Romance, Spice & Set to Entice @clockblobber - Tumblr Blog

Nothing Our Love Can't Fix

Masterlist

Pairing: Thor Odinson X Reader

Summary: You had a soulmate, one you could not find. You knew he was close, your mark burned whenever you were with your team. But Thor knew who it was, and he refused to tell you, pretending not to know. Kept you in the dark because of a reason he could not tell you. Because your soulmate was none other than the God Of Thunder himself, and he had to protect you no matter the consequences.

Content: Soulmates, Yearning, Tension, Angst, Angst With A Happy Ending, Feelings, So Much Crying, Infinity War-Endgame Thor, King Thor, Protective Thor, Jealous Thor, Possessive Thor, Obsessed Thor, Thor Comes Off As A Manipulative Asshole But Then He's Pathetic And Desperate❤️(There's A Reason For His Behaviour I Promise), Not Canonically Correct (Dr. Strange Didn’t Turn Into Dust), Kinda Dark (Threats of Self Harm and Toxic Behavior on Both Sides)

Note: Didn't feel like writing smut so I thought I'd feed you angst, angst, ANGST instead❤️ Anyway, hope you enjoy!! (Not proofread, and English is my second language, sorry for any typos or mistakes)

Word Count: 24k

—

"Ah! My favorite lady in all Nine Realms!"

The voice boomed through the expanse of the compound’s kitchen, slicing through the gentle sizzle of the stove. Your hands froze mid motion, the spatula slipping an inch in your grip as warmth rushed straight to your chest. You didn't even need to look to know who it was, but your body moved anyway—turning in a whoosh as your face cracked into an helpless, glowing smile.

There he stood, in all his golden, impossible glory. Dressed down in a soft grey sweatshirt and dark sweatpants, short hair neatly cropped and frame casting a long, comforting shadow across the sunlit floorboards, Thor had his massive arms spread wide in a silent, irresistible invitation.

"Thor! You're back!”

The joy in your tone was raw and tangible, bleeding into the air as you abandoned the counter completely. You rushed toward him, practically hurling yourself into his space, hitting his chest with a soft thud as those giant, strong arms wrapped around you, engulfing you in a tight, perfect embrace. He smelled like rain and the quiet pine of distant shores—a scent that always felt like home.

"I've missed you so much—" you breathed into the fabric of his sweatshirt, a breathless, giddy laugh bubbling up from your chest as you squeezed him as tight as your strength allowed. "So, so much."

Thor let out a low, rumbling chuckle, the sound vibrating through the broad expanse of his chest against your cheek. His large right hand found its way to the base of your head, his thick fingers tangling softly in your hair as he cradled you like something precious, something fragile. His smile widened, but behind the warmth in his blue eyes lay a quiet ache.

Gods, were you a sight. A blinding, beautiful light in a universe that made him want to risk everything for you.

"I missed you too, My Star," Thor murmured, his voice muffled into your hair.

And he had. He had missed you until the silence in his own chest was deafening. Every second spent away from you felt like a slow, deliberate agony, as if his very skin were being peeled away from his bones inch by inch. There had been urgent, tedious affairs to settle in New Asgard, noble duties that required the King’s unwavering focus.

He had contemplated taking you with him—had nearly begged you to pack a bag—but you were a distraction. A beautiful, ruinous distraction. To have you near meant to lose his mind completely, to lose every thread of focus he desperately needed to keep his people safe. So he had left you behind. And every single night spent beneath the cold, unfamiliar stars of his new realm, he had cursed himself for it, counting the hours until he could reasonably justify returning to the compound. Returning to you. His best friend, his girl—His Star.

You frowned playfully, pulling back just enough to look up into his face, your eyes searching his features while his arms refused to yield an inch, keeping you gluedagainst him. "Just that? You didn't miss me much?" you teased, pretending to struggle against his hold, though your heart was begging you not to peel even an inch of yourself away from him.

Not much? He had spent every bloody night staring into the endless black void of the sky, your sparkling smile and bright, expressive eyes burned into the insides of his eyelids, threatening to drive him mad.

"I missed you beyond measure," Thor corrected softly, the joking light in his eyes dimming into a look so intense that it made your breath catch in your throat. His rough thumb subconsciously stroked the sensitive skin at the nape of your neck, a gesture so tender, so impossibly gentle, that it felt completely incongruous with the strength of the warrior god holding you. "Far more than is wise, I fear."

Then, without warning, it happened. Right under the sleeve of your shirt, pressed against the delicate, inner curve of your right wrist, your soulmate mark flared into life.

It wasn't the usual, low level dull throb you had grown accustomed to over the years. This was a blinding, incandescent heat—a sharp, searing spike of static electricity that sizzled beneath your skin, like a lightning bolt trapped in your veins.

"Ah!" You gasped sharply, a soft cry escaping your lips as your eyes squeezed shut. Your left hand flew up instinctively, clutching at your wrist as if trying to smother the sudden fire burning through your flesh.

The tenderness melted from his face in a second, replaced by the instinct of a warrior. A dark focus took over his expression. His large hands shot out, wrapping gently but with unyielding firmness around your forearms to steady your trembling frame. "What is it? What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

"No, no... I'm fine, it's—it's just..." You shook your head, forcing a breathless, slightly nervous laugh as you opened your eyes, the heat gradually settling back down. "My mark again. It.. it always acts up like this when someone walks into the room, but wow, that one was sharp. It felt like it was actually trying to burn straight through me."

Thor’s hands froze on your skin. Every muscle in his massive frame went rigid as ice as he forgot how to draw breath.

His gaze dropped from your eyes down to the exposed skin of your wrist, where the fabric of your sleeve had shifted just enough. Beneath the surface, the skin was flushed a deep, unmistakable crimson, pulsating softly with the energy of the bond.

He knew what lay hidden beneath that sleeve. He didn't even need to pull the fabric back to see it. He had memorized every single curve, line, and arc of that mark years ago during a training session in the compound's gym. You had been breathless, laughing, wiping sweat from your forehead as your sleeve rolled, exposing the mark to the harsh lights.

It was a swirling, intricate constellation of lightning interwoven with soft, distant stars.

The exact same mark that was carved deep into the flesh directly over his own beating heart.

6 years ago, Avengers Tower

You stepped into the Avengers Tower, Director Fury had officially recruited you to the team, citing your telekinesis as a game changing asset. Tony Stark was already waiting in the main hub, tinted glasses resting low on the bridge of his nose, a half empty espresso cup balancing precariously in one hand.

"Ah, the new blood," Tony announced without missing a beat, turning toward you with a flourish. "Welcome to the sandbox. Try not to bend the metal cutlery with your mind unless I'm trying to ignore Rogers, need a distraction in those times, capiche?"

You smiled, taking a step toward him—and then it hit you. A sharp shockwave of heat radiated beneath the skin of your right wrist. Your soulmate mark burned as if someone had pressed a glowing ember against your veins. Your breath caught, your shoes sticking to the floor as your heart dropped straight into your stomach.

Your soulmate was here. In this exact building.

"Something wrong?" Tony asked glancingat your frozen form over the rim of his glasses. You snapped your head up, swallowing hard. "No. Nothing.” You gulped, "Just taking it all in," you mumbled, forcing your feet to move as you followed him toward the elevators.

Tony rambled the entire way up, his hands flailing through the air as he gestured toward invisible schmatics, explaining floor layouts and lab protocols. But you barely heard a word over the thumping of your own pulse. The mark on your wrist didn't stop. It throbbed and pulsed relentlessly, the heat sharpening into actual pain by the time the elevator doors slid open to reveal the main communal lounge.

The room was filled with the team. And the moment you crossed the threshold, the burning spiked so hard you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from crying out. Everyone turned, smiling and throwing out casual greetings, but your gaze was immediately pulled like a magnet to the corner of the room.

Thor.

The God of Thunder was standing near the floor to ceiling windows, one massive hand clutched tightly over his left chest, right over his heart. He was staring blankly at the polished floorboards, breathing heavily through his mouth as if he had just run a marathon.

Underneath his armour, his own mark was roaring like a furnace. His blood ran ice cold, every muscle in his towering frame locking up as the undeniable reality slammed into him: His soulmate was near.

His eyes darted up, landing discreetly on you. Could it be you?

He shook his head internally looking back down tot he floor, forcing a quick, practiced smile to mask the panic in his eyes. No. It couldnt be you. His mark had started its searing ache ten minutes ago, right around the time Tony went down to the lobby. You had only just walked into the room. It was just a strange coincidence.

He lifted his head completely, meeting your eyes for the first time—and oh, Hel.

You were gorgeous.

Thor swallowed hard, his nervous, arrogant smile wavering for a split second before he smoothed it over. He strode across the lounge toward you, extending a large, calloused hand. With every step he took closer to you, the fire in his chest burned hotter and hotter.

Your own heart was beating faster than it should, your eyes roaming over the vastness of him as you gulped down a breath. He was handsome—unfairly, impossibly handsome. The golden hair cascading to his broad shoulders, the immense width of his frame, the strength humming beneath his skin, it was overwhelming. He looked unreal.

You reached out and took his hand, your head tilting slightly to the side as you looked up into those impossibly blue eyes. "Hello," you said softly.

"Hello, My Lady," Thor replied, his voice rich and deep, confident, though his heart was hammering against his ribs—mocking him as he spoke, "I am Thor of Asgard. Pleased to be in your presence."

A small giggle escaped you, the bright sound catching somewhere deep in his chest. "Do you always talk like that?"

Thor’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Like what?"

"Like royalty."

An arrogant smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "I am royalty."

"Hm," you smiled, looking him up and down. "Suits you."

If he could have smiled any wider without looking foolish, he would have.

And that was the exact moment the universe spun off its axis. From that day forward, you two were attached at the hip. For months, wherever you went, Thor was never more than a few paces behind. Not a single soul could peel him away from your side. You ate together, argued over mid century earth pop culture, and spent endless nights on the roof staring at the city lights. You became friends—the absolute best of friends.

Then the afternoon in the training room happened.

You were laughing at something he had said, soft chuckles coming out of you as the back of your right hand went to wipe off the sweat that had formed over your forehead making your sleeve roll to your elbow, exposing your mark to him.

Thor, standing at the edge of the mat with his arms crossed, froze. His smile fell as his eyes locked onto the exposed skin of your inner wrist. The world went completely silent. Thor’s breath hitched in his throat, his lungs burning as he knew what it meant.

You were his fucking soulmate. His Star. His universe.

Thesuspicion he had buried deep in his mind months ago had been true all along. The mark hadn't burned because you walked into the lounge; it had burned the second your feet touched the lower lobby beneath him.

And he didn't tell you. He couldn't tell you.

Terror washed over him. Thor gulped harshly, forcing his eyes to snap away from your skin, a determination brewing from the depths of his chest. He had to protect you. From the universe, from his enemies, and most of all, from the curse of loving him. The universe was a cruel, twisted entity. If the Norns had truly bound your soul to his—a god who brought nothing but destruction, blood, and tragedy to everyone he ever dared to love—then your life was already forfeit.

The universe had already taken his mother. What more did it plan on taking?

Surely not you. He was not going to let it happen.

So he kept you at arm's length. He stayed your best friend, your shadow, your protector—but he never told you who you truly were to each other. He prevented you from ever finding out. He never took off his armor or his shirts anywhere near you, guarding the mark over his heart like a shameful secret, leaving you perpetually in the dark.

As the years bled on, you were left to wonder who your soulmate could possibly be. Because the mark burned whenever the team was gathered, you had eventually convinced yourself of a tragic theory: that your soulmate was someone close by who belonged to another. An impossible thought, but in your mind, it was the only thing that made sense.

Present

Your mark burns when I am close. It doesn't burn because of the Avengers in the room. It burns because of me. It has always been me.

His own voice echoed like a ghost in his mind, screaming at him to reach out, to break the lies, to pull you against his chest and never let go. But as usual, he stopped himself.

The universe had taken his mother, his father, his brother, his entire realm. If his enemies ever discovered that you—the brightest, purest light in his miserable existence—were the keeper of his soul, they would tear the realms apart just to bleed you in front of him.

He looked away, composing his face into stone.

Thor abruptly tore his hands away from your arms, taking a sharp step backward as if touching you had scorched him to the bone. The absence of his heat left the morning air around you feeling instantly cold. He cleared his throat, his jaw clenching so hard the muscle flexed beneath his skin as he desperately dragged a cold, stoic mask over the panic tearing him apart inside. He crossed his arms over his chest, creating an impenetrable wall of physical and emotional distance between you, his blue eyes hardening into something distant, guarded, and unreachable.

"You... you must be more careful with such things," Thor said, his tone stiff, clipped formality that felt like a sharp slap to the face. "Have you had Banner inspect it again?"

You frowned, your face souring in immediate dislike at his sudden, icy shift. You crossed your own arms, looking up at him with frustration and quiet, long buried heartache.

"Thor, I am used to the fact that I probably won't ever find my soulmate," you said, your voice tight, "There is nothing to inspect."

You didn’t understand why he kept reacting this way, putting distance between you whenever you two talked about your soulmate mark, but it had become thoroughly annoying. The drop in temperature, the rigid posture, the way his warmth vanished behind a wall of cold stoicism—it was an exhausting routine you had endured for years.

Thor's eyebrows suddenly furrowed, his blue gaze shifting away from your face to focus sharply on something over your shoulder. "What are you cooking?"

You were taken completely aback by the abrupt change in subject, blinking at him. "Eggs. Why?"

He scrunched his face up slightly, "Yeah... I do not think you are going to be able to eat those."

You turned away from him in confusion, only to be met with a rising plume of dark gray smoke billowing out of the frying pan. Your eyes widened in horror. "Fuck!" you yelled, dropping all composure as you rushed back to the stove to try and save your poor, ruined breakfast.

Thor stood behind you, watching the sudden flurry of frantic motion with deep, quiet amusement softening his features. "Do you require assistance with that, My Star?"

You fanned at the smoke with a wooden spatula, glaring over your shoulder. He chuckled, the rich, booming sound rumbling in his chest as he crossed his arms again—this time with a playful, teasing air. "Were you happy to see me so much that you forgot your eggs?"

Your eyes narrowed into dangerous little slits. "Shut up, Thor." Defeated by the carbonized mess, you scrapped the burnt eggs straight into the bin with a sigh, pulling out a fresh pan to start all over again.

Thor walked over, his boots making soft thuds against the kitchen tile until he was standing right beside you. He leaned his heavy frame against the counter, his proximity radiating a faint, tempting heat that made your wrist itch beneath your sleeve. "What have you been up to while I was away?" he asked as his gaze roamed all over you, slow, deliberate, and fiercely protective as he searching every inch of your face and posture for any sign of hurt, fatigue, or anything out of the ordinary that might have occurred in his absence.

You kept your focus on the crackling butter in the new pan, glancing at him only for a fleeting second. "Nothing, really. The same stuff."

Thor hummed, the sound vibrating straight through the granite counter and into your hips. He shifted closer, crowding into your space with the easy, unthinking familiarity of being your best friend—of being the only person in the entire universe who was ever permitted to get this close to you.

"The same stuff?" He repeated softly, leaning over your shoulder to look into the pan. "No threats? Nothing? I must admit, I am almost disappointed."

His broad chest grazed against the back of your shoulder, his warmth wrapping around you like a blanket. Your breath got caught in your throat.

Calm down, you thought to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut for a second. He’s always this close to you. What’s so different now?

But you were only kidding yourself, and you knew it. Nothing had changed, because he had always made you feel this way. For six years, this man had left your skin tingling with an unspoken want, your heart beating so fucking hard against your ribs you were terrified it was going to burst, your lungs straining for air as if his very presence was vacuuming the oxygen straight out of the room.

Your breath hitched slightly, your fingers twitching nervously against the spatula handle. You forced yourself to stay grounded, tilting your head back just enough to glare up at his side profile. His sharp jawline, his stubble catching the soft morning light—he was entirely too close, and entirely too perfect.

"Well, sorry to bore you, Your Majesty," you huffed, turning your eyes back to the stove, though your voice lacked any real bite. "Some of us enjoy a quiet week."

"I never said I was bored, My Star," Thor murmured, the nickname dropping from his lips like a sacred vow.

He reached right past you to grab a ceramic mug from the rack mounted above the stove. His arm brushed against the soft curve of your waist, his thick forearm pressing firmly against your side for a fleeting, burning second.

The touch was completely innocent—just reaching for a cup—but the lightning beneath your skin roared so, so hot, that you nearly dropped the spatula straight into the flames.

Thor froze mid reach, his hand hovered aimlessly over the handle of the mug. His chest remained pressed flat against the line of your back, his deep breathing fanning hot against the shell of your ear. Neither of you moved as the world fell away. You could hear the rapid, heavy thumping of his heart beating like a war drum against his ribs, right where his own mark burned against his flesh.

He wanted to wrap both arms around your waist. Norns, he wanted it so badly it tasted like ash in his mouth. He wanted to pull you backward, flush against his chest, to bury his face in the crook of your neck and breathe you in until the endless voices in his head telling him to let you go, to keep you safe awyy from him were completely drowned out.

But he couldnt do that could he?

He slowly pulled his arm back, clutching the mug tightly in his fist as he forced himself to take a step backward. His very being was screaming at him to turn around, to go back to his previous position, to never let you go again.

He cleared his throat, the sound rough and gravelly as he poured himself a cup of black coffee with a hand that was far from steady.

You cleared your throat as well, forcing your trembling hands to plate the eggs. Turning away from the oppressive heat of his gaze, you walked over to the table in the corner of the kitchen, hearing soundThor’s boots as he followed silently behind you like an imposing shadow.

You both sat down opposite each other. Without asking, you routinely slid the plate toward the center, dividing the portion and giving him half of your eggs. You knew his habits better than anyone; you simply assumed he would be hungry.

He was always hungry, to be completely honest.

Thor stared down at the food, a painful, overwhelming swell of affection washing through his chest at the simple, quiet intimacy of the gesture. He picked up his fork, taking a bite just to keep his mouth busy, his bright blue eyes fixing on yours across the small table.

"So," he began, his tone casual as he leaned back against his chair, taking a slow sip of his coffee. "What are your plans for the evening? May my lady leave any room for me in her schedule?" He joked, a light, teasing smile tugging at his lips.

You froze, your eyes closing tightly for a fraction of a second. You hadn’t known he was coming back today, so you had made plans.

"I—" you began, opening your eyes back up and looking directly at him. "I have a date tonight."

Thor’s entire frame went rigid, the blood in his veins turning to liquid fire, burning him from under his skin. What in the hell? He must have heard wrong.

"I think I misheard—"

"You heard right," you said softly, biting your lip at the sight welcoming you.

Yeah, he was pissed. You knew he would be, because he was just that overprotective over you. He didn't want to share you with anyone else, and you were fully aware of it. That was precisely why you had opted for going on a date while he was away, but he had caught you, returning on the exact day of your plans.

"With whom?"

"An agent."

"So he is here?" Thor said, his voice dropping an octave, tight and dangerously flat. How had he not noticed you talking to another man? Or had you deliberately done it while he was away?

"Yes, Thor—"

"What is his name, honey?" he asked, his voice dripping with forced sweetness, but you knew what lay beneath the honeyed tone. It was unbridled annoyance and volcanic anger.

"Caleb—" you said casually, leaning back in your chair and watching his reaction closely. "Caleb Miller, from the third floor tactical unit. He asked if I wanted to grab drinks down in the city tonight, and I said yes."

The easy, comfortable warmth that usually radiated off him evaporated into an icy stillness. His jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched beneath his stubble, his eyes darkening into the stormy blue of a tempest gathering over an open ocean.

"Miller," Thor repeated, the name dropping from his tongue like a foul taste. "The mortal with the slicked hair and the improper posture?"

A small, amused laugh bubbled up from your chest despite the tension. "His posture is completely fine, Thor. And yes, him. He’s nice. He’s been asking me out for a couple of weeks, so I thought, why not?"

He was asking you out? A couple of weeks at that? Oh yeah, he was a dead man walking. "No," Thor said flatly.

You blinked, setting your glass down with a sharp clink against the table. "Excuse me?"

"I do not approve," Thor stated, crossing his arms over his chest for the hundredth time since he came back, looking down his nose at you with all the arrogant authority of a king. "He is untrustworthy. His eyes wander too freely, and his combat assessments are sloppy at best. He is a security risk."

You stared at him, disbelief and rising irritation flaring in your chest. "A security risk? Thor, he works here! He has Level 6 clearance!"

"Clearance means nothing to a man lacking honor," Thor grumbled darkly, leaning forward over the table, crowding your space once more as if he could physically intimidate you out of the decision. "If you require companionship for an evening meal, I am right here. I shall accompany you instead."

"You want to come on my date?" You scoffed, throwing your hands up in exasperation. "Thor, you are being ridiculous!"

Thor’s chest heaved with heavy, ragged breaths. Inside, his soul was tearing itself to shreds. He wanted to scream at you. He wanted to smash the table in half, pull you roughly into his lap, and tell you that no mortal man would ever be allowed to touch you, to hold your hand, or to look at you the way he did—because you were his. The universe had forged your soul for his and his alone.

Instead, he swallowed the blood in his mouth, locking his expression into a stern scowl. "I am merely looking out for your well being, as your friend. Earthmen are fragile, deceitful creatures. I will not have one breaking your heart."

"You have control issues, Thor," you snapped, though a quiet, aching knot tightened deep in your gut.

Your heart was beating against your chest from the intensity of his reaction, and right beneath your sleeve, your soulmate mark burned against your wrist with a fierce, punishing heat. You stood up from the table, grabbing your empty plate with a sharp, abrupt motion.

"I'm going on the date. And you are not invited."

Thor watched you walk away toward the sink, his hands clenching into white knuckled fists against his knees. The mark over his heart burned, it goddamn felt like a dagger being twisted continuously into his chest.

He was going to follow you anyway. He knew it, and the norns knew it. He would hide in the shadows of whatever miserable place you chose, watching over you, his heart breaking over every smile you gave that mortal, starving for a touch he had sentenced himself never to hold.

He knew he was being unfair, so damn unfair. He denies being with you, keeps your bond to himself, does not let you find out about it, yet he is also the one he cannot let you keep living without him. He just doesn't have it in him to.

You were burned into his soul, occupying his every thought every aching second he breathes, he just could not let you go.

—

You got ready, applying a slick layer of lip gloss as you surveyed yourself in the mirror. Black flare pants, a sharp black tube top, and a waist-snatching blazer left open to frame the silhouette, anchored by pointed black heels. You looked good—effortlessly put together, sharp, and completely fitting for a dinner date.

You sighed, raising two fingers to rub at your temples. Beneath your right sleeve, your soulmate mark burned with a persistent disappointment, pulsing as if it somehow knew you were walking out the door with someone who wasnt meant for you.

Leaving your room, you navigated the corridors toward the compound's main exit. Caleb was already there, leaning casually near the glass doors with his hands tucked into his pockets. You forced a polite smile onto your face. You had to try. You had to go through the motions, put yourself out there, and be normal, or you were going to end up alone.

What about his soulmate? the thought flickered through your mind suddenly. Does Caleb have one?

You frowned, the train of thought pulling a far darker, long-avoided question right behind it to the surface of your mind:

What about Thor’s soulmate?

Your blood froze in your veins. Your fingers instinctively curled into tight fists at your sides. He doesn't have one, you told yourself desperately, shutting the door on the thought. Don't be ridiculous.

"You look beautiful," Caleb said, his voice cutting through the rising noise in your head.

You smiled, pulling yourself back to the present. "Thank you. You don't look so bad yourself."

The ride to the restaurant in his car was quiet. As Caleb drove, your eyes remained glued to the passing city lights outside the passenger window, actively avoiding his profile. You were nervous—not the pleasant, fluttering anxiety of a first date, but a suffusing dread. You were nervous because your skin felt like it was rejecting the very idea of this evening. Because you didn't want to be here.

You gulped, shaking your head imperceptibly. Stop it. You can do this. You just have to try and build something with someone normal. No biggie. You don't even know who your soulmate is.

For the thousandth time in six years, the roster of the compound ran through your head like a tired roll call.

Is it Tony?

No, absolutely not, he’s exhausting and he has Pepper.

Is it Steve?

Maybe, but he’s practically a museum piece, and you loved him dearly as a friend.

You let out a shaky, trembling breath, staring out at the rain slicked pavement.

Is it Thor?

Can it be Thor?

But he would tell me, wouldn't he?

It can't be. Your jaw clenched. It cannot fucking be. Because if it was him, I’d know. I’d feel it in my bones, my very being, my soul. It just can't be him.

"We're here," Caleb's voice broke through your spiral. He smiled, turning off the ignition before slipping out of the driver's seat to round the car. He opened your door, offering a hand to help you out into the cool night air. With his ocean blue eyes, slicked light brown hair, and fitted suit, he looked undeniably handsome. He was objectively attractive.

You walked into the dim, ambiently lit restaurant and took your seat across from him at a quiet corner table. Beneath the tablecloth, your nails dug sharply into the flesh of your palms, trying to anchor your runaway nerves.

Because your mark was burning. It was searing, throbbing, screaming against your skin—and for the life of you, you couldn't understand why the pain was getting worse instead of fading away.

But how could you possibly know your soulmate was standing right there, watching you?

Outside the restaurant’s rain streaked floor to ceiling windows, shrouded in the dark ambient shadows of the avenue, stood Thor.

His dark hoodie was pulled low over his head to conceal his face, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, clenching into white-knuckled fists that threatened to tear through the fabric.

He was torturing himself.

Standing out in the cold night air, watching through the glass as you sat across from that bastard. Every time Caleb smiled at you, every time he leaned in closer over the table, Thor felt his own heart being torn out of his chest, shredded, and forced back into his ribcage, over and over again. He was watching the only woman meant for his soul on a date with another man—a man who was not him, a man who could never could be him.

So he watched. He watched as the bastard looked at you appreciatively, watched as you looked away in cute shyness, watched as he smiled at you and you smiled back at him.

But what Thor did not know was how your body was completely disgusted by this. He did not see how nervous you were to be here with a man who was not your soulmate, or how your nails dug deeper into your palms whenever Caleb came anywhere close to touching you.

"So," Caleb started, leaning across the white tablecloth, "what about your family?"

He was prying into your personal life, and you had to fight the urge to scrunch your face up in distaste. You deflected immediately; you didn't want to answer that question, not from him.

"What about yours?" you asked, forcing a fake, pleasant smile.

Caleb tilted his head, amused.

"I don't do Q&A’s about myself without getting to know the person before me," you said, tilting your head with a pleasant, practiced smile.

You very much did. It was the very first thing you had done with Thor. On your first week at the compound, he had asked you everything about yourself. Where you had lived before all of this, your family, your siblings, how you had discovered your telekinesis..and you had answered gladly, as if it were written in your very bones to lay your life open to him. Everything flowed so naturally with Thor. Sitting here now, a sharp pang of regret hit you for not accepting his offer to keep you company for dinner instead. You felt intensely uncomfortable sharing even the smallest piece of yourself with Caleb.

"Okay, fair enough," Caleb chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "My dad’s an old school naval officer, mum runs a local florist shop back in Ohio. Two younger sisters—both driving my parents insane with college applications right now. Pretty standard suburban life, honestly."

You listened, nodding along politely, but you had to admit to yourself: everything about him bored you to death. Even his family was painfully, thoroughly boring.

Your mind drifted straight back to him.

Thor had the weirdest, most chaotic family—a stern, terrifying King for a father, a lying, shape-shifting trickster for a brother, and endless centuries of cosmic drama. A soft, involuntary smile tugged at the corner of your lips at the memory of Thor complaining about Loki over ice cream.

4 Years Ago

Your head was resting comfortably against Thor's shoulder as you sat on a bench in Central Park. The autumn air was crisp, and passersby kept glancing over in awe, a few brave tourists occasionally coming up to ask him for a picture. Thor was dressed in simple Earth clothes—dark jeans, heavy boots, and a dark grey jacket worn over a forest green tshirt. His long, golden hair caught the breeze, occasionally straying into your eyes whenever he shifted in his seat, wildly gesturing as he animatedly recounted stories of his past realm spanning battles.

"You had to see it, little star!" Thor boomed softly, his eyes glowing with nostalgic fire. "The beasts of Niffelheim were thrice the size of this park! Loki was supposed to cover my left flank, but the snake turned himself into a giant toad and hopped into a cavern! I was left standing there with my hammer, surrounded by a hundred frost ghouls! So I went—pfft!—and summoned the lightning, and then—BOOM!—the entire mountain face collapsed! And out crawls Loki, completely covered in mud, croaking at me!"

You chuckled aloud at his enthusiasm, the sweet sound making Thor's heart soar. He halted his story, looking down at you with an expression so devastatingly loving, so deeply tender, that it made your breath catch.

"Tell me more about your brother," you said softly, smiling up into his blue eyes. "I mean, I don't like the guy—but it sounds like you really love him."

How could he ever deny you anything?

Thor let out a rich, rumbling laugh, shaking his head. "He is a real snake, I will tell you that! When we were children, he transformed himself into a snake, knowing I loved them, and when I picked him up to admire him, he turned back into himself and went 'Blegh! It’s me!' and stabbed me! We were eight."

You burst out laughing, lifting your head from his shoulder to watch his face, your smile growing wider and wider the more he talked.

Yeah, he was the best thing that had ever happened to you.

Thor looked down at your radiant face, his pulse racing, his hand itching to reach out and trace your jawline. "What about your family stories?" he asked softly, desperate to know every small, precious detail of your life.

So you told him. How could you ever deny him anything?

And he listened, his heart soaring just at the way your eyes lit up when you spoke to him.

Yeah, you were the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Present

"Hey?"

Your name was being called, snapping you abruptly out of your memory. Your head snapped up, your eyes blinking as you met Caleb’s raised eyebrows across the table. He was clearly waiting for an answer to a question he had just asked.

You cleared your throat, pressing a hand to your chest. "Sorry," you mumbled, grasping for a quick cover story. "Can you repeat that? I think my blood sugar just dropped a bit... I didn't catch what you said."

Caleb hummed, his brow furrowing slightly, though he didn't press it. "It's fine. Lemme ask the waiters where our food is."

He turned around, waving down a passing server.

Outside in the darkness, Thor stood rooted to the pavement, watching the interaction through the rain streaked window pane. His hood was pulled so low it shadowed his face, but beneath the dark cloth, his jaw was clamped shut, his teeth grinding together so hard it hurt.

He had watched you zone out. He had watched that soft, dreamy smile spread across your lips—a smile he knew intimately, a smile you only ever wore when you were thinking about something you loved.

Is she already falling for this mortal?

His jaw clenched so hard his molars throbbed. She cannot be, he thought desperately, a cold dread clawing up his throat. I am her soulmate. The universe bound her to me. She cannot be falling for him.

Deep within his coat pockets, little crackles of lightning began to spit and hiss over his fists. His breathing turned ragged, clouding the cool night air in furious gusts.

A voice spoke up from the pavement behind him. "Dude... why are you creeping right there?"

Thor slowly turned his head. Beneath the deep shadow of his hood, his eyes were completely submerged in a blinding storm of iridescent blue.

The bystander froze, his jaw dropping as he stammered, backing away so fast he nearly tripped over his own boots. "S-Sorry, man! Big fan, by the way!" The man turned and sprinted down the sidewalk, vanishing into the night.

Thor shook his head violently, snapping his wrists to extinguish the blue arcs dancing over his knuckles. Damn it. He had to get it together. He couldn't unleash a storm in the middle of a city street out of nowhere just because his heart was breaking in real time.

Inside the warm, softly lit restaurant, your food had arrived. The crimson liquid in your wine glass winked at you seductively under the chandelier light as Caleb babbled on about something related to his tactical training drills. You really, truly were not listening to a single word coming out of his mouth.

"…Right?" Caleb asked, leaning back with an expectant, hopeful expression.

You offered a swift, awkward smile, nodding as you said "Right." Without missing a beat, you reached out, grabbed your wine glass, and downed the entire contents in one single, ungraceful gulp.

Caleb stared at you, his fork hovering mid-air, thoroughly flabbergasted. "Wow," he said, blinking.

You breathed in sharply through your nose, picking up the cloth napkin beside your cutlery to daintily pat your lips. "I just... really love wine," you said, forcing another bright, completely hollow smile at him.

"Okay.." Caleb chuckled nervously, shaking his head. "You want more?"

You nodded instantly, desperate to drink more—desperate to drown out the ache of your soulmate mark, desperate for a distraction from a certain God, and desperate to survive the boredom radiating off the man siiting across from you.

Caleb gestured to a nearby server, and a fresh glass was poured for you in an instant.

"So, I told my squad leader," Caleb began, leaning over the table to whisper, "if the target moves..."

He laughed at his own joke, but you couldn't even hear the punchline.

"Works every time." he continued.

Past his shoulder, through the glass window, your eyes locked onto a towering silhouette standing in the shadow of the streetlamp. The height, the broad shoulders, the way he carried himself—it was identical to Thor.

The figure vanished into the alleyway the exact millisecond your eyes made contact, but you knew what you had seen. You froze, the glass halfway to your lips as your heart leaped directly into your throat.

Were you hallucinating him now? Had you finally lost your mind?

You cleared your throat, forcing an exaggerated, loud fake laugh to erupt from your chest at Caleb's terrible joke. You threw your head back, leaning in across the table toward Caleb as if he were the most captivating man in the universe.

You were not thinking about Thor. You had just laughed at Caleb's joke.

Right?

Ugh.

You had to text him.

You were almost certain that was him standing outside in the cold.

Clearing your throat again, you sat straight up in your chair, your spine stiffening immediately as you held up your index finger. "One second," you murmured. You picked up your phone from the table, unlocked it, and pulled up Thor’s contact name.

Thor had dodged into the pitch black shadow of the alleyway the second your eyes had found him. From the darkness, he watched the way you threw your head back, the way you leaned across the table toward that mortal. His chest felt heavier than it ever had in his long, immortal life. His lungs felt like they were collapsing in on themselves, suffocating him from the inside out.

Then, his phone chimed. The Earth device you had personally bought and forced him to carry years ago—because you insisted on having a way to reach him whenever he roamed off-grid.

[My Star]: Where are you?

Fuck. You had seen him.

Thor's hands shook as his thick fingers hovered over the screen. He typed out a response, lying through text.

[Thor]: At the compound.

A tiny texting bubble appeared on his screen immediately. He stood in the alley, waiting through two long seconds.

[My Star]: So you’re not the one standing there in the street?

Thor’s heart dropped straight into his stomach. He gulped, his thumb hovering over the keypad. He typed a response, deleted it, typed another, deleted that too. Finally, after three attempts, he settled on a mask of arrogant deflections.

[Thor]: Am I supposed to be, My Star?

Through the glass, Thor watched as your eyes narrowed dangerously at the glowing screen. You clearly didn't believe a word of it.

You swallowed hard, your gaze darting around the dark street outside the window, searching desperately for a familiar silhouette. You wanted to find him. You wanted to see his face, wanted him to march in through those glass doors and rescue you from this infuriating torture of a date.

But he wasn't there. You were only kidding yourself, weren't you?

Suddenly, you felt a warm, unexpected touch against your skin. Caleb reached across the table, his fingers brushing against your wrist as he gently reached up to wipe a stray strand of hair away from your cheek.

You flinched, a sharp huff of air escaping your lips as your soulmate mark screamed in scorching fire beneath your sleeve. Another man was touching you so close to the soul bond, the magic rejecting the contact with blinding pain.

Yet, you forced yourself to remain still, pressing your lips into a tight line. This was your choice. You had chosen to move on, and you had to own up to it.

Outside in the dark, Thor watched Caleb’s hand touch your face.

That was it. The final, fragile thread of his control snapped into pieces.

The air temperature around the restaurant dropped, turning the humid evening breeze into an icy, bitter gale. Above the building, the clouds swirled into an unnatural vortex, blacking out the moon. A blinding flash of lightning split the night sky, followed immediately by a deafening, bone rattling crack of thunder that blew out the streetlamps and rattled the restaurant windows so violently they threatened to shatter inward.

The sight tore through Thor's chest like a blade. Jealousy, dark and primal, flooded his veins, making his veins burn hot.

Thor’s fists tightened in his hoodie pockets until his knuckles turned ghost white. The storm in his heart was spilling out into the sky, and he didn't care to stop it.

You looked out the window, watching the unexpected downpour slam against the glass, your brows furrowing in deep confusion. It was not supposed to rain tonight.

And it definitely was not supposed to rain like this.

Your heart hammered against your chest , threatening to go up in your mouth, your hands shaking slightly where they rested in your lap. Could it be what you thought it was? Was he actually here?

But he had said he wasn't—

"Woah, was it supposed to rain tonight?" came Caleb’s voice, slicing through your spiraling thoughts.

"No, it was not," you said, breathless, your eyes widening as an opportunity presented itself—an opportunity far too good to resist. You smiled sweetly across the table, leaning in slightly. "I think we should leave. We wouldn't want to get stuck here, right?"

Caleb paused for a second, his eyes roaming over your face as if weighing his options, before nodding. "Right." He signaled the waiter and asked for the check.

At least he was a gentleman; Caleb covered the bill without hesitation. Once outside the booth, he placed a firm, guided hand on the small of your back to escort you toward the exit. You bit the inside of your cheek until it hurt, fighting the urge to flinch away from his palm.

So damn uncomfortable.

The moment you pushed through the front doors of the restaurant, tje harshness of the storm hit you. The rain was coming down in thick, blinding sheets, the wind howling through the street. Caleb paused under the small awning, shielding his eyes as he looked down the block toward his parked car.

"Stay here," Caleb said, raising his voice over the roaring thunder. "I'll run and grab the car, then pull up right to the curb so you don't get soaked—"

"That will not be necessary," a voice boomed through the storm and the occasional blasts of lightning.

Before Caleb could even react, a giant shadow stepped straight out of the dark torrent of rain. A massive, calloused hand reached out, gently but unyieldingly wrapping around your forearm and pulling you out of Caleb's touch, tucking you firmly against a broad, towering frame.

You gasped, your head snapping up, your heart jumping straight to your throat, the shock spreading through your body like wildfire as you took him in.

Standing over you in the pouring rain, his dark hooded top soaked completely through and his eyes blazing like twin supernovas in the dark, was Thor. His presence was purrly overwhelming, his broad chest heaving in heavy, ragged gulps, his body radiating a fierce heat that burned away the night’s bitter chill.

"Thor?!" you choked out, your mind scrambling to process his appearance. "You— but you— what?" You scrambled over your own words, your breath entirely taken away.

What the fuck was he doing here?

Had he been watching you like a creep all night, just as you had suspected?

Oh god, your heart was about to beat right out of your chest.

Thor ignored your talking entirely, his stormy, dark gaze locked onto Caleb like a predator sizing up its prey. The raw aura of power rolling off his shoulders "I will take her home," Thor stated. His voice dropped into a grave frequency that vibrated straight through the bone, leaving zero room for argument.

Caleb blinked, taking an involuntary step back from the God of Thunder, but he tried desperately to hold his ground, clearing his throat nervously. "Wait—what? No, I'm her date. I have a car right down the street—"

Thor didn't even grant the mortal a glance. He casually raised his free hand into the storm, and with a deafening CRACK of lightning, Stormbreaker flew straight out of the dark alleyway. It snapped into his palm with a force that rattled the glass windows behind you.

Thor tilted his head slightly, his icy eyes fixing back on Caleb with terrifying calm.

"And I have an axe."

Before Caleb could even open his mouth to process the threat, Thor tightened his grip on your arm. He pulled you flush against his side, his rain slicked hand circling firmly around your waist—a touch so heavy, so possessive, it made a sharp gasp tear from your throat.

Without another word, he raised Stormbreaker toward the screaming heavens.

A blinding flash of purple and white light engulfed the sidewalk, the roar of the Bifrost breaking yhrough the quiet night as the street, the rain-drenched restaurant, and a thoroughly stunned Caleb vanished in a single second.

The light snapped out as fast as it had appeared.

The light deposited you both directly onto the wet grass of the compound's garden. The rain here was a gentle, quiet mist compared to the tempest you had left behind, but Thor didn't linger. His hand remained firm on your waist, his fingers pressing into your hip as he ushered you through the glass doors and into the quiet warmth of the building.

The second you crossed the threshold, the overload of the night caught up to you. You peeled yourself fiercely away from his grip, taking three rapid steps back, the absence of his heat leaving you shuddering.

You turned to face him.

Silence stretched between you, thick, suffocating, and heavy enough to drown in. Thor stood there in the dim light of the hallway, his boots dripping onto the floorboards, his chest falling in heavy, labored heaves. His hands were still trembling slightly at his sides as Stormbreaker rested against his palm.

"What the hell was that, Thor?" you asked, breathless, your eyes roaming all over his rain soaked frame in utter disbelief.

He refused to meet your gaze. Instead, he stared past you, fixing his eyes resolutely on a blank space on the wall as he spoke, his voice forced into a calm he didnt feel. "I was just passing by, and—"

"At the compound, my ass!" you cut him off sharply, scoffing as you stared at him, your hands trembling with anger and raw, unspent adrenaline.

"Like I told you—"

"Do not lie to me," you snapped, cutting him off once more.

That did it, Thor’s jaw tightened, and he finally dragged his eyes down to meet yours. He looked straight into your eyes—your beautiful, furious eyes that had gone dark with anger, reflecting the sting of his betrayal.

Thor gulped, his throat working heavily as the stoic mask cracked, revealing the bleeding guilt beneath.

"I am sorry, My Star," he said softly, the nickname dropping like a mournful prayer from his lips as he tried desperately to get back on your good side. "Truly."

"Did you honestly watch me have a date like a damn stalker?" you demanded, your voice breaking slightly over the words.

Deep down, in the secret, pathetic corners of your soul, you had spent the entire evening begging the universe for him to be the man in the alley. You had begged for him to swoop in, to be jealous, to rescue you from the suffocating torture of a date with a man who wasn't him. But now that it was real—now that he was standing in front of you, dripping wet, carrying the scent of lightning and desperation—it terrified you. Because it meant he cared, but he still wouldn't let you in on why he cared so much.

So much so that he would stalk you.

Thor closed his eyes for asecond, the rain dripping from his lashes. He swallowed the bitter taste of his own cowardice.

"I could not leave you," he whispered, his voice a rough, fractuerd tone that made your chest ache. "I tried. By the Norns, I tried to walk away. But I could not leave you with him."

"Why?" you cried out, taking a step toward him, throwing your hands up in sheer frustration. "Why do you do this to me, Thor?" Your breath hitched, a stray tear threatening to spill over your lash line, hot and stinging against your skin.

He gulped, looking down at you and breathing heavily, his broad chest heaving beneath his damp hoodie. "Please don't," he whispered, his voice cracking around the edges. "I am not doing anything—"

"Are you not?"

You pressed your hands flat against his heaving chest and shoved. Taken completely by surprise by the sudden, fiery force of your anger, the he actually staggered back a full step.

"Listen to me—"

"No, Thor! You always do this," you snapped, your voice echoing off the glass walls of the entrance. "Answer me. Why do you always do this?"

Thor’s heart was beating so fast, so wildly against his ribs, he was sure it was going to leap right out of his throat. "I am not doing anything, honey, come on—"

"You are, and you're going to tell me why. Right now, Thor, c'mon!" your face was flushed with righteous anger and confusion.

"You are my best friend—"

"Best friends don't do this!" you yelled, the dam finally breaking, "They don't stalk their friends while they're having a date!"

"This was the first time I did something like that!" Thor argued, throwing his hands up in defense.

"FIRST TIME?!" you shouted, the sound ringing through the empty corridor. "First time because you wouldn't ever let me go on a date in peace, ever! This is the first real date I’ve been on in years because you prevented me from going, Thor!"

He scoffed, making a dismissive pfft sound as he looked away, trying to pull his usual cocky mask over his rising panic. "No, I haven't—"

"Really?" You stared at him deadpan, your eyes burning into his profile. "Really, Thor? Let's refresh your memory, shall we?"

9 Months Ago

You had spent almost forty minutes in front of the mirror of the gym's dressing room right after your training, carefully styling your hair and pulling on a cool gray blazer with your favorite silver belt—a subtle, sharp look that felt effortless. A nice guy from the local gallery downtown had finally built up the courage to ask you out, and for the first time in nearly a year, you felt excited to step out of the compound as just a normal person.

You were sitting on a bench near the gym lockers, putting on your shoes and double checking your bag, when the doors flew open.

Thor strode in, his hair swept back, sweat glistening on his skin. He held a metal support beam in one hand—bent completely out of shape like a twisted paperclip.

"My Star," he boomed, his voice carrying an urgency that immediately set off alarm bells in your head. He dropped the bent steel to the floor with a heavy clang, stepping right into your space. "I require your assistance immediately. The training room’s gravity regulators have destabilized. The structural integrity of the lower deck is failing."

Your head snapped up, your heart hammering. "What? Did Friday alert Tony?"

"There is no time," Thor insisted, his large hand gently but firmly taking your wrist to pull you upright. "The localized fields are tearing at the floorboards. If you do not use your power to hold the central load-bearing dampeners, the entire north wing could collapse within minutes."

Panicked and running pure adrenaline, you abandoned everything, sprinted down to the lower deck, and spent the next three hours strained in total concentration. You used your telekinesis to bind the steel machinery in place, sweat dripping down your neck, your muscles trembling under the weight of holding the room together. Thor stood beside you the entire time, barking out dramatic updates and adjusting internal wiring with his bare hands.

You hadn’t even thought he could lift mountains, you hadnt even thought how Tony was the usual repairer in these types of situation, you just helped.

It wasn't until Tony casually strolled into the room holding a mug of coffee, looking between you—sweaty and exhausted— and Thor, that the truth came out.

"Uh, what are you doing?" Tony asked, raising an eyebrow. "The gravity regulators are running at peak efficiency. I literally calibrated them this morning."

You froze, dropping your hands as the machinery settled. You whipped around to face Thor, who merely cleared his throat, scratched the back of his neck, and avoided your glare completely.

By the time you sprinted back upstairs to grab your phone, you had five missed calls, three unread texts, and a final polite cancellation from the gallery guy. And when you walked back into the common room, Thor was sitting on the sofa with a fresh takeaway box of your favorite noodles, offering you a chopsticks with an infuriating, triumphant grin. "The mortal clearly lacked patience," he had said casually. "Eat, My Star. You worked hard today."

1 Year and a Half Ago

It was a nice autumn evening, and you had spent the entire week looking forward to a dinner with a visiting SH.I.E.L.D tactical analyst. He was sweet, polite, and completely disconnected from the drama of the compound. You wore a gorgeous crimson silk dress that clung perfectly to your silhouette, your hair done, feeling confident and beautiful.

You were standing in the main glass lobby, checking your watch, waiting for his car to pull into the driveway. Then you heard the sound of boots echoing down the staircase.

You turned to see Thor descending the steps in full armor—silver breastplate, and crimson cape billowing behind him as if he were marching into the battle of New York. In his right hand, stormbreaker crackling with electricity.

"Thor?" you asked, stunned. "Where are you going dressed like that? Is there a mission?"

"No," he said smoothly, stopping right in front of you, his towering frame blocking the light from the entrance. He looked you up and down, his eyes darkening for a second at the dress before his jaw set into a hard, stubborn line. "I am simply conducting a perimeter sweep."

Before you could question him, a sleek black sedan pulled up to the glass doors. The analyst stepped out, holding a delicate bouquet of white lilies, a warm smile on his face—until he looked up and saw the God of Thunder standing in the doorway like an angry mountain.

Thor didn't even let the poor man step across the threshold. He walked out onto the porch, folded his massive, armored arms across his chest, and stared down at the human from his full height.

"Greetings, mortal," Thor’s voice echoed across the quiet courtyard, deep enough to vibrate the car's windows. "I understand you intend to take my dearest friend out into the city tonight."

"I... uh... yes, sir—I mean, Lord Thor— I mean—ohfuck—I mean The Mighty God Of Thunder," the analyst stammered, his knuckles turning white around the flower stems as he took a terrified step back.

"Fascinating," Thor rumbled, stepping closer until he was looming directly over him. He lowered his head, his eyes narrowing into slits. "Know this: should so much as a single hair on her head be harmed, or should she experience even a moment of discomfort in your presence, there is no corner of this realm—or any of the Nine Realms—where you may hide from my wrath. Do you understand?"

The poor guy looked like he was about to faint. He stammered out a panicked, unintelligible apology about an urgent, sudden duty call, dropped the bouquet directly onto thefloor, scrambled back into his sedan, and hit the gas so hard the tires screeched across the asphalt.

You rushed outside, furious, but the car was already disappearing down the highway. Thor casually bent down, picked up the flowers, inspected them and handed them to you.

"His posture lacked discipline, and he broke under minimal pressure," Thor noted dryly, brushing a speck of dust off his cape. "He was entirely unworthy of your time. Shall we order a pizza and watch a film?"

2 Years Ago

A charming, charismatic pilot stationed at the compound’s air hangar had asked you out for a weekend dinner in the city. He was funny, easy to talk to, and you had spent an hour getting ready in your quarters, carefully applying makeup and wearing a sleek black dress with silver jewelry.

You grabbed your purse and reached for the handle of your room’s sliding door, only to hear a heavy clack as the electronic lock engaged. Red light flushed through the seam of the doorframe.

"Facility alert," Friday’s voice echoed overhead. "An energy of unknown origin has triggered an automatic security lockdown on Level 4. All exit routes are sealed until further notice."

"Friday, override!" you called out, rattling the door. "I have an appointment!"

"Override denied. Threat level undetermined."

Panicked, you searched the floor, only to realize the entire residential suite was locked down—including the communal lounge attached to your quarters. And sitting on the central couch, dressed casually in sweatpants and a soft tshirt, was Thor.

He didn't look remotely alarmed by the emergency red lights flashing around the room. In fact, he was leaning back against the cushions with a tub of dark chocolate ice cream in his lap and a deck of cards already shuffled on the coffee table.

"What is happening?" you demanded, pacing back and forth in front of the sealed glass doors. "There’s no threat! Why are we locked in?"

"Ah," Thor said smoothly, scooping a giant spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. "Midgardian technology is notoriously temperamental. It seems we must wait for Stark to resolve the glitch. A pity."

For three hours and forty two minutes, you paced the floor, texting the pilot apologies until your phone battery died, while Thor casually dealt hand after hand of card games, completely unbothered, regaling you with long stories of his ancient battles and passing you the tub of ice cream whenever you sighed in defeat.

It wasn't until late that night, after the pilot had long since given up and gone home, that Tony’s voice came over the intercom: "Hey, point break, I just checked the server logs. Why did you plug a high voltage rune stone directly into the floor's circuit breaker at 6:00 PM?"

Thor had merely cleared his throat, picked up the cards, and said, "The lighting in the lounge was suboptimal."

3 Years Ago

It was your very first year at the compound, and a sweet, shy guy from the communications department had spent three weeks building up the courage to talk to you. When he finally asked if you wanted to get coffee at a small diner near the base, you happily agreed, feeling a sense of normalcy returning to your life.

You walked out to the parking lot together, laughing at a joke he made, when a shadow fell over the both of you.

Thor appeared out of nowhere, broad shoulders blocking the sun. Without a word, he clapped a hand onto the poor guy's shoulder with enough force to make the man’s knees buckle, nearly driving him into the pavement.

"How wonderful!" Thor boomed, his laugh echoing, completely fake and brimming with overwhelming aggression. "My dearest friend is venturing out! I shall accompany you both to ensure no harm befalls her in the mortal realm!"

"Thor, no—" you began, mortified.

"I insist!" he cut in, slinging one arm around your shoulders and the other around the bruised communications officer, walking the two of you toward the diner like a prison guard escorting inmates.

When you arrived, Thor didn't just join—he took total control of the booth. He slid into the seat right beside you, his massive frame crowding you against the window, leaving the poor guy sitting alone on the opposite side. When the waiter came, Thor ordered four entire steaks, three sides of potatoes, and a pitcher of water, never once taking his eyes off your date.

Every time the guy opened his mouth to ask you a question, Thor would slam his glass onto the table and loudly recount a graphic story about fighting frost giants, or casually lean forward and ask the man if he possessed the strength to defend a woman against a horde of chitauri.

By the time the appetizers arrived, the communications guy was pale, sweating profusely, and barely able to hold his fork under Thor’s deadly glare. He stammered out a hasty excuse about a migraine, paid for the entire check before the food even hit the table, and practically sprinted out the door.

As soon as the bell above the door chimed shut, Thor reached over, picked up the guy’s untouched steak, took a massive bite, and looked at you with total satisfaction. "A weak mind," he had declared, chewing thoughtfully. "He would have wilted under the slightest pressure, My Star. You deserve a warrior."

Present

"Do you want me to keep going?" you asked, your voice shaking as you finished listing his crimes, stepping right back into his personal space, your chest heaving with every ragged breath. "Or are you going to stop lying to my face?"

Thor stood pinned beneath your furious glare, the damp hood fallen limp around his shoulders, his hair sticking to his temples. The stoic, untouchable God looked exposed, his strong jaw working silently as every single lie, every exscuse, and every arrogant defense died right in his throat.

But he tried anyway. "You are my dearest friend, that is the reason—" Thor tried to say, his voice lacking conviction.

"No," you said, scoffing sharply. "Tell me the truth, Thor."

The pain on your wrist throbbed, clouding your thoughts in burning waves. You had a soulmate out there somewhere, so why did Thor matter more? Why did you want so desperately to make him confess the real reason he was acting like this? Why were you praying to whatever gods existed that he was jealous? Why did your heart beat so fast—so hard in your chest whenever he was near? Why did the scent of him cloud your judgement until you couldn't think straight?

And why did the thought of him having a soulmate tear at your heart, making you bleed down to the floor until everywhere felt full of crimson?

Why were you in love with him when you had a soulmate?

You gasped at the thought, your whole body shuddering as your hands began to shake.

"What is it?" Thor asked instantly, his brows knitting in concern. His eyes darted down to your wrist, as if he instinctively knew that was the exact source of your torment.

Your eyes followed his gaze, landing squarely on your own wrist. The design mocked you as you truly assessed it for the first time in years. Deep lines of lightning...

as if you belonged to Thor.

And swirling around the lightning...

stars.

Hold on.

Lightning? Stars?

A new thought slammed into your brain, taking your breath away, making your head spin wildly, your entire body going hot as if on fire.

"Thor.." you began, your voice trembling, your eyes brimming with hot, unshed tears. "Why do you call me My Star?"

A single tear spilled over your lash line, sliding down your flushed cheek.

Why, why, why? The word beat against your skull like a war drum. It was the only question left in your mind.

Why did he call you that? Why did your mark throb and pulse whenever he took a step closer? Why did you feel violated by the mere touch of any other man, while starving for his?

Why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why?

Thor felt the blood freeze solid in his veins. His heart ached with a new wave of terror as he looked down at you. Hot, heart stopping panic surged through him.

Oh, gods. You were connecting the dots.

You could not know. He could never let you know. He had to protect you. He had to keep you away, keep you alive, keep you safe from the dark fates that claimed everything he ever loved. He had to sacrifice his own happiness, his own soul, just so you could keep breathing.

"I—It's—because—" he stammered, his tongue heavy and useless as he tried desperately to find anything to say, any lie to cover the truth. But he couldn't.

Why couldn't he have called you something else? Anything else.

My Star? Really? How had he not seen this coming?

You reached out, slamming your palm flat against his broad chest, right over his hammering heart.

"Thor..." you whispered, your tear-stained eyes searching his, practically begging him to stop hiding from you.

The sight of your tears made a sharp pain shoot straight through his ribcage. Fuck.

"Don't cry, I beg you," he whispered hoarsely, his own blue eyes swimming with sorrow and pain. His hand came up, gently wrapping around your wrist as he looked down at you. Involuntarily, his face leaned closer to yours, stopping mere inches away. He was breathing in your very breaths, his lips so damn close to yours that the air between you became one.

You looked up into his stormy eyes, your hands trembling against his chest. "Thor, I'm gonna say this one time. I do not care if I have a soulmate."

"What?" Thor whispered, his breath fanning over your lips.

"Listen." You said sternly, bur hopeful, "I do not care if he's near, I do not care if he finds me—I just don't, because..."

A sob tore from your throat, your tears falling faster now as you whispered the truth that had been starving inside you for years.

"...I love you."

You pressed your hand harder against his chest, as if trying to feel his soul through his ribs, trying to force him to hear you.

Thor felt his heart soar to the highest heavens. A helpless, breathtaking smile broke across his face, his own tears finally brimming over his lashes as he stared down at you. You loved him. You didn't even know he was your soulmate, and yet you loved him anyway. You had just declared to the entire universe that even if your destined soulmate walked through the door, you wouldn't care—because your heart belonged to him.

For one fleeting, miraculous second, he was the happiest man in the Nine Realms.

But the brutal weight of reality crashed back down upon him, crushing the air out of his lungs.

"You can't," he whispered, his voice breaking completely.

Your blood ran ice cold. What the fuck was his problem?

"What?" you asked, your eyebrows knitting together in horror.

"You cannot love me," Thor choked out, trying to pull back, his jaw clenching as he tried to rebuild his crumbled stone wall. "I cannot be with you. It's—"

"Thor, take off your hoodie."

You cut him off cleanly, a fierce determination blazing through your tears as you pulled your face back, forcing space between you. You were going to make him confess what you now suspected in your marrow.

In all six years you had known him, you had never seen him truly stripped down. You had never seen the bare skin of his chest or his shoulders. You had never seen if he carried a soulmate mark of his own.

You had to know.

Thor blinked, taken completely aback. "What?"

"Thor, don't piss me off," you repeated, your voice dangerously steady, dark with an unyielding edge. "Take your goddamn top off."

Oh no, this cannot be happening, Thor’s voice echoed in his head, a cold wave of panic washing over him. His heart started beating against his ribcage faster and faster, pounding so hard he felt like there was no room left in his chest to breathe.

"Why?" he pressed, his tone desperate as he tried to deflect. "Why must you insist on this?"

You looked him dead in the eye, your expression hardening into something terrifyingly resolute. "Thor, you either take your top off right now and let me see for sure what I suspect, or Steve Rogers—goddamn Captain America—is my soulmate." You raised a sharp finger, pointing right at his chest as you delivered the ultimatum.

Fuck.

No, he is not, Thor wanted to roar at the top of his lungs, the urge to smash every glass pane in the compound tearing through him. He could never be your soulmate. I am the only one. The only one who could ever love you like this, the only one who holds your heart and soul. The only one.

And fuck, you had all of him. His heart, his soul, his body—anything you wanted in this entire universe, he would hand to you on a silver platter. He wanted to give it to you. He yearned to give it to you, to yield completely and drown in your touch.

But he couldn't. The universe was cruel, and you were simply too precious to him—his treasure, his soulmate, his star, his entire universe.

"Steve?" Thor said, his voice dripping annoyance.

"Yeah," you said, nodding once, sharp and unwavering. "Steve."

"I cannot," he whispered, gulping hard as he squeezed his eyes shut, as if thep darkness could protect him from the truth unspooling between you.

"Yeah?" you pushed, stepping right up to his space. "You're not taking it off?"

"I cannot," he repeated, opening his eyes back up. They were flooded with so much pain it made your own throat tighten.

You raised your eyebrows, leaning back slightly. "Can't, or won't?"

Thor just looked at you, his hands coming up in the air, trembling slightly as if he were trying to explain the weight of the cosmos through his face alone. But when no words left his lips, you let out a scoff.

"Steve it is, then," you decided, turning on your heel and heading straight for the staircase.

That was the exact millisecond total panic kicked in for Thor.

"What? Where are you going?!" he demanded, his long legs instantly moving to follow you.

"To see my soulmate," you called over your shoulder without breaking stride.

"Your what now?!" he growled, his voice tight, dark, and laced with anger so great you felt it in your bones as he trailed right behind you up the steps. Norns, were you a fast woman when you were angry.

"My soulmate! What, are you hard of hearing?!"

"Steve is not your soulmate!" Thor snarled, the frustration building up in his chest like an overflowing volcano as he kept pace up the stairs.

You mentally wished you had taken the elevator, because by the time you hit the second floor landing, your lungs were burning and you were getting completely breathless, and the fact that you had heels on did not help at all, while the literal God of Thunder behind you wasn't even breathing hard.

You exhaled sharply through your nose, spinning around on the step above him so you were looking down into his stormy eyes. "How would you know? It's him. I'm sure of it."

He held your arm the second he caught up to you on the step, his face coming so dangerously close to yours that his hot breath fanned over your lips. He looked as if he couldn't bear the mere thought of being an inch away from you while you spoke of another man being your soulmate—as if, through sheer proximity alone, he could make you yield and force you to admit you didn't actually believe Steve was the one.

"Stop it, darling," he whispered gently, his voice thick with a desperate, pleading tone.

At his words and touch, your mark burned blindingly hot beneath your sleeve, a sharp intake of breath cutting through the air. But you set your jaw, peeling yourself away from his grip to deliver the very sentence you knew would piss him off to his core.

"My mark's burning hotter the closer I get to Steve," you said, resting a hand over your heart before letting out a dramatic, dreamy sigh. "Ah... my beloved."

"Oh, hell no," Thor growled, his voice becoming dangerously tight, tighter than before.

Before he could grab you again, you threw your heels off quickly and fled up the steps, practically sprinting up the concrete risers as Thor gave chase right behind you. You scrambled up to the third floor, nearing the fourth-floor landing, your heart and lungs burning as Thor yelled up the stairwell, "Are you actually going to Steve?!"

"Yeah!" you yelled back, throwing the word over your shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The moment your feet hit the fourth floor landing, strong arms wrapped firmly around your waist from behind, lifting your feet right off the ground.

"You are not going to Steve and telling him he is your soulmate," Thor barked, his voice tighter than you had ever heard it in six years.

"I am! Let me down!" you demanded, flailing your legs and twisting against his iron grip as you tried to force him to release you.

He set your feet down, but in one swift motion, he spun you around to face him. He pinned you against the corridor wall, looking you dead in the eyes, his face flushed red as he roared,

"Steve is not your damn soulmate!"

He just couldn't bear you thinking that—not even as a joke, not even for a goddamn second. He wasn't acting rationally; he never made rational decisions when it came to you. And fuck, the mere thought of you walking up to his teammate, claiming another man as your destined match when he was standing right here, made him want to choke the life out of anyone who dared look at you. Especially when it was a lie.

You grabbed his thick biceps, your nails digging hard into his flesh through his damp sleeve. "And I'm asking you, how do you know?!" you yelled back, tears spilling over your lashes. "How could you possibly know that?! Just let me go to him—"

He couldn't take it anymore. The years of silence, the secrecy, the raw jealousy tearing through his ribs—it all shattered at once.

"HE IS NOT BECAUSE I AM!" he screamed.

The words echoed down the empty hallway, bouncing off the walls like a thunderclap.

Even though you had guessed this was coming—even though you had suspected the truth in your marrow—your heart still dropped straight into your stomach.

Before you could even form a breath, Thor let you go. In two swift motions, he grabbed the hem of his soaked hoodie and the shirt underneath, tearing them both over his head in one move and shoving them to the floor.

He stood bared before you, his broad chest heaving, his muscle carved torso exposed to the cool air of the hall. A

And there, right over his left breast—carved boldly, indelibly, right over his beating heart—was the exact same mark resting on your wrist. Lines of lightning, interwoven with a burning stars.

Your lips parted, the air leaving your lungs in a ragged gasp. Your throat tightened so hard you couldn't breathe, your legs locking up until you couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't do anything.

The only thing that flooded your system was a nauseating wave of betrayal.

He knew. He fucking knew.

For years— for six long, grueling years, he had known the entire time. He had watched you wonder, watched you cry, watched you lie awake at night mourning the idea of ever finding the person meant for you. He had sabotaged your dates, interfered in your life, controlled your circle under the innocent guise of a protective best friend—and all of it was because he knew the truth, and he simply chose to keep you in the dark.

He had known the very first second he ever laid eyes on your wrist, and he had looked you in the eye every single day since and lied to you.

"Why?" you whispered, your hands and lips shaking as fresh tears streamed down your face. "Why..."

You couldn't breathe, your whole body in denial, shivering, hands trembling, breathing ragged, trying harder and harder to breathe, fighting harder to take one more breath, making your lungs ache as you looked at him with betrayal in your eyes.

How could he?

"Honey, please," Thor whispered, his blue eyes flooded with horror.

You only cried harder, your frame trembling harshly against the wall.

What have I done? Thor thought wildly, his mind fracturing into a thousand pieces. Why had he let his temper get the better of him? Why had he handed you over to the hands of a fate that was going to bleed you dry? How could he let you know he had lied to you all this time? How could he make you cry like this? What did he think was going to happen?

His heart tore open, bleeding onto the floor as he tried to gulp down the burn in his throat. He took one heavy, desperate step toward you, his calloused hand lifting to cradle your face, his thumb gently wiping away your tears.

Your skin burned at the touch, your heart traitorously soaring at the warmth of his palm.

"I do not know how to make this better—I—I am so sorry—I don't know what I was thinking," Thor choked out, his voice cracking,, "I shouldn't have told you—I should have let you live in ignorance—"

Your heart dropped, your pulse skipping a sickening beat. "What?" you whispered, your voice dangerously small.

He didn't regret keeping this secret from you for years, he fucking regretted telling you?

You straightened your posture immediately, fury rushing back through your veins like hot lead. "YOU MORON! Do you regret telling me instead of regretting keeping it from me?!"

You threw your hand out, thrusting your power forward. A blast of kinetic force slammed directly into Thor's broad chest, sending the God of Thunder stumbling back three full paces.

He staggered, his eyes widening in shock. He was making this worse. Why was he making this worse? Why did his words always come out as the worst possible phrasing in every single argument with you?

"My Star—"

"Shut the fuck up, stop trying to find excuses, and tell me the truth, Thor!" you screamed, your throat hurting, a heavy sniffle cutting through your breath right after. "Why did you do this?! Why did you not tell me? Because of some sick, fucked up savior complex?! TELL ME!"

Thor stood pinned beneath your furious, tear stained glare, his breath catching in his throat.

"Tell me why you told me we can't be together, Thor," you said, stepping closer, your eyes locked onto his with unbraekable determination. "Tell me if you love me."

Thor stumbled back a step—on his own this time, completely unmanned by the vulnerability in your voice. "I cannot," he rasped, his voice barely a breath.

You scoffed, a dark, humorless sound. "You literally just roared down the hallway that you're my soulmate! So tell me whatever the fuck is wrong—"

"No," Thor said, shaking his head frantically, his hands trembling at his sides as he looked at you. "No, I cannot."

Your chest heaved as you stared at him in pure disbelief. He was still stonewalling you. Still holding back. Still trying to control the narrative while your heart was broken on the floor.

So you did something you never thought you would do in your entire life.

You lifted your right hand, fingers twitching as your telekinesis surged outward. Down the hall, in the common area kitchen, metal clanked against metal. A silver knife lifted off the rack, soaring silently down the corridor toward you.

The polished steel caught the overhead lights, gleaming sharply as it hovered right beside your hand.

Thor's eyebrows shot up, "Do you think you can threaten me with that—"

"No," you said simply, your voice chillingly calm. "Who says it's for you?"

Thor's face paled instantly. Every drop of blood drained from his features as the reality of your words set in, his pulse stopping completely for two seconds.

No.

"No, no, no, no, no—" he begged, his forehead knitting together in terror as he lunged forward to close the distance between you.

"Stay back!" you commanded, thrusting your free hand out. You poured every ounce of your powers directly against his chest, locking him in place mid-stride.

Fuck, he was strong. The mass of his godhood pushed against your invisible barrier, making your teeth grind as you fought to hold him back.

"LET ME GO!" Thor roared, his voice cracking with fury and hysteria, his muscles straining violently against the wall of force.

You reached out with your other hand, wrapping your fingers firmly around the black handle of the floating knife. You pulled it out of the air, bringing the cold, sharp point of the blade directly over your chest—lining it up right over your beating heart.

"NO!" Thor screamed, the sound tearing from his lungs, his throat bleeding with the force of it.

He fought with every fiber of his immortal being against your power, his boots skidding across the floorboards. But he was weakened—completely undone and brought to his knees by the unbearable sight of you holding a blade to your own chest, threatening him with the one life he had sacrificed his entire sanity to protect.

"Drop it! I'm begging you, drop it!" Thor sobbed out, his composure fading into dust. "Please, please, please—don't—do not do this to me!"

"Then talk to me, Thor!" you screamed back, your hands shaking as the tip of the steel pressed firm against the fabric over your heart. "Tell me the truth or I swear to god I will end this right now! Tell me why you lied! Tell me if you love me!"

"I LOVE YOU!" Thor bellowed, the confession ripping through the corridor, echoing off the walls until the entire floor vibrated. Desperate to get you to stop without telling you everything. He could tell you he loved you and that was the truth, but the rest? He could not.

The wall of force holding him broke under the weight of his roar, and the moment he felt himself freed, he fled to you. He collapsed to his knees, his hands wrapping desperately around your waist, burying his wet, rain-soaked face directly into your stomach, breathing you in before looking up at you.

You looked down at him, your chest heaving.

He did love you. He did love you and he was jealous, and that was why he had protected you with all his might. Your heart soared, your heartbeat quickening violently.

"I love you! I love you, I love you, I love you!" he sobbed hysterically, his massive body trembling with heavy dry-heaves. His fingers dug into the fabric of your clothes, holding you so tight it bruised, as if he were trying to merge your bodies together so you could never leave him.

"I have loved you since the very second I saw you," he wept, his breath hot against your stomach. "I cannot live without you... I beg of you, please, drop the blade... I cannot live in a world where your heart does not beat... please, my universe, my star... please..."

Your own tears were spilling down as you looked down at him, a ragged sob escaping you as you moved your hand to the side dropped the knife to the floor. You collapsed straight into his arms the second the steel clinked against the tile.

He caught you instantly, holding you tight, keeping your knees from touching the floor harshly and gently steadying you. His face dropped into the crook of your neck as he tried to stop his sobbing, his chest shuddering against yours.

"Thank you, honey, thank you," he whispered, his large, trembling hands gently soothing through your hair. Your own hands found his bare back, feeling the hard, tense muscles beneath your palms. You grabbed onto him with all your might as your tears spilled onto his shoulder. "Did you have to do that?" he whispered, his throat raw and sore.

"Did you have to make me?" you sobbed, burying your face into his neck, breathing him in as your whole body shook.

He kept holding you fiercely in his arms, making sure you weren't going to hurt yourself, breathing you in to reassure himself that you were real, that you were breathing, that you were safe. He pressed a long, desperate kiss to the top of your head, taking a shuddering breath in.

Your nails dug deeper into his back as you lifted your head, forcing him to lift his up and look at you. His eyes were bloodshot, his godlike face flushed red and stained with hot tears.

"You—" You spoke, clearing your throat over a lump of pain. "What did you mean we can't be together?" You searched his blue eyes, your own face distorted in agony. "You do not want me?"

His chest ached at the sight before him, his soulmate mark throbbing with a burning fury right over his heart. "I do want you. More than anything. In fact... it burns me how much I do," he admitted, his voice barely over a whisper.

You bit your swollen, tear stained lip, looking up at him with hopeful, desperate eyes. Maybe he would take it back. Maybe he would realize how ridiculous this was. Maybe—

"But we can't," he ended, the words dropping like lead between you.

Your hold on him loosened immediately.

What?

Your heart begged you to keep holding onto him, to keep him trapped next to you so he could not leave you alone with this revelation—that you indeed had a soulmate, that it was Thor, and that he was actively refusing to be with you. Your stomach churned with a sickening mixture of grief and anger.

"What is wrong with you?" you said, your voice full of fresh, bitter betrayal.

You scrambled backward, peeling your body away from his just as rapid footsteps echoed down the corridor.

Thor reached out, trying desperately to hold onto you, his lungs burning at the sudden loss of contact, the mark over his chest tearing through his skin like liquid fire. "I cannot tell you," he whispered, his jaw trembling as the footsteps drew near.

Steve and Natasha stopped dead in their tracks as they took in the scene before them.

"What happened here?" Steve asked, his voice bewildered, his eyes darting from the discarded knife on the floor to Thor's bare, mark-branded chest. Beside him, Natasha silently assessed the situation, her eyes narrowing as she read the tension in the air.

You didn't spare either of them a glance. Your eyes stayed locked dead on Thor's pale, broken face. "Fine," you said softly, your voice turning ice cold.

You started to push yourself up off the floor. Thor instinctively held out a trembling hand to support you, and Steve did the exact same on your other side, reaching down to offer his palm.

You looked Thor straight in his tear filled eyes, deliberately passed over his reaching hand, and placed your fingers firmly into Steve's palm to pull yourself to your feet.

Thor's hands clenched into white-knuckled fists at the sight, a quiet gasp of pain ripping from his throat.

Standing tall, your body still shaking, you delivered your final sentence to thegod in frontof you:

"If you refuse to be with me, you will be without me."

Thor's eyes widened in panic, the color draining from his face once more. "What do you mean?" he rasped.

"We are not friends anymore, Thor. You're nothing to me. Do not talk to me no more. If you betray me and refuse me, you bear the consequences. Live without me."

You turned on your heel and walked away down the corridor without looking back once, your hands trembling at your sides as your bare feet met quietly with the floor.

Steve stood frozen in place, utterly stunned, while Natasha slowly looked down at the god of thunder kneeling on the cold floorboards, his bare chest heaving, his fingers clutching at the spot where your touch had just been.

Natasha took a slow step forward, her voice a low, sharp line. "What the fuck happened, Thor?"

Thor couldn't explain anything. He just kept looking down, his tears burning his cheeks as he realized what had just happened. He had refused you out of obligation, and you had cut him out of your life completely.

Out of obligation—because this was not a simple matter of 'I have to protect her from the dangers that follow me,' or 'I have to protect her because my enemies will find out about her.' He had been right next to you for years as your best friend, for Odin's sake; this was not about simple threats or rogue enemies. He could protect you from any monster in the nine realms.

This was a curse. An actual fucking curse, placed upon him by a Dark Elf years before he had ever met you. Thor had thought the creature was bluffing, scoffing in the monster's face right before he struck him down, his voice dripping with arrogant confidence as he declared, "No one dares put a curse on the mighty Thor."

But his own arrogance was what had brought him to here tonight.

The Dark Elf had warned him that he would lose everyone he held dear to his heart. Not his friends—that was the only sick mercy the creature had granted him, apparently—but his true family. His mother. His father. His brother. The only reason they were all gone, swept away into the cold dark of death, was because of him.

So he was sure his enemies could find you with the help of the curse.

And he could not lose you. He would rather die a thousand times over than lose you.

Yet he just had. Because he was cursed, and because he couldn't bring himself to tell you the truth. He knew what would happen if he confessed: you would try to make it make sense. You would look up at him with those fierce, beautiful eyes and try to tell him that the curse wouldn't apply to a soulbond—that the magic of destined soulmates was an ancient power that overcame all dark spells.

And Thor knew, with devastating certainty, that he would believe you. He would yield to your words because he was already straining every fiber of his being just to force himself to stay away from you. And then he would lose you forever, all because he hadn't possessed the strength to keep saying no to you.

But he lost you anyway, just in a different way than he could have ever guessed.

—

You had woken up and gotten ready for breakfast, your eyes swollen because of yesterday night. You did not want to do this—you didn't want to hurt him, and you certainly didn't want to hurt yourself—but wasn't he already doing that anyway? He had hurt you so much, betraying you in the worst way possible. You would have tried to oversee it, would have fought through the pain, if only he had told you why he did what he did.

But he didn't, did he? He didn't give you a logical explanation, nor a shred of hope for a future. Ever.

You gulped against the lump in your throat and made your way out of your room, heading straight to the kitchen to get caffeine into your system.

When you entered, you saw Rocket sitting on a stool near the island, along with Steve, Nat, Tony, and Bruce standing around the counter.

"Good morning," you grumbled under your breath, your voice thick and dry.

Tony looked at the state of you, his eyebrows furrowing instantly. "Good morning, sunshine," he said, with his usual sarcastic bite but faltered into genuine concern at the sight of your swollen eyes. You glared daggers at him, and his frown deepened. "What the hell happened to you?"

Steve let out a quiet, tired sigh, while Nat nudged Tony’s arm, whispering sharply, "Stop it, Tony."

Across the counter, Bruce urgently made a cut-it motion with his hand, his eyes wide. Steve and Nat had filled him in on the aftermath from last night, but neither of them had managed to catch Tony up yet. They really, really should have.

Rocket looked back and forth between everyone, baffled by the sight before him. "I miss my weirdos more and more every single minute I spend with you weirdos."

"Shut up, rat," Tony muttered absentmindedly, his eyes still glued to your swollen face.

"I will literally kill you, metal man—" Rocket started, baring his teeth, but Tony paid zero mind to the furry creature and leaned in toward Steve and Nat, whispering furiously.

"What is going on? Is this a serious situation?" Tony hissed under his breath while you turned your back to them, reaching for the coffee pot. Dark storm clouds could have been swirling directly over your head right now and none of them would have been surprised.

"We don't fully know what's wrong either, but she had a massive blowout with Thor last night," Nat whispered, her green eyes tracking your movements with deep concern. "And apparently… they're soulmates."

You grabbed your mug, poured the dark liquid, and turned around to walk over to the counter—just in time to witness Tony and Rocket simultaneously shout, "WHAT THE HELL?!" in unison.

You stopped dead in your tracks, your eyes narrowing as you looked over the five of them. "What's going on?" you asked, your voice suspicious. Steve's head snapped toward you, his face flashing with panic as his mind scrambled to make something up on the spot. "Um! We were just... discussing how Bruce... spent two hours trying to teach Rocket how to play the ukulele using his toes!"

You tilted your head, staring at Steve like he had grown two heads. "Huh?"

Bruce glared daggers at Steve, looking like he wanted to jump out the glass window, while Rocket just stared at captain america in utter disgust. You walked over, setting your mug down on the island, and took a slow, thoughtful sip of your coffee. You were remarkably content that a certain someone was nowhere in sight, your black mood lifting just a bit at his absence as you decided to pry a little more into whatever absurd conversation you had just interrupted.

"But why did Rocket say what the hell if he is actually learning that from Bruce?" you asked, your eyes searching Steve's panicking face with quiet suspicion.

This made Steve panic even more, his throat working hard as he searched the ceiling for a second believable lie. Before he could embarrass himself further, Rocket barked from his stool, "It's cause they brought it up and I obviously didn't want it brought up, genius!" he snarled at you, baring his teeth.

You took a slow sip from your coffee, a faint, dark smirk playing at the corner of your lips. "Okay, Rocket," you said, looking him dead in the eye. "Show me what you got sometime. I really wanna see you playing ukulele with your toes—"

You stopped abruptly, your brow furrowing as a realization hit you. "Rocket..do you even have toes? You're a fucking ferret."

Everyone at the counter froze solid. Mouths went agape, eyes widened, and a hysterical silence fell over the kitchen as Tony, Bruce, and Steve tried to figure out how to process the sentence, and how to save Steve's lie from this point on.

Rocket broke the silence, his ears flattening against his head. "I'm not a damn ferret."

"That's because you are a bunny, my friend," a deep, rumblesome voice echoed from the hallway behind him.

The moment his voice hit the room, the hair stood up on your arms. Your whole frame locked up instantly, the breath trapped in your lungs as your mark began to throb with a vicious pulse beneath your sleeve. You glued your eyes to the dark liquid in your coffee mug, refusing to look up. You could not—would not—spare him a single glance.

Thor stepped fully into the kitchen, his stormy eyes locking onto you immediately. His mark burned like liquid iron over his heart, matching the agonizing pull radiating from your wrist. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the sight of you—your swollen eyes, your rigid shoulders, the coldness you threw up like a brick wall between you. It tore straight through his skin, branding itself directly onto his soul.

He gulped, his jaw clenching in agony as he stood there, completely ignored.

Rocket suddenly leapt up onto the island, his sharp teeth bared in pure irritation as he snatched a butter knife off a plate and pointed it menacingly at the entire room. "I'm just Rocket!"

You looked at him, your gaze entirely deadpan, refusing to let the distraction pull your focus to the giant god standing three feet away. "That's your name, stupid. You are an animal called a raccoon. You're welcome."

You set your mug down with a soft clink, slid off your stool, and turned to leave. Your eyes burned with hot, traitorous tears just from being in his orbit, the scent of rain suffocating you. You had to get away.

"Where are you going?"

The question fell from Thor’s lips—his voice small and stripped of his usual boomingness.

Your steps faltered for a second, a ragged, shuddering breath hitching in your throat. He was burning you. Just the sound of his voice pleading in the quiet room was hurting you worse than any weapon ever could.

You set your jaw, forced your feet forward, and kept on going without a word. You had to avoid him at all costs. You had to think of yourself now.

Thor stood frozen, his eyes burning as he watched you leave without a word. So you actually meant what you had said.

He could not breathe.

—

After three days of avoiding Thor, getting out of rooms whenever he entered or refusing to look his way at dinners, your bond was aching from being away from him. It made your right hand tremble, your lungs aching for air, his scent lingering in your nostrils even when he wasn't near you. Your mind tormented you with his face every single time you closed your eyes. It was torture, plain and simple.

Thor was far worse. His eyes desperately searched for you whenever he entered a room, his heart begging for just a single glimpse of you. His mark ached, throbbed, and pulsed, tearing through his chest every second you were away. He couldn't sleep. He saw your face whenever he closed his eyes; his mind was breaking under the strain. He was pretty sure he had hallucinated you standing in his room, smiling softly at him last night.

And it had only been three days. How was he supposed to endure a lifetime of this torment?

You were coming back from a girls' day out with Nat. You had needed to blow off steam, and you had chosen to do it through retail therapy. But she had left your side the second you both entered the compound, claiming she had urgent matters to attend to with Steve. You had merely nodded, pursing your lips and furrowing your eyebrows, suspecting a set up but too exhausted to argue.

You made your way to the elevator, heavy shopping bags clutched in your hands. You leaned back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling after pressing the button to your floor, patiently waiting to arrive. When the elevator doors finally dinged open, you let out a quiet sigh and stepped out, making your way down the eerily silent hallway.

The silence didn't last long. Your gently aching wrist flared, burning hot beneath your sleeve, and heavy, familiar footsteps echoed from up ahead. Thor was walking down the corridor from the opposite direction.

The moment his eyes caught sight of you, his breath hitched, his lungs burning at the sudden, overwhelming proximity. His stormy blue eyes roamed desperately over your face, his long stride halting for a second. But you forced yourself to pay no mind to him. You kept walking, the grip you had on your shopping bags tightening until your knuckles turned white, using the pain to ground yourself.

Thor forced his boots to keep moving, too. His jaw clenched so hard the muscle feathered beneath his skin as he tried to force his eyes away from your pretty, exhausted face.

But your bodies decided against your will.

Without permission, as you drew level in the narrow hall, Thor’s hand drifted toward yours just as your fingers twitched subtly toward his. It was barely noticeable, a magnetic pull neither of you could control.

The back of your hand grazed against Thor’s.

The touch stole the very air straight from your lungs. Electric heat surged through your skin, the contact burning like a white-hot iron. You stopped dead in your tracks, staring down in shock as the heavy shopping bags slipped from your numb fingers, tumbling to the floor. Neither of you paid the slightest bit of attention to the sound of them hitting the floor.

Thor’s broad chest heaved as he stared down at the small space between your hands. Days without you looking at him, days without holding you—it had turned him into a starved, desperate man. His throat burned, his pulse skipping wildly against his skin. Before his mind could stop his body, his pinky lifted, gently brushing against the side of your index finger.

You took a sharp, jagged breath, your brows knitting together in longing. You gulped, your heart hammering against your ribcage.

The hallway was silent save for the sound of both of your heavy, ragged breaths. The thick, suffocating tension made it almost impossible to draw air into your chest. He was burning, and he was dragging you into the fire alongside him.

Your hand twitched, your breathing growing quicker, shallower. Slowly, helplessly, you looked up at him for the first time in days—only to find him already staring down at your face, his eyes flooded with pure longing.

His breath hitched loudly as he finally met your eyes. Your breath caught in your throat, trapped in the back of your lungs. You couldn't pull your eyes away. Involuntarily, your gaze flicked downward, landing directly on his parted lips.

What were you doing?

The realization poured over you like a bucket of ice water. You stopped, shaking your head frantically as you yanked your hand back. You stumbled two heavy steps away from him, pressing your back flat against the cold corridor wall.

Thor flinched back a step, too, as if your sudden withdrawal had physically scorched him. But he looked at you with pleading eyes, his chest rising and falling harshly—desperately.

Unable to handle the desperation in his face, you averted your gaze immediately, looking down at the scattered shopping bags sitting between you on the floor.

Thor’s gaze instantly followed yours. Seeing his chance, he scrambled downward, dropping to his knee to gather the handles for you.

"Let me help—" he rasped, his voice rough and broken.

Before his fingers could even loop around the paper handles, you bent down and yanked the bags right out of his reach. Your chest still heaving, your skin still tingling with liquid fire, you turned on your heel and sprinted down the rest of the hall, diving into your quarters and slamming the door behind you.

That night, neither of you could sleep.

You tossed and turned in the dark, the ache in your chest radiating all the way down to your bones. It hurt so intensely to be this close to him without truly having him. It hurt knowing he had claimed he wanted you, yet still chose to push you away. But what cut the deepest was the memory of his eyes from earlier that afternoon—that raw, indescribable agony written across his face when you snatched your shopping bags and refused to let him help you.

Thor lay awake in his own room, staring up at the shadow draped ceiling, consumed by his yearning for you. He yearned for your touch, your scent, your laugh—just you. It physically pained him how desperately he wanted you, how deeply it stung that you denied him so much as a glance. Yet, when you had finally looked at him for the first time in days, letting him exist in your presence for just a fleeting moment, you had fled from him with all your might.

When he closed his eyes for the thousandth time that night, a soft, involuntary smile touched his lips at the mere thought of your face.

To only be quickly swallowed by the crushing weight of reality.

—

It had been two days since your hands touched in that hallway. Five whole days of not talking to him, not hugging him, not breathing him in.

God, ever since you learned he was your soulmate, your desire for him had grown unnaturally, ridiculously persistent. You had wanted him before, of course—wanted to kiss him, hug him, keep him close. But now?

It was tearing through your very soul. Your hands trembled with the urge to touch him whenever you caught even the briefest glimpse of him. Your heart throbbed in pain whenever you forced yourself to look away from him. Your nose burned with a relentless ache to step closer and breathe him in. Every time he entered a room, your jaw clenched so hard it hurt just to keep yourself from walking over to him.

Your lips were the absolute worst. They tingled, burned, and ached desperately—desperate for his plush, pink lips to crush against yours, to kiss you, claim you, and finally make you one with him. The soulbond was playing wicked tricks on your senses; everywhere you went, the air smelled intoxicatingly of rain and sandalwood. Everywhere you looked, it felt like the ghost of him was trailing just behind you.

It was pure torture.

Thor was utterly devastated. It hadn't been easy for him before, either; knowing you were his soulmate from the beginning meant every day had been a brutal exercise in self contrpl. He had spent months resisting the urge to touch you every two seconds, to breathe you in whenever you were near. Once, he had clenched his jaw so hard trying to restrain himself that he had literally dislocated it, forcing him to snap it back into place in secret. He fought constantly against the instinct to pull you in and kiss you senseless, his eyes constantly straying to your lips whenever you were in the room. He felt like a damned pervert for it, but tearing his eyes away was impossible.

You were simply made for him. Your beautiful face looked as though it had been meticulously carved by the gods, your body that of a goddess. You were the most extraordinary thing he had ever witnessed.

You were walking across the ground floor of the compound toward the elevator, your head down and your eyes fixed on your phone. When the metal doors slid open, you stepped straight inside without bothering to look up and check if anyone was already in it.

It was a huge mistake. The moment the doors slid shut with a soft click, your soulmark throbbed beneath your skin. The air in the enclosed space instantly flooded with the overwhelming, rich scent of him.

Your eyes went wide as panic spiked through your blood. You scrambled forward, your thumb hammering the button to open the doors back up over and over again. But it didn't work—the elevator had already engaged, smoothly gliding upward.

Thor was pinned back against the far wall, his fists clenched tightly at his sides as his breathing turned heavy and shallow. Your scent—sweet, intoxicating, perfect—filled his senses in an instant. You were the sweetest air he had ever breathed.

Desperate to get out as fast as possible, you pressed the button for the very next floor, your hands shaking as you tried to force your face into a mask of composure. You could feel his intense stare scorching the side of your profile, heavy and burning with unspoken words.

Fate decided to play its hand.

The elevator came to a sudden halt with a sharp metallic screech. The harsh jolt knocked you completely off balance, sending you stumbling forward into the center of the cabin. Instinct took over before either of you could think. Thor reached out to catch you, his large, warm hand wrapping firmly around your bare forearm to steady you. Simultaneously, your palm instinctively flattened against his broad chest—landing directly over his soulmark.

Thor sucked in a sharp, ragged breath. His chest burned beneath your touch, a fiery heat bursting right over the spot that declared he belonged to you.

You were shaken to your very core. Your chest heaved as you looked down at your hand resting flat against his chest, then at his strong fingers wrapped around your skin. You breathed, and breathed, and breathed, completely paralyzed, unable to move, feeling the fastened, hammering rhythm of his heartbeat thumping directly beneath your palm.

Your eyes locked with his. Both of your chests rose and fell in harsh, synchronized rhythms. Your skin prickled with electric heat, your lips parted as you gasped for air in the tight space.

Then, with another sharp jolt, the elevator sparked back to life, resuming its smooth upward climb as if nothing had happened. The movement made you stumble again, causing Thor's grip on your arm to instinctively tighten to keep you upright.

A voice crackled overhead from the intercom, sounding distant and lighthearted. "Sorry about that, guys! Just doing routine maintenance!" Tony called out.

The spell snapped. You harshly pulled away, scrambling back toward the doors and frantically straightening your clothes, staring intensely at the metal walls to avoid his face.

Thor cleared his throat, his raspy voice trembling as his eyes stayed glued to you. "Honey, please look at me" he begged softly.

The sound of his rough, pleading voice hit your heart like a punch, making you take in a sharp breath. But just as the words left his lips, the elevator dinged, and the doors slid open to the hallway.You bolted out the second there was enough space, rushing down the corridor without looking back, your heart beating in your throat.

He didn't even have it in him to give chase. His heart shattered into a thousand pieces as he simply stood there, watching your retreating form vanish down the hall.

—

You were crying that night, for hours, your knees pulled tight to your chest, your arms circled around your legs as your mark throbbed in disdain. Your heart ached, your nose burned, your ears rang, and your eyes were swollen and bloodshot as you tried to breathe through your endless, heavy sobbing.

Your whole body was begging you to go to him, to go to the only place it knew as home.

But how were you supposed to do that when the only home you’ve known for years had betrayed you so deeply? How were you supposed to run to him when your home refused to let you in?

Thor felt his heartstrings being violently pulled all night. His hands clenched into tight fists as he paced back and forth across his room, his muscles tense, his mind racing to find any way to fix this.

His eyes filled with unshed tears, his eyes and nose burning as he looked up at the ceiling, his broad chest heaving, his lungs aching.

Fuck.

He had to tell you the truth.

There was no other way to make you forgive him. There was no other way around this—no lies, no distractions, no evasions. Nothing.

He couldn't breathe without you. Usually, his lungs constricted whenever he was more than five paces away from you, but now? After five days of you ignoring him? Every breath he tried to take felt like dry sawdust scraping through his airway.

So he opened his door. His hands were trembling, but his posture was set with unbreakable confidence as he made his way down the quiet corridor to your room. He had to make this right.

Your throat burned as you tried to swallow, your sniffles finally slowing down, your sobbing ebbing into quiet, exhausted whimpers. You tried to gulp again, but you were completely parched, the dryness in your throat making you wince in pain.

You pushed yourself off the bed and padded softly over to your door. But the moment you swung it open, the dull pulse of your soulmark spiked into a sharp, white hot flare of pain—and then you met the eyes of the reason why.

Thor stood right outside. His eyes were bloodshot, his lips parted, his short hair disheveled. He looked as if he were in great pain. No—he looked as if he had been tortured in hell, dragged back to earth, and put through the flames all over again.

His chest burned as he looked down at your face—at your swollen, reddened eyes, your lips raw and inflamed from biting down on them, your cheeks wet from hours of crying. And still, you looked utterly beautiful to him. Devastatingly so.

Your eyes widened in shock, and you immediately tried to slam the door shut. But Thor caught the edge, pushing it back effortlessly. You were forced to take a few steps backward as he forced his way inside, your body trembling as you put as much distance between the two of you as possible.

"What are you doing here?" you whispered. But it hurt just to speak, and your face scrunched up in pain at the rasp in your voice.

"Have you been crying, my love?" he asked, his voice cracking with unbearable pain. His eyes roamed frantically over your face as he stepped inside, closing the door firmly behind him.

You snapped your head away from him. "What do you want?" you whispered again. When the pain in your throat proved too much to bear, you tried to make a beeline past him toward the door; you needed water, and you needed it now.

"Please—please do not leave! I beg of you, let me speak to you!" Thor begged, his large hand reaching out and wrapping firmly around your forearm.

You let out a sharp, ragged breath. "My throat hurts," you said simply, your voice raspy and broken.

He looked down at you, the desperation on his face making you shiver. "I’ll get you whatever you need, just—" He gulped hard, his throat working over a lump of pain. "Just don't leave. Stay here, please."

You shook your head weakly. "I can't."

His grip on your arm tightened, not to hurt you, but out of pure panic. "Please," he begged again, gently guiding you back to sit down on the edge of the mattress. "Stay." He turned and quickly left the room to grab a glass from the kitchen.

What was he doing here? What did he want? What more could he possibly want from you?

You couldn't bear to hear him reject you again. You couldn't survive the thought of him being this close to you and not touching you, not holding you, not kissing you.

You sat on the bed, staring down at your bare feet, shivering as your mind made its decision: you were not going to stay.Your eyes burned with fresh tears as you stood up, taking fast, silent strides toward the open door.

But you were too late. You had spent too much time trapped in your thoughts. Thor was already stepping back onto the threshold three paces to your right, a tall glass of water in his hand—and he looked furious.

Your eyes widened and you tried to pivot to flee, but he was fast. His right arm swept out, wrapping like an iron band around your waist, and he hoisted you up over his broad shoulder without a single shred of effort, knocking the wind straight out of you.

"Where do you think you are going?" he demanded, his voice tight and dark as he carried you back into your room.

"What the fuck, Thor?!" you gasped, your legs flailing and kicking hard against his abs. But he didn't even budge.

He forcefully set you down on the edge of the bed again, then thrust the glass of water toward your face, his stormy blue eyes blazing with pure fire.

"Drink."

"No."

"Now." He demanded, the command rattling the air between you.

You looked up at him, your hair disheveled, your eyes spitting absolute fury as you snatched the glass from his hand and drank it down. The cold water soothed your raw throat instantly. You watched over the rim of the glass as he walked back to the door, clicking it shut and turning the lock immediately after.

Why the fuck did he lock the door?

"Thor, why are you here?" you asked breathlessly, setting the empty glass down and standing up from the bed as he turned back to face you. "What the fuck are you doing?" Your heart was hammering in your throat as you spoke.

"I am here to talk to you," he stated, his voice ringing with immovable determination.

"I don't want to talk to you," you spat back, crossing your arms defensively over your chest.

"I will talk, and you will listen," he said, his hands clenching into tight, white knuckled fists at his sides.

You scoffed, turning away from him in irritation. But as you turned, your eyes caught sight of Stormbreaker leaning heavily against the wall near the door frame. The axe’s sharp metal edge gleamed dangerously under the moonlight spilling through the window.

Your eyebrows furrowed. Had you seen that right? Why was Stormbreaker in your room? What the fuck was happening?

Then you heard a heavy whoosh of air, followed by a loud thud as the weapon summoned straight into his waiting palm.

Thor shifted his stance, and his next words made your heart drop into your stomach, your blood turning into pure ice, your head spinning with sudden dizziness.

"Look at me," he commanded, his voice tight, dark, and laced with an edge of desperation. "Look at me and see how it feels when your soulmate threatens his own life. Look and feel how I felt."

No, no, no, no, he cannot be doing what you thougjt he was doing, could he?

"No," you whispered. You turned back to face him, your hands flying to your heart, your eyes wide with pure terror.

Thor stood there, holding Stormbreaker flush against his own throat. The razor sharp blade pressed firm against his skin, threatening to cut his artery open with the slightest movement.

You took a trembling step toward him, your hands shaking in the air. "No, no, no—you can't," you begged, your voice breaking into a terrified, breathless sob. "Thor, please—you can't!"

"Are you willing to listen now?" he said, his voice shaky as he exhaled.

You nodded frantically, your chest heaving rapidly as you spoke. "Yes, yes, I’ll listen. Just drop that, please!" you begged, taking another step forward, your legs trembling so hard you could barely stand upright.

Your heart ached, beating so hard against your ribcage you felt as though it were trying to tear straight through it. You bit down hard on your lower lip, your tears spilling endlessly down your cheeks.

"It is a curse," he said.

You breathed out a hollow breath. "What?"

"It's a damn curse. I cannot be with you because I am cursed," he confessed, his voice something small, fragile, yet his grip on his weapon remained deadly tight.

Your eyebrows furrowed in pure confusion. "Thor, what are you saying? How are you cursed—what the fuck?" You couldn't breathe. A wave of sick nausea climbed straight up into your stomach.

"It was years ago... a dark elf cursed me," he said, his voice nothing but a broken whisper. "I was arrogant—a fool. I did not believe a single word that came out of his mouth. But it all turned out to be true. I lost my mother. My father. My brother. Every person I held dear to me..."

Your head tilted to the side, tears falling continuously as you asked, "But I am your closest friend... how come I am still alive if you are actually cursed?"

Thor closed his eyes, fresh tears escaping past his lashes as he spoke. "Because the curse does not apply to friends. Only family... and my lover."

Realization slammed into you like a physical blow. "That is why you—"

"Yes," he said, opening his bloodshot eyes to lock into yours. "That is why I did not tell you. I tried to protect you."

But there was something fundamentally wrong in this equation. He was your soulmate. You were friends, but the two of you had been irrevocably in love for years. If something terrible was meant to happen, wouldn't it have happened already? Besides, you were almost certain no dark magic could ever touch or overrule a soulbond.

"But—but soulmate magic is different! No dark magic can—"

"I knew you were going to say that! I just knew you were going to try to make sense of this!" he cried out, his voice trembling. "I know I have hurt you dearly. I know you do not want to see me, but please—" he begged, his eyes burning with frantic desperation. "Please kiss me so that I might be freed of this torment."

All the oxygen left your lungs at once. Your lips tingled in sharp desire even at the mere thought of kissing him.

"If I cannot hold you, I am as good as dead anyway," Thor continued, his voice strained and breaking. "I would rather die by this curse tonight than live another minute in your silence. Kiss me... kiss me, touch me, do something. I beg of you, My Star. I promise you I will end it all before something happens to you—"

A heavy sob tore from his chest.

"I have thought of this... if I die, then you won't have to worry about dying because of the curse. So I—I will end it after you kiss me. Make my last moments worth it, please. At least before I die, let me get to hold you, feel you, feel your lips on mine..."

Your heart dropped straight to your stomach. "No..." you whispered, taking an involuntary step back. "No, I will not let you die—" You sobbed, your tears falling harsher, blinding your vision. "ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!"

Thor pressed the razor edge of the axe harder against the skin of his throat, a tiny drop of blood welling against the steel. "I will do it whether you kiss me or not, my love. So I beg you... I beg you to kiss me before I do."

Your lungs constricted in on themselves as you stared into his desperate, weeping eyes. In that second, a reckless, overwhelming certainty took root inside your chest.

"I do not care about a damn curse!" you screamed, sobbing uncontrollably. "Please, Thor, do not leave me without you!"

You looked all over his face—taking in the full, disheveled state of him. Crying, sobbing, hands trembling, a god completely brought to the brink of death, willing to take his own life simply because he couldnt survive being left without you.

Then you made your decision. If you were not meant to be together in this life, you would be together in the next.

You smoothed your posture, standing straight. Your voice trembled, but it carried an unbreakable, stern finality. “Fine” you whispered, his eyes turned hopeful.

"I will kiss you," you said softly, walking toward him slowly, your bare feet padding silently against the floor. "But you have to promise me something."

Sobbing, you reached up to him, your hands finding the front of his shirt and grabbing the fabric tightly in your fists.

Thor let out a ragged breath of pure relief, looking down at your face, nodding hysterically as he wept. "Anything."

You sniffled, looking dead into his eyes.

"You have to let me die too."

His breath hitched, his thoughts going completely haywire as he looked down into your tear-filled eyes. "No—no, you cannot ask that of me—"

You gripped the fabric of his shirt even harder, pulling him down toward you. "I can. I am asking it. Think about it, baby," you whispered, your voice turning sweet as honey despite the terror in the air. "We can find each other in the afterlife. We can be together there... it's all going to be okay," you said, your eyes shining with a hopeful light.

"I can't let you die—" he begged, his throat working harshly as tears spilled over his lashes.

But you didn't let him finish. You surged upward and pressed your lips directly to his, letting out a long, shuddering sigh immediately after—surrendering to the soulmate you had spent years forcedly staying away from.

Thor froze instantly in his place, his entire frame going rigid as his mind fractured, contemplating whether to pull away to save you or kiss you back. But the soulbond snapped whatever restraint he had left into dust. He dropped his arm from his chest and wrapped his massive hand around your waist, pinning your front flush against his broad body as his lips pressed into yours bruisingly, both of your chests heaving in tandem.

You kissed him back just as fervently, your heart soaring in your chest, your soulmark finally singing in pure relief. You could almost hear the magic call out to the both of you, mocking the years of separation: 'Finally. What took you idiots so long?'

Your hands traced up his chest, sliding past his collarbones to reach his neck, but your movement stopped dead. His hand was still clenched in an iron grip around the handle of his weapon.

You pulled back just a bit, your hand gliding to his hand until your trembling fingers rested over his white knuckled hold on the giant axe.

"Drop it, honey," you whispered softly against his lips.

And Thor could not deny you anything. Not after you had kissed him. Not after you looked at him with that heartbreaking devotion.

It's okay, he reasoned desperately with himself, his heart hammering against his ribs. I can do it right after. I'm not going to let anything happen to her. I will end my life before the curse takes hers.

His grip on the axe loosened, and he let the weapon slip from his fingers, letting it fall to the floor with a loud, heavy thud.

The second the axe hit the ground, Thor’s hand flew to your jaw, his other hand tightening around your waist as he pulled you back in and kissed you with a ferocious, starved intensity. A breathless whimper escaped your throat. Tears kept slipping down both of your cheeks, the bitter, salty taste mixing between your lips, your noses brushing, your hands grabbing frantically onto him—his neck, his face, his broad shoulders.

He hoisted you up effortlessly. You circled your legs tightly around his waist with another whimper, your arms wrapping around his neck as he carried you two steps and slammed your back against the wall, knocking the very breath from your lungs.

You kissed him back with every single drop of strength left in your body, his desperate kisses making all your logical thoughts completely evaporate into nothing. One of his massive hands gripped the back of your thigh tightly to hold your weight against the wall, while his other hand clutched the back of your neck, tilting your face up to press you closer, deeper, until there was no air left between you.

You were still crying silently, the two of you kissing like dying people reaching for air in a burning room. Your hands tore mindlessly at each other’s clothes—your nails digging into his shoulders, his back, his neck, everywhere you could get a hold of his warmth. Thor pressed you harder between his chest and the wall, his large hands roaming possessively all over you—your waist, the sides of your breasts, your arms, your neck, until his fingers finally tangled into your hair where your scalp met your neck, tilting your head back to deepen the kiss into something even more intoxicating.

He groaned heavily into your mouth while you whimpered, shivering against him.

He broke the kiss for a second just to whisper frantically into your mouth, "I love you, my little star. I love you, I love you.."

And he claimed your lips again. You bit his lower lip softly, pulling your head back just an inch to look into his dark, bloodshot eyes. "I love you too, honey. My big, handsome love," you whispered right against his mouth before pulling him back into another breathless kiss.

He couldn't help himself. Driven by pure, primal instinct, he grinded his hips up between your legs. You let out a high whine, your head falling back against the wall as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, the electric warmth between your legs flaring wildly to life.

"Thor..." you whispered raspy into his mouth.

"Yes," he gasped back, his breath scorching your skin.

A heavy, sickening dizziness began to take over your consciousness. The edges of your vision blurred into black. Your hands and legs felt terrifyingly limp against his frame, and the mark on the inside of your wrist didn't sing anymore—it flared with a pulse of internal heat.

Your strength vanished, your head dropping onto his shoulder. "I love you... do not forget it. Ever," you whispered into his skin.

Thor froze dead in his tracks. His stomach sank into a bottomless abyss as the meaning of your slurred words slammed into his brain. His blood ran ice cold. No. No, no, NO!

Panic exploded through his entire being. His muscles tensed as he tried to summon Stormbreaker back into his hand to drive the blade into his own heart before the curse could take another breath from your body—

Whoosh.

Before his call can reach the weapon, your hand twitched instinctively. Driven by a final, desperate burst of power to save him from himself, your hand shot up and threw an invisible force field, blasting Stormbreaker straight across the room where it clattered harmlessly against the far wall.

Your hand fell limp. Your eyes slipped closed, and your head heavy-ended against his neck as you slipped completely away into the dark, silent abyss of unconsciousness.

"NO!" Thor screamed, a sound so broken it shattered the glass in your bedside lamp. He slid down to the floor, clutching your limp, unmoving body tightly to his chest, weeping hysterically as he shook you. "NO! Baby, baby please— Open your eyes! Please—OPEN YOUR EYES!"

He looked down at your limp body, his frame shaking with uncontrollable sobs, his fingers twitching to summon his weapon and end it all right there. But while holding you, his palms cupping your cold cheeks, his tears dripping down onto your skin, his heart aching with a agony so profound it felt like a thousand blades were going through him, his mind suddenly slipped into an idea he had never thought of before.

Why hadn't he thought of it before?

He knew someone who could help. He had to get you to him immediately.

He gathered you up into his arms properly, pushing off the floor and sprinting out into the hallway, his boots thundering loudly in the middle of the night.

A door clicked open, and Steve stepped out into the corridor, groggy from sleep as he squinted at the source of the commotion. His eyes widened into circles of shock as he saw Thor carrying your limp form, sprinting toward the stairwell. Steve immediately gave chase.

"Thor! What's going on?! Is she okay?!" Steve asked frantically, his heart dropping to his stomach.

Thor couldn't even form words. He could only sob, a ragged sound, as went down the stairs hurriedly to get out to the compound garden.

"Answer me, Thor! Please, man!" Steve begged, his own voice wavering.

"I do not know!" Thor choked out, weeping harsher.

When he arrived atthe ground floor, he saw his friends rushing out into the main area, their faces pale with concern as shouts of "What's going on?!" and "What happened?!" echoed off the walls. Thor didn't stop. He burst straight out into the cool night air of the garden, his free hand reaching up to summon his weapon—for a completely different reason this time.

To save you.

Stormbreaker flew into his waiting palm. Before any of his friends could reach the doors, Thor vanished into a blast of blinding rainbow light.

He landed right on the stone doorstep of the Sanctum Sanctorum.

"Sorcerer!!" he roared, his free fist hammering against the wooden door. "Sorcerer Strange, I need your help!"

He knew he could shatter the wood in a single strike, but he didn't dare offend the only man who might save your life. The door swung open just as he was about to land another desperate punch.

"Thor? What is going on? It's the middle of the night, I need my—" Stephen Strange started, rubbing his eyes, but stopped dead the second he saw you lying limp in the god's arms. His expression shifted instantly. "Bring her inside. Now."

Thor rushed inside and gently laid you down on one of the leather couches, his hands trembling violently as he clasped your cold hand in his own.

"Tell me what happened," Stephen demanded, stepping forward as his hands lifted, magic sparking around his fingertips as he began scanning your body to decipher the problem.

"I—" Thor started, but a sob cut him off. "It's my curse! I was cursed by a Dark Elf, and I kissed her, and she fainted, and it's all my fucking fault—"

Stephen paused, lowering his hands slightly to look at him. "Thor—"

"She's dying, and it's my fault!"

"Thor—"

"I cannot live without her!"

"THOR!" Stephen yelled, cutting through the god's panic and locking eyes with him dead on. "She is fine. The curse is broken."

Thor went completely motionless, his breath catching in his throat. "What?"

"She fainted because she is human and not a god like you," Stephen explained, shaking his head with a faint sigh. "Her body simply went into shock from the intensity of your soulbond activating all at once. She is going to be completely fine. Apparently, your soulbond is stronger than any dark magic, my friend."

Thor froze solid. Then, slowly, the tension melted from his face, breaking into a massive, breathless smile. He let out a booming, triumphant laugh that shook the dust from the bookshelves, reaching out and engulfing the Sorcerer Supreme in a crushing, bone snapping hug.

"SORCERER! Thank you, my dear friend!" he boomed, chuckling heartily with unbridled joy.

Stephen grumbled loudly in his iron grip, tapping Thor's shoulder. "Okay, big guy... you're welcome. You can let go now."

Thor let go, only one question on his mind now, you were a mortal, a blink of an eye in his lifetime, so he couldn't help but ask, "But how long will she live f—"

"As long as you." Stephen replied simply, "Soulmates have the exact same life expentacy, unless you die, she will live, as long as you do."

—

You opened your eyes, lying in your own bed back at the compound. Your head felt light and dizzy as you looked around the sunlit room.

Was this heaven? Had you died?

Was Thor here?

Panic spiked through your veins. You sat up immediately, swinging your legs off the mattress and rushing out of your room to look around, desperate to see if he had found you in the afterlife.

But as you stepped into the hall, you didn't see golden gates or clouds. You only heard the familiar, lively chatter of your friends coming from the common room down the hall.

You hadn't died.

Which meant...

Thor?

Your hands trembled as you broke into a sprint toward the living area, your heart hammering faster and faster against your ribs as you crossed the threshold.

Every single head snapped in your direction. The room immediately went quiet, and they all pushed up from their seats, rushing toward you with overwhelming relief written across their faces—Rocket, Tony, Bruce, Steve, Nat.

"You scared the hell out of us, kid," Tony said, stepping up first and pulling you into a firm hug.

Your eyes frantically searched past his shoulder, roaming over every corner of the room. Then Nat wrapped her arms around you, followed by Steve, then Bruce, and even Rocket gave your leg a brief, awkward pat.

But where was he?

Tears welled up in your eyes again. Your heart ached with a suffocating panic, your whole frame trembling as a broken sob escaped your throat.

They all immediately took a step back in surprise.

"Woah, woah, my shirt's Dolce, don't cry over it," Tony said, holding his hands up defensively.

Natasha shot Tony a sharp, lethal glare. "Tony." She turned back to you, her expression softening. "What's wrong?"

"What happened?" Bruce asked, looking deeply concerned.

"Where is he?" you choked out, your tear filled eyes darting wildly between them.

He couldn't be gone. He couldn't be dead. You couldn't survive in a world without him.

"Are you asking about me?" came a deep, rumbling voice from right behind you.

You spun around instantly.

Thor stood in the doorway, his short hair catching the light, a look of pure devotion on his handsome face as he opened his broad arms wide for you. "I am right here, my love."

Taking a sharp, gasp of air, a massive smile broke across your tear stained face. You launched yourself at him, collapsing straight into his arms. Thor caught you effortlessly, lifting you slightly as he buried his face into your neck, and you breathed in his intoxicating scent of pure him.

"Wow," Tony's voice drifted over, "Point Break's got her wrapped around his giant finger."

“Tony!” Natasha scolded again, as she turned to him, her arms crossed over her chest, “I think it’s the other way around.” she declared as she looked back at you.

You couldn't hear a single word anyone else was saying. All you could hear was the strong, steady, glorious thumping of his heart beneath your cheek. You looked up into his face, meeting the deeply adoring, starry look in his blue eyes.

"How?" you whispered, your voice shaking.

"Because we are soulmates," he whispered back softly.

Then he lowered his head and crashed his lips straight onto yours, pulling you into a deep, breathless, touch-starved kiss.

"You were right," he murmured against your mouth between fierce, desperate kisses. "There is nothing our love couldn't fix, after all."

You smiled right into the kiss, tears of pure happiness slipping down your cheeks. On the inside of your wrist, your soulmark pulsed with a warm, steady glow for the very first time—finally whole, finally quieted, completely consumed by the feeling of his strong hands, his breathless kisses, and his overwhelming, eternal love.

—

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