Loki and Peter Parker Imagines (X reader)

The Mark (Loki)

Soulmate AU. Takes place during the events of the avengers.

-----------------------------------------

The universe you lived in was an obscure one, to say the least. People with the ability to shoot lasers out of their hands, people with such high intellect and intelligence that they invented objects which enabled them to shoot lasers out of their hands, Gods going on dates with random scientists, enormous green rage monsters, you had them all.

But perhaps the most twisted trial fate put you through was that of discovering who your soulmate was.

"Soulmate". Sounds sweet, you may think. But in truth the mere word could be associated with the millions of humans who were suffering through misery.

Every person was born with a black mark on their body, and that mark suggested where that person would make the first contact with their soulmate. Afterwards, the black area would burst in astonishingly bright colors. The person would become a walking, talking rainbow.

It was disgusting. Among the billions who had found their soulmates, there were some who tended to hide the dark origins of how they met their soulmates. After all, how would you explain that a total stranger slapped you? Or tried to-

You were disgusted by even thinking about it.

Then there were some people who openly flaunted their marks and the fact that they had discovered their soulmate. They'd rub it in your face if you were among the other half, the "Searching souls". Behind their fake smiles and exaggerated, unnecessary sympathy, they thought that they were somehow better than the ones who were still searching. Still suffering.

It wasn't sweet. Not at all.

Unfortunately, your disgust and hate for the word "Soulmate" hadn't branched out because of these issues. No, it was far more personal.

Your mark was in shape of a hand, and that hand would be throttling you.

Yes, the first physical contact you'd ever have with your soulmate would be one in which they would be strangling you.

Choking you. Killing you.

The ringing of the bell above the door of the book shop you worked at pulled you out of your thoughts. Your hand instinctively went up to your neck to fiddle with the collar of your turtleneck sweater. You wore these sweaters or a scarf around your neck whenever you went outside, no matter the weather. You looked up to see a man dressed in black approach you. He was wearing an eye patch.

Nothing could surprise you anymore, though.

"Is this (Your full name)?", he asked.

"Uh- yes? How can I help you?"

"I need you to come with me, miss. It's personal and important business which can not be discussed in public like this."

"My shift ends in 20 minutes, can y-"

"Trust me, this is much more important than your shift, Miss Y/n."

"Oh- Okay. I'll be with you in a minute."

You asked your friend to cover for you and quickly made your way to the man, who, at this point, was standing outside the cosy bookshop.

"There was an idea, to bring together people with.. Certain abilities. The avengers initiative."

"So?"

"Don't play dumb here, Miss. We know about your abilities. We need you to join this initiative."

"What abilities? And if I had any, what makes you think I'd want to join this 'Super secret boy band' of yours?"

The man just glared at you. "You don't have a choice, Miss."

----------------------------------

When you were 4, you had discovered your 'abilities', as the man had said. Your mind, which functioned as well as that of any toddler's did, had urged you to plunge your hand into the flickering flames dancing above the burning stove. You hadn't known what to expect, but then again, you certainly hadn't expected to feel... Nothing. Okay, maybe you had felt something, but that sensation was not unpleasant. No, it was soothing. You enjoyed the feel of the flames now dancing on top of your little hand. Then, your mother had caught you and she had started screaming. You hadn't known why until you turned 8.

At this age, your still-somewhat-slow-moving mind had managed to process that having your hand, or any other body part for that matter, plunged into fire, and not feeling pain was wrong. It was supposed to hurt. And it didn't hurt you. No, it was like the fire beckoned you with open arms, providing you with comfort which a cool breeze and a good book provided you with now, no matter how ironic it was.

As you grew up, you started experimenting with this strange resistance you had to fire. You soon realized that you were able to... Manipulate fire?!

It sounded wrong, so you hid it.

Your mom was a loving one, the one in a million type, but you knew that deep down she was cautious and scared of your ability. You didn't blame her ; If you were her, you would be scared too. But your mom never made you feel like you were different. She made you feel as if you were completely normal, in a good way.

But you hid your powers nonetheless.

You hadn't regretted your decision, and you didn't think you ever would, but now, as you stood amongst the other people who had been sucked into this "Avengers Initiative", you thought of how much good you could've done, how much fame you could've gained if you hadn't hidden your powers.

It didn't matter now, anyway. The organization responsible to bring these people together (S.H.I.E.L.D.? You weren't sure) was keeping tabs on you this whole time? How did they even know?

The change was absurd, but it was not unwelcome.

------------------------------------

Loki, the God of Mischief, was a troubled man in more than one aspects, as he now looked back on his life so far. He was adopted, lived his entire life in the shadow of his 'brother', and was denied his birth right to a throne. That was not all, no, he was a frost giant, and he had grown up being taught that his own kind, the Jotunns, were monsters.

And then the whole 'soulmates' fiasco.

His mark was quite ordinary, it was on his hand. His first physical contact with his soulmate would be one in which he would hold them. By their wrists? He had no idea. Yet, he never searched for his soulmate. He hated the idea itself.

Why shall fate decide whom he had to spend the rest of his life with? This was absurd.

He admitted that taking over Midgard was not his best idea ever, but he was stuck knee deep in this quicksand of a trouble already, and there was no going back.

Besides, it was not as if that abominable creature would let him live if he did so, anyway.

And so he commenced with the plan.