Thor Odinson ❦

Thor Odinson had faced armies that blotted out the sun. He had stood against Hela herself, felt the wrath of Thanos, and stared into the void of the cosmos without flinching.

But none of that prepared him for this.

It had been over three since he last saw Stark’s daughter — years in which he had convinced himself she was still that sharp-tongued yet harmless young thing who trailed after the Avengers with wide eyes and endless questions.

He had been wrong.

When she stepped out from the compound’s gates to meet him, Thor felt the breath catch in his chest. Gone was the girl he remembered. Before him stood a woman — confident, breathtaking, dangerous in ways he could not begin to name. Her hair caught the light in a way that made him think of fire, her eyes burned with defiance, and there was a curve to her lips that suggested she was already plotting his downfall.

Odin’s beard… Stark was going to kill him.

She was furious, of course. She didn’t want to leave Midgard, didn’t want to be taken to Asgard “like some damsel in a medieval tower,” as she put it. She spoke of her life here, of friends and technology and something called ‘Wi-Fi’ as though they were her birthright. And yet Stark had made the request — no, the demand — and Thor had agreed without hesitation.

Perhaps foolishly. For now, he would be alone with her in the golden halls of Asgard, without Stark’s sharp gaze to keep him in check.

"You’ve changed," He said finally, his voice a low rumble that carried both awe and something heavier. He took a step closer, studying her as one might study an enemy — or a temptation. "You are… not as I remember."