Princess (A Loki x reader fanfiction) Rewritten (ON HIATUS)

Chapter 1

   Faith sets down the pan of enchiladas on the table, along with a plate and fork. "Dinner is ready!" She calls in the direction of the living room. She has already eaten, having made a second smaller pan and washing it, knowing that she wouldn't be offered any. She hasn't eaten a lot, by any means, like usual, but it was enough to last her.

   Robert walks into the room, swaying from side to side a little bit, obviously drunk. "Good. Now go find a job."

   Faith nods and leaves, heading towards her room. She pulls out her phone, not knowing where to start. Then she remembers that there's a page on the Midtown High website that has a list of jobs available for high schoolers. "Hm..." She scrolls through, looking for jobs as paid interns, figuring she would at least be qualified for something like that. Birch Industries, Olympian Twins Co., Stark Industries... She scrolled through the list, and by the time she was done, she had applied at eight different places. "That should be enough, I guess."

   Not sure what to do, she has an idea. She walks out into the dining room. "Is it okay if I go for a run?" She asks her father. "I won't be gone too long..."

   "Ugh." He grunts. "Fine." He looks at his watch, seeing that it's 6:15. "Be back by six forty five. Not a minute later."

(A/N) Trigger Warning: Panic attack

   "Thank you." She smiles, grabs her coat, and leaves. As she walks down the busy streets of New York, she is bumped into by multiple people. She can't exactly blame them though, considering how many people are there. But the amount of people is overbearing. Faith backs up to a wall, but is still unable to get more than a few inches away from people. Her breathing becomes ragged, and she sinks down into a sitting position, lightheaded. She has her knees pulled up to her chest, and her arms wrapped around them. She can sense a panic attack coming, which only makes her panic more. "No... not here..." She mumbles, feeling herself begin to shake.

Unknown P.O.V.

   I run down the street, shoving my dead phone into my pocket. "She's gonna kill me for being late for dinner." I mumble to myself. I stop abruptly when I see a girl sitting with her back to a wall, her knees pulled up to her chest, shaking. "Is she..." My eyes widen when I realize what's happening. I slowly walk up to her, and talking in a calm voice, I say, "Hey..."

   She glances up, her eyes wide. "It's okay." I say gently. "I think you might be having a panic attack." I can hear her having trouble breathing. "Hey, it's okay. I'm here." I carefully sit down next to her, making sure not to invade her space at all. "Okay, are you able to name five things you can see?"

   She looks around, confused, but she does as I say. "That sign over there... that food truck... the playground... that guitar... and a skyscraper."

   "That's good. Now can you name four things you can feel?"

   The girl is a bit confused, but seems to realize what I'm doing is helping, so she complies. "The cement... my jacket, the bricks on the wall behind me... and this patch of grass."

   "Now can you name three things you hear?" I smile at her. "You're doing really good."

   "Well... Your voice. Cars... and footsteps." I can hear her breathing becoming steadier.

   I nod. "Can you name two things you can smell?"

   "Yeah... I can smell..." She tips her head to the side a little bit. "Burritos. And... clover?" She looks down to see that the patch of grass she had mentioned before has clover in it as well.

   I smile. "And lastly can you name one thing in the immediate environment?"

   "I mean... that's pretty much what I've been doing." She shrugs, laughing softly. "But I guess... This building?" She motions to the building behind us. Then she seems to realize everything that happened. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry. And thank you."

   "It's okay. And of course, it's no problem. What's your name? I'm Peter."

   "I'm Faith. Do you know what time it is?" She smiles. "Oh wait, I have my phone." She pulls her phone out of her pocket. "Ack! I gotta go! See ya!" She runs off quickly.

Faith's P.O.V.

   'Six forty three.' I panic when I look at the time. Well, not panic panic, but just normal panic. I run as fast as I can in the direction of my apartment. 'Six forty four.' I can't be late. I'm going to be in trouble. I reach the outside of the building, and not bothering to wait for the elevator, I sprint up the stairs. 'Six forty five.' Shit, shit, shit!

   I reach my doorstep. As I was about to open the door... 'Six forty six.' I step inside quickly, but sitting on the chair by the door was the last person I wanted to realize I was late.

   "Not a minute later." He quotes himself, then looks at the clock on the wall. "What time is it?" I stand there silently, frozen. "What time is it?" His voice is deadly calm.

   "S-six forty six..." I say, stumbling over my words nervously.

   "Exactly."

TW: Abuse. 

   I look down at the floor, knowing what will come next. I tense, preparing myself. After a moment, when nothing has happened, I look up, accidentally meeting his eyes. And that is what caused the thing I was dreading.

   He throws the (now empty) bottle he was drinking out of onto the floor. "What are you looking at?" His eyes flare with rage. I don't have time to prepare myself before he slaps me. Hard. I stumble back, holding my cheek. I don't say anything, knowing that would only make it worse. "I gave you the privilege of going out, and give you one rule. One. And somehow, you manage to prove yourself incapable of following it." He hits me again, a right hook to the side of my head. 

   Because of the force of the blow, I can't stay standing this time. When I fall over, I barely manage to catch myself, still dizzy. He kicks me in the ribs, and I curl up to protect my stomach. He kicks me one more time for good measure, then walks to the fridge to grab himself another beer, not caring about me anymore. 'I'm surprised that was such a short amount of time. Normally it would've gone on for longer...' I think. 'Maybe it's because I was only a minute late?'

   I lay there on the ground for a few more minutes before getting up. I make my way to the bathroom, careful not to make too much noise. I look in the mirror to see that my face is bleeding, though I'm not sure where from. Grabbing a rag from the drawer, I get it wet and wipe my face off. My nose is bleeding, and I have a cut on my cheek. Probably scraped it on the glass on the floor when I fell. After cleaning myself up, I hear a notification from my phone. I pick it up to see two emails. I open the first one to see that it's from Birch Industries. A bit excited, I scan through. My excitement quickly fades, however, when I see what it says. 'We are sorry to say that you are not qualified for the internship here, and there are superior candidates. Good luck in your search for a job. Sincerely, Harold Roberts and Co."

   I sigh dejectedly. If I'm not qualified for Birch Industries, it's unlikely that I'll get a job with any of the other companies. Oh well.