LAYLA WAS A RAY OF SUNSHINE, her laughter echoing through the corridors of the spaceship like the tinkling of wind chimes on a breezy day. Her hair, a cascade of strawberry blond curls, bounced with each step she took, adding to her infectious charm. To Peter, she was a constant source of joy and wonder, a reminder of the innocence and beauty that still existed in the vastness of space.

"Daddy, Daddy, let's play!" Five-year-old Layla's voice was filled with excitement as she tugged at her father's hand, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. They stood on the deck of their spaceship, surrounded by the infinite expanse of the cosmos, the stars twinkling like diamonds in the velvet sky.

Peter chuckled affectionately, crouching down to Layla's level and enveloping her in a warm embrace. He tousled her hair playfully, a smile lighting up his face. "Not now, Layla, maybe later," he said, his voice tinged with amusement.

But Layla was undeterred, her boundless energy propelling her forward as she darted across the deck, her laughter echoing through the quiet expanse of space. "Catch me if you can!" she called out, her voice filled with mischief and delight.

Peter watched his daughter with a mixture of pride and affection, marveling at her exuberance and zest for life. Despite the challenges they faced as spacefaring adventurers, Layla's joy remained undimmed, a beacon of light in the darkness of the universe.

Suddenly, a loud alarm blared through the ship, shattering the tranquility of the moment. Peter's heart skipped a beat as he glanced around, his instincts kicking into overdrive. Danger was near, and he needed to act fast to protect his daughter.

Then another voice rang out, Yondu's voice booming. "Quill! We need you, get over here!"

Peter's grip tightened on Layla's hand, his expression grave as he met her gaze. "Layla, I need to bring you somewhere safe," he said urgently, his voice tinged with fear. "Don't move, okay? Promise me you'll stay right here with Daddy."

Confusion flickered across Layla's face, her brow furrowing in concern as she looked up at her father. "But why, Daddy?" she asked, her voice trembling with apprehension.

Peter's heart clenched at the fear in Layla's eyes, his own terror mirrored in hers. "There's danger, Layla," he explained, his voice trembling with emotion. "We need to stay safe, okay? Promise me you won't go towards the explosions."

Layla nodded solemnly, her small arms wrapping around Peter in a tight hug. "I promise, Daddy," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'll stay with you."

With a heavy heart, Peter held Layla close, his mind racing with thoughts of the imminent danger they faced. But in that moment, all he could think about was protecting his precious daughter, shielding her from the chaos that threatened to engulf them. He ran towards a nearby room, Layla's hand clasped tightly in his, but another bomb went off, sending shockwaves through the ship.

Boom!

As Layla nestled into her father's protective embrace, her heart raced with a mixture of fear and excitement. The blaring alarm pierced through the air like a siren of impending doom, its shrill sound sending shivers down Layla's spine. It was like something out of the adventure stories her dad used to tell her before bedtime, but now, it was all too real.

But as Peter's grip tightened around her, Layla realized that this wasn't make-believe. This was real, and it was scary. The weight of the situation pressed down on her like a heavy blanket, suffocating her with its enormity.

"Daddy?" Layla's voice quivered as she looked up at him, her eyes wide with uncertainty. "What's happening?"

Peter's expression was grave as he glanced around the deck, his mind racing with strategies to keep Layla safe. "We're in danger, Layla," he said, his voice strained with urgency. "But don't worry, Daddy's going to keep you safe."

Layla nodded, her heart pounding in her chest as the gravity of the situation sank in. She clung to her father's hand, her fingers trembling with fear. Each boom of the explosions reverberated through her bones, a constant reminder of the peril they faced.

BOOM!

Peter's grip tightened around Layla's hand as he ushered her towards a safer room. "Stay here, Layla," he said, his voice firm with authority.

"But, daddy—!" Layla protested, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Layla, no! Stay," Peter insisted, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Quill!" Yondu's voice echoed through the chaos, his urgency palpable even over the deafening alarm.

Peter turned towards the source of the voice, his brow furrowed with concern. Before Layla knew it, her father was gone, leaving her alone in the relative safety of the room.

She watched him go, a sense of helplessness washing over her. But Layla was not one to sit idly by while her father faced danger. She wanted to be just like him, brave and fearless, ready to fight for what she believed in.

With a surge of determination, Layla made a split-second decision. She couldn't let her father face the danger alone. She had to help him, to prove that she was just as capable as he was.

Ignoring her father's warnings to stay put, Layla dashed out of the room, her heart pounding with adrenaline. Each step brought her closer to the edge of the deck, where the chaos of battle raged on.

She caught a glimpse of her father in the midst of the fray, his figure a beacon of hope amidst the darkness. "Layla, no!" he shouted, his voice filled with desperation, but it only fueled her determination.

With a sense of exhilaration coursing through her veins, Layla darted towards the railing, her eyes fixed on her father's form. But as she reached out to him, a deafening explosion rocked the ship, sending Layla tumbling to the ground.

"Daddy!" Layla's cry was drowned out by the roar of the explosion as darkness engulfed her, her world spinning out of control. She reached out desperately, searching for her father's hand, but he was nowhere to be found.

As Layla lay crumpled on the ground, the realization of her mistake hit her like a ton of bricks. She had disobeyed her father's orders, and now she was paying the price.

Tears welled up in Layla's eyes as she called out for her father, her voice lost amidst the chaos of the battle raging around her. Then everything went blurry, and then dark.

AS THE SMOKE CLEAR AND THE CHAOS
began to subside, Peter found himself engulfed in a sea of wreckage and devastation. His heart pounded in his chest like a drumbeat of dread, each thud echoing the fear that gripped his soul. Frantically, he called out Layla's name, his voice a desperate plea amidst the eerie silence that followed the cacophony of destruction.

"Layla! Layla, where are you?" Peter's voice reverberated through the wreckage, each syllable a fervent prayer for her safety. His hands trembled as he sifted through the debris, his fingers clawing at the twisted metal and shattered fragments with frantic urgency. But amid the chaos, there was no sign of his daughter.

And then, just when he felt the crushing weight of despair threaten to consume him, a glimmer of hope flickered in the darkness. A flash of pink caught his eye, buried beneath a pile of rubble, and Peter's heart surged with renewed determination. With a surge of adrenaline, he raced towards the spot, his every muscle straining with effort as he clawed through the wreckage.

"Layla!" Peter's voice cracked with distress as he uncovered her small form, her fragile frame lying still amidst the chaos. Panic surged through him as he scooped her into his arms, cradling her gently against his chest. His breath caught in his throat as he took in her pale, motionless form, his heart pounding with a mixture of fear and anguish.

"Layla, wake up," Peter pleaded, his voice trembling with emotion. "Please, baby, wake up." He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering against her skin as he prayed for some sign of life.

But Layla remained unresponsive, her breathing shallow and weak. Tears welled up in Peter's eyes as he realized the extent of her injuries, his heart breaking at the sight of his precious daughter lying so still and fragile in his arms. In that moment, he felt utterly helpless, consumed by a sense of guilt and remorse that threatened to drown him in despair.

"I'm so sorry, Layla," Peter whispered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I should have protected you. I should have kept you safe." His words were a lament, a desperate plea for forgiveness that echoed in the empty expanse of the ruined ship. But there was no answer, only the haunting silence of the aftermath, as Peter clung to Layla's motionless form, praying for a miracle that seemed increasingly out of reach.

AS LAYLA BLINKED HER EYES OPEN
the sterile white surroundings of the infirmary greeted her. The throbbing ache in her head pulsed rhythmically, a reminder of the ordeal she had just endured. Her body felt heavy and sluggish, each movement sending waves of discomfort through her limbs. As she shifted, she felt a warm hand clasping hers, and she turned to see her father, Peter, sitting beside her bed, his eyes filled with relief and worry intermingled.

"Dad?" Layla's voice emerged as a hoarse whisper, her throat dry and scratchy from the smoke. She attempted to sit up, but a wave of dizziness washed over her, forcing her back onto the bed.

Peter's expression softened as he gently eased her back down, his touch comforting in its familiarity. "Take it easy, Layla. You've been through a lot," he said, his voice a soothing presence in the midst of her disorientation.

Layla nodded weakly, her mind still shrouded in a fog of confusion and pain. She struggled to piece together the events that had led her here, but the memories seemed disjointed and fragmented, like scattered pieces of a puzzle that refused to fit together.

Then, as Peter began to speak, Layla's attention sharpened, a sense of unease creeping into her consciousness. There was something different about the way he spoke, a subtle shift in the cadence of his words that sent a chill down her spine.

"Daddy, I can't hear you," Layla said, her voice tinged with uncertainty as she strained to make sense of the world around her.

Peter's brow furrowed in concern as he leaned closer, repeating his words in a futile attempt to reach her. But no matter how loudly he spoke, Layla remained trapped in a world of silence, her ears deaf to the sound of his voice. Panic welled up inside her as she realized the magnitude of her predicament.

"I can't hear anything," Layla whispered, her voice trembling with fear as she stared up at her father, her eyes pleading for reassurance in the face of her newfound disability. "Daddy..."

Peter's heart clenched with anguish as he absorbed Layla's words, the weight of her suffering pressing down on him like a crushing weight. He reached out instinctively, pulling her into his embrace, his arms a protective shield against the harsh realities of the world. In that moment, words felt useless, meaningless in the face of Layla's pain. So he simply held her close, his silent presence a testament to the depth of his love and concern.

LAYLA BACKSTORY CHAPTER AHAHHHHHH