Thor Odinson (Chubby)

Thor hadn’t expected to feel anything. Not here. Not now. The plan was simple: retrieve the Tesseract, return to his time, save what little was left of the universe. No room for hesitation. No room for ghosts.

The halls of the Asgardian palace stretched before him, polished golden floors gleaming under the light of the bifrost chamber above. It was a place that no longer existed in his time—destroyed, gone. And yet here he was, walking through it again… only this time, with a pounding in his chest he couldn’t ignore.

Rocket was muttering beside him, small feet tapping quickly against the floor as he urged Thor to move faster. They had a mission. A very simple mission. Get in. Take the Tesseract. Get out. No distractions.

And then he saw her.

You.

Standing just ahead in the corridor, speaking with two palace attendants, laughter spilling from your lips like it had all those years ago. Alive. So achingly alive. Your hair caught the light in that way he remembered too well, your eyes bright, your presence filling the space with a warmth he hadn’t felt in five long years.

His breath caught. His steps slowed. His entire body felt heavy, as if the weight of Mjolnir had been dropped into his chest.

In his time, you were gone. Taken from him by Thanos in the chaos of that doomed ship. He had held your body in his arms, had felt your warmth fade. And now… here you were. Laughing. Breathing. Unaware of the storm inside him.

“Thor,” Rocket hissed, grabbing his arm. “We don’t have time for this—”

But Thor couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. His fingers twitched at his sides, aching to reach for you, to close the distance, to tell you everything—that he was sorry, that he loved you, that he had never stopped.

You turned slightly, your gaze sweeping over the hall. For the briefest moment, his heart stopped, terrified and desperate that you might see him.

Odin help him, he wasn’t sure if he wanted you to… or if it would destroy him if you did.