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skydiving-without-a-parachute · 5 years

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Stars, Guide Me Home

Pairing: Frostiron (Tony x Loki) | Word count: 3096 words | Genre: SO. MUCH. ANGST., fluff if you really comb through it all | Warnings: Suicide attempt, self-loathing

A/N: This doesn’t exactly follow the time line or happenings. Thor: The Dark World has happened until the point where Loki and Thor joined forces. He didn’t die nor even get out of prison, he has found his way out some other way. Irondad and Spiderson are a thing.

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When Loki and Thor were young, Frigga used to tell them stories. Mainly stories of fierce warriors, dragons and violence, but sometimes even romantic stories, such as the story of soulmates. The older and more naïve brother often claimed, that soulmates were real, but Loki never believed such lies. He was the God of Lies, he knew one when he heard one. Frigga was exceptionally good at lying, but lying nonetheless. Loki had never belonged anywhere, so how could he have belonged to anyone? Who could have ever loved a creature like him? He didn't have a home in Jotunheim - he was a midget compared to real Frost Giants, and had been left alone to die, when Odin found him. But Asgard wasn't his home either - Odin had taken him with him to make his own son, Thor Odinson, shine brighter among his disappointment of a half brother, and to use him to establish peace with the Jotuns. Frigga - bless her heart - had taken Loki under her wing, taught him her magic and hoped it would help him find him some sun for himself, find a way to escape from underneath the shadows Odin and Thor cast over him. But after all, Frigga was not his mother, and Loki was not her son. He was a trophy of Odin's, nothing more.

The mirror shattered, as Loki's fist came in contact with it with force. Burning hot tears streamed down Loki's blue cheeks, and he looked up to see his crimson eyes in the mirror, disfigured by cracks along its surface. He was a monster. Asgardians were taught to fear Jotuns, they were the enemy. Loki was the enemy. He often found himself wishing, that Odin would have never found him, that he had been left on that rock to die. After all, his birth right was to die. Odin had said so himself. And after Thanos, after New York... Who was he to rightfully be alive? Loki had thought countless times about taking his life. He couldn't seem to find a quantum of happiness anywhere. Life had left its markings on him; First the Jotun markings on his blue Jotun form, given to him before birth, then broken bones and scars from fighting Thor as a child and losing, and then... Torture. He could still remember it vividly, like it had just happened. He could feel his skin burning up, his lungs aching from screams of pain Thanos had drawn from him. He could no longer withstand the slightest of touch on his bare skin, even the breath of a wind reminded him of the pain he had endured and woke fright and pain inside him. More burning tears fell from Loki's eyes and his lower lip trembled. If Odin had seen him now, he surely would have done the job for Loki and killed him himself. What a weak little prince he was.

And then there was Frigga's death. The only real ally he had ever known, taken from him much too soon. And he hadn't even been allowed to attend the funeral. He had been locked in the prisons of Asgard like an animal, like a senseless savage. Loki closed his eyes and took a deep breath, slowly changing back into himself. With soaked green eyes and a still trembling lip, he accessed his memories, and pulled up moments he had shared with his mother alone in the gardens of Asgard. He watched Frigga smile at him and patiently teach him a new magic trick. She radiated warmth and calmness, and for a moment it held him in its comfort. Until his memories disappeared into the back of his brain, as did the comfort looking at a happy Frigga had provided. Loki had never known how Frigga could have loved a monstrous, adopted child like she had, and never would he know such love again. Thanos had confirmed all the thoughts he had had along the years; He wasn't Laufey's son and he sure as hell wasn't Odin's son, he wasn't an equal brother of Thor's, he wasn't an equal son of Frigga's, he... He was nothing but an abandoned, scared little boy, lost in the Nine Realms, belonging to none of them. A coldness took over Loki's chest again, a coldness so freezing, he turned blue again. For once, his appearance matched how he felt inside.

He had been pardoned for his actions in New York, but on one condition: He would join the Avengers. If he refused or even did a sloppy job as an Avenger, he would be imprisoned for life or possibly even executed for his crimes. So Loki had joined, but not to avoid execution; To avoid rotting away in a prison for thousands of years. He had joined the Avengers to die. As collateral damage or sacrificing himself, it didn't matter... Dying was all that mattered. Sadly he had been doing a somewhat good job with the Avengers and the team always rescued him when he was in the line of fire without defending himself. They often asked, if he had a death wish, but none of them actually thought, he wanted to die. Everyone assumed he was being a dramatic little bitch and rebelling against having to join them. Not once did they think anything near the thought, that nobody infact could hate Loki more than he hated himself. Nobody wanted him dead like he did.

Loki kneeled down on of the Stark Tower's balconies, as a beautiful, ornamental dagger materialized in his hand. The handle was gold and emerald with spiraling patterns, the sharp, even blade glistening in the moonlight. He kept his armour on - he may have been a disgrace, but never would he die in anything but his armour -, and gently laid his golden helmet beside him. This was not a ceremony or a battle, this was nothing glorious enough for him to be wearing his helmet. She gleamed, the light dancing on her bendy horns. Loki laid a hand on the forehead of the helmet, closing his eyes. "You have served me well, stood with me in many battles, many a man's blood have I cleansed off you", he spoke softly. There was something about his helmet, that he had grown attached to. It was just an object, but a very dear object. With a sigh, he lifted his hand off the helmet and focused on his dagger. He took the handle with his both hands and lifted his gaze upwards. The reason he was doing this here, outside, instead of his room in the Tower, was so he could see the stars. He wanted the night sky to be the last thing he saw on Midgard. With a deep breath, he plunged the dagger into his own abdomen.

Air escaped Loki's lungs with a whine, his large hands gripped the handle so tight his knuckles turned snow white, and his form bent forward over the dagger. Pain spread out through his body for a moment, before the shock kicked in and Loki no longer felt physical pain. The shock allowed him to open his eyes again, which he only now noticed he had shut tightly at some point. He watched the blurry stars with tears in his eyes, not hearing the glass door slide open behind him. "Loki?! What have you done?!" came a concerned voice out of nowhere. Loki closed his eyes again and took a moment to recognize the voice. "Leave me, Stark", he asked - no, begged -, but Tony only came closed. He gasped and took a step back in terror, when he saw the handle of a dagger glistening in Loki's hands and the thick, dark red blood running down his armour. Hot, salty tears rose in Tony's eyes as he threw himself on his knees right beside Loki, loosening his grip of the dagger, to see the wound better. "Oh my God, Loki... What have you done?" Tony's voice sounded only desperate anymore, as he brought his other hand to caress Loki's pale cheek. "Loki, don't go. Don't leave me. There's some much I need to tell you, Loki. Hey, Reindeer Games, stay with me. Loki? Loki! Loki, stay with me. I love you."

The first rays of sunshine woke Tony up. He had dozed off sitting by the window no more than an hour ago, after spending the entire night watching Loki. It was the second morning after Loki's... Incident, and Tony was not letting him be unguarded for a minute. The rest of the Avengers were still clueless. He hadn't left Loki's room or told the team, not even Thor, and he had locked the door to Loki's room. The only one who knew was Stephen, as Tony had called him in panic to help Loki. He didn't want anyone to know yet, he didn't want everyone fussing over Loki and making the Asgardian feel small. Loki always thought nobody loved him or even saw him, but Tony knew him like the back of his hand. He just never got around to telling the God, that he was the first thing Tony saw, when he walked into a room, and just how much he loved what he saw. And now he might never have to opportunity to tell him. "We can only wait, Stark. The damage was not that bad, the blade went straight in and stayed unmoved, but considering the circumstances... Loki might not come back, if he does not wish to", Stephen had told him. "What the fuck does that mean? That he might just take off into some heavenly light or something, because he was desparate and tried to kill himself, clearly not in his right mind?" Tony had screamed at Stephen, not out of anger towards him, but out of pure worry for Loki. "Or because you don't want him to wake up, because he's the villain?"

Loki looked so beautiful despite everything. His head laid on two pillows, cased in white, his raven locks spread out, framing his sculpted face and sharp features. Dark brows were slightly furrowed and one corner of the mouth was in a slight grimace; Loki was medicated, but clearly in heavy discomfort and possibly even pain. If he had just been able to relax, he would have been the most angelic thing Tony had even seen. He stood up off the stool by the window, and walked over to Loki's bed. Morning light caressed his prominent cheek bones, his long lashes and his curled hair. Stephen and Tony had undressed Loki for surgery, but Tony had put Loki's forest green henley shirt back on him after he had been bandaged up by Stephen. With the buttons opens and one side folded over, it revealed one of Loki's collar bones. Tony's gaze fell from Loki's sharp jawline down to his beautiful neck and all the way down to his revealed collar bone. It was so visible and beautiful, he almost wanted to kiss it. Loki rarely showed any skin, but Tony had dreamt about what kind of a body was hidden underneath the heavy armour. He would have bet his entire fortune on Loki having a beautiful body he would have loved to explore with his hands, his tongue, his lips, his eyes... He ached for Loki to let him love him. The Asgardian was without a doubt a broken soul, and Tony wanted nothing on this Earth like he wanted to heal Loki.

Waiting for Loki to wake up gave Tony a lot of time to think. He thought about his feelings, about finding Loki on the balcony when he had been on his way to the kitchen for a 2 A.M. snack, and about accidentally telling him that he loved him when he was begging Loki to stay with him. Tony wondered, if Loki was even gonna remember it, or if he would have forgotten about it, due to shock or due to not sharing the feelings Tony had. Mainly he thought about the first time he had met Loki. Fury had showed up with some S.H.I.E.L.D Agents at the Stark Tower, the Agents surrounding a chained Loki. "Honestly, you didn't seem to mind the chains", Tony let out a little laugh. Humour had always been a coping mechanism for him. If he laughed, then things weren't so bad. The Agents had unchained him at Fury's command, and he had shot some snarky remarks their way, as they did. Tony had not been very impressed with the bad guy joining the Avengers; He would surely be nothing but trouble, and would discredit the Avengers eventually. Such thing never happened, though. Loki's intelligence, magic and capabilities with daggers came quite handy during combat, and even though someone always had to rescue the dumbass wizard, when he didn't realize he was getting himself killed, he made for a pretty good Avenger. That's when it hit Tony. Loki had always known, that he was getting himself killed. He had always known when the enemy had locked him as a target and did not fight it, because that was what he wanted. He wanted to die. The realization shook Tony to his core and sent the coldest thrills down his spine. Loki had wanted to die all along.

"Why do you look like someone died?" A hoarse voice snapped Tony out of his thoughts. "Loki!" he exclaimed and locked a warm embrace around Loki, tears streaming to his cheeks. "You piece of shit, you almost died!" "And yet, somehow I am still alive", the Asgardian replied with a sarcastic tone, but now Tony was wise enough to hear, that the sarcastic tone was only a front - deep down Loki was actually disappointed to still be alive -, so he just hugged Loki tighter and sobbed a little. "Loki, why the hell would you do that?" he asked, when he finally took a seat in the chair next to Loki's bed, still holding the God's hand in his. "Why does anyone take their own life?" "Are you really that miserable with us?" "With-, no, Anthony. This is not about the Avengers", Loki replied and tried to shake his head, but the motion was enough to make him let out a whimper. "Why are you even here?" Loki's question made Tony think, that he had forgotten all about his confession of love. He looked down and wondered, what to tell Loki. "What is it about, if not us?" he asked quietly, looking at the white sheets of Loki's elevated bed. "Personal, Anthony", the God gave a short answer, not wanting to share with the man in iron. "Talk to me. If it's not about the Avengers, what is it? I know something about this stuff, Loki, I've been on a self-destructive path. Keeping it to yourself will not help you", Tony tried to convince Loki to talk, keeping his voice soft and steady, even when inside he felt desperate and wanted to cry. "Mortals", the God huffed and rolled his eyes. "It's about me, alright? You fools think you hate me with all your hearts, but none of you can even begin to imagine the hatred I feel for myself", Loki spat out the words like venom, sounding almost angered. "We don't hate you, Loki. The team is starting to see you as one of us, and Thor loves you. Peter loves you. Yeah, Loki, that kid's crazy about you. He always wants to hang out with you, he thinks you're so cool and kinda scary and he just wants you to teach him your ways", Tony's eyes brighten up, when he talks about Peter, who's become practically Tony's son by now. "He's always shushing everyone, if someone tries to claim you're too dangerous for him to mess with."

Tony came down from his excitement only to realize that there's now sadness in Loki's green eyes. "What is it? Was it something I said?" he became instantly worried. "I'm too dangerous for Peter. I'm too dangerous for anyone. I'm a monster and I should be treated as one", Loki answered, turning his face away from Tony, but he gently grabbed Loki's chin and turned him to face him. "Loki, Peter loves you. You're not the bad guy." "I've always been unwanted, Stark, why would I suddenly be wanted? The Jotuns didn't want me, Asgard didn't want me, and Midgard definitely doesn't want me." "You were mind-controlled", Tony defended him. "Because I am weak. It would never had happened to Thor", he replied, exposing his broken soul to Tony for a quick glance, and it broke Tony's heart. He shut his eyes and pressed a kiss on Loki's lips. The world muted around them, and suddenly there was no one else. There was only Loki, his dry lips and the saltiness of Tony's own tears. When he broke the kiss, he saw Loki staring at him in horror. "What- What are you doing?" "I kissed you, idiot." "No, don't- Don't do that, Stark, don't you dare go catch feelings for me. I am a monster, do you understand me?" "Too late. And you're not a monster, Reindeer Games", Tony smirked lovingly at the Asgardian, "you're just misunderstood. You deserve better."

Tony's words struck Loki like lightning. And he should know, he's caught a few of those growing up with Thor. "Heal yourself, please. I know you're strong enough to do that now. Strange stitched you up, but your magic will probably do a better job", Tony snickered. Loki sighed, but removed the bandages with Tony's help and then healed himself. "Good, now I can do this", he smiled and crawled into bed with Loki. Loki was about to tell him no, when Tony laid a hand on Loki's hand. A shiver shot through Loki's body and he winced in fear. "Shh, it's okay, Loki. It's okay", Tony's voice was calming and soft, somewhat like Frigga's voice, but obviously huskier. Quivering in fear, Loki let Tony come near and spoon him. Tony pulled the blanket over the two of them and held the cold God in his arms. Slowly Loki relaxed in Tony's arms, allowing touch for the first time after being tortured. "So you never had a real home?" Tony asked silenty. "Loki, all you had to do was ask. This is your home. You'll always have a home not only in my Tower, but in my arms. Whenever you need", he spoke gently, ghosting a kiss on Loki's neck. "I love you, Loki. You are home."

#frostiron #ironfrost #tony x loki #tony stark #iron man #loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki friggason #loki fanfic #tony fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #angst #stephen strange #dr strange #dr stephen strange

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nuttyrabbit · 5 years

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Business As Usual

Well, y’all convinced me, so I’m gonna start posting some of my drabbles here, starting with this one. Everything’s under the readmore, hope you all enjoy my really dumb, edgy story!

Business as Usual

The sharply dressed weasel stood outside a rather run down house. The foundation seemed to be falling apart, the front yard devoid of any life, covered in filth and grime. There was a pungent smell in the air, one that the weasel was all too used to in this line of work. The front of the house was made of old wood, it looked like it was held together with tape and a prayer. It was a long way from his usual area of operation, but since this was gonna pay better than his usual fare, he supposed he had no choice. It'd been a while since the last good job, and talkin' to the guy that called it in, he eemed desparate, almost like he had a gun to his head or somethin', like he was scared of somethin' getting out. He'd been told it was a simple operation: bust in there, cap the poor bastard and whoever was with em, and get out, and leave nothing behind. Guy gave no reason, people like this never gave reasons, not that he minded, it was all the same shit to him anyways.

The mustelid made his way to the entrance of the decrepit house, his right hand sliding down to his holster, taking hold of the gun inside. It was almost instinctual to the weasel at this point, something you always did when goin anywhere. There was always that chance of someone bein' somewhere, whether it be a rundown shithole like this, a fancy schmancy hotel, even the bathroom, there's always that chance of someone tryin' ta get the jump on you. He took a deep breath, but before he could kick down the door, he swore he could hear voices. He unholstered his gun and held his ear to the door.

"They're comin' fer me, they're fucking comin fer me" A man's voice. A very meek one at that, probably the one he was meant to come take care of. He got ready to break the door down until...

"Monty for god's sake relax! Nobody's going to find us out here. We're in the middle of nowhere in a run down shack. Nobody would look here! We just have to lay low until we can set up that meeting. Then we'll get protection and we won't have to worry." Another voice suddenly rang out, seemingly attempting to soothe the terrified man.

...A woman's voice. Probably the guy’s wife if the weasel was a betting man, which granted, he was. Gambit raised an eyebrow "This is gonna be interestin'" the weasel muttered to himself. No point in waitin’ anymore

With that, he kicked the decrepit door open, aiming the gun straight ahead, eyes shining red. He was greeted with the sight of a very panicked rat who was half dressed in tattered rags, looking like he just escaped from hell itself. The doomed rat quickly fumbled for his gun, and the man’s wife, who looked to be some kinda rodent, quickly bolted for the kitchen. Not taking any chances, Gambit instantly fired upon the rat, the revolver’s bullet hitting him directly in the chest, making him stumble back towards the table, falling limp practically instantly, his eyes wide open in terror.

The weasel closed in on him, trying to make sure he was dead, when the woman burst from the kitchen, lunging at him with a knife. "YOU BASTARD!" she stabbed the air, Gambit having effortlessly dodged the very telegraphed strike. Without missing a beat, Gambit responded quickly ,grabbing her and pressing the revolver to her stomach, firing straight through her. What he could now solidly identify as a guinea pig quickly fell to the floor, dropping the knife and clutching her stomach with both hands, barely holding herself up on her knees.

She looked up at him with brilliant emerald eyes that seemed to plead with him, begging him to spare her with a single glance. On anyone with a soul, it would have worked. She barely sputtered out a "W-why..?" , coughing up a rather vile looking pool of blood, her soft voice only exacerbating the horror in her voice.

The weasel's face, before nearly impossible to read, now bore a smirk. He pressed the gun to her forehead and began to speak : "Ain't nothin' personal, just business." He cocked the revolver, pressing it to the woman’s temples, then fired. The woman's brain matter ejected out the back of her head and she fell backwards onto the floor, her head staring towards the ceiling, her eyes wide in shock and fear, just like her husband’s, an image the weasel had seen too many times. Had no real effect on him anymore. In fact, he can’t recall a time it ever really did.

He quietly holsterd his gun, his eyes dimming, then took out a phone in his pocket, checking the time and taking pictures of his “work”. It was a very basic phone, the kinda thing from 10 years old. Did what it had to do, took calls, took photos, not much else. He needed proof after all, nobody trusts anyone's word around here. Leaning against the wall, he took out his favorite lighter and a pack of cigarettes he snagged on the way here. Putting one in his mouth, he lit it, before taking it out of his mouth to exhale. It was a sort of tradition for him, helped take the edge off after this kinda thing. He put it back in his mouth, staring at the ceiling, figuring that it was about time to leave anyways.

He began to walk towards the door when he heard....crying? It seemed to be coming from another room. Quickly taking out his gun again, his eyes resuming their brilliant shine, he walked left from the main room, opening the door on the right, and there he found something he didn't expect. A kid's room. It wasn't that well decorated, but he could tell cause of the stuffed animals on the bed and the action figure on the poor excuse for a dresser. The crying continued, but quieter. Poor kid was trying to hide himself. He made his way towards the closet, throwing it open. In the dark closet, behind some shirts, there he was. A small child, couldn't have been more than 6 or 7 years old from the look of it who looked like his father, staring up at the weasel, seemingly paralyzed in fear. How could he not? The weasel was covered in blood, eyes shining brilliantly, and a gun in his hand. Gambit, after a moment, pointed his revolver at the child's head. He briefly chuckled, his lips turning upwards in a wry smirk

Sorry kiddo, this ain't yer lucky day"

Then he fired. The child fell back onto the floor of his closet looking like his mother did ironically. Eyes wide open in a look of sheer terror, smatterings of tears on his face. To anyone else, the sight would be horrifying, even traumatizing. The weasel holstered his gun and closed the closet door before walking away. Making his way back into the kitchen, he opened the fridge, taking out a can of cheap beer. He opened it with a chzzz and quickly chugged it before throwing the can onto the floor. Ransacking the drawers, he soon found a case of matches. Holding it, he made his way back towards the entrance, but not before bending down onto the floor and striking a match against it. The match quickly lit up, a small flame emanating from the surface. Gambit looked at the match, then at the carnage that had befallen the house at his hands , before tossing the match onto the floor and casually walking out of the house and onto the sidewalk outside.

Once he was on the sidewalk, he turned back to look at the house. A fire began to spread throughout the house the bodies becoming quickly engulfed in flame and soon, the entire house had become devoured by the fire. Taking out his phone one last time, the weasel took a picture of the raging inferno, before pocketing it again. He exhaled the smoke from this cigarette one last time before tossing it onto the lawn and walking away, not even attempting to look back again or spare a second thought about the people who were just brutally murdered or why.

After all, at the end of the day, it was just another job.

#Gambit the Weasel #This is fucking terrible I'm so sorry #This was written back in December #Nutty's Writing #OC Stuff #archie comics #Welcome to my writing it is terrible and edgy

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