my favorite thing about early criminal minds episodes is that there’s always a bad early 2000s song that is shoved in during the emotional ending and I think that’s beautiful.
So this is AU where Hela haven’t been driven out from Asgard and spent a great deal of time with her youger brothers
[Loki in Hela’s arms is illusion btw]
I can’t help everybody.
It sort of seems like you can.
Not if I stop. I can put a pin in it right now, and stop. Something tells me I should put it in a locked box and drop it at the bottom of a lake, and go to bed.
But would you be able to rest?
Description: (I feel like I should apologize for how long-awaited this sequel has been. Oops). A few months ago, you were kidnapped mid-battle from your friends The Guardians of the Galaxy. You never gave up hope that they would find you, but recently, prisoner in some strange lonely stretch of universe, you’ve been keen to give up.
Warnings: blood/gore, violence, fighting.
Word Count: 4,829
First Part
“Y/N!” Peter cried, sprinting so hard and fast that you could see the pain of his heart racing all over his face. He strained, reaching, screaming, grasping for you.
They pulled you back further still. They dropped you to the floor of their cold grey ship and the door began to close, Peter shooting the solid metal as you disappeared. You crawled forward, stretching, crawling, legs sore and tired.
“Peter...” You cried, banging your fist against the metal door as his shots rang out around you, echoing over the rumble of the engine.
You woke with a start, your eyes caked in dirt, sweat, and blood. Your jacket, a pillow beneath your head, was spread out beneath you now. Your hair rested in a matted bun atop your head, long and dirty. Your breathing was hard and labored, and your heart pained to be back in that dream, to see Peter again, to reach for him and maybe, just maybe, this time you would find his hand and he would pull you out. And then you could go back to Earth and stop waiting for the future to bring Earth back to you. You could live normal boring lives together in some desert or city, the events of the past far behind you.
“Oh-sixty-four, wake up,” a guard grunted, throwing some gross beige mush down next to you. “Rounds in thirty.”
You looked to your right and out the small porthole of your cell. The stars were far off in the blackness. Somewhere out there, you hoped the guardians were searching for you. You knew that they would find you. They would save you.
It’s not like you’d been pathetic and hadn’t tried saving yourself. You looked down to your wrist at the lightning-like scar that wiggled up your forearm, and then to the shackles on your ankles. There’s a tall price to pay for escaping in these parts, you knew that.
You took a forced bite of the breakfast mush and shoved it away. You had lot a lot of weight the last few months. You were weak and tired. So tired. You hoped they’d hurry and find you, because you weren’t sure how much longer you had the will to fight it all.
After a minute, you stood up, dizzy for a moment until you could get your bearings. You picked up your old leather jacket and wrapped it over yourself, shivering in the hard metallic cold of the ship.
You trudged through the halls with your guard at your side, his sickly green skin wet and slimy. The chains rattled against the floor. You wore an electric choker around your neck as well, and it left your head pointed up and stiff. They put it on every morning before you began your shift, just extra insurance against your escape.
“Don’t try anything dumb,” the guard said, shoving you forward and into a large, glass-domed room filled with dirt and other prisoners digging tirelessly.
“When I get out of here, you’ll be the first person I kill,” you spat, turning towards him angrily.
He chuckled. “If you last that long.”
He closed the gate on the big botanic room and you turned to the rest of the prisoners, watering and picking food from the bushes and digging in the dry dirt. The ship, you thought, was some kind of colony in the sky. You hadn’t seen the people that lived there often, but in the times you had they seemed naive, clean, and high-strung.
“Y/N,” one of the other prisoners said, slamming an old shovel into your gut, “you’re a digger today.”
You sighed and stared at the gate, and then turned your attention slowly to the dome.
“Peter,” you said, “I’m waiting.”
“Peter, I’m waiting,” Gamora snapped, steering the Milano through a gang of hostile aliens.
“Give me a damn second,” Peter yelled, “we have to wait for the right moment.”
“The right moment was five minutes go!” Gamora said, diving sharply down and around another enemy ship.
“Quill, I think I’m siding with the green one,” Rocket said, “I’m not in the mood to die a fiery death today.”
“Yes, I agree with the bunny rabbit,” Drax said, tensing.
“I am groot,” Groot said.
“Exactly!” Rocket agreed.
“Will you all shut up!” Peter shouted, aiming for the center of a large, black ship. “I need, like, two more seconds.”
Gamora rolled her eyes and continued flying forwards.
“Peter-” Rocket tried.
“We can’t kill them all! We still need to question them! These ships are the same mark as-”
“Peter,” Gamora said, her voice low. “We can’t help her if we’re dead.”
“We can’t help her if they’re dead,” he said after a moment.
After another second, Peter fired, the shot ringing through space and colliding with the center of the big black ship. An electric shock pulsed throughout the fleet and left the ships disabled all around them.
Gamora took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Rocket dropped his head to his hands.
“I am Groot.”
Peter sat back and smiled. “Yeah, now we’ve got a lead.”
The screen in front of them buzzed for a minute, and then a strange face clicked on and flickered before them.
“We’re the Guardians of the Galaxy,” Peter said, “prepare to be boarded.”
The Guardians boarded the main ship, guns drawn, Peter in the lead.
“And to what do we owe the pleasure?” The old, wrinkly alien said, lips perched as he watched the group approach.
“We have some questions about an attack a few months ago,” Gamora said, “it involved a ship just like one of your fleet, and they took one of ours hostage.”
The alien threw his head back and chuckled. “We have thousands of ships in our fleet like those, and everyday there are new people taken aboard. My guess is the prisoner died long ago. Not many survive.”
Peter clenched his jaw and took a step forward. Rocket shoved his claws into his leg and held him back.
“You don’t understand,” Gamora said, “we’re going to need you to look up some specifics.”
Drax tightened his grip on his gun and aimed it promptly at the aliens head. The mood of the room shifted and darkened.
“I’ll need a location.”
“A dwarf planet not too far from here. We landed on a gang of thugs like yourself. We were hired for the job.”
The alien man sighed, “then it does truly seem like these events should be in your job description.”
Peter stepped forward and punched him hard in the face.
The man rubbed his hand along his jaw and sighed, eyeing Quill.
“This must be a touchy subject for you, boy,” he said.
“Give us the information we need, or I blow up this entire fleet.”
The man thought for a moment, and then conceded. “There was a report of an attack on a shuttle by a small group on a nearby dwarf planet. A few casualties, one prisoner. But as far as I know, the ship encountered the Jitauri and blew up not one week after that event. There wasn’t a report of the prisoner being dropped off.”
Peter swallowed.
“Where would they drop the prisoner off?” Gamora asked.
“Anywhere from here to the other side of the universe. We’re everywhere.”
“Let me try again,” Gamora grunted, “where between the explosion and the planet could they have dropped the prisoner off?”
The man sighed. “They couldn’t have,” he said, “your friend is dead.”
Peter cried out and threw another punch at the man, tears welling in his eyes as Drax and Rocket reached to hold him back.
You dug all day. Hundred of little holes. So many new and strange plants growing from them. Sweat dripped from your forehead and you sighed, looking up to the sky.
“Still waiting for your friends?” Another prisoner asked. “If they’re gonna face this fleet, good luck to them.”
“They’ll be fine,” you said mindlessly, still staring at the stars above the glass dome. “Stronger then people expect.”
“I hope so,” the other prisoner said, “if they’re coming for you, maybe they can free all of us.”
You snapped back to reality and looked to the prisoner talking to you. It was a girl around your age, with long orange hair braided back and around her head. Her eyes were far apart and her skin was pale and freckly with an undertone of blue. She smiled sadly at you.
“Do you think they’re still looking?” She asked.
You looked at her and at the sky, and then back to her. She'd been here much longer than you.
A little bit of doubt began to creep into your mind. It had been months, and you knew you hadn’t gone that far. About two days travel on the ship that took you here. And this was a big place, and the stars had stayed in the same positioning the entire time. You hadn’t moved. So why hadn’t Peter found you yet?
You sat in the dirt, watching everybody work as you took a short break. You sang to yourself, your mouth dry and lips chapped. Your voice cracked and whispered.
“I’m not in love...”
You felt the tears rising under your arms and up into your eyes.
“So don’t forget it... It’s just a silly phase I’m going through...”
You tried to imagine Peter’s touch. That night, the night you were taken, he was sleeping next to you. When you woke up, he was flying the ship, and you were alone. You’d give anything to have woken up besides him that last day. You kept singing.
You let your head fall against the wall behind you.
“And just because... I call you up... Don’t get me wrong, don’t think you’ve got it made... I’m not in love...”
Peter rested his head against the window and watched the stars pass as they raced back towards the dwarf planet they left long ago. The song played on around him, floating through the air like an old promise.
Gamora sat next to him and placed a hand on his knee.
“Peter?”
He grunted, still staring out the window.
“Peter, are you okay?”
He didn’t answer.
“Peter, we’ll search the radius of the planet. After that, we can try and find the wreckage of the ship. But really, all we can find now is closure.”
He moved his eyes and found hers, glazed and sad. Empty.
“You believe him? That asshole? You think she’s dead?”
Gamora thought about her words carefully. “We’ve been looking for a long time, Peter... If that ship was destroyed that fast... And you know she would’ve fought back. What are the chances that-”
Peter tensed. “Well we’re here now, aren’t we? So the chances are pretty good that this would all happen. And I can’t give up.”
“I know, and that’s why we’re scanning, and searching, and why we’ll find the wreckage, whatever is left of it-”
“So you’re looking for a body now?” Peter asked. He shook his head, tears welling in his eyes.
I’m not in love.
Gamora stayed quiet. She lifted up a gentle hand and brushed away some of his fluffy curls. “I’m looking for closure.”
Peter turned his face gently back towards hers, closer now. A few seconds of silence passed before he fell forward, leaning gently in towards her. He kissed her, the tears falling from his closed eyes and down his cheeks as the universe danced in the window behind them.
I keep your picture...
Upon the wall...
It hides a nasty stain that's lying there...
He placed a hand on her neck, just below her jaw, more tears peaking through his squinted eyes.
I know you know it doesn't mean that much to me...
“Peter!” Rocket called, “the scanners picked something up! There’s a fleet base about two days south of the planet! They might’ve left her there!”
Peter pulled himself away from Gamora, his cheeks soaked in salty tears. She blinked for a moment, sad.
“Let’s go. Top speed.” Peter stood and walked away from Gamora, who turned her attention to the window at her left.
I'm not in love...
So don't forget it...
It's just a silly phase I'm going through...
The song echoed out around them as they sped off into the reaches of space.
The next week you awoke from a relatively sleepless night. The shackles on your ankles ached and stirred as you moved. You stared out the window when you couldn’t sleep, hoping to see the milano fly up, Peter just out of reach.
The same nightmare of the night they took you came again, and Peter’s face was blurry now. You tried to remember it, to remember his voice and his hands, but it was all so far off now. How far away were they? Had they given up?
You pressed a hand against the cool glass of the porthole and felt a tear fall form your eye, draining on the floor at your head. Your jacket served as a blanket tonight, shielding you from the stark cold.
There was a rumble that shook the ground. Other prisoners stood up in their cells and called out.
“Shut up!” The guard shouted, “shut up!”
You struggled weakly to your feet, wrapping your hands around the hard bars of your cell. White-knunckled, you pulled yourself up to your feet, your knees shaking.
“What’s going on?” You tried, your voice weak and scratchy.
“None of your business, oh-sixty-four,” the guard said, banging the bars and your fingers, “step back. Back!”
You cringed, pulling your fingers into your chest. The floor shook again, and more guards ran down the hall.
Across the hall, you found the eyes of the orange-haired girl sitting in front of the bars of her cell. She had dried dirt smeared down her cheek, covering her soft pale-blue lips.
You turned and scrambled for your porthole, pressing your hands flat against it as you tried to look around.
“Peter,” you tried, your voice breaking. “Peter.”
The ground shook again, sending you to the floor, dizzy and and weak.
The milano shook restlessly as Rocket steered straight for the giant ship. A big glass dome decorated the center of it, reflecting the light of the stars.
“What is this place?” Rocket asked, leaning forward.
“A colony,” Gamora said, “he probably didn’t mention it because there’s civilians. We need to find a safe way to do this.”
Peter watched Gamora. Gamora kept her eyes trained forward.
“We sneak in,” Peter said.
“Well we’re already being shot at,” Rocket said, the milano shaking.
“Then we fight,” Peter said.
Rocket began firing at the approaching ships, a few of them spiraling out in flames. They dodged and swung, speeding around the colony in a blaze.
Peter swallowed, watching Gamora and the huge ship, the dome of glass stretching out over the center.
“Peter, I’m gonna drop you guys real quick once I get an opening. Get in there, blend in, hide, and try and find her.” Rocket yelled over the firing, surging forwards towards and open bay on the big colony ship.
Rocket dove towards the bay, Peter, Gamora, and Drax standing at the opening door, clicking their masks on.
They jumped out, flying towards the opening fast. Peter took the lead, speeding down towards the ship. He landed with a thump, rolling forwards until he slammed into a wall at the opposite end of the bay. Gamora and Drax followed.
They entered the ship, their masks dissolving as they clicked them off. Peter glanced back and Gamora and pressed his lips together, letting out a deep breath.
“Y/n,” peter whispered, pushing forward.
Guards were still running passed your cell.
“Do you wanna get out?” You asked, looking at the orange-haired girl across from you. She thought for a moment, and then quickly jumped to her feet and nodded firmly.
“I’m gonna need your help,” you said, “I’ve got these chains.”
She nodded again, holding onto the bars with both hands.
As a guard sprinted by, you reached out a hand and snagged a set of keys, quickly rolling backwards into the darkness of your cell. You fiddled with them, your hands shaking from weakness.
“God, Peter, I hope this is you,” you muttered, reaching outside of your cell to try and unlock the door. “Tell me if anybody is coming,” you said to the girl.
“Okay,” she said, “be quick.”
You tried key after key, shaking and fighting against your own strain to unlock your cell. After a minute, the lock clicked and the door fell ajar. You grabbed your jacket and wrapped it around you, sliding out the door and closing it behind you. You glanced up and down the long hall of cells and took the keys to the orange girls cell.
“They’ll kill us,” she said frantically, “I’m afraid.”
You reached a gentle hand through the bars and grabbed her wrist. “It’s gonna be okay. No matter what happens, we’re getting off this ship.”
She nodded, watching your eyes with a sense of hopelessness. Her door clicked open, and she slid out beside you. You closed it silently.
“Hey!” Another prisoner yelled. “Hey! Us too!”
You looked down the hall at all the desperate hands, skinny and dirty and desperate. You slid the keys to the prisoner that cried out and grabbed the orange-haired girls hand, pulling her through the hall. Doors clicked and flew open behind you both as you sprinted, prisoners joining you in your race to freedom.
“We’ve got a code red just off bay three,” a voice said, garbled through a communicator, just passed a turn ahead of you. You held out an arm to stop the people behind you, slamming yourself against the wall. You put a finger over your lips.
“Three invaders, all of humanoid descent, one green-skinned with red hair, one grey-skinned, one wearing a long cloak-”
You reached around the corner and locked your arm around the neck of the guard. He reached up and grabbed at your arm, clawing at your skin. The orange-haired girl grabbed him and helped you pull him to the ground. After a moment of wrestling, you found your way on top of him, all of your weight down on your forearm just over his neck.
“Three invaders-” you said, exasperated, “who are they?”
You felt hope trickled back in. You glanced up at the other prisoners, watching intently.
The guard gurgled and choked, flailing against the floor. Spit and sweat dripped from your chin and onto his face, and after a second his body fell still. You clenched your jaw and took a few deep breaths, standing up quickly. You rolled your shoulders and cracked your neck, the chains at your feet rattling against the metal.
With the band of prisoners behind you, another guard rounded the corner. You sent your elbow up into their face, your chains hitting the floor.
A soldier slammed backwards into a wall as Peter pulled his elbow back from his head. He grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed his knee up into his chest. He collapsed to the ground.
“Peter, I thought we were blending in,” Gamora whispered.
Peter look down at the bloodied soldier and dragged him behind a corner. He wiped off his hands and turned forwards, and empty hall stretching out before him.
“We’ve got three invaders, all of humanoid descent, one green-skinned with red hair, one grey-skinned, one wearing a long cloak-”
Drax grabbed onto loose pipe in the ceiling and swung backwards, his legs stretching forwards just as a guard came around a bend. The guard flew back and slammed down on the cold ground, his communicator sliding across the hall.
A weak voice cut through the static, just barely audible.
“Who are they?”
Peter stopped, his ears twitching at the sound. His lips parted as he bent down to pick up the narrow watch, the voice breaking through the static.
“Peter?” Gamora asked, turning away from Drax as he pummeled the guard.
Peter stared down at the watch, waiting.
“Peter-” Gamora tried, “we need to go. Now.”
The static on the watch cut off and died. Peter looked up at Gamora, clenching his jaw and dropping the broken communicator to the ground with a clank.
The chains hit the ground.
You searched the guards on the ground for a key to set yourself free, but there was none.
“We need to keep moving,” you wheezed, pulling yourself around the turn.
“Y/n,” The orange-haired girl said, “if this is your friends-”
“It is,” you said, nodding, breathing frantically.
“They’ll find you. You’re in no shape to fight. They will find you. Come with us. We can get out.”
You looked over all of the other prisoners, all small and tired. They watched your every movement, every twitch and breath you took.
“If they’re on this ship, they’re in just as much danger as we are. I’ve never left them behind before-” You thought back to your dream, to the face Peter made as the doors shut in the shuttle and swept you away. You had left them then. That day, you didn’t fight hard enough, and you left them.
“You guys go,” you said after a moment of silence, “get to safety. Steal shuttles. Kick ass. Do whatever you can to get out and get home. I have to do this.”
The girl shook her head. “You don’t owe anybody anything, Y/n.”
You looked down, a drop of blood falling from your nose. You found her eyes. “I owe Peter.”
Blood dripped from Peter’s hand as another soldier fell to the ground.
The three rounded another corner and entered the big glass dome. A makeshift field of dirt and plants spread out before them, abandoned now and drenched in a red hue from the alarms they had set off.
A man lay in the dirt, his ankles in chains. there was a steal collar around his neck, as well as cuffs around his wrists. His eyes stared up into nothingness. Peter swallowed over the lump in his throat and pushed through the dirt.
“Peter, we need to find her fast,” Gamora said.
Peter ignored her and ripped up the plants, kicked the dirt up into the air. A smaller door on the other side of the dome opened, and a group of guards in all-black walked through, their boots crunching on the ground.
Peter reached under his cloak and pulled out his two guns, one for each hand.
You watched as the prisoners went in the opposite direction of you, towards the shuttles. There were so many of them, some of them carry rusty bars and others weapons from the guards. You knew you had done something right by them, setting them free. Nobody could stop them now.
You made your way towards the dome. Knowing how they all thought, you figured they would go for the most identifiable place. Your chains rattled as you limped through the hall, nose bleeding and head pounding.
“It’s just a silly phase I’m going through...” you sang to yourself, “and just because... I call you up... don’t get me wrong, don’t think you've got it made...”
There were shots ahead of you, behind the small door where the prisoners entered the big dome. You looked back one last time.
It was too late to join the others.
You kept singing, squeezing your tired eyes shut as you listened to the sound of shots firing.
Gamora ran up and wrapped her legs around the neck of a guard, throwing him to the ground. As she held him down, Peter sent a shot into his shoulder. He spun and shot a few more times, more guards and soldiers pouring in. Distantly, he could hear people screaming.
Dirt and plants exploded around him, fire erupting on the trees along the walls. The dome above was crystal clear, the stars around the ship shining bright and watching casually.
Drax pushed a small group soldiers into the wall over and over, leaving a giant dent in the metal.
“State your business!” a soldier screamed, shoving a gun into the back of Peter’s head.
The room began to fall quiet, the rest of the soldiers pinning their weapons on the three of them. Peter tucked his guns away at his side and put his hands up, his eyes finding Gamora’s.
“We’re looking for someone,” he said, brows furrowing.
The guard pressed the gun into his head.
Through the quiet, Gamora could just barely hear the sound of singing. She turned her head, listening carefully.
“I’m not in love...” You sang, more like a zombie now than anything else. The shots had died down. You limped still, chains dragging as you sang.
Peter could hear you now too. So could the rest of the guards.
As the door rose open, Peter saw you standing there, skinny and broken and chained, nose dripping blood. His lips parted and his breathing sped up. Gamora and Drax turned.
You found his eyes. He stood there with his hands in the air, guns pointed at him from ten different angles.
“It’s just a silly phase I’m going through.”
The soldiers and guards looked at you, perplexed.
Your usual guard turned to you, eyes deadly.
“Oh-sixty-four!” The guard shouted, huffing towards you in the doorway.
You pressed your lips together, Peter’s eyes finding yours. Your heart flooded, seeing his face. His hair, curled so gently. Scratchy beard, pink lips.
The guard reached out for you.
You mustered up all your strength and punched him in the face, his gun falling from his hands. In that moment, Peter ducked and turned, tackling the soldier behind him. Shots erupted once again.
You dove and slide across the dirt for the gun, wrapping your fingers around the cold handle. You turned and pointed it at your guard.
“I told you, you would be the first person I killed.” You pressed the trigger, the shot sending you falling backwards as the guard crumbled lifeless to the ground.
You lay there, looking up at the stars. You thought about that fateful day on the dwarf planet, when they took you. How badly Peter wanted to save you. You felt safe in that split-second memory.
But then there was a knife in your side, and you gaged suddenly, crying out.
“Y/N!” Peter called, ripping out his guns and shooting in every direction. Peter screaming, his fists blazing and shifting as he filled with rage.
He shouted, and every soldier and guard around him fell to the ground. Gamora tackled the soldier that stabbed you, sending a shot through his heart.
You looked up at the sky.
Peter stared down at his hands, the flames fading now. Drax watched him, confused.
You smiled, blood welling up behind your teeth.
“Y/n,” Gamora whispered, placing a hand in your hair.
“You- you- you found me-” you struggled, shaking. “Jeez, can you get me out of these chains?”
Gamora tried to smile, her lip quivering. She shot at the chains and they fell from your ankles, into the dirt.
“Y/n,” Peter said, falling to his knees at your side. Your heart surged with happiness.
“I knew you’d find me, Peter,” you said, finding his eyes. He was crying. You smiled.
You felt his arms wrap around you and lift you, the stars somewhat closer. The memory blurs after that- he was running, carrying you. He was warm. So warm. And you were cold, still.
“We’ll get out of here,” Peter whispered, placing a mask over your face. “Don’t worry, Y/n. We’ll get out of here. We’ll get- We’ll get out of here.”
You let your head roll back as the void of space confronted you with no walls to protect you.
You woke up the way you had fallen asleep, in Peter’s arms.
Your body was sore and tired. Your ankles burned from the freedom from the chains. There was stiff gauze wrapped around your midsection.
Peter was so warm, and he smelled like home. Even the lights of the milano seemed welcoming.
“Y/n,” Peter said, sitting up slightly to look into your eyes.
“Peter,” you said with a sigh.
“I thought you were dead. I thought I’d lost you.”
You smiled. “I thought you’d given up on me.”
Peter pressed his forehead to yours and closed his eyes. “I love you. I love you, Y/n.”
You pressed your lips to his. “You found me.”
He pulled you into his arms, gently tracing circles on the exposed skin of your stomach.
“When we get to Earth, I don’t want to live on a farm,” you whispered, your voice hoarse.
“That’s fine,” he said, “farms are overrated. All I need is a park and some birds to feed.”
You thought back to that fateful day one last time, and you smiled, sinking into Peter’s warmth.
Description: Loki has just fallen from the broken rainbow bridge after failing to take over Asgard. After discovering him cast away in the middle of nowhere on your home, Midgard, you decide it might be worth going on an adventure with the strange god. (Side note: hopefully, this series I’m starting will explore the time between Loki’s first disappearance and his capture / brainwashing under Thanos. I’m hoping to make this just a cheesy, old-fashioned fic).
Loki followed you as you made your way through your house and up to your bathroom on the second floor.
“I don’t usually let strangers use my shower,” you said.
“Well we aren’t really strangers anymore, are we?” His voice was low and childish. The gentle orange light of your bathroom fell over his cheekbones and darkened his eyes. He sighed.
“This is weird for both of us,” you said eventually, handing him a towel. “Just get clean, and then maybe we can find somebody who can help you better than I can.”
“May I ask why you are helping me in the first place?”
You wrapped your fingers around the door handle and looked back at him in his tarnished robes. He had a scrape down the side of his face that was decorated with dried blood.
“I don’t know,” you said, closing the door behind you.
You found yourself in the kitchen with some pop tarts in the toaster. You poured some apple juice into an old mug that said Number 1 Dad on it and leaned back to drink it. You heard the water in the shower hit the floor, rinsing off of the man-from-the-sky.
After a few moments he appeared before you, white towel wrapped around his lower half. The way the water dripped and fell around his eyes and over his glassy skin made him look younger and more afraid than he had before, out in the field. He had sad green eyes. The wrinkles and dirt on his face looked like cracks in his skin, cracks filled with the dust of space and of all the sadness leaking from his soul.
“Breakfast,” you said, setting the plate with the pop tarts on the table. “I’ll get you some clothes, first.”
Loki watched you move across the room swiftly, your eyes carefully set straight before you. The door to your fathers room was ajar, and it creaked as you pushed it further open. You presented an old washed out t-shirt that said “Fender” across the chest with an old guitar just over the stomach, as well as old sweat pants you had never really seen your father wear before.
“You are... kind,” Loki said, holding the clothes in his hands and looking at the food on the table. His voice cracked and stirred in his chest, his breathing faint and shaky.
“You might want to change before you flood the kitchen,” you said gently, pointing to the hallway with a bathroom door closed on its right.
“Tell me about yourself,” you said, watching him as he stared down at his food.
“I don’t know who I am anymore,” he said weakly, voice numb.
You raised an eyebrow and he glanced up at you.
“Truly,” he said, “I thought I had an idea when I was younger. Then my brother won the favor of the universe and then I did not know. And then again I thought I knew my place, but then the truth yet again unmasked itself and my life was a lie. And then I thought I’d make myself somebody, give my myself a role and a duty. And now here I am, probably thought dead to my family, as though they’d even care.”
You looked down at the table, at all the old scrapes and knicks in the wood. “I sort of understand,” you tried.
Loki pushed the plate away from himself. “I don’t have much of an appetite right now.”
“That’s fine, considering.” You looked back up at him and sighed.
“I’m not looking for your pity, mortal.”
“Oh, so now that I’ve seen your weakness I must be belittled to ‘mortal.’”
Loki grunted and found the view of the sky through the window behind you. His thick black hair fell in tufts just behind his ears.
“I was meant to be king,” he said, broken.
“Destiny is all a lie,” you shrugged, sitting back in your chair, “nothing is ever meant to be. Life isn’t planned out before we get here.”
Loki found your eyes. “My whole life I was taught-”
“Yet here you are in my kitchen,” you said. “Destiny is for the people who get it right. Life is for the rest of us.”
Description: Loki has just fallen from the broken rainbow bridge after failing to take over Asgard. After discovering him cast away in the middle of nowhere on your home, Midgard, you decide it might be worth going on an adventure with the strange god. (Side note: hopefully, this series I’m starting will explore the time between Loki’s first disappearance and his capture / brainwashing under Thanos. I’m hoping to make this just a cheesy, old-fashioned fic).
Loki fell from the heavens and landed no where particularly important. He hadn’t hoped to die, but he had hoped to cause pain. Pain on his family so that maybe they’d understand, pain on himself for being naive and for being a Frost Giant. He heard Thor crying for him as he fell into the darkness of space, and for an instant he thought maybe he actually loved him like a brother should. Despite all the games they played as children, despite the cold stretch of Thor’s mighty shadow clasping Mjolnir, Loki decided as he fell that maybe he would try and live if only for the nostalgic memories of his brother.
He knew of the deepest caverns in space, ones where even Heimdall couldn’t see him. He didn’t wish to be seen. He wished to disappear and find the life he longed for. He never really wanted the power- he wanted the respect. And, like other things, when people aren’t born into it, it usually just never happens. Thor was born to be worthy. To be respected. Loki was born to die an infant in the ice-strewn hell of Jotunheim. Odin seemed to agree, yet there he was, his birth right shattered long ago, stranded in the broad expanse of deep space. There was treachery there, he knew. Mad titans and raging beasts soared high in these parts, but it wasn’t a monster that came across him when he found himself laying in a field looking up at the sky. It was a soft face, gentle and upside down.
“Hello,” you blinked, tilting your head as you studied the strange man that fell in the golden farms just beyond your house. “Who are you? And how’d you do that?”
“No!” He yelled, pounding his fists into the wet, golden dirt. “No! Father!” He screamed, tears welling in his eyes, “I could’ve done it! I could’ve done it!”
The strange person stood behind him and watched, alarmed.
Loki fell forwards and slammed his hands down again. “I’m not broken!” He shrieked, his voice strained. “I’m not worthy! I’m Frost Giant-“ He spit at the sky, teeth barred against the clouds. “And I could never be good enough to be your son! The only child you ever had was Thor! Powerful, mighty Thor! Thor with the hammer, with the thunder, with the strength and speed! And yet here I am, a ghost!”
A red color leaked into his tired eyes. The tips of his fingers went numb and blue, and the onlooker watched curiously as he yelled absurd things into the air. He let out a few quick breaths and then fell down, his black and green cloaks smeared with dirt. He panted in the ground for a few moments, his skin pale as the yellow sun adopted him into its light.
“Um-“ the woman behind him said, taking a step forward, “I’m guessing you have daddy issues. But, like, this is my parent’s house, and I don’t know you.”
Loki turned around, his greasy black hair falling in front of his face, now covered in a thin film of dirt.
“I’m Loki-“ he began, “of- of-“ His eyes wandered to the ground for a moment, and soon the woman was kneeling in front of him, waiting until he met her eyes. “I suppose I no longer know where I am from,” he admitted.
“Well I’m Y/N of New-Jersey-Just-South-of-New-York,” you said, searching his face. “Where did you come from?”
“Well I jumped off the rainbow bridge- well, what was left of it after my brother destroyed it- and fell into a wormhole, which sent me falling through space for a period of time I can’t quite remember the length of. The bridge was of Asgard. Surely you’ve heard of it.”
You stared at him for a moment longer. “Oh,” you said, “okay.”
He stood up and attempted to brush off his clothes. “Well, Y/N. I- eh-“ He looked around. “I won’t be here long. I have much work to do. And I fear it would be very dangerous for someone as weak and small as you.”
You furrowed your eyebrows and crossed your arms. “Well, Loki-of-nowhere-signficant, I don’t suppose you need any help.”
“As I said-“
“Small and weak,” you grunted, shifting your weight onto your other leg.
“Weak and small, really.”
You looked him up and down. “You need to get cleaned up.”
He looked you over as well. “And why should you help me?”
You thought for a moment before you sighed and shrugged. “I want an adventure. What better way to find one than running away with the man who fell through the sky and landed in your backyard?”
The setting sun danced on his skin, and he smiled.
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