorful people in this penthouse suite, you’re sure none of them would realize it. Perhaps being entertainment would be worth keeping you around until you figured out how the fuck to get back home.)

“Stories, huh?”

So, here you are now, swathed in Sakaarian socialites, faux-smiles plastered to your face as you giggle into your neon colored drink. Your gown is something deemed fashionable for this planet, all colorblocked and tight with high slits and low dips. Along your cheeks is the same stark white branding as the brazenly mean warrior-lady you’d first met on Trash Mountain. You realize, half-way through the application by one of the Grandmaster’s maids, that it’s a mark of ownership. It’s rather disgusting, the whole fact you’re someone’s property now -- but, you suppose that it’s keeping you alive and in this current state? 

You really can’t complain.

Until you see Loki.

You choke on your drink.

You stand swiftly, leaving your martini and the gaggle of others behind as you move quickly upon the center of the room. The Grandmaster reels for a moment at the obstruction amidst his usual induction -- and your jaw drops.

“You.”

Quickly, the look of surprise morphs into one of anger and Loki’s eyes widen. You feel like you’re suddenly had all the words you’d thought about screaming in his face these last seven days pulled from your brain and all you can do is snarl and shriek:

“... You!”

Your finger jabs his chest, prodding at the green and gold armor there with such ferocity it’s no wonder you’re not stabbing him. For the first time, Loki gets a good look at you -- it’s clear you’ve somehow managed to worm your way into this “Grandmaster”’s circle; it’s commendable. For a Midgardian.

The Silvertongue, with every passing moment, is beginning to see his opportunity to do the same slip away.

“What? What’s the matter?” the Grandmaster coos, circling Loki to place his arms around your frame. You stiffen. Loki watches you swallow your anger. If he wasn’t strapped to a chair, maybe he’d find your discomfort amusing. However, Loki can’t help but avert his gaze.

Your anger is well deserved, really. He did throw you out of the Bifrost.

“... Oh, I see what’s going on here.”

Both you and Loki blink at the Grandmaster.

“... I’m sorry?”

“Star-crossed lovers.”

Your face twists into disgust as Loki blinks between the two of you -- confusion splits his features into an attempt of a charismatic laugh.

“Good sir, I believe you’re mistaken --”

“No,” he raises a finger, “I’ve seen this before. And you told me of your crash landing, my pretty little pet -- you said you lost your friends on the way. Lost a love… Raven haired and pale...”

You’d been entertaining the party with a poorly remember retelling of Romeo and Juliet to the Grandmaster’s court, but okay. It’s pretty clear the Grandmaster is making his over revisions as well.

Loki’s brow quirks.

There’s a moment pause. Then, the Grandmaster stops his blinking between the both of you and claps his hands. “But, if not -- I’ll have him executed. Your reaction was warrant enough. Can’t have my best storyteller off her game, can I?”

The maniac’s ability to bounce between party and murder is astounding.

Loki’s eyes are wide. His look is pleading.

You, in that moment, are put in the biggest moral dilemma of your life.

You can, of course, turn the other cheek -- but that means cozying up to the global terrorist who unceremoniously threw you out of the Bifrost to try and save himself from his own sister. On the other hand, you’d be letting Thor’s brother die all while losing your potential way off this planet. But, there’s no guarantee the trickster will help you. However, if there’s anything you remember from that one mythology class in college, it’s that gods tend to honor their debts.

Saving his life is a debt owed, right?

(And honestly? Letting Thor down and never seeing your parents again sounds pretty horrible.)

“It’s just… I thought you were dead.”

Loki, in that moment, is nearly impressed by your acting.

“I was worried sick,” you continue, clearly gritting out the last bit, “I… I was sure I lost you.”

“Fear not,” Loki’s mood swings then into one of pure amusement, smirk brandishing his features, “I apologize for scaring you, my sweet.”

“You know,” the Grandmaster’s face is twisted into a grin, “I have this six sense -- I can just… smell love in the air, or something. I knew it, I mean… Look at you two. God, it’s… adorable. Really. So, what is this, huh? Just a… a fling? Or --”

“We’re married.”

Where the fuck did that come from?

Loki’s got the same look on his face.

“She’s the crowned Princess of Asgard,” Loki says then, slowly. His eyes are glued on the way you shrink away from the Grandmaster’s gaze, “My wife.”

“Ass-gard, huh? Wow.”

He hums.

Loki is suddenly realizing there’s a reason to why you’re doing this. You’d made it apparent in the Sanctum that you weren’t intimidated by the likes of him. Somehow, though, this Grandmaster figure has earned your evident anxieties.

(Maybe it was because you’d watched him roast a guy who made a poorly timed joke about the color blue on your second day here. The smell was awful. But, it’s not like you can tell Loki that -- you just have to hope that somehow this little improv plan works and you and Loki can somehow get the hell off this floating landfill.)

“And… what’s his gig, huh, my pretty?” he’s addressing you now, lips upturned in an expectant smile, “Besides… well.. good bone structure.”

“He’s a Silvertongue, Grandmaster,” you explain slowly, hands clasped in front of you, “In more ways than one.”

Loki suddenly feels a bit like a piece of meat.

You relish in his discomfort as the Grandmaster bursts into an excited bought of laughter.

“Oh, see! This is why I love you! You’re so clever,” he chirps, waving his hands, “Your wife, Mr. Low-key, is lovely.”

“Isn’t she?” he grits.

The Grandmaster is unphased. “Quite! Now, this is good, this is very good -- I mean, it’s evident your… sexual tension is there. I can’t see why you two would lie to me, y’know? That would just be… uh… a bad idea.”

Behind him, Topaz clacks the Grandmaster’s staff on the red and white floor. You swallow thickly.

“I could never lie about my love for him, Grandmaster,” you supply, a delicate hand moving to touch Loki’s cheek. His skin is cold, “It’s simply not in my nature.”

“Nor I,” Loki says sweetly, “We make a better pair than separate, good sir, I promise you that.”

The man claps with glee.

“I love this, two lost loves reunited,” he nearly cries, “Topaz, get these two their own room, will you?”

It works.

Somehow it works.

The penthouse apartment they set you and Loki up in is big -- it’s better than the slave quarters you’ve been sleeping in for the last week. The far wall is ceiling to floor windows. Outside, Sakaar flies by; it’s the first time you’re actually getting a good look at the planetside. It’s bustling and the sun is setting between two twin moons, bathing the capital city in pinks and oranges.

“You are idiotic, bug, to propose this little plan -- had you wanted to sleep with me, you only needed to say so; lest I would.”

You recoil in a snarl. Loki is staring at the room in disdain.

“I just saved your life.”

“That colorful maniac had neither the strength nor gall --”

“Oh?” you chirp, hands flying to your hips, “Really? Sorry -- when did you get here? Ten minutes ago? Yeah, nice, cool, I’ve been here for a week and I’ve seen him toast like, five people for fun. The smell is awful.”

Loki’s mouth snaps shut.

Who in the Nine Realms are you?

“Besides,” you snarl, “I’m not doing this for you -- I’m doing this to get home.”

“And who, pray tell, said I would help you, bug?”

You, then, engage in this game of chess again -- your movements are slow and calculated and predatory and Loki has to admire your ability to dish it out. Your fingers jabs his chest once, then again.

“I did,” you seethe, “When I made sure you didn’t get easy-bake-oven’d, asshole. You owe me.”

He opens his mouth, keen on biting into your argument, when there’s a knock at the door.

“Dinner is being served, Lord and Lady Loki!”

You both save it for another time and exit the apartment holding hands.

The third time you meet Loki, you’re married.

[elenatria]

Maybe Chris is still salty over Hiddleswift. May be, over jealousy, she insulted Chris or the other way around (Chris was jealous, accidentally insulted her & she bit back)

http://archiveofourown.org/works/13839114/chapters/31942422

Chris was finding it hard to forget aboutTom’s unanswered phone call even when he was lazily brushing his fingersthrough Taika’s curls as he had him sleeping on his naked chest. He and Tomhadn’t really seen each other outside of the set for almost a month now, sincehe had invited them all at his place in Byron Bay, a two-hour drive fromBrisbane. He remembered how hot that day was, how he had regretted deciding tothrow a party the very minute he announced it to everyone the day before. Allthe details from that day came back to him as he traced Taika’s spine with thetips of his fingers: Tom’s glasses, the gazebo, the nail polish, the heat.

That unbearable July heat.

The cool glass of scotch on therocks against his hot forehead seemed to have the soothing effect he had beencraving for since he woke up that Saturday, sweaty and still tired from yesterday’sexhausting filming schedule. He had spent the whole day preparing the house forfifty guests, most of them cast and crew, getting the buffet filled with drinksand all kinds of Australian dishes like barbecued shrimps, potato cakes,scallops and meat pies. It had been some time since he had hosted a party alonebut he thought it would be a piece of cake, all he had to do was call TheLarder to tend to the catering. Truth is, he was much more needed in the house thanhe had expected and he realized that on a hot July day like this he’d rather beat the beach waxing his surfboard than hopelessly sweating in his white shirtand trousers, trying to make small talk with the partners and spouses of hiscolleagues, people he had never met before and would probably never see again.

Unfortunately there were too many ofthem and he felt he was wasting his time talking here and there; there was onlyone person in that crowd he’d rather be spending time with, someone who wasbusy chatting and laughing with Victoria who had just arrived from L.A. tovisit the set. Tom had welcomed her with a heartfelt “Vickyyyy!” and theyhadn’t stopped chatting ever since she came out to the garden, both of them gigglingwhile Tom kept calling her “Mrs Alonso” just to tease her for he knew how shedespised such formalities. Despite the distance between them Chris was staringso persistently at Tom that he could almost see the wrinkles in the corners ofhis laughing eyes through his thick glasses. Every little wrinkle, every poreof his skin.

The first time Chris had seen Tomwearing this new pair of glasses was more than a month ago in Philly but he hadtotally forgotten to tell him how good it looked on him, how it framed beautifullyhis big blue eyes. He was tired, jetlagged and with such a horrible headachethat all he wanted was the Q&A to be over so he could run back to his hoteland sleep for a whole day. In retrospect he thought the headache and the jetlagshouldn’t have stopped him from exchanging a few more words with Tom, both onand off stage, but after thinking over and over again of all the imaginaryconversations that could have taken place and being taunted by endless guilttrips, it dawned on him that it wasn’t just his state of mind that preventedhim from being warmer to Tom that day.

He had finally remembered; as he waswatching Tom answering questions on the stage of Wizard World in his quiltedblue jacket and checkered red and blue shirt, his eyes gleaming, his skin fresh,tanned and glowing, cheerful and ready to spill his heart out to the audience, Chrisrealized what, or who, was the cause of that giddiness. It wasn’t just sittingso close to each other, it wasn’t just Tom’s enthusiasm about working with himagain. It was the phone call Tom made minutes before walking up on that stage;he had retreated to a peaceful backstage corner and had dialed the number turninghis back on him. Chris had suspected who Tom was talking to with a low purringvoice and a childlike smile on his face - he had seen the Met gala clip of himdancing with Taylor back in May. The vid itself meant nothing to him at thetime but he did feel a sting of jealousy now seeing Tom’s eyes soften and his voicego mellow over the phone; that moment he knew it was her.

When the phone call ended he decidednot to talk about it – he thought if Tom had a relationship he would tell him.They weren’t together anymore but Chris had hoped they could still keep intouch, share stuff like they did before, be honest and open, like nothing hadchanged.

He was wrong.

Everythinghad changed.

Tom didn’t mention Taylor after hehung up, he didn’t mention her when they went for lunch at the Palm withfriends after the Q&A, he didn’t mention her when they parted ways in theairport.

And on that stage everything seemedfake; Tom calling him “brother from another mother” and slapping his kneecordially when he had just talked to his new “secret” girlfriend, squeezing Chris’large bicep just to please the crowds as if they were still together, askinghim to be his Romeo and gushing about him going to the gym. It was all a joke.A big fat joke.

“When I put the Loki costume on italways feels like it’s going to be fun,” Tom said turning to him, “especiallyworking with this guy.” He smiled expecting a reaction from him.

Chris smirked awkwardly and aww’edalong with the crowd. That was all the reaction he was willing to give him.

Maybe it was cute when they weretogether. Maybe it was funny. Now it felt as if Tom was laughing in his face.

You want smiles from me, Tom?

Fuck off, you’re not getting any smiles. Not today, not ever.

After two weeks he was not all thatsurprised to see the beach shots of Tom and Taylor taken by the paps. Howeverhe was bitter that he had to find out through the Sun of all things, and notTom himself. Reminiscing the day he first cast eyes on that awful tabloid coverhe realized why he never commented on those fabulous new glasses: it had beensome time since Tom cared about getting compliments from him. It had been sometime since Tom cared about anything Chris said or did.

“Not getting any smiles from me,mate” he repeated to himself as he opened his eyes with a sigh and lowered hishand holding the glass of scotch that he had just used as an ice pack on his forehead.He took a sip staring at Tom who had now turned his back on him and was talkingto Mark, barely noticing the young blonde with the cherry-red lips who had cometo stand next to him under the gazebo with a martini glass in her hand.

“He’s perfect, isn’t he?” she saidwith a satisfied nod stirring the olive at the bottom of the glass with acocktail pick. “My agent likes to call him ‘my next mistake’”, she giggled, “butgod, look at the ass on that mistake,makes you want to never be correct again.”

Chris cringed internally and turnedto her trying hard to smile. “Hey Taylor!” His eyes fell to her long fingersthat were still stirring the martini. “Nice nail polish you got there, it… complementsyour eyes. I guess.”

“You think?” Taylor said cheerfullybending her fingers to inspect them. “I love it, they said it’s calledSakaarian Blue.”

“Sakaarian Blue?” Chris raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t know Marvel had released Ragnarokmerchandise already.”

“Ragnarok merchandise? I don’t knowwhat you’re talking about, I found it in a little shop in Brisbane called ‘LeCul du Diable.’”

“Weird name, what does it mean?”

“I don’t know,” Taylor shrugged.“The clerk told me they had just opened up, they’re new here. Tom picked thecolour for me, isn’t it nice?” she said stretching her arm and spreading herfingers. “He has such good taste,” she smirked.

“Huh,” Chris huffed absent-mindedlyand went back to staring at the general direction of Tom and his company, afact that didn’t escape Taylor.

“I hear you two were close,” sheraised her voice nonchalantly trying to get his attention.

“You and the rest of the planet,”Chris mumbled without taking his eyes off Tom.

“Oh I don’t mean the promo tours andthe interviews and all that ‘brother from another mother’ bullshit,” shesniggered squeezing her heart-shaped lips on the straw, taking little sips asshe threw side-glances at him with her doe eyes.

Chris turned to her slowly as shebatted her fake eyelashes and grinned crushing the straw with her perfect whiteteeth. He sighed and folded his arms across his chest, narrowing his eyes as hefelt his cheeks flushing with anger.

“I’m sure there’s a big history…”she continued. “He hasn’t told me details of course, just the general outline.”

“Wow,Taylor, complicated words!” Chris enthused.“Did you learn those from your agent as well or did you have to look them up ina dictionary?”

Taylor broke into a high-pitchedgiggle, shaking, almost spilling her drink on her long golden gown with the redtrimming. Chris then realized for the first time how bucked her perfect teeth lookedand how “perfectly” fake they were, a fact that made them all the more annoying.

When she finally managed to catchher breath she fanned herself showing off her Sakaarian Blue nails one moretime.

“Don’t worry, big guy,” she soothedhim. “Tom is known for oversharing. Inevitably he’d get to you too at somepoint, no biggie. I mean it’s not like he had a whole lot to say,” she saidpatting his chest condescendingly and walked towards the center of the garden,slipping her hand around Tom’s arm and leaning her cheek close to his lips soas to get a kiss.

Chris fought the urge to break hisglass against the gazebo post, instead he splashed his scotch across the grassand motioned towards the pool. As he walked past the deck chairs a long dark-skinnedleg with a moko tattoo rose from the ground, stopping him in his tracks.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Taika said, his pineapplebandana wrapped around his eyes as he lied leisurely in the afternoon sun.

“How did you see me under that? Ithought you were sleeping,” Chris murmured putting his hands in his pockets.

“I can see everything, Chris, I thought you should know,” he said with  feigned arrogance.

“Huh…”

“Don’t ‘huh’ me, bro, sit down,” heurged him patting the deck chair next to him.

Chris sat down with an unwillinggrunt.

“What is the matterrrrrr?” Taikaslurred adjusting the bandana on his eyes and rested his hands on the arms ofthe chair.

“Nothing…” Chris murmured andtangled his fingers as he leaned against his knees.

“She’s an annoying little thing,isn’t she,” Taika continued.

Chris didn’t answer.

The Kiwi director lifted the bandanaenough to reveal one eye, glancing at the guests that were scattered around thepool. “Aren’t they all enjoying themselves?”

“They are…” Chris agreed.

“But you aren’t.”

“Well, to be honest with you, I’drather have spent today surfing.”

“Never too late!” Taika sang.

“Naaah it is, there’s no wind.”

“It’s ok,” Taika said rubbing hisback, “you’ll go tomorrow. Wow Chris, you’re tense,” he added as he sat upabruptly and kneaded the broad shoulder with his fingers.

“I’m tired…” Chris lamented.

“Here. Let me,” Taika said standingup behind him massaging his shoulders.

Chris let out a deep breath as hewatched Taylor whispering in Tom’s ear on the other side of the pool; she thenput her arms around her two friends, a blonde and a brunette in skimpy lamé dresses around her age, and shook her hipsplayfully from side to side. Tom laughed and lowered his eyes, blushing.

“That girl belongs in theGrandmaster’s orgy ship, don’t you reckon?” Taika said dryly.

Chris chuckled and lowered his headallowing Taika to work on the full length of his trapezius. His touch was quiterelieving even above the sweaty white shirt. “I guess,” he muttered.

“Talking of the orgy ship I’ve hadsome ideas lately, can you imagine if you pushed a button that sets offfireworks? And another button that starts a tape singing ‘It’s my birthday’?It’s a leisure vessel after all, it could turn into an enormous disco ball orsomething.”

Chris laughed.

“See? I made you laugh,” Taikagrinned proudly as he rubbed the back of Chris’ neck with his thumb. “Andtalking about birthdays, mine is in a month, make sure not to miss it.”

“When is that?”

“August 16th.”

“I’ll bake you a cake then,” Chrisjoked.

“You do that.”

Chris closed his eyes as he felt thetension leaking out of his body through Taika’s magic fingers. No man had evermassaged him before. He wondered what it would be like if there was no onearound that moment, if they were alone, if Taika was as good at giving massagesas he claimed, if-

“And oh, Chris, it was about timeyou tried my massaging skills,” Taika said as if reading his mind. “I mean afull session.”

“Why?”

Taika gaped in astonishment. “Becauseeveryone else has! Besides your birthday is in a month as well, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, August 11th.”

“Far,” Taika said excitedly.“Consider the massage as your birthday present then.”

Chris smiled and yawned as he contemplated Taika’selaborate and long-term plan to get under his skin - and into his pants -  while he listened to the steady rhythm of hislover’s breathing; Taika was fast asleep now and probably dreaming, Christhought, and when he wasn’t looking at you with his judgmental laser eyes helooked like a perfect angel; a sleeping brown-skinned angel. He was starting tofeel drowsy as well since they had managed to exhaust each other with theirinsatiable curiosity that day in the trailer. As darkness began to fall Chris forgotall about Tom’s phone call and fell asleep with Taika in his arms.

He never got to hear his phonebuzzing once, twice, then going silent again. He was already dreaming of vastlandscapes of garbage, golden gowns and blue nail polish.

[lucianalight]

This has probably got to be my pettiest gripe against T:R... But I can't stand the outfits in it. GM, Thor (though I HATE THE TEAL SHOULDER THING), and Hulk were kinda okay... But Valkyrie and Loki looked like hot garbage. Especially Loki. As an old friend of mine put it: "Loki looks like he's wearing an ikea bag!" Seriously, the concept art for the costumes looked SO MUCH BETTER.

“Loki looks like he’s wearing an ikea bag!” 😂😂😂 Sry I had to do it because your friend’s right and it made me laugh so hard.

But honestly the costumes didn’t bother me that much except Loki’s Sakaarian outfit. The first time I saw it in the promotional pictures I was like what the hell!? Why is Loki wearing blue!?!? His color is green!!! The outfit looks better in green and black, Loki’s colors, in the final battle but the blue one was a big no for me from the start. When I saw the concept arts, then the costumes and TR’s theme really bothered me. As someone who LOVES gothic art, there’s no way I see all those gorgeous dark and gothic concept arts and be satisfied with what we got in TR. I mean look at this magnificent art of Fenrir and Thor:

The dark and mysterious Hela:

Valkyrie looks more badass with this costume:

Loki’s viking vibes in this concept art:

This costume is far better than his Asgardian outfit in the movie:

And this Sakaarian outfit is far better than the one in the movie:

Still it’s blue and I don’t like it. The costume that I like is this one:

It looks more Asgardian and it’s in Loki’s colors. The only choices I was happy with were Loki’s black suit and his helmet. Loki’s outfit in final battle with Hela is a bit similar to his AoA costume. But what is generally missing in TR’s costumes and make them lacking in comparison with other movies, is the Asgardian vibe. The elements in the outfits that made them elegant, unique and Asgardian. The outfits of TR could be from any place/planet. There is no identity to them, while in other movies Asgardian’s outfit just screams that it belongs to Asgard. Valkyrie’s costume in the final battle have a bit of that Asgardian element but it still doesn’t have the same beauty and impression of Lady Sif’s armor. I think Asgardian customs suffered from the same thing that affected Thor franchise. The director’s dislike of Asgard and Thor franchise and whatever about them that we fell in love with and his attempt to respectfully disrespect them.

[the-sun-shining-on-thorki]

The arranged marriage trope (Grandthorki) (Chapter 2 is up!!)

Warning: Grandthorki, Frostmaster(?), dub-con

This is what I imagine would happen had Grandmaster visited Asgard in Thor and Loki’s youth.

The ruler of Sakaar paid an unexpected visit to Asgard.

Chapter 1

The first time Thor saw the ruler of Sakaar was after a hunt with the Warriors Three.

Frigga’s loyal handmaidens ushered Thor into the royal hall, with the prince still muddy after a successful hunt. And there he was, slumping casually on a chaise longue while Odin sat on the opposite side with Frigga. Loki was standing behind their father, meticulously dressed. He frowned at Thor’s late entry and, with a soft gesture with his palm, signalled Thor to greet the stranger.

“Ah, Grandmaster, may I introduce to you my eldest, Thor. You must pardon him for his state, he was not notified of your arrival when he left for a hunt this morning.” Odin stated, and Thor could hear the subtle accusation his father had for the guest’s unannounced and, clearly, untimely arrival.

“Have no fear, Odin, I love surprises, especially the exotic kind.” The bizarrely-dressed man did not even spare Thor a glance, not did he take note of Odin’s displeasure. His eyes laid focused on his brother, who was fidgeting with his hands at the attention. Thor swore he saw the guest wink at his brother.

The next morning, Odin announced during breakfast that Loki, with less royal duties, would show their guest around Asgard.

———

Having a guest was not exactly a strange experience for Thor, especially when he, as a prince, was constantly tasked with touring various royal guests and diplomats around. However, the arrival of Grandmaster had proven to be more upsetting than any previous visits.

The ruler of Sakaar did not praise Asgard’s golden architecture, nor did he show any interest in the lavish feasts his mother had spent hours preparing for every night. He studied every part Asgard had to offer like a man studying the grass underneath his feet.

That was, except Loki.

Thor never found the library interesting, despite how much his brother insisted the opposite, but their guest spent hours there with his brother. Instead of asking to be toured, Grandmaster seemed to find great pleasure in sitting next to Loki, listening to his brother as he dug through volumes of books for new discovery. As a young sorcerer, Loki often shared with Thor the newest potions he had discovered and tested. Such sharings often fell on deaf ears, a trait Thor was guilty of because he had no interest in sorcery.

Seeing Loki’s slightly flushed face at Grandmaster’s attention, Thor could not help but felt his negligence might have paid a part in encouraging Loki’s increased reliance on their guest.

So much that Loki seemed to have lost the awareness of Thor’s presence whenever he was with their guest.

One late afternoon, Thor quietly entered the library, only to find the ruler of Sakaar whispering to his brother. The elder allowed his finger to softly trace down Loki’s. Thor nearly shouted when, with a gasp, Loki’s reflex sent a burst of strong magic from his palm.

With suppressed glee, Thor thought that their guest was finally meeting his demise after overstaying his welcome.  

One can imagine his shock when Grandmaster, with a flick of a wrist, dissolved the potentially fatal blow. He seemed to have absorbed the potent energy into his body, without changing his posture.

Grandmaster did not seem offended. Instead, he gently held up Loki’s hand and, with soothing words, calmed the prince.

It wasn’t long before his brother’s face, which was pale with shock, turned rosy pink when their guest landed a kiss on his hand.

———

Thor felt his world spiralling out of control when his father informed him one morning that the ruler of Sakaar had proposed a marriage alliance between both states.

Chapter 2 

“Oh Loki, you could have chosen anyone you want, why him?” Thor asked, who could feel an impending headache making its way to his temple. He had pulled a reluctant Loki from the hall into their private study, where he could talk to his brother for the first time in weeks. 

Loki refused to look at him, instead, focused on his shoes,

“Haven’t you heard what they say? Sakaar is the place where all the unloved things end up in, and our people find me most fitting.”

Thor slammed his mug of ale down onto the table, sending its content splashing on the surface. Loki flinched but said nothing,

“I will not hear such nonsense. You are a prince of Asgard, and always will be. If this is your way of getting back for some imagined slights, you are a bigger fool than I thought.“

Upon seeing pain flashing in his brother’s eyes, Thor softened his gaze and gently laid his hand on Loki’s shoulder,

“The Grandmaster is way older than both of us combined, and a stranger too. I know he has shown you affection, but I am sure you will receive them from another more worthy of your love. As your brother, your happiness is most important to me. I...I don’t want him to hurt you.”

Loki seemed touched for a moment by Thor’s words, but his determination soon returned and his face hardened once again,

“If my happiness is your greatest concern, then you shall be happy about my marriage...with En.”

Loki quickly removed himself from their shared study, leaving Thor to ponder in his sorrow.

Frigga was doing what any mother would do when her son was about to go on a journey, making sure he was well-equipped. She instructed a wardrobe of clothing to be made for Loki, trying to incorporate as much Asgardian style into the Sakaarian clothes. She remained courteous to the Grandmaster, or at least on the surface. It was only when Thor and his mother were alone that she revealed suppressed anger and fear for her youngest,

“I have heard, from court gossips and letters with Vanaheim, that the Grandmaster is rather permissive with a lot of things we look down upon. I tried to let Loki know about this, but he remains convinced that it is only a rumour, and that he has the power to, how should I put it...to change him for the better.”

Thor had already run out of words to say, preferring to remain silent as a way to show his displeasure at Loki’s naivety. With all his intelligence, Loki ought to know better than to put all his trust in his future spouse.

However, looking at the chests of clothing, potions and books ready to be locked and brought all the way to Sakaar, what could they say?

—————

On the day of the wedding, Thor was tasked to help his brother as he prepared. Loki did not slick back his hair, but instead wore his hair in soft, short curls, “the way En likes it”. He looked polished, serene, beautiful. Dressed in the finest blue silk decorated with Asgardian armour pieces, he stood in front of the mirror, appearing taller than ever with his radiant smile.

Before departing for the hall, Thor felt an impulse rushing through him and there, he grabbed his brother’s hand.

Shocked, Loki turned to look at him.

“Whatever Father says, you are always a part of Asgard. If anything happens in Sakaar, I will always welcome you back with open arms,” Thor uttered, feeling his own words had offered him closure after weeks of sorrow and false hope.

A flash of vulnerability appeared and disappeared in Loki’s eyes, and he smiled softly before saying,

“Well then, give me a hug, Brother.”

Thor gave him one of the tightest ones he had ever given.

————

The wedding was smooth, a bit too rushed for Thor. Despite his love for the dramatic, the Grandmaster seemed to have little patience for the rituals a couple must go through to finalise their union before all. He allowed his hand to be tied to Loki and gave his vow hastily as he winked at his new husband.

Odin soon brought his sceptre to the ground and announced his son wedded to the ruler of Sakaar.

————

Thor could not stop observing his brother during the wedding feast as he was seated with his new husband.

After landing a light kiss on Loki’s hand, the Grandmaster poured another pint of ale into his consort’s cup. It was the fourth time when the ruler had taken the initiative to refill Loki’s drink.

Loki was clearly overwhelmed with joy when it was technically the first feast held in his honour. Thor had his when he reached adulthood and was named the crown prince, but his brother had never had any. Mother said when Loki was born, they never got to celebrate because he was born frail and feared loud noises. The Grandmaster seemed to find the occasion amusing, preferring to whisper in his new husband’s ear that ended up bringing a soft blush to Loki’s face.

Another hour passed before the ruler of Sakaar suddenly stood up, alarming the guests of the hall. He gently pulled Loki to his feet, despite the latter being slightly wobbly after so many drinks,

“Asgardians, we thank you for attending our wedding feast. It has been a lovely day, especially when I finally can call Odin’s youngest my consort. But we are approaching the morning, and as you can see, Prince Loki and I have duties to perform...”

As the hall echoed with laughs and sneers from the guests, the Grandmaster smiled,

“Yes, I think we all know what I need to do tonight. Prince Loki and I shall leave you to enjoy the rest of the evening.”

Thor clenched his teeth and felt Frigga grabbing his hand under the table when Loki was dragged away from the hall with drunken steps.

————

Thor had always been sensitive to sound, especially when he had a brother who liked sneaking up on people.

That was what woke up him during the early morning after a night of feasting. He had left his table soon after Loki’s departure with his husband, preferring to sulk in his room.

He heard sounds of heavy breathing and stumbling.

Rubbing his eyes, Thor sat up on his bed only to find his brother in his balcony, trying to throw up.

“Loki, what is it?” He whispered, quickly crawling out of bed to walk to his brother.

Loki was dressed in a short, thin shift that did little to conceal his body under the moonlight. With his hair messy and his face sweaty, he appeared unaware of Thor’s calling as he made another poor attempt to throw up. He ended up with nothing.

Thor brushed back Loki’s curls to check his eyes, only to find them unfocused as his brother mumbled,

“I need...I need some air.”

The red bite marks on his brother’s neck and collarbones did not escape Thor’s attention.

“Loki, where is your husband?” Thor asked frantically as he struggled to catch Loki’s attention, or at least find traces of his brother in the stranger before him.

“En...he told me to go back once I got rid of the vomiting. I need to go back...” Loki slurred, which quickly turned into moans of pain when Thor’s hand landed on his waist to support him.

“It hurts...” he cried, and Thor swore he saw something trailing down Loki’s legs that glistened in the moonlight.

[beccarooni]

Ice Planet - Chapter 2

(The full version of chapter 2 of ice planet! Sorry for the wait, trying to sort out uni life is tough but I hope you enjoy this full version. I’ll try to update a little more regularly now x) Somehow, they’d gotten onto the topic of stories.

It had come up somewhere between the end of Heimdall’s call and them settling in for the night, while the two had been raiding the ships cupboards for blankets and supplies to make their first night just a tad less dire. Thor had to hand it to them, they made a pretty good pair of vultures. Within a few hours of searching Thor had found some kind of Sakaarian tea, and with some experimenting that would make Bruce proud (or, more likely horrified, given that the experiment was “drink it and see what happens, blondie”) it had proven to be quite enjoyable. With their hands warmed by mugs, and their bodies pillowed by the copious amounts of blankets Hulk had dumped on the floor, they’d settled in for a night of rest. 

“Blondie know any stories?” 

Hulk’s voice dragged him forcefully out of the nap he’d been rapidly approaching, and he sat up with a small frown. 

“Why do you want to know?” He rubbed at a particularly tender spot on the back of his head, looking over to where Hulk’s eyes watched him from beneath a veritable mountain of blankets. 

The mound moved as Hulk shrugged his shoulders, burrowing slightly deeper out of sight. 

“Like stories before sleep. Angry girl told good ones before fights. Helps, sometimes.” 

“You…” Thor paused, quickly lifting his mug up to his face to hide the grin that was rapidly approaching. “You - the Hulk, Champion of Sakaar - would like me, Thor Odinson, King of Asgard, to read you a bedtime story?” 

“Yes.”

Thor pressed the cup firmer against his face, trying ever so valiantly to hide the onslaught of giggles that were rapidly trying to claw their way up his throat. 

“Why Thor laughing?” Hulk’s fist exploded from the blankets, swiping in Thor’s general direction. “Stop it!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m not making fun of you, I promise.” Thor set his cup back down on the floor, wiping at the corner of his good eye as the last few chuckles escaped him in breathy gasps. 

“I just think it’s sweet, that’s all. You’re actually a big softie.”

“Hulk not soft! Thor soft!” 

“You are! You’re really just a big huggable green gentleman, aren’t you?” 

“Not talking to you anymore. Hulk go to sleep now.” Hulk huffed, twisting himself onto his side in a dramatic flourish of blankets and green, letting out a few exaggerated snores to let Thor know that he really wasn’t listening, and had definitely gone to sleep. 

“Oh, come on. I didn’t mean anything bad by it.” 

Nothing. Radio silence stared back at him, and okay, maybe Thor was feeling slightly guilty now. 

“I could tell you about Asgard?” Thor offered to the sullen pile of blankets that had moved themselves a considerable distance away - yet not so far that Hulk couldn’t hit him if he needed to. 

Hulk didn’t reply, but there was a slight twitch to his shoulders, a raising of the thick brows that clued Thor in to know his friend was listening. And wanted to know more. 

“You would’ve loved Asgard.” Thor sighed wistfully, staring up at the ceiling, as if a hard enough gaze could transform it into another world entirely. 

“I had these friends there, called the Warriors 3. They would’ve loved to meet you. You would’ve liked Volstagg the best - I can tell.” 

“Volstagg?” 

Hulk made an inquisitive noise, prodding Thor in the back with a large finger, as if he could dislodge more of the story that way. 

“Yes, Volstagg. Lets see, uh, well he was tall. And large. And he had this fantastic red beard, long - very long, all adorned with metal trinkets and the like.” 

Thor resigned himself to the role of the story teller, propping himself up onto his fist as he thought. Thought about that loud laughter, raucous and obnoxious but somehow so infectious that had hung over every feast on Asgard he’d ever had. About the red faces of him and his friends, staggering home late at night, the sound of drunkenly sung ballads filling the night air - at least until someone from the houses above had opened their windows to tell them kindly but firmly to shut it. 

He realised he’d been thinking a bit too long when Hulk’s finger poked into his back again, and he smiled his apologies, turning over to continue. 

“Volstagg liked to laugh. And to eat and cook hearty meals. And to fight, like the rest of us. Anything, really. As long as he was alongside his friends.” Thor reached out his hand, returning Hulk’s gesture with a light nudge to his shoulder. 

“You would’ve been thick as thieves.” 

Hulk seemed happy with that, at least. Leaf- coloured features twisted themselves into a face of pure concentration, as he evidently tried to imagine the scene for himself. To conjure up memories that he didn’t have. 

Thor wondered how many times Hulk had had to do that. Fill in the blanks of a life he shared, but didn’t lead. Trust people and places and things, not because he’d experienced them for himself, but for the simple fact that Bruce had chosen to do so before him. Bruce had made the call on their friendship, after all. The only one that had been Hulk’s first was Valkyrie. 

It was a privilege, Thor decided. A luxury, to be shared and treasured by both Bruce and Hulk. To be trusted by two people who had been given so many reasons not to trust. 

“Hulk not see Volstagg on ship.” 

Hulk’s low tones disrupted him this time, the grumble tinted with slight confusion - and caution. A question to be asked that Hulk perhaps thought he knew the answer to already, but didn’t want to say. Didn’t want to assume. 

“Thor’s friends in space?” 

“No, no. Volstagg’s…”

Dead, said the voice inside his head. 

The unfamiliar one, that wasn’t Heimdall or Loki or Odin or Frigga, but him. More akin to his own twisted words that were forced out of his mouth in the Waters of Sight, when the Norns had used him as their puppet. The voice of the universe, echoing through his conscience, that spoke of his failures. A constant, like gravity, pounding against his skull in the hours of night telling him again and again that he was wrong.

Dead, he’s dead, they’re all dead and they’re not coming back. 

“Volstagg passed on, I’m afraid. As did Fandral and Hogun.” He finally decided on vague condolences, tailoring the words carefully. If he threw up a barricade of eloquence, he was okay. Politeness and civility could mask the gaping hole inside his heart, for now. Just to answer Hulk’s questions. 

“Sif is probably still out there though, somewhere. I’m sure we’ll see her again.”

A quiet settled between the two, broken by the creaking of metal and the howling blizzard outside. His fingers clenched around the metal bars below him, tight enough to hurt. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid. He cursed himself quietly, forcing his gaze to the dark corners of the ship. Hulk had asked for a story, something quiet and calm, something to take his mind off of the isolation and panic. He hadn’t asked for an obituary, a counting call for all of Thor’s dead. He hadn’t wanted that. But of course, Thor had given it to him. Because he was selfish and cruel and stupid-

Hulk’s breath was hot against his ear as the giant turned over, nose just grazing the skin of Thor’s neck in a way that made his heart jump. 

“Hulk sorry.” A green hand was placed against his back - warmth, spreading over him like a heavy blanket. 

His heart definitely jumped then. 

“It’s…it’s fine.” Thor reached behind him, patting at Hulk’s chest. “It’s not as if I’ve lost everyone. I’ve still got you, for starters. And Heimdall, Loki, and we both met Valkyrie. Plus all of the avengers back at home, waiting for us. I’ve still got people.” 

“Still hurts, though.”

Thor swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling rather tight. But Hulk’s hand was warm, and his words were soft, and it was all filling Thor with a sudden urge to speak honestly. Truthfully. 

“Yeah.” He nodded, releasing his hold against the floor, flexing his cramped fingers against the cool evening air. 

“Still hurts.”

The silence that settled then was heavy and unpleasant, tainted by the sorrow that seems to be spreading from Thor’s memories, steeped in blood and fire. But it wasn’t awkward. It never really was, not with Hulk. After all, they were both like fire - loud, expressive, and confident enough in themselves to be able to face tragedy with chins held high. 

At least, that was what Thor was supposed to be. That’s what the people, Asgardian and midgardian alike, had told him he was. He wasn’t allowed to be awkward, or quiet, or shy. That was never his role to play. 

It was his job to fill the silence, no matter how much he wanted to fade into it. 

“Well, now it’s your turn. What stories does the champion of Sakaar have in that big brain of yours?” Thor leant on his elbows, dragging himself up and away from any possibility of falling asleep. 

Hulk grumbled, pulling one of the blankets up closer to his chin. 

“No stories.“ 

"Oh, come on. Not even one?" 

"Blondie was there! Saw Sakaar, saw fight. Lost fight.” Large hands fidgeted with the edge of the blanket, hot puffs of breath coming to life in the air, white against the dark blue shadows. 

“What about before me? You were there for two years, you must have something else.” Thor tapped the edge of his chin, wracking his own brain for a possible answer. 

“What about Brunnhilde?”

Hulk’s face brightened considerably at the mention of the Valkyrie. A toothy grin peeked out from the sea of blankets, muscles twitching slightly with the memories of sparring matches and play-fighting that echoed back across the two years. 

A deep rumble resounded in his chest as he got more comfortable, face scrunching up as Hulk meticulously chose the words he wanted to use for this. Because this was important to him. This was angry girl, his first friend that he’d found on his own. He didn’t have Banners extensive vocabulary to back him up on this, so he tried to make up for it in tone. And gesture. 

“Angry girl take Hulk to Sakaar party, after first year. Had to wear weird clothes, and paint.” He screwed up his eyebrows, expression wrinkling with disgust. 

“Looked like grandmaster." 

"Are there pictures of this?”

“Shut up." 

"I’m sure you looked very handsome. Made all the Sakaarian maidens go ‘ooooh’.”

“Blondie.” Hulk let out a warning growl, shooting him a glare from across the room. 

“Sorry, sorry.” Thor settled further into the blankets, setting aside his tea that had somehow gone cold. 

The material wasn’t all that warm, now that he thought about it. It was some strange fabric that felt eerily similar to the grandmasters robes, shiny and silken with not much heat to it. The most heat in the room had come from Hulk’s hand against his back - something he was really starting to miss now. 

Regardless, he didn’t want to upset Hulk too much tonight. Not when he sensed he might need to get a little bit closer if he was going to avoid freezing to death. 

“Go on with the story. I’m listening.” Thor rested his chin against his hand, trying to force some heat into his veins with a faint crackle of lightning, the room lighting up an eerie blue. 

“Hmph.” Hulk snorted contemptuously but his frown gradually began to smoothen out, eyes following the patterns of falling sparks as he tried to pick up where his tale left off. 

“Had drinks with angry girl. Got kiss from weird golden lady." 

"Hold on, hold on.” Thor barricaded a smile behind the back of his hand, scooting a little further to Hulk with eyes that were definitely far from tired, now. 

“You got a kiss?”

Hulk seemed to weigh his words before answering, green eyes following Thor’s every gesture. But when he decided that Thor evidently wasn’t trying to make fun of him, and maybe even sounded a little proud, his own face began to crease in a grin. 

“First kiss. Here.” He reached out, one green finger poking into the soft flesh of Thor’s right cheek, hovering with an almost gentle apprehension over the scarred line that crawled its way up his face, disappearing beneath his patch. 

“There.” Thor echoed, lowering his voice to match an atmosphere that suddenly seemed so much more quiet than it had been. 

Hulk’s hand seemed to linger, just for a moment, heat radiating off of the emerald skin and warming his face that was so, so cold without it. 

He cleared his throat roughly, when the warmth retreated, and the biting cold was left to etch its way back into his skin. 

“Hulk, that’s amazing! Look at you, champion of Sakaar, a melody of fans in your wake, hanging off of your every word. I bet that was fun.”

Hulk shrugged, eyes flickering back out to the stars and snow. 

“Sometimes. But…missed some things. Friends.”

“Ah. Like Tony? Or perhaps Natasha?”

“Mm." 

Hulk paused, and if his chest wasn’t so large Thor would probably have missed the sharp intake of air, the gap of uncertainty between words, the few milliseconds of silence that meant should I say this? 

"And Thor.”

“Oh." 

Thor felt his face begin to warm with something that was decidedly not Asgardian tea. Luckily, he had about 10 blankets to stifle his rapidly approaching blush with. 

Still, what was he supposed to say to that? It was flattering, wasn’t it? And he and Hulk were friends, or at least Thor considered them to be friends. It wasn’t strange to miss a friend when you were stranded on an alien planet. It was just…normal. Normal behaviour. 

"Well, thank you. I missed you too." 

Thor cleared his throat, edging a little closer to the Hulk, until his shoulder brushed against a large and surprisingly (or, not really surprisingly if you actually knew Hulk) soft elbow. 

"We were all really worried about you, y'know. When you left in the Quinjet. Thought we’d scared you off for good and that was that - you were done with us. Done with the team." 

Hulk shook his head, turning until he was laying eye to eye with Thor, looking at him with an expression that was mostly confusion - and a little something that looked a lot like hope. 

"Quinjet accident.” His voice, usually so loud and domineering, was a quiet whisper, barely audible against the howling of wind outside. 

“Wouldn’t leave. Not forever." 

"I’m thankful.” Thor considered leaving it at that. But his hand, treacherous little thing it was, reached out from under the battlement of blankets, brushing gently against Hulk’s cheek. 

“I’m thankful for you coming back with me. Leaving Sakaar, it can’t have been easy. But you did, and you saved me and my people.”

“Wasn’t so hard." 

"What, saving my people? Don’t downplay your talents, my friend. It was a grand feat of-”

“Leaving Sakaar.” A large green hand covered his own, squeezing gently. 

“Wasn’t so hard. Just followed you." 

"Oh." 

Thor blinked, his fingers tightening around what little grip he was able to get on Hulk’s hand. Part of him said this was ridiculous. He was stranded on a planet, and he should’ve been planning a daring escape, or a dramatic exit, or something. But here he was, holding Hulk’s hand, laying shoulder to shoulder with the other strongest avenger. 

Friends didn’t do this. 

But maybe his friend did. Hulk was warm, so warm, warmer than he perhaps should have been. And Thor was cold. Hulk was offering a place of refuge, a shelter from the storm, and Thor was too tired to decline or pretend like he didn’t need this, once in a while. Didn’t need helping, or saving, or anything. 

So when Hulk suggested that they share the blankets, for the purpose of keeping each other warm, Thor had wholeheartedly agreed. And somehow, sheltered beneath one large arm, the stars above peeked out through the storm, and shone a little bit brighter. 

Here, Thor could sleep. 

Here, he could rest.