Love is a dagger.

Willy Wonka x Loki Laufeyson Crossover!

Me and someone from insta had this idea of a crossover between Johnny Depp characters and Marvel Cinematic Universe characters… This is just the beginning.

YES Wonka is Loki. TRUST ME, IT FITS.

In Plain Sight - Part 2

Summary: Whilst you are getting some well earned sleep, Thor and Loki have a conversation about childcare and Loki’s last ‘death’.

A/n: No post last week which I apologise for - had a very hectic week! Hopefully there should be a second post later this week to make up for it! Let me know what you think ❤️

Part 1|Masterlist|Requests

Labour had been exhausting; physically and mentally draining even without considering the hours and hours it had stretched for. When you had finally arrived home afterwards, beautiful baby girl in your arms, you felt as though you needed to sleep for a week. You felt you needed to lounge in bed for a few days, eating ice cream and ignoring your responsibilities. You felt that you deserved a little bit of rest, at the very least. Your daughter, it seemed, disagreed with this assessment.

It was 1am, at least that’s what your brief glance at your over-bright phone told you, and she had woken you up with a high-pitched cry. You had barely been asleep two hours. Still you immediately rolled floppily onto your front, groaned into the pillow, and pushed yourself up.

A cool hand on your shoulder stilled you, your frame jolting with fright. “I’ll go.”

You wanted to accept Loki’s gracious offer and fall happily back into a deep slumber more than almost anything in the world. But it wouldn’t be fair. “It’s my turn,” you grumbled.

Your desperately displeased tone lifted his lips in a wry smirk. “Go back to sleep,” he ordered, lips pressed against your forehead in a sign of affection that you barely noticed - already snoring against the pillow.

———————————————————————

The air held a chill, the kind that often accompanied the deeper hours of the night, but Loki paid it no mind as he moved to the nursery. The door creaked open, the noise barely noticeable below the cries of his unhappy child, and he stepped in quietly. The full moon lit up the room with an almost eerie silvery light, giving the impression that the room itself was engulfed in a shimmering pool of liquid mercury.

The child’s cries continued even as he approached but their volume dimmed dramatically. A breath of relief escaped him at this; you needed sleep, he could see it with every tired blink and breath, but you would never sleep through your child’s sobs. As Loki lifted his daughter her cries morphed from full sobs to disgruntled sniffles. Checking her over quickly, he concluded that she was needy for attention over anything else. A flair for the dramatics that he was somewhat loathe to admit she had certainly inherited from him.

A clang from the hallway sent his sharp gaze to the door but his aggressive protective instinct morphed into a more relieved agitation as his brother’s sheepish face appeared. “Sorry,” Thor told him, a barely contained grin contradicting the word entirely.

Much to Loki’s general displeasure at the idea, Thor had been staying with the pair of you. You had been so excited by the idea of having his family so close by and l had been entirely unable to disappoint you. Loki could admit, now, that his brother had been a surprising help to have around. He was happy to pick up household chores whilst the pair of you settled into parenthood and once even attempted to cook for you. He had only attempted the cooking once as after just that once it became clear that his food was either charcoal black or pink in the middle. “If you insist on breaking our furniture you could at least hide the evidence.”

Thor nodded, a thoughtful expression overtaking him before his head disappeared behind the door. Loki could barely rebuke his brother for breaking their furniture; having been strictly told by you that magic would take all the fun out of building furniture you had encouraged him to build it with you. The entire experience had been awful. How mortals wasted so much of their time on menial tasks, poring over poorly phrased instructions and working out which type of screw you were meant to use and where, was beyond him.

After a brief moment, filled with the delicate clinking of broken glass, Thor reappeared with another grin. “Agreed.”

Taking Loki’s answering silence as invitation to enter the room and continue the conversation further, Thor let the door swing open as he stepped inside. The whining of the hinge caused Loki to wince; surely that wouldn’t be enough to wake you.

The child in his arms now soothed and firmly asleep, Loki placed her lightly back into her crib. “Did you want something?” Loki asked his brother offhandedly.

Thor shrugged, an affectionate smile aimed at the sleeping babe. “I wanted to bring some cheer to young Freyja.” Loki thought little of that statement, except for a quiet kind of appreciation, until his brother added; “when I was young and upset father would sit me atop the tallest tree in Asgard, so tall i used to dream it was Yggdrasil.” A nostalgic smile overtook Thor even as Loki’s own smile was twisting into panic. “The view of our home from the treetops always calmed me; I hoped the trees outside would work just as well for Freyja.”

Making a mental note to make those trees disappear as soon as possible, Loki attempted to dissuade his brother as succinctly as possible. “Don’t do that, Thor.”came his harsh words of denial but he quickly softened them in a way that he knew you would be proud to see. “Thank you for… the consideration.” The grateful words seemed enough to prevent hurt from rising in his brother.

The brothers loitered there together for a while longer, both looking over the child with a warm affection that took the chill from the air.

Thor heaved a breath, something serious suddenly stiffening his shoulders and Loki considered ignoring it. He considered bidding him goodnight with a friendly pat on the arm before slinking back to your bed. But he couldn’t - not anymore. Sighing, tiredness clipping his question more than he would like, Loki asked. “What is it?”

Thor did not respond immediately, he barely reacted to the question, as his gaze passed over the child now sleeping soundly once more. “Why didn’t you tell me you were alive?” His tone was low, hard to hear even in the silence of the night, but the emotion was thick.

Loki’s eyes darted down to his hand gripping the crib, watching his fingers flex upon the wood as he considered his response. Attempting humour, hoping to stem the sudden seriousness with a salve of laughter, he laughed mirthlessly. “I doubted you really believed it.” Thor’s stoic expression did not break. “It’s hardly the first time I’ve played dead, after all.”

Finally, his brother looked at him. Loki almost wished he hadn’t. Thor’s own sadness was twisting quickly into anger, disappointment. Luckily, for the sleeping child, his voice remained a hoarse whisper. “This was different, Loki, you know it.” Thor raised a finger, pointing accusing at Loki’s chest.

He was right, Loki supposed. He ducked his head guiltily. “I know,” he assented. He had been happy to allow his brother believe the worst had befallen him; he had been relieved that the constant dread of the never-ending next battle had disappeared; he had found a peace and fulfilment he had never known when he had met you. He had wanted to bask in it. It wouldn’t have been forever, as Loki often reminded himself, but he couldn’t resist the peace that you brought him.

But maybe this was all he needed to say.

“I wanted…” he began, trailing off as he realised the word was incorrect. Starting again, more confident in his choice of words, he matched his gaze with his brother. “I needed some time. I needed a… a fresh start.”

Thor made no immediate reply, gaze now raised to the moon shining beyond the window. After a heavy sigh, a determined nod, he looked back to Loki. Heavy hand gripping his shoulder just a little too tightly, Thor gave a genuine grin. “I understand, Loki.” The pair moved from the room; Loki relieved as his brother crept away as quietly as he. Before they parted, heading their separate ways down the hallway, Thor gave a last genuine statement. “I’m glad I found you.”

Nodding, a smile he couldn’t suppress pulling at his lips, Loki looked down to the ground. “As am I, brother.”

A Beginning at the End

Summary: Reader lost their Loki at the end. Loki lost his reader at the beginning. Through space and time they find each other.

A/N: I wrote this thinking of reader from A Moment in Time and of Loki from A Broken Branch. (Both tagged below). I thought they both deserved a type of happy ending! Let me know what you think :)

A Moment in Time (1) | A Broken Branch (2)

Masterlist|Requests

Your grief, however crippling, had once been grief shared. Whilst no one shared the exact cause as you, the chaos and despair that had followed the snap left the world with a significant shared sorrow. Everyone had lost something, the emptiness of the world a constant reminder of what had been torn away, but there was something comfortable in that fact. You had known, for those five years, that you were never suffering alone.

There were those out there, still, who were coping with loss the same as you. However, the collective joy that had roared through the world at the Avengers’ success left you lonely in your sadness. Grief had tinged the world for so very long and now, in its understandable relief, it seemed the world had no space for your loss.

Loki was gone. There would be no bringing him back as those others had been returned. You had thought that you had dealt with this reality as well as you could; you had thought you had grown to accept the permanency of your loss. When you watched the world rejoice and reunite, however, you realised that you had been too greatly comforted by the shared loss of those around you. Shared suffering was suffering halved. Now, you were grieving alone.

And you quickly realised how unfair that was. Why did it feel like you were the only one who lost everything; and that no one cared to listen?

You decided, however brashly, that you were going to change it.

The door was large and elegant but you hardly noticed the fine details of carved oak as you slammed your palms against it. Eventually, your aggressive knocking caught someone’s attention.

The door fell inwards as it opened. The motion was so unexpectedly abrupt that you almost fell across the threshold yourself. Looking up as you righted yourself, you quickly let words escape you at the sight of the sorcerer. “Strange, you’re going to help me.”

You didn’t ask, you told him; something you doubted he would appreciate. You were past asking, however.

“Am I?”

Barrelling past him, you entered the cavernous room but didn’t stop to appreciate the somewhat timeless decor. “I lost someone…” the words wavered but you held strong in your resolve, “I need you to bring them back.”

Dissatisfaction twisted his features, apprehension pushing him to lean away from you. “That’s not-“

You didn’t want to hear it. “I don’t care, Strange.” You cut in sharply. “I don’t care about the timeline or the- the laws of the universe or- or… any of that shit!” You were almost hyperventilating as you finished loudly; “Just give me back what I lost.”

A pause hung in the air between you, the passive slamming of the front door barely audible over the pounding of your heart. Truthfully, a part of you was doubtful this plan would work; you had overridden this logic, however, preferring instead to let your passion drive you into hopeless action. Yelling at someone would at least distract the downward spiral of your thoughts. But, his features were carved with an unexpected consideration. A spark of hope replaced the embers of your aggression.

A strange flourish of his hand left an odd tingling spreading through your figure - swiftly dissipating from your fingertips.

He cocked his head in consideration. Whatever magic he had so casually just performed had settled his response more clearly. Eventually, he breezed past you to further delve into the large house. “Follow me,” he called to you.

You followed the sorcerer, steps stumbling with anticipation, into a darkened room. Flames lighted the room with an amber glow, the flickering lights leaving dancing shadows upon the floor. When the silence stretched further than your patience could allow, you rushed out a question. “What is this?”

Slowly, Strange turned back to face you. “You lost someone,” his words were murmured, hands held before him in some strange folded gesture, “and someone is looking for you. Ripping through timelines as they do it.” The agitation in his tone as he spoke the last phrase provided explanation enough as to why he was helping you; somehow, this could solve a problem of his own. You didn’t know, or care at this point, what that problem was. “A simple manoeuvre,” he cut himself off, sweeping his hands over the room leaving a trail of sparks hanging suspended in the air, “can fix all our problems.”

Simple, it seemed, had been an overstatement. You followed his silent direction; keeping as still as your anticipation allowed you be and watched his movements with impatience. Light, sparks, and warmth exploded all around you. Encompassing you entirely and seeming to expand past even the room itself. Peering through the fog of colour and noise you could barely make out the lamp lit walls, the ground beneath you almost falling away and leaving you hanging in the air. Fear threatened to grab you but the sorcerer’s steadfast concentration settled your nerves; surely he knew what he was doing.

Suddenly, his movement stilled. Left hand raised, palm open and facing you, he steadied a heavy gaze upon you. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

The thrumming of your heart felt like answer enough but still, you gave a response. “Yes.”

He nodded once and closed his palm. The colours surrounding you bled together, becoming a blinding white that forced your eyes to close. Your body felt pulled in several directions at once whilst your lungs struggled to fill against the rush of air barrelling past your figure.

The brightness subsided first. When you cracked a single eye open you immediately threw your hands before you. The ground was rushing up to meet you, your instinctive motion to catch yourself was not swift enough to lessen the impact. A groan escaped you as your mind continued to spin despite your body being at rest. You felt drunk except there had been no previous euphoria to salve the ache in your head.

Trying your best to refocus your whirling thoughts on the purpose of this expedition, you craned your neck to look around. This latest room was much the same size as the last had been; the lighting equally dark and shadowed. The finer details of the room escaped your notice entirely, however, when you looked up to the fading rain of colours across from you.

There, in the centre of the fading mist, was Loki. He hadn’t noticed you yet, his attention upon his own predicament, but his gaze quickly diverted to you as you darted to your feet with a yell of his name.

The eyes that met yours softened with relief but the way he said your name wasn’t the same. Normally your name fell from his lips a sigh of contentment. This time your name sounded more like a prayer; a hope. You gave the change No mind as you rushed forward to feel his figure within your arms.

He leaned into your embrace but his features remained cautious and closed off to you. You pulled back to watch his familiar eyes, finding some comfort in the feel of his hands upon your waist, and cupped his face with delicate hands. Something was off. You couldn’t tell exactly what, but concern pulled at you as you watched his eyebrows scrunch together.

“Loki?” The way you spoke his name was question enough; the overwhelming uncertainty that weighed you down impossible to verbalise properly.

His hands still gripped your waist but he leaned away from your affection. Your hands fell from his face at the motion. Unwilling to stop touching him entirely, you dropped your hands to his chest. You felt steadied by the rhythm of his heart upon your palm.

“You are… mine.” He had said that before, years ago now, but back then it had been some aggressive statement of possession that you had not appreciated. Now, it sounded more a question than a statement. Familiar fingertips brushed against the twisted scar that marred your left cheek; a wound you had received many battles ago. “But this isn’t how I left you.”

What did he mean by that? Your confusion pushed you to lean away. “This- this is exactly how you left me.” Your eyes dropped to you hands upon his chest and finally you noted his attire. A white shirt seemed unsuited to him, however well it fit him, and you returned your gaze to him with narrowed eyes. You were beginning to wonder where, or when, exactly this Loki had come from. “When did you leave me?”

Head cocking to the side he shifted into the cocky self-assurance you had seen so much of at the start. “I’d hope it would be a touch more memorable.”

Huffing, having no time or energy for his games in this moment, you spoke sternly. “Answer the question.” You had waited long enough for this reunion, you wanted to enjoy it without this strange daze of confusion.

Taken aback by your aggressive tone, he wet his lips as he looked over your figure in some appraising manner. Seemingly finding what he was looking for in his sweeping gaze over your figure, his piercing eyes settled upon your gaze. “New York,” your heart dropped into your stomach at his answer, his grip tightened upon you in response. “But you’ve lived much more than that, haven’t you?”

Dejected, you nodded. The Loki you had lost was not here, the Loki you had lost was just that; lost. This Loki was clearly some offshoot of yours, you weren’t bothered to know the details, and the potential of a future between you was clearly there considering the way he still held you. But Loki from New York, from 2012, was not what you had been looking for. The man before you was still the person that you loved, but the journey the pair of you had taken from this point had been long. Loki had not trusted you back then, not that you had either, and building your relationship had required patience and care. You had walked that path before but the idea of having to break down his walls piece by piece all over again was too much in this moment.

You pushed away from him, pressing against his chest to increase the space between you, and tried to free yourself. He let you take a single step back from him, his hand catching your wrist as you tried to escape more entirely. The space you had made did not feel enough, but it allowed you breathe in this heavy air. “I saw myself die,” the breath you had just caught escaped you entirely as you looked to him with widened eyes. “You’ve seen it too,” he murmured.

Nodding, you smacked your lips together uselessly as you struggled to find some verbal response. A dry chuckle escaped him and you struggled to discern what he found so funny.

“I lost you at the beginning,” he explained, melancholy infecting the words, “and you lost me at the end.”

Tears prickled in your eyes at his words, the strange truth in them somehow heartbreaking. You diverted the subject, struggling to hold yourself steady in this line of conversation; “you’re different than you were back then.” And then, in response to his questioning raise of brow, you clarified. “In 2012.”

A smile tugged his lips but his eyes held a melancholy sadness that surely reflected your own. “And how was I in 2012?”

A laugh that felt more like a sob burst from you at that question. Wiping your eyes with your sleeve, you spoke through the freely falling tears; “Abrasive,” he laughed alongside you, nodding as you gave another simple adjective. “Defensive.”

“As were you,” he pointed out. His hands gently moved you closer to him, orientating you to stand before him.

There was no reason to disagree. You had been more than cautious of him at first and you were sure he couldn’t argue that there had been no reason for your concern. But you had experienced years with him, you had changed over time in your responses to him, if this Loki really were from 2012 he had changed dramatically and very quickly.

Shaking your head, for no real purpose other than to clear it, you implored him. “Why are you so different?” You had thrown yourself into this reunion without logical thought and now you needed some answers. Some reassurance. “2012 you would never have been this…” you vaguely gestured at his hands upon your waist, “affectionate with me.”

Fingernails nipping just slightly into your waist as he clenched his hands, he smirked. As he spoke he leaned closer, the words almost murmured into your ear. “Oh you have no idea how affectionate I can be.” An eye roll later and you had successfully reduced his ego enough for answers to be found. A strangely heavy sigh left him, warm breath washing over you as he gave a more considered response. “In 2012 I didn’t realise how hard it would be to lose you,” the words were measured, slow and precise. “And then I lost you.” His gaze fixed somewhere in the middle distance as he spilled these words to you like whispered secrets. “I found a thousand different versions of you in a thousand different timelines and not a single one of them made me feel the way you do.”

The intensity of his voice, his words, his eyes was more reassurance than you would ever need. You kissed him. Of course you did.

His hands slipped from your waist to your back, pulling you in with such force you wondered if he were attempting to devour you. You were sure you would let him. Loki groaned into your lips; a delicious desperation for you obvious on his tongue as he swept it over your lips.

You had lost count of the kisses the pair of you had shared; those heated moments beneath the covers where the rest of the world may as well stop existing becoming countless in your memory. For you, this was one of many - the feeling it brought you not lessened by repetition, if anything the feeling grew and grew.

For Loki, this was the first. This was the spark that so quickly ignited a lifetime of trust and adoration. This was the beginning he had so nearly lost.

In Plain Sight

Summary: After Loki’s apparent death at the hands of Thanos, Thor sets out to find him. When he finds you instead, he’s not quite sure how to react. At least, until you share some good news with him.

A/N: This is my first request so thank you so much to the anon who sent it in! I loved writing this and hope you all like it too. Requests are taken here. Let me know what you think!

Masterlist

Part 2

A winding gravel path ducked behind a hanging willow, a creaking gate swung open and closed in the light breeze, and a detached house was hidden behind the swaying branches. The smell of lilies spilled over him in waves, the scent carried on the breeze.

Thor felt his eyebrows pull together at the simple tranquillity of the sight. Fumbling in his pocket, reaching for the scrunched paper he had discarded there, he gripped it between his forefinger and thumb. Squinting at the small scrawled letters, he looked from the words to the cottage before him. The scrawled address matched his location but it seemed so different than what he had been expecting.

Of all the places he would have expected to find his brother, this tranquil little slice of Midgard was not suited to the chaos and mischief that followed him near constantly. What could Loki have been doing here all this time?

The answer would not magically appear from the driveway of this rustic country house, and so he opened the swinging gate more securely and stepped onto the gravel path. He didn’t take time to close the gate, instead letting it clatter noisily into the fence behind. The crunch of his steps upon the gravel provided a bass for the melody the birds were weaving.

His heavy knock seemed to echo through the empty air, overwhelming the sound of swaying branches, but the sound of a yell within the house still caught his attention. “Just a minute!” The steps behind the door were slow, measured, and his impatience only swelled. Everything seemed so strange and he was hoping to hurry towards an answer but your meandered steps forced him to wait.

The creak of a lock turning and the handle glinting as it dipped were the subtle precursors to your face appearing before him. The sight, for a multitude of reasons, certainly wasn’t what he had been expecting. “Hi,” you smiled up at him, the briefest hesitation weaved into your tone before a recognition lit up your features. “Hi!” You gave again, increased enthusiasm as you opened the door more fully.

Floundering, his eyes felt as though they doubled when they caught sight of your pregnant belly. At his overt attention you sent a nervous hand skittering over your bump, “would you like to come in?”

Stepping back, he shook his head quickly, fingers fiddling with the loose buttons of his coat. “Uh-no,” he stammered out, entirely certain he had come to the wrong place, “I seem to have made an error… have a - have a good day.” He told you, half turning away as he sent an awkward wave goodbye at you.

The same hand that had smoothed over your belly shot out to grasp his arm. “Thor, wait.” Stopping short he stumbled out a breath.

Hand up, palm flat in a halting gesture he tried to step away again. “Sorry,” he told you offhandedly, “official Avengers business – I can come back and sign something?” He told you, trying his best to get away but lacking the verbal finesse to extract himself.

Chuckling at his clear rush to escape, you tightened your grip pointedly. He sent an almost concerned glance down to your hand at the tightness of your grip. “You’re in the right place,” you reassured, voice calm as you sensed his rush. “You’re looking for Loki, right?”

He paused in his attempts of getting away.

“He should be back soon,” you told him, loosening your grip when he stopped in his rush to escape, “please come in.”

Nodding after a likely longer than necessary pause, he moved forwards.

The door frame was either tiny or he was much too large to fit comfortably. You moved as far out of the way as you could seemingly manage, still beckoning him through with a sweeping arm, but he still needed to work to squeeze himself through the gap. Looking back over the door frame he wondered why mortals had no sense of grandeur even in something so simple as doorways.

You looked in good humour as you watched him stoop through your doorstep. “Tea?” You asked, to which he immediately crinkled his nose, a sound of derision he had barely known himself capable of catching in his throat. “Or not.” You told him, laughing behind a hand.

The pair of you stood across from each other; you trying not to laugh at the confusion still scrunching his features and him trying to work out what was going on in front of him. Just as he was about to launch into questioning,with a severity of curiosity if not tone, you casually beckoned him further into the house. “C’mon,” you turned your back and stepped down the hallway with your hands supporting your lower back, “kitchen’s this way.”

He followed you obediently, forced to take shuffling steps rather than his usual large strides due to your decreased pace. He didn’t grumble over the meandering pace, acknowledging that you had an entire baby to carry along with you. And the slow wander down the hallway did allow him time to look over the trinkets scattering the hallway.

A large leafed green plant sat in a cracked porcelain pot beside the front door, leaves seeming to lean into the light that bled through the edge of the door. A book case was nestled beneath the oak stairs; the middle two shelves were stacked with books, each spine with a different thickness, whilst the other shelves were littered with small trinkets.

It was remarkably cosy, homely. Not what he had expected at all. None of this was as anticipated.

Per your silent direction, when you arrived in the kitchen he gingerly sat in what looked to be a rickety dining chair. You didn’t sit across from him, instead shifting to the countertop. “Do you want something to eat?”

He went to shake his head no, but immediately changed his mind when a large, chunky sandwich was placed in front of him. The fillings were so numerous that they were spilling out from between the thick slices of bread. You shrugged as you offhandedly explained, eyes turning warmly to your bump as you spoke; “I made it for me but I think she changed her mind.”

At your words his eyes dropped down to your belly where your hands were cradling the obvious bump. “You’re having a girl?” He asked, around a mouthful of food.

“Apparently so,” you told him, dropping carefully into the chair across from him - a sigh of relief escaping you as your back pressed into the back of the chair. “We’ll know for sure in a few days.”

Having now finished his sandwich, barely having tasted it with the haste that he had devoured it, he awkwardly folded his fingers before him before unclasping them to drum against the table. “So…” he began before immediately trailing off. Instead of forcing out stumbling questions, he clumsily gestured to your stomach whilst forming the most inquisitorial expression he could muster.

Palm pressed against the table, you leaned forward a little and answered the silent question. “Y’know, I was hoping she would get to meet her uncle.” Your tone of voice, mixed with the playful look in your eye, told him that you expected him to gain some revelation from these words.

Looking down to the crumbs he had left behind on the ceramic plate as though they held the answer, he gave a suggestion with a furrowed brow. “Have you contacted him?” Following the question, your eyebrows crunched together and you watched him silently for a long moment. Feeling as though he had missed something important, he blabbered another question. “I could help you find him? There is no place on Midgard inaccessible to the son of Odín.”

The brag merely made you chuckle. “Well, you wouldn’t need all that.” Hands waving to suggest the fanfare he had implied. You looked at him softly then, patiently. “All you’d need is a mirror.”

“Oh,” it took him another second to truly understand, “Oh. You and my brother? Loki? My brother Loki? Loki the god of mischief? That Loki?” You continued nodding emphatically as each question spilled from him in an almost endless tidal wave. You…” he trailed off awkwardly as he pointedly clasped his hands together in a strange manner, eyebrows raising and lips twisting in a question he was too uncomfortable to actually verbalise.

You nodded with a small but bright smile, “You’re gonna be an uncle.”

It took a few more moments of processing, experiencing a whole host of mixed emotions as he did so, before his face split into a grin. Standing from his chair, the table jerking and groaning under the sudden movement, he gave a booming laugh of excitement as he moved to embrace you. In your current state you couldn’t stand quickly enough to fully accept the hug but he bent double to embrace you.

Patting his back with a chuckle, your words were swallowed by his more booming tone. “I’m going to be an uncle!” He repeated, each word with increasing dramatics. “I can teach her to properly wield a hammer, although perhaps an axe would be more suited for a lady.”

You pulled back quickly, stern eyes on him but they quickly melted back into amusement at his excitable expression. “At least wait until she can walk,” your words inspired increased mirth in the man and he pushed forward to hug you yet again.

—

The moment Loki stepped through the door he realised something was off. The muddy footprints tracking from the doorway to the kitchen certainly weren’t usual. Your feet were much smaller than these prints and he knew you kicked your shoes off the moment you came in; your feet swelling uncomfortably in these last months of pregnancy.

The booming laughter that shook from the kitchen told him the source of these new shoe prints. Truthfully, he had been expecting this. He had ‘died’ enough times now that he doubted his brother would truly believe this latest episode, but just knowing you were so close to giving birth he wasn’t sure this was the best time for a reunion.

Hesitating, he turned an almost solemn expression over the hallway. There was a delicacy in how the pair of you had arranged the trinkets of your blossoming life together. A balance of colour, memories, and decor that meshed so wonderfully yet subtly together. The tracking footprints seemed an ominous reminder of a much greater worry; the war and chaos and fear and pain that he had fled from was sure to find its way back to him.

Now, it wasn’t just him.

There was no escape. He had slowly realised this truth even as he had settled into peace with you, the thought returning stubbornly in quiet moments, but this was such a stark reminder he couldn’t hope to ignore it.

His attempt at quashing this unease within himself was likely successful enough to fool his brother. Perhaps not you. Regardless, he followed the tracks in their meandering route to the kitchen.

Finding Thor bearing down on you in what appeared to be a well-natured embrace threw him off his purposeful stride slightly. This falter ended as he caught your eyes peeking at him over his brother’s large figure. The crinkle of your eyes suggested a smile and the excitable wave you fired at him, even despite your arm’s entrapment in the hug, chased away some of the anxieties coursing through him.

A deep breath, and; “Brother,” the word caught Thor’s attention entirely, he swung around to find the source even as Loki continued his now defunct request. “Kindly unhand my wife.”

A Broken Branch

Summary: TVA Loki realises what is missing from his new life; you. With the multiverse now branching endlessly, he searches for you. Soon enough he realises that when two people are meant for each-other, finding another you may not be so simple.

A/N: This could be considered as linked to my fic A Moment in Time. I am planning a part 2 of this also, with a slightly more hopeful ending! Thank you for all the support!

Masterlist

To begin with it had been easy to ignore the strange, scratching spot in his chest. Sure, there was something missing, but it had seemed a minor complaint at the start. He hadn’t even been sure what it was and had often discounted the feeling as some strange side effect from being pulled out of his own reality.

As time had gone by, as strangely as it seemed to in the confines of the TVA, the scratching feeling had expanded. It had spread throughout his entire body, feeling more painful now than aggravating and he had been forced to turn his full attention to the cause. What he discovered he tried to ignore for as long as he could manage; you were missing.

He had known you rather briefly; considering his long lifetime you were a mere blip in his life. Somehow, however, this blip had become a constant buzz in the back of his mind. Everything became a reminder of how you were nowhere to be found.

Soon enough, he resolved that he needed to fix it.

It seemed a simple fix, with the multiverse in utter disarray it would surely require very little effort for him to find you. Or, at least, a version of you. Loki needed to choose carefully; he doubted the other versions of himself would be pleased to find that he had whiled away their version of you. Dealing with himself, however strange that phrase may be, was not something he wanted to be forced to contend with.

So, he needed to find a version of you who was without a corresponding Loki. Supposedly, the multiverse was infinite; his task should be impossible to fail.

To begin with, he took himself through a multitude of universes where he had suffered an untimely demise or otherwise simply did not exist. Without a Loki to get in the way, he would have a clear path at finding you and winning your attention.

The first few didn’t work. It always seemed to be the case that you didn’t exist there either. The apartment he knew you to live in was occupied by a multitude of others; an elderly lady who smelled of dog hair, a young couple who seemed to eat nothing other than takeout, and a young woman who played music with a thumping base that angered all her neighbours.

None of them were you.

He didn’t mind too much, he was patient after all. He was no longer trying to convince himself that he hardly cared to find you, his mind now shifted into working overtime considering how exactly to approach you. Wondering which phrase he should spin to win that curious glint in your eye. The one that told him how intrigued you were with him, despite the way those around you would flutter about with empty warnings of his danger. You had listened, but it was never enough to keep you away entirely.

After the tenth reality without even a suggestion of your existence, even his patience began to wane. Where were you?

As hope was beginning to boil into agitation he tasted success.

As much as he tried to quash it, his excitement sent him rocking back and forth on his heels before he sent a confident knock echoing through the hallway. The sound of your footsteps echoed from beyond the door, coming closer much more slowly than he would like, and he sent a hand slicking his hair back. The handle shifted and the door opened with a whining creak and… oh…there you were.

Hungrily, his eyes drank you in and he doubted he steeled his expression quickly enough for you to miss the smile the sight of you brought him. Any attempt at aloofness now would be wasted.

The relief you brought him was almost shocking in its intensity; but the distraction of you prevented him from paying it any mind. Stupidly, he hadn’t come up with a greeting.

“Hi,” you smiled the word up at him, left hand allowing you to lean against the door. “Can I help you?”

He almost wanted to scold you for opening your door so carelessly to someone who, to you at least, was a complete stranger. The urge to charm you won the battle, however. “I’m sure you can,” Loki told you, lowly, licking his lips as he looked down at you, “may I come in?”

Instead of the darkening of your eyes that he had hoped to incite, your eyebrows shot up and you stifled a laugh. “I’m sorry,” you let out, right hand pressing against your lips as though to keep any further laughter from bubbling out. “What – what did you need?”

That… was not what he had expected.

Eyes narrowing at you, his mind ticked over incessantly – trying to work through some kind of response that would alight the witty repartee the pair of you had once shared.

Looking at you now, however, he realised his previous excitement had been replaced with something more intense – something that pushed him to be more honest than he could ever remember. Longing, that he had never quite noticed the intensity of before, was boring into him.

Sharing the truth with you would likely prove a mistake. It had been hard enough to wrap his own mind around the concept of a multiverse, and his mystical experiences stretched far beyond your own terrestrial one, but he wanted to rush to some conclusion where the two of you picked up right where he had left you.

“This might sound strange,” he began – dropping all pretences of playfulness in his rush to connect with you, “but this reality-“ Your laughter sliced through his attempted explanation and he felt his eyebrows crunch together as he tried to work out what was wrong with this version of you.

Taking apparent pity on him, you answered his silent question. “Let me guess,” you told him, stepping forward to look up at him with such a winning smile he almost lost his breath, “you’re a Loki from another dimension and as crazy as it sounds we’re meant to be?”

Stuttering, he cleared his throat with a shake of his head. “Uh-well,” he forced himself to maintain a steady tone of voice even as the surprise of your foreknowledge shook him entirely, “’meant to be’ isn’t quite how I would put it.” Forcing his usual smirk into his words, he sauntered a step nearer to you – confidence usually bolstered through his figure at your nearness but now he felt as though you had somehow swallowed up his boldness and claimed it as your own. A weapon you seemed to be wielding expertly against him.

“Although, I know you find my presence magnetic,” the lowness of his voice detracted from the nerves obvious in his darting eyes.

You laughed in his face.

It wasn’t a cruel laugh, you clearly weren’t mocking him, there was a lightness behind it. The lilting noise warmed him, despite the frustration it brought. “I’m sorry,” you told him again, hand on his arm squeezing lightly. “It’s just… you’re not the only Loki who’s come here. There’s so many of you now.”

This was getting out of hand.

“What?” He asked shortly, frustrated that he clearly didn’t understand this situation as well as he had previously thought.

A flat smile met the sounds of his frustration and you stepped aside to beckon him inside. “Come in.”

He obliged immediately. Stepping through your doorway his gaze swept over your apartment – searching for details that would reveal this new version of you to him. It was neat, much like the apartment his version of you had kept, except there were more books stacked upon the shelves. His version of you preferred to read on a tablet, heavy tomes not suited for the large amount of travel you were often forced to endure.

“Would you like a drink?” Your voice pulled him back to you and he shook his head no. At his rejection you jumped straight into an explanation of your own. “Okay, well, we’re not sure what but… something strange must have happened recently.” You began, sitting on your rickety coffee table, the coffee rings he had expected replaced with coasters in this reality. “There’s been a few of you, turning up and looking for me.” A wry smile curved your lips as you spoke, eyes following his movement as he sat across from you.

“Where are they?” It seemed an appropriate question. He certainly wasn’t planning on leaving you, he had worked so hard to find you and couldn’t imagine giving you up now. Why would other versions of himself feel any different?

Thrumming your fingers against the table, you chuckled with a shrug. “This wasn’t their reality, they’ve got their own versions of me but…” your fingers traced the grain of the table as you finished, “they just got a little lost on their way back.”

Between the lines of your explanation he found a truth that gave him his way in. “Leaving you here all alone?” The question was posed as he leaned forwards, one arm resting against the table as he pushed closer.

“Not quite,” you told him, an excitement lighting your eyes as you tapped down at your phone. Sliding the phone over the table towards him, you averted your gaze with a rosy flush overtaking your cheeks. “See?”

Letting his eyes linger on the colour warming your cheeks, he took hold of the object you had handed him without looking down. Your gaze met his, flicking pointedly to the phone in his hand. Following this silent instruction, he turned his attention to the screen.

A bright smile of yours shone up at him, the glaze in your eyes signifying inebriation, your figure tucked beneath the arm of a taller woman. Confused, he narrowed his eyes. He looked over your surroundings, looking for whatever detail it was you were expecting him to notice, but the background was so blurred with the movement of the photographer that any detail was lost.

Looking back up at you, he raised his eyebrows. “And what is this?” The question was posed slowly, he was becoming concerned that this version of you was unable to follow the twists and turns of your conversations.

If the expression upon your face were any indication, you were having the same thoughts about him. Standing up, you made your way around the table to stand beside him. With a hand on his shoulder you rooted his entire attention towards you even as you gestured for him to look back at the photo.

“Look,” you pushed, the tone of voice enough to make him obedient. The photo shone up at him just the same as it had before, he still could not decipher the meaning. With a single pointing finger, you drew his eyes to the woman embracing you.

Raven hair fell past her shoulders, slicked back and looking almost wet. Pale skin clashed with red lips that were pulled up in a half smirk as she looked down at you. Eyes that he was sure would be green were cast away from the camera, looking down at you.

“That’s,” he started, cutting himself off at the disappointment of yet another version of you lost to him, “me.” He hadn’t thought to check for a female version of himself.

He looked up at you, nodding down at him without seeming to understand the impact of what you had just told him. “We met a few years ago,” your eyes moved past him, fixing on some faraway spot on the wall. “It took a lot of time, you guys don’t warm up to people that quick y’know.” A laugh rumbled your chest. “But we learnt to trust each-other.”

You looked back down at him, eyes widening with realisation as you seemed to notice the tightness of his expression. He knew even this version of you well enough to recognise when your voice softened into reassurance. “Your version of me is out there, from what I can gather every version of me has a version of you,” you made a twisting gesture with your hands as you continued, “and vice versa.”

If you had thought those words would help, you were wrong. The realisation that he had left his version of you, that you had been pruned because he had had the audacityto go off script, and that there was no other version of you that would belong to him in quite the same way; it left him feeling unbalanced, as though the world had been sent off kilter somehow.

His lips twisted as he looked back down at the photo. The screen had gone blank, where he had hoped to find your smiling face he was left instead with his own reflection. Where was he supposed to go now?

“You’ll find them,” the timbre of your voice was now only making it worse.

Pushing the phone away, so harshly it nearly slipped off the edge of the table, he stood harshly. The chair he had perched on almost teetered entirely backwards to slam into your carpeted floor. You stepped back, patience pouring from you – more evidence that you were accustomed to a Loki of your own.

“And how do you suppose I do that?” He seethed at you, stepping forward to jab an angry finger at you. “My reality was pruned, destroyed, so where- pray tell - is myversion of you?”

Faced with this first question you couldn’t answer, you recoiled. “I-I don’t know.”

Emptiness replaced the scratching in his chest as he looked over you once again. He hadn’t noticed it before, too full of anticipation with seeing you again, to realise what was missing.

When he first met you, hisversion of you, there had been sparks in the air between you. He had felt like his hair must be standing on end every-time you had come close, a warmth spreading through his body like a comforting ember at your nearness. He had once thought or even hoped the feeling would go away, but now he wanted nothing more than to look at this version of you and feel that same buzz.

But there was nothing.

His version of you, the version that fit him perfectly, was not here.

You were not anywhere.

He had seen that damned tesseract at his feet, picked it up without a second thought, and had unknowingly left you forever.

The door slammed heavily in his wake as he hurried from your apartment. Hurried from the building. Hurried from this horrible revelation that had been so unknowingly forced upon him.

He hurried away.

Butwherewas he supposed to go?