After getting arrested bt the TVA, you succesfully escaped. But not back to your timeline. You found yourself in an alternate universe where the Avengers were real.
[Contains spoilers for season one of Loki]
Blaring music played in your ears as you cowered in the corner of the living room. The floor vibrated under your feet and the loud conversations we're drowned out by Yelena's favorite music.
"I will admit, you do look great in my color." Loki announced his presence and offered you a glass with clear liquid inside, "don't worry, I watched the bartender carefully." He assured you.
"Thanks," you smiled and plucked the glass from his hands.
"Anything for you," he grinned and took a sip of his own beverage. You smiled weakly as you took a sip. You looked around the room. Every face looked familiar. A familiar blur yet they didn't know who you were. You were a stranger, an outsider. No matter how hard they tried to make you feel included everyone felt that strange detachment. Like you never matched the situation.
Too dull when things were bright. Too quiet when things were loud. Too energetic when things were calm.
"Everything alright, darling?" Loki's warm voice snapped you back into reality.
"Yeah," you lied and gripped your own arm tighter, digging your nails into your skin.
"Stop, whats the matter?" He asked and pried your hand off.
"I'm fine, Loki." You told him.
"I know that look," he cooed and tipped your chin upwards to face him, "come on, talk to me." He pleaded gently and grabbed your hand. He lead you through the crowed, careful not to bump into anyone. Under the bright lights you could see his black suit sparkle. It tightly hugged his figure and broke off into a elegant cape down his back. His hair was perfect per usual. Parted down the middle with a mini version of his crown resting on top.
He walked you down an empty hallway where you could still hear the faint music playing from the penthouse. Each detail of the tower seemed like a dream as flashing lights shone through the tinted windows. Dizzy from the commotion, your head started spinning. The tiled floors turned blurry and the corridor seemed to stretch on for miles.
"Y/n?" He turned back to see you struggling to walk in a straight line. Your legs were like jelly and it was almost impossible to keep yourself standing. With every step, you risked tipping over onto the floor which appeared to move beneath you.
You felt your knees give out, dropping your limp body to the ground. You reached out for Loki's hand. The panic on his face sent a wave a reassurance through your numb body. His pale hand wrapped itself around yours. Soon enough his body felt like jelly. Black smoke surrounded the dim hallway, engulfing you and Loki.
A golden light flashed through the hallway and eliminated the smoke. You caught one last glimpse of Loki before blacking out. High pitched ringing filled your ears and drowned out Loki's worried screams.
*
The sound of a basketball slapping concrete echoed off the thin walls of the small cell you woke up in. The room's walls were a vibrant orange with a faint circular pattern. You laid stiffly on a cot that hovered just barely above the ground. The sheets were a creamy white and the pillow gave your neck a persistant cramp.
"So you've just given up?" Loki's nagging tone asked as he attempted to break free.
"Yep," you sighed.
"And now we're trapped in this awful memory loop." he added.
"This was the worst day of my life," you whispered. His hands fell to his side and he tilted his head at you.
The basketball stopped bouncing and the memory unfolded.
A young you sat on your driveway with one knee up. Crimson red blood oozed out of the large gash that stung under the Autumn breeze. A navy blue truck pulled into the spot next to you. The engine's roar ceased and the driver's door popped open. Your dad's familiar work boots hit the ground, crushing the orange and brown leaves.
"Y/n, come here," he whispered and scooped you up into his arms. The gash on your leg stopped it's stinging as your dad cooed an old Norse lullabye in your ear. His hums were low and matched his gruff voice. He practically spoke through coughs.
"What were you thinking? It's too cold to be out here." He scolded.
"It's only 58 degrees," you protested as he dampened an old rag under the rusty faucet.
"Don't argue," he retorted and handed you the shredded cloth.
"Whatever," you scoffed and held the fabric over your sensitive cut. You leaned back in the worn down dining chair. Your head hit the yellowing wallpaper and you closed your eyes. Only for a second.
They shot back open at the sudden ringing of the used phone mounted on the kitchen's back wall.
"That might be grandma, can I answer it?!" You pleaded and jumped out of your chair. The bloodied cloth hit the linoleum floor with a muffled thud.
"I suppose," your father grumbled. You bounced over to the high pitched phone and held it up to your ear.
The memory zoomed out and there you were, standing by Loki. His hand was rubbing your back as you held back tears. The both of you watched your younger self drop the reciever. It clanked against the wall and the curled cord stayed wrapped around your pinky. Tears welled up in your eyes.
"What happened?" Loki asked, confusion lacing his voice.
"She was diagnosed with stage four lung cancer," you sighed and allowed for a single cold tear the drip down your tired face.
*
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