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plutoswrath · 3 years

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☾ They way we are wired: the IC/Moon/4th house and your emotional patterns and responses ☽

Aries IC/Moon/4th: Home was an area of proof. Proof the self and prove the others, similar to Scorpio IC/Moon/4th, the marsian nature of this placement triggers a survival mode and creates someone who’s first instinct is to react and challenge their opponent. Home could have also been a battle ground of some sort and the individual might have realised that the only way to overcome this force of aggression is to rely on the self or find people to align to. Naturally this can give someone tendencies to retreat and chose the themself, but not in the intention to harm, but because the survival mode is triggered. They might have learned to follow their impulses, because the quicker they react, the faster they have the upper hand of a situation, and while this method does saves time and trouble, this could have easily lead to worsening their situation, and thus they can also fall back into a lesser known method: strategically planing their (loved ones/goals/desires) survival. As they know no other than bravely facing the world, their open nature can become inviting for people that want to try them, though out of experience, they will not take their enthusiastic nature for granted. Likewise these people are power houses that can have the tendency to forcefully and sometimes without consideration push those aside that limitat them.

Taurus IC/Moon/4th: Usually, these people have been raised with a sense of satisfaction, stability was a priority for the parents, so the child seeks the same comfort and worries for the future can motivate them deeply to take action. Tough the satisfaction doesn’t have to include emotional fulfullment always, as the parents made their values and priorities very clear. Likewise this individual will walk through the world with (at best) set priorities and will actively try to meet their own standard. Anything that threatens to make this tower collapse will force them to react, and depending on their inner security and self-worth/esteem they can react quiet drastic and dramatic even, as this is the time when the bull will fall into it’s tantrum. This can also lead into destructive and forceful ways to either withold, keep or get what brings them pleasure or eases their mind. If they feel that there’s something lacking in their life, they usually practically and persistently work towards it and at best aren’t easily shaken, but there is a great sensibility inside of them, that can cloud their mind equally with fear and the realization of what is and isn’t healthy for them (emotionally and physically) could only come after a peroid of walking through the mudd for far too long.

Gemini IC/Moon/4th: This persons ubringing was most likely unstable and inconsistent, which is most likely reflected by the behaviour of one of their parental figures (or both). Likewise, they had to allow, as well as endure, uncertainty in their childhood. Thus, they are flexible and adaptive and thus can appear as very affable but there is a lack of perspective and continuity in their life that can cause them to lose track which results in them having to reorient themself (which they can find much pleasure in at times). This can be traced back to their parents, as either both parents reflected the other so much, that they could have formed to seemingly one individual (this can also hint to a single parent having to take on ‘two roles’). If the native has siblings, this reflecting of one another can also happen between them, thus the individual automatically sets themself apart from the rest in their mind. As the child grows up, it might realise that it could lack perspective and purpose and emotions that help them connect the dots, to now the person could fall back into rationalizing everything in order to make sense out of it. There is strong need to communicate to release tension, they listen to all because they try to at least understand all. While this can help building a distance to overwhelming emotions and situations, the problem also lies exactly in the inability to allow the self to become closer to those bigger concepts and grande emotions which leave them dissatisfied or even more confused.

Cancer IC/Moon/4th: These people always come back to their roots: Usually, they handle from experience and knowledge that is passed over, when the IC/Moon/4th house is in cancer, the individual will find themself in a very strong and empathized conenction with their family - doesn’t matter if it’s more on the positive or negative side. Here the individual will find themself having to care for (generational) family matters and thus can connect well to the emotions and affairs to others, but often times neglect themself. With a bond so deep, they (surprisingly for some) can come off and become pretty detached, as they at one point can be easily overwhelmed with the emotional bagagge and responsibility they carry. They either detach and seek to break the conenction with whatever bothers them, or they embrace the situation and ‘clean up’ the mess. These individuals will find themself too much inclined with other peoples emotions and/or problems, and usually will grow to become independent (financially and emotionally) in order to adapt a more objective perspective. These people can be incredibly enduring and persistent in their approaches to others/situations and they allow time to speak, though, they sometimes should know when to let go and build distance for their own good.

Leo IC/Moon/4th: Home could have literally functioned like a pack, it doesn’t matter if the person has siblings or not, even though home was a place for experiencing joy, creativity and warmth, it was also a place of hierarchy. These people usually have a very complex relationship to others - at one hand they need their pack, it’s their support system, their backbone when they have a hrd time standing up by themselves and they do need the validation and recognition, but at the same time they could feel threatened by people overpowering them, the idea of being too dependend on the love and support of others makes them doubt themselves and distrustfull and often times they feel the need to prove their strength or worth, just as a lion has to fight off a challenger, not only for the pack, but also for the pride. They either come back to their supportive ‘pack’, as they usually create this safe space of trust, comfort, security, encouragement and love, or they become prideful, bold and loud and try to get the upper hand and authority back. The strong desire to prove worth and obtain love might stern from a difficult relationship with a parental figure. There might have been not a healthy amount of attention given to the individual.

Virgo IC/Moon/4th: This person comes from a place of just and order. Here, they fall back into disecting the world and people around them, they are driven to find a solution. They can easily get hung up on small emotions/details, there is a potential to overanalyze situations, but the thought of order is imprintent in their minds, acting ‘rightful’ and ‘appropriate’ makes them orient themself to any kind of rule or pattern they can follow. These individuals want to avoid the feeling of embarassement/shame, probably due to past issues in their homelife, so they calculate possible outcomes right from the beginning. They prevent. With this placement though, people usually experiences a ‘lack of’ in their homelife. This could have been caused by a permanentely dissatisfied parental figure, even though the wound is emotional, the solution or apparent problem mainfested as something materialistic and this mindset is carried on as they grow up. Though these people seem to think about everything, the challenge appears when their solutions in the 3D world are not enough: when they have to face their and otehrs feelings as the working surface they can find themself irritated and trying to escape the ‘irrationality’ and feelings in their perception of logic. They need to pay attention to not become too controling, compulsing or discrimenating and trust others.

Libra IC/Moon/4th: This persons upbringing was deeply influenced by the realtionships in their family, and strongest by the ones of their parents. It can se the tone of the way they lead all their connections and calls for a deeper self reflection and a sense for self-determination and initiative from the individuals side. It’s true that the image one gave off and focusing on the others played a major role in the way they were raised. Here, the individual might have a strong desire to put things 'back into place', they try to rebalance and adjust everything, their own and others emotional states, because only if harmony is reached, then peace can be sought after. The focus here can sometimes lie too much on the superficial aspects, as they might have experiences that as they grew up the way things were presented to the public eye were one of the outmost important aspects of being raised and thus they can also mistake other feelings as their own. Regardless, it could have pleased their parental figures a lot, so now they fall back into 'pleasing the self and others'. This can lead to shallow behaviour in order to keep the native safe and sound, but their deep understanding of how people function and things just connect to each other can makes them equally caring and loving, but holding a healthy balance between those two aspects seem to be the difficulty here.

Scorpio IC/Moon/4th: These people come from a very vulnerable place. The homelife might have forced them to go through extremes that induced a lot of fear inside of them, causing them to be extra cautious and sensitive towards their environment. They might carry a deep sens eof responsibility for others as well, as their homelife could have relected the merging of affairs and ressources of the parental figures and the consequence of being each others responsibility. A Scorpio IC/Moon/4th house can give anyone a very emotional and deep side and if the situation calls for it, trigger a survival instinct inside of the native. They might cling to people more than other expect or use methods to guarantee their own well-being and safety that have the potential cross boundaries/limits. These individuals could have seen and experienced a lot, so they come prepared and stand their ground. Can be surprisingly 'lone wolfs', because they too need their time alone when hurt and appreciate not only solitude but loyal people in their life, and they usually walk through fire for those who are worth it.

Sagittarius IC/Moon/4th: The upringing most likely left the individual on their own at one point or another, it doesn’t mean that the parents were not loving or careful, but absent at some point and left the native to travel alone and find their ways. These individuals only want to be unhindered and free. They grew up with big ideals that could also been imprinted by their parents, though equally confronted with all the world has to offer and at the same there could have been strong believes that made them feel small, caged in, clouded their perception and thus triggered their sense for self-determination. Whenever they feel pressured they search for the best way to become free again, this can trigger a very reactive side of them, they will let go without any warnings and search for new, safer grounds, because for them there's always a next destination that surely will offer a better stay. This can make them appear lonely to others (though these people have the ability to attract new friends easily with their curious nature), but falling can feel like flying to them, so even though part of the journey they'll be alone, they mostly enjoy it.

Capricorn IC/Moon/4th: The upringing here had the fulfillment of necessities as one of the top priorities and the focus on the materialistic world might have made on of their parental figures a strict judge and often times turned the air around them cold. Being used to uncomfortable weather though, these people can pretty much turn on a steel mask and just walk through the toughest storms if it comes down to it - they are experienced in handling difficult situations and being on their own. Being self-sufficient and rationalizing precarious situations to get the control back is their talent, but mostly because it has always been that way. There was always something missing and a possible distance towards their parental figures, so they learned quickly how to get it all themselves or how to be on their own when their parents (consciously or unconsciously) decided to seperate the child from the source of care and warmth. They usually accept the solitude that comes with it, because things just have to get done somehow. But they should be reminded not to overuse this 'special ability', because it can make them feel very out of touch with their emotions and themself.

Aquarius IC/Moon/4th: Either this individual found themself set apart by circumstances caused by their family or society, or there was an individual attempt to own themself and their differences compared to the rest of their family. These people most likely experienced a frequent change in their home life, either their family constellation changed abruptly or their home setting, regarldess, this caused them to build a distance to either people or places. This distance can bring not only a objectivity and practicality to their approaches, but also an usually unjust associated coldness. These people have used their (sometimes unwanted) freedom for their own benefit at best and value their opportunities to go out in the world and recognize themselves in various people/concepts/places, thus this makes them a person that not only connects easily with the greater collective, but also might find themself fighting for what is not theirs. This can be due to an avoidant attachement style, but often times their search for themself in this wide world makes a limit of self expression, freedom or peace the biggest trigger. If someone challenges their boundaries they either get surprisngly reactionary or can easily cut them off. They are okay with moving on and leaving places or people - or at least have accepted this as a part of their own progress -, but at times it can appear too easy and should raise the question of when to deepen the bond for others.

Pisces IC/Moon/4th: They come from a place of universal love and understanding. The household involved parental figures that were not transparent and made them rely on their gut instinct and intuition, yet, could have deceived the child by witholding information or family secrets. It's not guaranteed that these people had a safe upbringing, because they were most likely flooded with emotions and other peoples energies, thus making them highly sensitive and receiving, even if they don't want to. Chances are high that they too quickly were exposed to emotional affairs and secrets of the family they could not understand and might have had to act as their parents pandora box, filled with all that should rather be left unseen and unheared. These people will most likely fall into a deep state of retrospective, they either take things as they are or need to emotionally 'digest' them. These people often 'surrender', meaning they either go back in receiving mode and understand and accept. Thus, they can be very forgiving as well, once they made their sense out of it. People can take advantage of this trait, or the individual themself might not realize that their cut their own flesh at times. The sensitivity of these people may not be as surprising as with Scorpio IC/Moon/4th people, because it always radiates in the way they connect with the world and people.

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no-psi-nan · 2 years

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@crookedlyinnernightmare Ooh, this is a good one...

This one would probably be a fic with sets of 4 chapters, each chapter being an introspective of one the Psychickers going through key moments of late grade school / middle school and growing into their powers. Some of it would be based on my headcanons since there isn't much canon info for them.

Saiki still dealing with the Asumi trauma while getting used to his newly installed limiters and his ever-developing powers. He starts to develop his theory and strategies for "being like air" and develops the love-meter power due to this need. He has trouble whenever he witnesses bullying and tries to steel himself to indifference. Battles with Kusuke until Kusuke finally leaves town, leaving Kusuo to try to figure out what to do without that safety net, with his newfound freedom, and with the guilt of chasing away family.

Toritsuka growing up at the temple, probably partially abandoned there by his father after the death of his mother. Meeting different ghosts that end up caring for him but cannot do anything to actually help him at a temple where the monks only begrudgingly put up with him. Falling for that ghost girl and getting his heart broken. Trying to interact with other kids his age but only ghost kids will consider playing with him because his social skills are shot. Studying TV shows and movies earnestly to try to learn what life is like outside the temple.

Akechi trying to make friends by studying his classmates and trying to connect on points in common, only to run into trouble with his scary reputation, and finding himself a niche when he can help answer people's questions and troubles. Dealing with his parents' worsening relationship however best he can, trying to alleviate stress in the household by running some errands himself or manipulating the situations somehow. Finding evidence of his dad's affairs and trying to figure out what to do about it. Occasionally thinking back to that time when he had a friend who he trusted and who was a great listener, and missing him greatly.

Aiura recovering from her broken bones (lol 💜) and starting to experiment what that means for her powers and their usage. Having to deal with seeing strangers with death marks, and making attempts to help them, only for it to not work out so well. Running into a group of girls who see her struggling with traditional Japanese femininity and bond with her over that, all of them seeking freedom from the constraints of society together. Experimenting with witchy paraphernalia and finding a great tool in the crystal ball, and developing her powers that way. Finding the line between what she can and can't do with her future sight to avoid extreme negative karma. Hitting puberty and dealing with how that changes relationships and the perceptions of everyone around her. Faking her way into true self-confidence with her powers and her good deeds and her new identity.

(Context for ask)

Definitely not writing it because it's too angsty for my tastes and would probably require adding OCs which is not my thing, but I have certainly had Thoughts™ about this lol. Thanks for the ask!

#nopsi's promptsies #notes to nopsi #saiki k #saiki no psi nan #the disastrous life of saiki k.#sknpn #nopsi meta #nopsi fic

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object-show-analysis · 3 years

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My old question was terrible and not enough detail, here's a better one:

How do you think the result of all the things happening will affect Lightbulb in episode 15 and/or future episodes?

In order to answer this question we must first take a deep look into Lightbulb’s struggle with sadness and depression throughout the series so far. Because her previous feelings seem to become a lot more prominent as of late and it’s important to consider.

Lightbulb’s struggle with depression, and her relationship to her teammates.

One of the first prominent examples of Lightbulb’s sadness is after she is unable to talk with Paintbrush in the maze. When Paintbrush and Marshmallow go off to talk about Marshmallow’s issues, Lightbulb shows visible distress. Stating that she wanted to walk with them instead.

This solidifies two things: 1. That Lightbulb is upset/feels left out. And 2. She views Paintbrush as a friend before they seem to view her the same way.

It’s this episode that Lightbulb strengthens her friendship with Fan. And the two of them seem to get along great until paintbrush gets angry with them. This will be important later.

Paintbrushes anger and distrust towards Lightbulb extends into the next episode, where they yell at her multiple times and refuse to let her be the one to throw the balls. Which seems to make Lightbulb very sad. Wether she’s sad because she wanted to throw the balls or if it’s because paintbrush distrusts her is unclear.

This episode is also where she meets one of the most important characters to Lightbulb: Baxter.

Baxter the crab does a lot for Lightbulb’s story line regarding her depression, because he allows a lot of those feelings to come to the surface.

When Baxter leaves, Lightbulb is heartbroken. She actively cries in front of her fellow teammates, which frustrates Paintbrush as they’re mourning their own friend. In her grief,

Lightbulb turns to Paintbrush as a source of comfort under the belief that they would stick together. But due to Paintbrush’s distrust of Lightbulb’s abilities, they believe it would be better if the two of them work alone.

Lightbulb’s abilities being underestimated are a common theme in this episode. But we’ll get to that in a moment.

Being abandoned by Paintbrush makes Lightbulb’s depression a lot worse, until we get the first time she actually describes the way she feels as “depressed”. Lost in grief she drinks to make herself feel better (and though the drinks in the show have never been referred to as alcoholic, there seems to be a clear reference here.)

She also denies her own feelings, which is incredibly interesting. She refuses to admit to TestTube or Microphone that she is depressed, quickly doing what she can to hide her sadness. Not only is she depressed, she’s hiding it. And while we see a lot of examples, there’s no real way for us to tell how often she does this.

TestTube becomes continuously frustrated with Lightbulb throughout this episode, starting with her intrusion in the lab. This frustration gets worse in the alternate timeline, as Lightbulb makes many friends while TestTube struggles.

In the alternate timeline we hear Lightbulb discuss her feelings about Paintbrush further. She believes they couldn’t really be on as good of terms as she originally believed because Paintbrush wouldn’t work with her. She seems upset by this and looking for support, and is a bit confused at first when the contestants of ii infinity don’t seem to be taking her issues as seriously.

Speaking of people not taking lightbulb seriously, TestTube later shows she, like Paintbrush, severely underestimates Lightbulb. But in a different way. While Paintbrush doesn’t trust Lightbulb to get things done, TestTube believes Lightbulb gets things done without effort.

When TestTube makes this known to Lightbulb, saying she doesn’t even need to try, Lightbulb is very distressed by that statement. This makes sense considering she’s been struggling immensely throughout the episode both with her grief over Baxter and her confused feelings about Paintbrush, so the idea that things go her way without her even trying is certainly upsetting to her.

She lets TestTube know she really tries, in more ways than one. Of course she says it directly, but she also shows it. Lightbulb shows great intelligence and ability to understand others when she manages to upset both Salt and Pepper, causing them to fight with each other.

TestTube is shocked, both by the brutal fight scene, and by Lightbulb’s ability to think ahead and cause mayhem. Lightbulb is also the one who puts the timeline back to normal, once again showing her competence. TestTube’s perception of Lightbulb definitely changes after this point, and the two of them could even be considered friends.

Once the two of them return, Lightbulb is able to get her closure with Paintbrush. Paintbrush apologizes for not wanting to work with Lightbulb, explaining that they realized just how much they need her. The two of them work well together and Paintbrush understands that now.

Of course this is then followed by a very important scene when it comes to the relationship between Lightbulb and Paintbrush. Paintbrush coming out to Lightbulb as nonbinary. It’s a touching scene that really shows how much the two of them care about each other. Their bond is stronger than ever and they both seem really happy.

At least until the elimination, only moments later.

At the time of the elimination, Lightbulb has three close friends in the game: Fan, TestTube and Paintbrush. When Paintbrush is eliminated, this number drops to two.

Lightbulb is visibly very upset that Paintbrush is eliminated, but she puts on a brave face, handing Baxter to Paintbrush to make them feel better in their own times of depression. Paintbrush is shocked by this gesture and smiles, coming to a new understanding of Lightbulb.

As they leave we get one final shot of Lightbulb leaning against TestTube for comfort.

Lightbulb is distraught by the loss of Paintbrush, but she still had friends. Fan and TestTube are important to her and they keep her happy. Especially TestTube, who grows very close with Lightbulb after traveling through time with her.

This support does not stay long, as the relationship between TestTube and Fan begins to worsen due to TestTube spending more time with Lightbulb, and their later custody battle over the egg.

And while this does end in both of them making up, it does lead to the elimination of both of them. Lightbulb shows she’s upset at the loss of her friends, but still puts on a brave face, smiling as they leave her.

But once the two of them are out of sight, the smile drops. Lightbulb looks worse than she ever has before. She’s been separated from everyone she loved, now stuck with two people who already have a close bond, and the one who is responsible for TestTube’s elimination. She puts no more effort into appearing happy, not even mirroring MePhone’s excitement.

It appears to me as if Lightbulb is finally ready to let the happy facade drop. She has no one around that she feels the need to hide her sadness from anymore. Even if she continues to keep her bright (pun intended) demeanor, I doubt it’s something she’ll be able to hold up for very long.

Lightbulb has been hiding a lot of her feelings for so long, it will be interesting to see what happens when she has no one to hide from.

#tags for organization:#inanimate insanity #lightbulb ii #testtube ii #paintbrush ii #fan ii #tags for filtering:#long post #alcohol mention

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kass-storycorner · 3 years

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I really loved your ghost fic with Xiao. But it left me curious to have a second part in which they finally find the way to communicate. Whenever is just to say goodbye and having reader going to the afterlife or getting stuck there forever in an eternal solitary pseudo-company together is up to you, I just want to see them talk 😭

awww, thank you! I'm so glad you loved it (though I am sorry for the sad feelings haha). And I was really struggling to find a way to end that orginal story in the beginning, which is the reason why it ended that way oops. Well, now here is the follow up for it. Compared to the small bit I wrote for Xiao... I mean not even compared to it, this is the longest fic I've posted on here so far? Ah, well. I just had so much fun with it.

Idea/Prompt: a follow up to Xiaos part in this post

Genre: a bit of Angst and Hurt, more comforting than the first part, but if the ending is a happy one is up to you!

Characters: Xiao (Zhongli as side character, mention of Hu Tao, Verr Goldot, a new character I made up that did not get a name)

Format: Text

Word count: 5593

Content warning: mentions of blood, spoiler-y for the second act of Zhonglis story quest and the same spoilers warnings as for the OG post! this is not proof read, I started writing this at midnight and its 5am now ahha fml

The Ghost of you Part II. - To the end

yes we are keeping the mcr names

“Xiao”, he felt an uneasiness in his body upon hearing his name. Where was he? Looking around, Xiao saw he stood in a field of flowers. When did he come here? He had no recollection of it at all. Confused he furrows is brows, worry filling his heart and then- “Xiao.” There it was again, that voice calling out to him. Speaking his name softly, voice filled with affection. Where did it came from? He walked around the field, no end of it in sight, looking for that voice calling out to him. The longer he searched for it, the more his heart was filled with dread. “Xiao.” This time the voice came from behind him and when he turned around, he saw you, holding your hand out to him and smiling. “(Y/N)”, Xiao looked at you in disbelief. Was it really you standing in front of him? Your laugh pulled him out of his trance. “Xiao, why are you standing there like a pillar? Come, take my hand,” and at that you wiggled it a bit, signalling him that you're waiting for him to take it. “(Y/N),” Xiao repeated, standing still and looking at your hand, then to you. “What are you doing here?”. Again, you laughed as if what he said was the silliest thing you ever heard. “What do you mean by that? Xiao,” you shook your head and then you shoot him a bright, warm smile. “You wanted to come here, remember? Now come, take my hand and dance with me before the music stops.” Dance? Music? At first Xiao did not understand what you meant, but then he heard it. In the distance, the low sounds of a flute, a sweet melody that sounded strange but all too familiar. “Xiao”, he heard you whisper his name, speaking so gently. Slowly, he was still a bit hesitant, he reached out for your hand, taking it in his. A smile came across your face at the touch of your hands. With a swift motion Xiao was pulled into your arms, you both at first staying still in that embrace. “Xiao, lets dance, okay?”. With that you both started to waltz around the field, Xiao not knowing how he knew to dance like this, but somehow, he did. The dread that started to spread in his chest earlier was now gone, replaced by the feeling of love he felt for you. Still, there was something tugging at his mind, telling him something was amiss here. It felt familiar, yes. However, it also seemed to be strange to him at the same time. Though Xiao tried to push the nagging feeling away, wanting only to enjoy this pleasant moment with you. Which is why he at first didn’t notice how the sky darkened above them nor that the music had stopped a while ago. As you both stopped to dance, still holding each other in your arms, he heard you call out to him again. “Xiao”, the sound of your voice was filled with pain and when he looked at you in his arms the light behind your eyes was gone, your face stiff and emotionless. At the sight of your dead eyes, he wanted to part from the embrace, but he couldn’t let you go. Xiao saw the blood, saw the bruises and suddenly he was on his knees again, you are laying in his arms. He wanted to cry, wanted to say your name but he couldn’t. It was as if there was no air to breath so he could speak. And then – “Xiao.” His name. “Xiao.” Again. “Xiao.” Over and over again he heard how his name was spoken, but with every whisper of his name the voice became more distorted, louder. Until he cowered in pain at the sound of it, wanting it to stop, wishing for it to stop. “Xiao”.

With that Xiao woke up, his body covered in cold sweat and his breathing erratic. Another nightmare of you, another nightmare of something he wished the both of you could’ve done but never did – because of his shortcomings. Xiao sat atop of a rock, looking over the forest in which your ghost continued to wander aimlessly around. He had been watching you for a few weeks now, trying to figure out what kept you here and how he could help you. However, Xiao was clueless at what could be the cause of this. It was clear to him now that he couldn’t help you, he needed to find someone who could. Looking down at the forest, seeing your ghost wander around between the trees, he softly whispered. “I will be back soon, I won’t leave you again for long, I promise.” There weren’t many people Xiao could ask for help. Back when you were alive Xiao wasn’t the most social, wanting to keep his distance from humans. After you died this habit of his, avoiding others, only worsened. So, the only person Xiao could think of to ask for help in this matter was the same who saved him from his servitude as a bloodhound. Zhongli spend most of the last hundred years among the people of Liyue, but for a few decades now he lived in a remote house. It was now the door of said house Xiao knocked on, knowing that although he could easily enter the house, Zhongli preferred it for him to knock. “Ah, Xiao, it is nice to see you,” Zhongli greeted the adeptus. As Xiao entered the house and followed the tall man into his kitchen, it was a standard practice of Zhongli to drink a tea with anyone who visited, he couldn’t stop to notice that the notebooks scattered around the house grew in number. “So,” Zhongli began his question, “what brings you here? From your troubled look I can tell you didn’t come for the tea or my company.” With that Xiao didn’t waste any time on more formalities, explaining his predicament to the former Geo-Archon. “Mmmh, I see,” he replied, taking a sip from his cup. “I fear I might not be much of help in this case, although I have some knowledge on the topic of the human afterlife, I can’t think of a solution to this. However, it might be best to go ask Hu Tao on advice, as she is way more… let’s say, perceptive when it comes to the dead.” How bothersome, Xiao thought at the mention of Hu Tao. “Zhongli, Hu Tao is long dead”, was all Xiao could say. It happened more frequently now that Zhongli seemed to forget things, small ones but also important pieces of information and this filled Xiao with unease. He didn’t like it that the erosion of Zhongli already was set in motion, thinking about that one-day Xiao might have to face him in battle should he lose all sense of self and sanity. Neither did Zhongli enjoy slowly losing his memories of the past – although he wrote down as much as possible, it bothered him that he had to even rely on his notebooks. “Ah,” Zhongli replied, setting his cup down on the table and with a troubled look, “I seem to have forgotten something again. Would you please help my memory, when did this happen?” “One thousand years might have already passed,” Xiao saw how much it stirred Zhongli up that he had forgotten the passing of a friend. “She had a good life, right? I’m sorry for asking, but I somehow can’t seem to remember much about her later life.” “Yes,” Xiao answered, thinking about the 77th Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. There weren’t many humans he tolerated or even enjoyed being around, but Hu Tao was one Xiao always was fond of. She was also the one at the Parlor that day you died, when Xiao came in with your dead body in his arms, he hoped he might find Zhongli maybe he could do something about it, but… Xiao knew there was nothing anyone could do. Hu Tao understood his pain, without a word she showed him where to put your body and prepared your funeral, without even asking for a single Mora. “Then, “Zhongli pulled Xiao out of his thoughts, “maybe you might find help with the new Director, her family always had some knowledge about that human afterlife that’s even a mystery to me.” With that

Xiao said his goodbye to Zhongli and made his way to Liyue. The city of Liyue changed over the last thousand years a lot, but the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor was still one of the constants in the city. Xiao couldn’t remember the last time he visited the city, though it must have been a few hundred years ago for sure. He just never really liked it and since, what the humans called a ‘industrial revolution’, the city was even more crowded and overwhelming for Xiao. “Welcome to the Wangshen Funeral Parlor, how may I help you?”, a young person greeted Xiao as he set foot into the building. At the enthusiastic way the person greeted him as he entered a funeral home, Xiao was sure this was one of Hu Taos descendants. He barley could imagine anyone else be so happy surrounded by death. “Are you the director?”, Xiao asked in his usual stern voice. “The 107th Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, yep that’s me!” “I may need your assistance.” “Wonderful, I’m always happy to help- oh well, not happy as I am happy for your loss, my condolences by the way, but in happy as I am happy that I can be of help. So, what do you need help with? We have some wonderful new coffins out of a wonderful wood, really they are also very comfortable, not that comfort is that important for someone who’s dead, but I thought it might be also of interest to say that they are really comfort-“, ah yes, Xiao thought, definitely related to Hu Tao. “I don’t need a coffin”, he interrupted the young director. “Oh, um… what can I help with then?”, they asked and then Xiao explained everything to them. At first, he wasn’t sure of the director would be of help, most humans have long forgotten the existence of the gods and adepti, as most of them died or lived a life among humanity, but sure enough the director did turn out to be well versed with the forgotten knowledge of the world. “So, you say the ghost is just roaming around those woods? Nothing else happens?”, the director asked, sitting in their chair in the back office of the Parlor, and they had their hand on their chin, looking like they were thinking about something “Will you be of help now or why do you keep repeating the same useless questions?”, Xiao became a bit impatient now. He just needed to know if someone was able to help you. Without even answering the question the director stood up from the chair and walked towards a bookshelf, pulling a big and old looking book out and opening it up on the table. “Mmmh, from what you’ve described it seems to be nothing to grave, they don’t seem to have become an evil spirit just yet, moreover it seems like they are just one who got lost, though it is surprising that after such a long time the spirit didn’t just turned into something malicious. Normally for most human ghosts it takes a few hundred years until they go insane and well, you know all too well what then happens with an evil spirt I guess.” Xiao was aware what happened to the evils in the world, because it was mostly him. Though he didn’t like to think about it what it would have meant if you- no, he didn’t even want to finish that thought. “How do I help them?”, he didn’t care about any of the other information, he just wanted to find a way to help you. The director pointed at a passage in the book in front of them and continued. “What we have to do is easy if you think about it, I just need something that belonged to the deceased they held dear, a few materials like Qingxin flowers, around twenty should be enough, and the next part is more tricky if you don’t know the deceased that well, which shouldn’t be a problem here, but we need to, well you need to, speak some words that you know are important to them. A story or something like that, sometimes even the voice of a loved one is enough to help to guide the spirits back. Though I will definitely have to accompany that spirit to the border, just to make sure it won’t happen again, you know getting lost, because I can’t guarantee this method will help a second time.” Xiao was quiet. Something that belonged to them, when the director said

those words, his hand immediately flew up to the necklace with the small pendant he wore. Xiao wasn’t the most adept with words, he rather enjoyed listening to what you had to say to him most of the time. He enjoyed the sound of your voice; it was so much more pleasant than his own. One day, Xiao still remembers it so well, your voice said something he did not expect for you to say. “Xiao, I love you.” It took him by surprise, standing on the balcony of the Wangshu Inn, watching the night sky… he suspected that you liked him that way, he did too. Oh, but how he hoped that you wouldn’t say anything about it, like he planned too. Your openness scared him. The idea of being loved scared him, for what was there to love about him? He didn’t want to be a burden to you, his karmic debt, his burden – he feared it would all just make you hate him one day if he let you see it all. That night, after you said these words, Xiao disappeared without a word from your sight. He wasn’t far away, but he wished back then that he teleported out of his hearing range. The sobs that came from you after his departure broke Xiaos heart. After this he avoided you, which wasn’t too hard because you did the same thing too. But with every day that passed when Xiao didn’t see you, hear your voice, his heart grew heavier. Asking himself if he really did do the right thing. Verr Goldet approached Xiao a few weeks after your confession, inquiring why now you didn’t come to the Inn anymore. Xiao did not answer her question, but Verr was a smart woman and at the look in his eyes she understood. “Don’t give up someone you love, only because you are scared of the love you both feel for each other, Xiao”, was all she said. This was the final push for Xiao to finally get over himself and embrace the feelings he felt for you. He didn’t know anymore where the idea came from, but he decided to gift you a handmade necklace along side his confession. Xiao was scared that it might be too late for telling you that he felt the same. However, he knew he had to do it and he wanted to give you something that showed you how he felt too. So Xiao collected the material all around from Liyue, creating a metal necklace and using a small piece of Cor Lapis, your favourite you told him once, as the pendant. With that he looked for you, finding you sitting in the middle of a flower field. “(Y/N)”, he said, stopping himself from continuing when he saw how you jumped at your own name. “Xiao! You scared me!”, you quickly stood up and turned around to him. Xiao wasn’t the most adept with words, he enjoyed listening to you – but you stayed quiet after facing him and you kept quiet when Xiao came closer. “I-“, he began, but unable to speak the words he so wished you to hear from him. Instead, he took your hand and put the necklace in it. “I- I made you this,” was all he could say, feeling how fast his heart pounced in his chest. The look in your eyes, Xiao saw the love you felt for him in them. “Xiao, I-“, he saw how you viewed the necklace in your hand, tears starting to form at the corners of your eyes. Before you were able to finish the sentence or let the tears fall down, Xiao took your face in his hands and kissed you. Yes, he wasn’t the most adept with words, but he learned that he could show you how much he loved you in other ways.

From that day on you wore that necklace every single day, never taking it off since Xiao but it on you after the shared kiss. You joked that it was a physical representation of your love for each other, though Xiao felt like you actually meant it. And somehow it really was. Xiao remembered how that necklace was still around you neck when he took your body to Hu Tao, he remembered that it was covered with your blood. He didn’t even think about taking it off you. It was Hu Tao who gave him that necklace after your burial and since then he hadn’t taken it off. It was the last thing he had of you, the last reminder of your love for each other and every night after your death, when he cowered in pain because of his karmic debt, the cool touch of the stone on his skin helps him to stay sane. Just like the flute he heard even long before he met you.

When Xiao and the director arrived at the forest, they collected the flowers on their way, he could see your ghost again. Walking around, calling for him. His heart breaks every time he had to witness your suffering. “Okay, we have the flowers… do you have something that belonged to them with you, Xiao?”, the director asked, and Xiao shifted his focus from you to them. Slowly he took the necklace off, feeling somehow so vulnerable without it, and gave it to the director. “You know where they start their walk and end it right?”. Yes, Xiao knew that. He had watched over your ghost for the past couple of weeks and noticed that you were walking in circles, without even knowing so it seemed, starting from the place you died and ending up there again. Although your body was buried in another part of Liyue and already long gone, taken back by nature, you stayed here. Where you died. Xiao wished he had come here earlier. Together with the director Xiao made his way to the place where your life ended and your endless suffering in a sort of limbo started, laying down the flowers and the necklace. “And how is that supposed to help them now?”, he asked, not sure how any of this will work. “Like I said, we put down something that belonged to them and was important because they will gravitate to the feelings still connected with that object. The flowers are helping, because they built a bridge between the living realm and what state they are in. Now we just need some words that they have a connection with, in the past it used to be certain prayers because people kept using them a lot, but you know it honestly doesn’t matter what you say, it just needs to be connected to them in some way. Maybe their favourite story or a lullaby, there are many possibilities.” “A lullaby, huh,” this was something Xiao hadn’t thought about in a long time. “Xiao, are you alright?”, he heard your voice from across the dark room. It was the middle of the night, normally he would be out killing monsters, but for tonight you were able to make him sleep with you. When you found out that he never sleeps you were shocked, though he tried to calm you saying that an adeptus didn’t need to sleep. “Maybe you don’t need to,” you told him with a stern look, hands on your hips, “but it will be good for you too, believe me!”. And somehow, after each of you confessed the feelings for the other, you were able to make him sleep next to you some nights. Just for that night his karmic debt plagued Xiao. He sat in front of your window, trying to keep his distance from you, not wanting to disturb your sleep and he didn’t want to worry you. “Xiao?”, you asked again, but instead of an answer Xiao growled in pain. Suddenly you were beside him. “Don’t”, he said through gritted teeth as you tried to touch him. “You’re in pain, let me help you.” He saw your worried painted face, ashamed that you had to see him like this. “It’s fine, I’m used to it. Don’t worry.” “Don’t tell me not to worry when I see the person I love most suffering,” and with that you took his hand. “Please Xiao, let me help you.” Even when he wasn’t in such a weakened state it was hard for Xiao to refuse you and now – all he wished for was your comforting touch. You led Xiao back to bed and when you noticed how he had a fever you quickly prepared a cold and wet towel for him. As you both lied down in bed you took Xiao in your arms. “I don’t know if this will help,” you began after a short amount of silence, “but when I was a child my mother always used to sing this lullaby to help me fall asleep. She even continued singing it when we were older and got sick… it always helps me feel better and at ease, shall I sing it to you?”. Xiao only gave a small nod, not believing it would help when you sang that song for the first time. But it did, you soothed his pain and helped him fall asleep. From that night on you would sing it more often to Xiao, he never asked for it but you somehow always knew when he wished to hear it, especially on the nights when is karmic debt caused him great pain. That lullaby became

another sign of how much you loved each other – the necklace was Xiaos gift, the song yours.

Now there he stood, in this forest that once was just a plain field, the flowers and necklace to his feet singing that lullaby. Xiao never sang it when you were alive, he never sang at all. No matter how much you begged him to sing for you, this was something he always refused to do. Thinking about how beautiful your voice sounded, he never wanted to soil this song with his voice.

It felt like you screamed for Xiao for hours and hours on end, but your voice doesn’t hurt. Where were you? What had happened? In your head you repeated and repeated the last things you could remember again and again. You were walking in the fields, wanting to collect some crystal flies for a commission. Then you remembered that you were attacked, who or what attacked you slipped your mind. However, the fight was tedious and hard… and then you called for Xiao. That’s it. That’s all you could remember. But where was he? Where was Xiao? Didn’t he say he would always come when you called out for him? Why didn’t he come now? You feared that he was still angry with you, though you didn’t know anymore why he even should be angry with you in the first place. The two of you had a fight yes, but… was that it? You spend so much time apart, did he just decide you weren’t worth his time anymore? Did he maybe stop loving you? Those thoughts filled you with dread and you wanted to cry, cry at the thought of Xiao not loving you anymore, but somehow you couldn’t. So you kept calling for him, over and over again. “Xiao,” you screamed. “XIAO!” And then you heard something, at first you weren’t sure what it was, but there was a noise. You stopped calling out for him, trying to focus on where the sound came from, following the direction. It got louder and – was that Xiao singing? The closer you came towards the sound, towards Xiaos voice singing that lullaby… your mothers’ lullaby, the lullaby that became yours and Xiaos. Which he always refused to sing, no matter how much you pleaded. The closer you came you started to remember the things that happened more clearly. How you didn’t want to call for Xiao at first that day, how something hit you in your stomach and how you felt the blood gusher out of you. Yes, you remember how you couldn’t stand anymore and all that was on your mind was Xiao, you wanted to see him again. Just once. You wanted to tell him how sorry you were, how stupid it was for you to fight and how stupid it was to wait this long to call for him. You wanted to say this to him, all of it. But all you remember you said was his name. “Xiao.”

He stopped singing, his head flying up seeing your ghost stand right in front of him. His name. You just said his name. “Xiao,” you said it again, this time he heard you say it clearly and you looked right at him, not through. “(Y/N)”, it came more out as whisper. This is what he wanted. He wanted you to see him, to get out of that limbo, but why does it still hurt as much? “Ah, seems like it worked, great!”, the director interrupted the moment, looking at Xiao and the ghost of you. “I ummm- I’m gonna leave the two of you alone for a while, so you can talk things out, say your goodbyes, yadayadayada.” With that the director walked away and it was just you and Xiao.

“I-“, Xiao began, but somehow his voice failed him. What was there to say? What should he say? “Xiao,” he heard the hesitance in your voice. “Xiao, I am dead, right?”. He couldn’t stand looking at you, his eyes avoiding yours as he gave his short answer. “Yes.” “I see,” you replied quietly. You slowly started to remember the nights you stood on the field, waiting for him to come. “Why,” you weren’t sure if you wanted an answer to your question, “why didn’t you come? After, you know… I- I waited for you. I called you. Why-?”. “I felt guilty. It was my fault, if I just hadn’t tried to push you away again, then you wouldn’t have died, I’m so sorry,” his voice was so quiet, but you could hear how he tried to hold back the tears. “Xiao,” at hearing his name again he looked back at you, you now seeing the tears that pooled at the corner of his eyes. “It wasn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have pushed you… and I should have called for you earlier. But Xiao,” you saw how the tears started to fall down his face, “it wasn’t your fault.” He couldn’t hold it in any longer, Xiao fell to his knees, hands in his face and crying. “Please,” he sobbed. “Please, forgive me. I should have protected you that day, I should have come here earlier and see what was happening… please, forgive me.” You walked towards Xiao, reaching out your hand, wanting to touch him. Wanting to take him in your arms, but you couldn’t. It broke your heart. “Xiao, please, please look at me,” he did, his eyes red and filled with his tears. “There is nothing to ask for forgiveness for, you did nothing wrong Xiao. It’s alright. I’m sorry for leaving so soon, for running away that day we had this stupid fight. I don’t even know what it was about…”. “I don’t know either”, Xiao admitted and somehow you had to laugh a bit at that. None of you ever remembered why you fought even in the first place, all of this nearly felt so normal. But it wasn’t. Xiao wiped away the tears from his eyes and stood up again, this time to be able to face you. You looked just like he remembered, except for the see-through part but… your smile hasn’t changed. Even if this was a sad one. “Xiao, how much time has passed since I died?” That question surprised him. “Around…”, he was hesitant to tell you the truth. Should he really tell you? “Xiao,” and you looked at him and he knew that he couldn’t hide the truth. “A thousand years perhaps.” Thousand years, you thought. For thousand years he walked around with this guilt, for thousand years he kept that necklace that still was on the ground… for thousand years he lived his life, still mourning you it seemed. “Did you get over me?”. Again, another question he didn’t expect. Why were you asking him this? Did he get over you? “No, every single day since you died you were on my mind, I couldn’t forget you and I do not wish to. I can never get over you.” This wasn’t the answer you hoped for. “Xiao, I’ve been dead for thousand years. Even if I hadn’t died that day, I would have died on another one. Thousand years compared to what, sixty? Maybe seventy years if I had lived a full life is nothing. Humans are weak after all, aren’t we?”. You didn’t mean to stir him up with your last comment, it was more intended as a joke, alas a sad one, but somehow you struck a nerve within him. “No, they are not. I always said that, but I was wrong (Y/N). I don’t understand how you human can live your life, knowing that you will die, that those you love will inevitably die. How you can idly sit next to people you care about forgetting important things, things about themselves, struggle to remember who they are, seeing them die… and you move forward. I watched over you humans for such a long time, protecting you and I still- I don’t understand how. How can they love again? Where does the strength come from to keep moving forward?”, Xiao’s voice was full of pain, you heard it clear as day, seeing how tears rolled down his face again. You felt that there were even other things weighing heavy on him, not only you, but you knew that you couldn’t comfort him. That this was

something he needed to figure out himself. “Xiao, you will learn. You will understand it one day, it just takes time.” Your voice heavy with sadness and oh, how you wished you could take him in your arms, wipe his tears away and kiss him.

Before Xiao could reply anything in return the director disturbed the two of you again. “So, are you ready now?”, looking directly at you. “No, but I stayed here for far too long now, didn’t I?”, a sad smile coming across your face. You really didn’t want to leave, but you knew you couldn’t stay any longer. It was time. “I will come with you as far as I can,” Xiao had wiped his tears away and stood now right next to you. If you still had a body your shoulders would touch.

Xiao and the director accompanied you to the border of life and death in silence. Before you crossed it you looked at Xiao. He looked so sad, as if he was to lose you a second time. “I wish,” you heard him say, “that you could stay just a bit longer. I know it’s selfish, but I just wished you could have stayed by my side forever. But you can’t stay, and you shouldn’t.” “Xiao, I feel the same. I wish I could have spent eternity with you, but I can’t and it okay. I just want to ask you for one thing, one last promise before I go, okay?”. Xiao looked at you with a heavy heart. “Yes.” “Promise me you will try to find happiness for yourself again, okay? Promise me you will love again, please. Don’t stay alone.” Silently Xiao looked at you to then finally say “I promise.” “Thank you Xiao,” Archons, you wished you could take his hand. “Now then,” you said looking in the directions you had to go. “Time to go.” “(Y/N)”, you heard Xiao say before you left. “I love you.” “I love you too, Xiao.” As Xiao and the director left the border, he stayed quiet, the atmosphere being quite sombre. “Maybe,” the director pulled Xiao out of his thoughts, “there is nothing behind the border and they stopped existing completely. But maybe their soul will now find a way back to you, just in another way? Who knows,” and with that the director left. Xiao didn’t know if he believed that you would find a way back to him, but as it started to rain and as it fell down on his skin, Xiao felt now lighter as if a heavy burden was taken off of him. With that he started to move forward again.

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slashbitch2 · 3 years

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The Very Nosy Neighbour

this fic was 100% inspired by this one here , but I mean it practically wrote itself I couldn't resist

NSFW

You can't remember much past waking up in an unfamiliar room- though 'room' is really a sugarcoated description, as in reality it qualifies more as some kind of cavern. You're sitting in a chair, ankles and wrists bound by an indistinguishable material. Whatever the binds are made of feels strong, so any attempts to struggle against it are futile. Yet, in spite of what really should be an extremely stressful situation, you find yourself completely relaxed. You briefly wonder whether you've been drugged, but with every sense feeling fully operational, that theory is soon dismissed.

Instead of choosing a more logical response to the circumstances you've found yourself in, you decided to focus more on your surroundings: not to form any resemblance of an escape plan, but simply out of curiosity. Although, the investigation is equally as ineffective. You're unable to name anything around you except for stone walls, strange (glowing?) vines and weird symbols carved above a few archways. Everything beyond that is either entirely lost to you, or shrouded in darkness.

With little else to do, you start to think back on the events that led you there, trying to glean any useful information from the blurry memories. The clearest image, therefore the most recent, is the smirking face of a woman, Agnes you realise. Though the malicious glint in her eyes doesn't quite match your perception of the nosy neighbour. But where is she now? Is she also in danger? You may not have known Agnes for very long, but are reluctant to let any harm come to her regardless.

With a clearer head, you consider calling for help, but a small voice at the back of your subconscious warns you against this. And the voice sounds smart, so you elect to listen to it. But what should you do instead? Where did this voice come from? And most importantly, should you trust it? Luckily, you aren't given much time to overthink the decision.

While trying to tune into this voice, footsteps echo in the distance, gradually drawing nearer. You hold your breath as the sound suddenly stops, leaving your eyes scanning the vicinity for any movement. The unpleasant reality dawns on you all too quickly: the footsteps were approaching from behind you.

“Well, well, well.” Someone says playfully, then snorts as they start walking closer. "Sorry to be a total cliché. I couldn't resist." It's Agnes. She narrows her eyes and smirks, folding her arms as she examines your constrained form. Subjected to her scrutiny, you find yourself swallowing, but your throat is too dry. Other small discomforts also become noticeable; your cramped limbs, aching back and the bruises on your hands. Well at least you put up a fight. The more rational part of you, however, realises that your hands are no longer bound. You stare down at them, flexing each finger as if checking they were all still fully functional.

Something suddenly knocks into your head and you grimace. Left reeling from the impact, you realise that you're slightly nauseated. Though not enough to stop you from reaching out to grasp the floating cup of water. The fact that the glass is suspended in mid-air doesn't go unnoticed, rather ignored, since there's too much happening simultaneously to comprehend any of it in sufficient detail. You swirl the liquid round, hesitant to drink, unwilling to trust your captor's apparent mercy.

"Drink up, dear." Agnes drags a chair forward, which seems to have just appeared out of thin air. She sits backwards on it, legs spread and arms resting on the back casually. "That's all you're getting until we're done here." The tone of her voice is both threatening and teasing. You're reluctant to admit it's quite a turn on.

One glance up at her prying expression and you relent, downing the chilled water way too quickly. Though you aren't given a chance to mourn your impatience, as with an effortless wave of her hand, Agnes refills the glass. While you sip at the water, she refuses to tear her eyes away from you for even a second. It's slightly disconcerting.

“Now," She claps her hands, startling you. "I assume you know why you’re here?”

“Not really.” You confess, unable to pinpoint why anyone would go to so much effort to kidnap you, especially Agnes, who up to this point had been an eccentric yet kind neighbour.

She sighs, more for show than anything else, and rubs at her temple. "Come on Y/N, let's not play dumb now."

Embarrassingly, a heat begins to pool deep in your gut, but you quickly dismiss the unwarranted lust. "I don't know what you mean."

"Oh really?" She quirks an eyebrow, sitting upright. "You really have no idea?" The inquiry is ridiculing, and you can see that your naivety is starting to annoy her.

All you can do is shake your head and pray the sincerity is reflected in your eyes.

"Okay." She slams her hands down on her thighs. "I guess we'll have to go about this the hard way then, toots." A sharp gesture and your hands are bound before you once again.

By the time you're looking up, she's striding toward you with purpose, which does nothing to ease the building heat between your legs. Her hands clasp on the armrests either side, essentially trapping you, not like escape would've been possible without the extra precaution. Up close you finally recognize this isn't Agnes- in fact it never has been. There's a feral yet wise appearance to her, the facade of nosy neighbour dissolved in an instance to be replaced by a deranged, frighteningly powerful woman (or witch, you're undecided).

Despite your better judgement, you're unable to stop yourself from asking. "Who are you?" Your voice barely breaches a whisper, but she's standing close enough that nothing less intimate is required.

She looks mildly impressed, the corner of her mouth twitching almost indiscernibly. "Agatha Harkness." She extends a hand, smirking upon realisation that you're a little too tied up at the minute to reciprocate. "Lovely to meet you."

You swallow again, finding your throat to be a little less dry. "Likewise." Then decide to take another risk. "So what do you want from me?"

“Wanda's true identity.” She replies so quickly that you almost miss it, looking at you with an eagerly expectant expression.

Agatha's question confuses you further. “I don’t know what you mean.” Although your answer is honest, something at the back of your mind hisses lies.

"There's no need to lie here." Her patient humour had disappeared. "Trust me, no one will hear you, so drop the act."

For some unbeknown reason, her accusation angers you. "I'm not putting on an act, I don't know why I'm here or what you want from me." The bravery dissipates all of a sudden as you remember that you're not exactly in the position to command such authority. "Please, stop this."

Agatha purses her lips, stands up and turns away from you. She calmly moves forwards a few paces, and in the short amount of time you manage to convince yourself that she's given up. Until in a completely unprovoked move, she swings her hands to the left, sending her chair crashing into the wall in frustration. Whether this is part of her interrogation performance or not, it works. Your heart starts racing, and confusingly, the awkward heat between your legs pulses.

She runs a hand through her hair, still facing away from you. "Don't make this any harder harder than it needs to be." You can practically hear her grinding her teeth, but don't doubt that she was getting some enjoyment out of the situation.

"I can tell you that Wanda is my sister and only real family, that I moved to Westview with her and that I couldn't live without her." You start listing off some basic facts, desperate to prove to Agatha that nothing is hidden. That you're normal.

"What about your brother?" She swivels round, clicking her fingers as she tries to recall something. "Pietro!" She exclaims.

"Pietro..." You falter. Why does the name sound so familiar? The nausea worsens. You shake off the feeling. "Never heard of him."

“Liar.” In one swift movement, Agatha is right by your ear. The feeling of her lips brushing against your skin causes you to close your eyes. The close proximity was becoming overwhelming, and your body had chosen to react in a rather unfortunate way. Admittedly, you'd always had a thing for Agnes, but Agatha was on a whole other level. You dreaded to open your eyes, worried that she'd noticed your current state. Instead, you internally begged for mercy.

“Don't go all shy on me now.” She pushes your shoulder into the chair, compelling you to open your eyes. "If you don't want to talk, I have other methods." Her hand raises, a purple flow emanating from the tips of her fingers. It crackles and sparks, as if the power was barely contained, yet as she shifts closer to brush the hair out of your face, you don't flinch. One finger remained touching your forehead, then traced down to your jaw, and finally along to grasp your chin.

While the vaguely sinister movement terrified you, it also forced you hold your breath and grip onto the armrests for dear life. Why you'd decided this was hot was beyond you considering the many connotations of her words, yet your thighs pressed tighter together as she drew closer. You attempted to turn your head to the side, longing for distraction, but her hold on you kept your head still.

"This won't be much fun for you, dear." She sighed in mock pity, her breath hot against your skin... Which just tipped you over the edge. As hard as you tried to stifle the noise, a broken moan escaped your lips. You'd definitely hit a low point here. Too ashamed to face your apparent arousal, you screwed your eyes shut. Although, at Agatha's silence, you relented and opened them barely a minute later.

To your relief, or perhaps dismay, the woman was grinning like a maniac. Her eyes flickered down to your parted lips as she chewed on her own. Then carefully, as if she were testing the waters, her fingers began to rub against your jaw, and upwards to your mouth. Your breath deceives you by hitching as her thumb slips between your lips, stroking your tongue. At the contact, you can't help but arch into the touch. Agatha chuckles.

"I take it back." She murmurs, removing her hand. "This will be fun." Although the intimidation factor prevails, there's a certain desire mirrored in Agatha's expression which cancels out any remaining common sense. Your entire body felt like it was on fire, and even if you wanted to, there was little you could do to stop her. So, you give into your yearning, sighing as she climbs to sit on your lap. Immediately, her hand switches to gripping the back of your neck as she slams her mouth onto yours. You willingly indulge by opening further, allowing her tongue to slide between your lips. Her other hand lowers to grab at your chest, like she were trying to tug herself impossibly closer.

Without removing her lips, the hand massaging your chest shifts to your thigh. She still keeps her lips firmly pressed to yours, and with the lack of oxygen, you can feel yourself growing lightheaded. It almost feels like a challenge, one which you're determined to succeed at. Though when she eventually does break away, her hand suddenly slips between your thighs, and your breath is stolen from you once more. Wasting no time, she massages you through your clothes, dragging out an inevitable whine. The touch is both too much, and not enough. But judging by her malevolent smirk, that was exactly her intention.

Even though you were currently incapable of producing any reasonable thought, you still noticed that Agatha wasn't entirely unaffected. Her breathing was laboured, hips occasionally jerking against your thigh and eyes struggling to stay open. The influence you were having on her only encouraged you to moan louder, craving to see her equally dishevelled. Your plan seemed to momentarily fail as her hand retreated. But you'd certainly earned her attention.

She licks her lips, then abruptly changes her expression to look disturbingly like that of Agnes. "You wouldn't leave me out of the fun now, would you dear?" Her voice is high pitched as she basically sings her words. Although the question must've been rhetorical as doesn't await a response, instead you find your hands unbound, flung behind your back and bound together all in a matter of seconds. Then, she shifted her position, yanking your bodies closer so that your crotches were pressed together. She grunts, heaving forward to rest against you for a moment and regain her composure. And finally, without warning, starts to grind your hips together.

It doesn't take long for her movement to become more frantic, accompanied by her hair spilling onto her face. She remains impressively quiet, however, or perhaps you were just comparably loud. With the little pride you have left, you decide to take matters into your own hands, and start meeting each thrust with equal vigour. Miraculously, it works. She throws her head back with a remarkably loud moan, proceeded by change in strategy as she starts almost bouncing on top of you, hips losing their rhythm, pleasure overwhelming her. Startled by her lack of self-control, the heat in your stomach begins building exponentially fast. Your eyes slam shut.

A hand grasps onto your face. “Look at me!” She growls, then emphasises her demand by rolling her hips torturously slowly. The movement ceases. She leans her forehead against yours, staring directly into your eyes. “Come with me.” To your surprise, there's an audible plea in her voice.

At a loss for words, you nod. The pleasure had been building for so long that you knew it'd only take a few more grinds to push you over the edge. With your confirmation, Agatha resumes her thrusting, though soon succumbs, throwing her head back and uttering an exceptionally loud, high-pitched moan. She arches her back, pressing herself so far into you that the pleasure peaks. You groan, lurching backwards in a moment of pure bliss. All you can feel is Agatha, all you can think about is Agatha. Coming down from the high, you sigh and collapse forward to bury your face in the crook of her neck.

She tenses slightly at the contact, but soon relaxes into the strange embrace. You gently press your lips against her skin and feel her shiver, confirming your suspicion that it'd been a while since Agatha had received such affection. Motivated by a new, more innocent desire, you continue to pepper light kisses across her throat and behind her ear, simply enjoying the unexpectedly intimate moment.

Agatha finally breaks the silence, leaning away from your touch to look down at you curiously. "Wanda really has you under her mind control too, huh?"

Although still stuck in a post-coital haze, you muster enough brainpower to consider her words. "Mind control?"

"Oh, right." She smirks, a slight sadness perceptible in her eyes. "Forgot to mention." Before you can say anything, she swings one leg to the side, stiffly sliding off your lap and clasping her hands together. "You might want to reconsider where your loyalties lie, dear." She glances at you, then ambles to the opposite side of the room. "That's one fucked up family situation right there." Her voice teasingly calls out.

You feel yourself flush, strangely offended by her comment, and annoyed by her vagueness. "Like you can talk." Your response is a total shot in the dark, but must've hit a nerve since she slowly turns back to you, a suspicious expression upon her face. "Just a guess." You add, unwilling to know the details of whatever sensitive topic you'd just touched upon. Agatha easily shrugs it off, leaving behind a stifling silence. Eventually, it's a mixture of your own boredom and concern that prompts you to end the lull in conversation. "Are you still planning on interrogating me about something I know nothing about?"

"Oh, no I read your mind." She waves a dismissive hand over her shoulder. "Got all I needed."

Again, you're left suffocating in the confusion her ambiguity provokes, with nothing else to ask except. "How...?"

The inquiry must've been exactly what Agatha wanted to hear as she immediately dropped what she was doing to turn around and lean on the wall, arms folded in a casually smug pose. "Sex leaves you vulnerable." She smirked. "All I did was take advantage of the opportunity- but I'll spare you the boring details." With a flourish of her hand and a flash of purple, the binds holding your ankles and wrists disappeared. "You can go now. First door on the left."

Without sparing you another glance, she busied herself with some witchy task, allowing you to see yourself out. Massaging your wrists, you stood slowly, watching her expectantly. Surely she wouldn't just let you leave? Yet as you sauntered over to the door she'd directed you to, she made no move to stop you. "Bye then?"

Agatha looked up at you and winked. "See you around, neighbour."

#agatha harkness x reader #agnes x reader #agatha harkness

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sserpente · 3 years

Text

Seeds of Doubt

Synopsis: Months and months after grieving in your home realm Asgard, when you find out that Loki, the man you had promised to marry one day is still alive, you accompany Thor to Earth to bring him back to his senses. Your strong feelings for one another overwhelm you and you join the God of Mischief on his conquest to become a fearsome king. Together, you survive the strongest storms. Together, you win every battle. Together, you rule Midgard. As the sceptre’s steel grip on you becomes stronger and stronger, both Loki and you fall into a tyrannical frenzy feeding off of the fear of your mortal subjects and only once the sceptre is taken out of your reach do you begin to doubt your ways. What will be stronger in the end? Will it be the power of the mind stone… or your unconditional love?

A/N: Here it finally is! This is the 20k Follower Special! It’s a personalised Imagine written for @nebulousfishgills who won! ♥ The Reader in this story has a name, a specific appearance, traits and characteristics, so it’s a little different than usual! Enjoy, everyone! ♥

Words: 10469 Warnings: Loki wins!AU, Dark!Loki, Dark!Reader, Dom!Loki, mentions of slavery, violence, murder and gore; torture, dystopian universe, smut, dub-con, angst, mild exhibitionism

“Where is he?” Your voice echoed through the hall like a mother’s desperate scream for her child. They found him. Hysteria spread in your chest like a parasite, your feeble attempts to swallow down your worry for the man you loved all but fruitless. Your green cape—a homage to Loki—fluttered behind you like you were riding a tidal wave ready to destroy everything in its path. Perhaps you were. Perhaps today was the day you were going to hold the people who wronged him accountable for it and perhaps soon, you would finally hold each other again.

His death had ruined you. Day in and out, Frigga would find you crying in the library grieving the love of your life all the while Thor undid the damage they blamed on Loki, hiding in the very same spot he had spent most of his time in to read in peace, knowing that his tactless brother would hardly seek out a place of pure knowledge and wisdom.

The Queen knew better than to tell. Heads would roll if the kingdom found out about your tears, regardless of how inseparable Loki and you had always been. No one but him had ever seen you cry and you took pride in keeping it that way.

As of right now, your concern and anger overwhelmed the numbing sadness. Had you not overheard the einherjars’ heated conversation about the lost prince having returned from the dead and wreaking havoc somewhere you could not be a part of it, you might have never learned that Loki was alive until they brought him back and… and what?

Something was wrong, you could feel it in the very core of your being. Clenching your fists, you barged further into the throne room unannounced, ignoring the weak protests of the guards. Each of your steps was confident, calculated—even though there was a part of you that was on the verge of tears.

“Amnerys…” Thor spoke your name as if it belonged to a child caught with its hand in the cookie jar.

“Where is he, Thor?!” You spat through gritted teeth, narrowing your blue eyes at him.

The God of Thunder took a deep breath. “He is on Earth.”

“Midgard? What is he doing on Midgard?”

“Heimdall witnessed him entering the realm through a portal and slaughtering innocents. He means to rule the mortals as their king.” Odin said. Your heart skipped a beat. Loki… your sweet, loving, caring, perceptive and mischievous Loki, your mirror…

“This is not right. Loki would not… not like this.”

“It matters not,” Odin continued unfazed, “Thor will be sent to Midgard to put an end to his childish schemes and he will face trial for the damage and chaos he has caused across Yggdrasil.” No, he will not. You glared at him. Had you treated him differently, he would never have been tempted to throw a foreign realm into an absolute monarchy in the first place.

“I demand to come with him.”

“You, Amnerys? You wish to accompany Thor to Earth?” Incredulousness swung in Odin’s voice, his white eyebrows raised ever so slightly. He clenched his spear when you stood your ground, lifting your chin as if nothing was about to stop you—and nothing was, as a matter of fact.

“You know who he was to me. This is the least you owe me, your majesty.”

~*~

Odin knew. He knew you were not to mess with and he knew that it was solely Loki’s death that had kept you at bay. He would never admit it but your intelligence intimidated him. You could be dangerous if only you wanted to. Odin had learned during your early childhood already that keeping you close to the palace meant to remain safer than banishing you to a foreign realm where you would plot revenge until he fell. An eye for an eye. You would only ever treat the people who wronged you like that.

Dark magic was still sizzling in your blood when the clouds spat you both out and sent you flying through the crisp air, right until Thor slung his arm around your waist and brought his hammer down into utter nothingness, enveloped by heavy rainclouds and blinding lightning bolts in the distance.

You hit the roof of an aeroplane or something of the like. Mortal technology was beyond your comprehension, for neither Loki nor you required a machine to fly if you could simply transform into a bird and take to the skies.

“Don’t back down now, hammer boy.” You yelled across the stormy wind. Thor shot you a meaningful look, even more so when the hatch opened and you both jumped.

Loki. His eyes widened when his brother marched towards him like a bilgesnipe all the while an invisible force appeared to rip your heart right out of your chest only to mend it with the soft hands of relief. Loki’s gaze met yours, blue locking with blue and your souls intertwining like eager fingers.

Thor jumped and you followed, leaving the dumbfounded mortals behind.

Your digits were tingling with seidr as you landed on the cliff, your nails digging into the relentless rock to your feet. Thor was nowhere to be seen, not until you heard his battle cry in the distant forest. Odin would have expected you to help him but that was not what you were here for. You only had eyes for him.

“Loki…” His lips parted and several painful heartbeats passed in which he observed you like the antique paintings in the palace library. Doubtfully. What was it he expected to see? Your grief had made your round face grow older and your skin even paler than it already was and yet, you were still the same woman with blue eyes and those chestnut brown hair he used to love burying his fingers in.

“Are you real?” His voice was weak, wary. Frowning, you stepped closer to him, close enough for him to reach out and touch you. Loki was frozen on the spot like an ice sculpture in the deepest winter of Jötunheim.

“What? Of course I’m real.” You never noticed the tears swimming in your eyes until you took one final step and lifted your chin to look him in the eye. You were tall, taller than the average mortal woman and still, Loki towered above you like a true king. Like the true king he used to be before Odin and Thor drove him to attempted suicide.

He looked older, and colder. Worn out. Your voice was but a mere whisper, your palm cupping his right cheek. “What happened to you?”

Loki swallowed, making you gasp when his hand wrapped around your wrist. The moment he blinked was the moment you threw yourself into his arms. Inhaling his unique scent, this delectable mixture of molten metal, ice and leather, you pressed your face against his chest with your eyes closed, bathing in his presence and his touch, both of which you had missed more than anything in all of the nine realms.

The first, desperate sob escaped your lips when he hugged you back and rested his chin on your shoulder, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“I missed you so much… I thought I had lost you forever.”

“You did not.” He replied, his lips against your chestnut hair.

“Why… why did you not contact me? Where were you?”

“Contacting you would have put you in danger. It was for the best you believed me dead.”

“Was it?” You raised your voice. “Was it really? Do not patronise me, Loki, you know very well I can hold a candle to you.”

“Yes…” He pondered. “I know that.” Silence. Uncomfortable and peaceful at the very same time, you both stood there as if there was a canyon between you, lost time you had to make up for.

“Have you got any idea how much I suffered without you?” You continued, your voice shaking.

His expression hardened. “Did Odin harm you?”

“No. No, he wouldn’t dare lay a finger on me. I was mourning, Loki. When you died… a part of me died with you and now… now I feel like it is coming back to me.”

His blue eyes locked with yours. “Join me.”

“W-what? Loki… I came to take you home with me.”

The God of Mischief shook his head bitterly. “Asgard was never truly my home, now was it?”

“It’s the place you grew up in, the place you know better than any other… the place where you met me. Is that not enough? Odin will not live forever. We will be free, Loki.”

“Yes,” he breathed hoarsely, “We will be free. With this.” Seidr tickled his palm, enveloping his hand in a beam of green light to reveal the sceptre.

“He will have me executed for this—you know this.”

“But you don’t want this. Midgard… why would you want to rule the mortals?”

Loki did not respond and yet his glance spoke volumes. Something is wrong, I can feel it.

“Why won’t you tell me?” You chirped, hot tears worsening your sight once more. If your cheeks were wet and reddened, you never noticed. Then, his expression hardened once more.

“But I am. This is it, my sweet Amnerys, my triumph. I will rule, I will be powerful and I will prove myself a worthy king. Is this not what we always dreamed of as children?”

“It is. Loki, it is… but…” But what? He was back. Loki was alive and you could not care less about the mortals’ fate if only he would never leave your side again. Loki was your soulmate and you were his.

This was wrong. You knew it was wrong and yet… the urge to give yourself to him rose with every single heartbeat.

“Join me.” He repeated. A disarming smirk played on his lips, even though it did not quite reach his eyes. “Be my queen.”

You gasped for air, your hesitation dissolving like moist fog in a spring forest. By the time Thor returned with the mortal wrapped in metal, you had gone.

~*~

5 years later

Loki chuckled at the words he himself had written, his fingers entangled with yours and his thumb stroking the back of your hand. Propping his chin up with his free hand, he watched the hilarious play unfold on the small stage he’d had built. The actors were sweating, yet a look into their terrified and helpless eyes proved it was not the warm stage light increasing their body temperature.

Loki had executed three actors over the past week because they had failed to please him and play their part convincingly. Naturally, they had all played the parts of Thor, albeit a humiliated and weak version of the God of Thunder who was currently in exile.

You still remembered the day of victory like it was yesterday, the adrenaline and the rush of power coursing through your veins like liquid fire. The Chitauri had overpowered the Avengers almost too soon for your entertainment. A few of them, Thor, the redhead Natasha Romanoff and the green beast they called the Hulk remained alive, plotting revenge and assassinations.

Not one month went by in which Loki and you did not publically execute a hitman or a hitwoman, and yet their feeble attempts to murder their king and queen were all but pathetic. Only the fewest made it past the heavily guarded entrance doors of what used to be Stark Tower and now posed as a striking palace you called your new home. Midgard was not so bad, after all.

Terrorising its people was quite fun, actually and thanks to Loki’s sceptre, getting them to bend to your will was not only fun but way too easy and convenient. The God of Mischief had soon gotten rid of the leaders the mortals called their would-be queens, kings and presidents anyway. Those who had resisted were now rotting away several feet below the earth.

Oh yes, the sceptre was truly a most marvellous object. You fancied a foot massage? The sceptre would convince the helpless mortal in charge of gardening the roof terrace. You wished for a special food delivery? Anything was possible with the mind stone. They were so easy to manipulate, so easy to control and undermine, to step on like a boot would step on an ant. It was fun. Nothing less did those petty and ignorant mortals deserve after polluting their own planet to the point of death and destruction. They were paying the price for it now.

In your youth, years and years had gone by on Asgard where you would study the powerful stones until you knew all of its secrets. The Tesseract was gone—Loki had failed to tell you whom he had given it to after the successful invasion of the Chitauri, nonetheless, as long as you still had the sceptre, you were not going to complain. It felt like the mind stone was connecting you two, wrapping a steel rope around your love for one another. Love which you never failed to act on at any given opportunity, for your days were mainly spent cuddling and, quite frankly, fucking on every possible surface of Stark Tower, having luxurious dinners and Loki sending terrified mortals to buy you expensive gifts and jewellery.

The humans feared you and unlike what you had expected from yourself, you were enjoying it. You were bathing in their terror, their anxiety and their tears, even their blood—metaphorically speaking—especially after Loki put you in charge of labour distribution.

What was the play about again? Snapping yourself out of your trance, you sighed, even more so because Loki’s hand had discreetly disappeared under your dress under the table, his thumb caressing your clit. There was no need for underwear here, after all.

“He is positively the most unenthusiastic Thor of the whole week.” You choked out when he slipped two fingers inside of your warmth, his free hand coming up to stroke your pale arm. “He is boring me.”

“Is he now? I believe the reason for your boredom is that I have not yet sentenced him to death. He is rather delightful. Look at how much he is shaking.” He chuckled. “He is trying so hard to appear devoted. He will live, for now.”

A moan escaped your lips when he curled his fingers inside of you, repeatedly stroking your g-spot. Loki chuckled once more. “Oh, what is it, my sweet Amnerys? Will you come for me? Will you come undone before all these people?”

Slaves were positioned to either side of the long table. If they knew what Loki was doing to you right now, they’d do well to keep their mouths shut and pretend they did not notice and the actors on stage were too caught up in their own panic to realise. Whyever not? You moaned once more. No one would know and if there was something Loki wanted, then he would get it anyway. That included your orgasms.

“I… I will…” You whispered, blood biting at your pale cheeks. He raised his eyebrows slightly, a mischievous smirk growing on his lips. His thumb applied more pressure, making you throw your head back into the cushioned backrest of your throne. By the time you let go and let pleasure consume you, Loki had lost all interest in the play. His blue eyes were fixed on you and your sweet whimpers, his heart pounding fast in his chest upon realising one too many times that you belonged to him.

“My queen…” He purred, helping you ride out your orgasm all the while you attempted, miserably, to keep a straight face. It was then the slaves in the room began to clap and the actors on stage bowed, relieved it was over.

“You are dismissed. Get out of my sight.” Loki barked. You giggled at the way they almost fell off the stage, hurrying to get away from you two.

“They are like lambs,” you remarked, still panting. “Like innocent lambs and we’re the wolves.”

“Hmm… lamb sounds like an excellent idea for dinner, would you not agree?” He hooked his index finger under your chin, forcing you to look up at him—not that you had wanted to look away anyway. The remaining mortals in the room knew better than to wait for an order. Without a word, they rushed towards the kitchen to prepare the meal—regardless of how they would acquire a lamb.

Then, finally, Loki’s hand retreated from under your dress, his digits coated with your juices. Your lips parted when he brought them to your mouth, having you suck them clean which you did with no hesitation.

“I have to leave New York for a few days tomorrow.” He said quietly, his gaze fixed on your lips wrapped around his fingers. You released him with a silent smack to pout.

“Without me?”

“Yes, my love. There have been concerning reports of riots in New Jersey. Now we cannot have that, can we?”

“No… of course not.”

“I shall be back soon. You will rule this meagre place just fine without me until I return. You know how to put the mortals in their place, no?”

You giggled again. “I do.”

“That is my queen. I trust you, my sweet Amnerys.”

~*~

I trust you, my sweet Amnerys. You smiled. You were the only one in the nine realms that the infamous God of Mischief trusted. Even a few days without him would be hell. You would handle the kingdom well, there was no doubt about that and yet… you already longed for him to hold you in his arms again. Throwing back the satin green covers of the huge king-size bed the two of you slept in, you climbed off the soft mattress all but naked, your smile widening when your blue eyes fell on the golden fountain pen Loki had gifted you, along with a bouquet of blue roses, your favourite flowers—one of his first gifts, back on Asgard when you were only five-hundred years old, right before you had run off like children to practice magic with Frigga. So young, so naïve, so in love.

Loki had always been so gentle, so considerate… your smile faded. He had changed though, had he not? His behaviour towards you was no different in the slightest bit, but even though he radiated dominance like a radioactive gemstone, you wondered why it was only now you realised how cruel he had become. The humans were shivering with fear when they spoke to him, barely able to kneel properly for their trembling robbed them of their balance. And what about you? Were you not inflicting the same amount of pain and suffering?

You scoffed. Where were these thoughts coming from? This was ridiculous, right? You were a queen, Loki’s queen, and you were together and happy. It mattered not if the mortals lived in agony for this cause… only it did.

Your lips parted. When was the last time Loki and you had spent a peaceful day together outside, without anyone attempting to assassinate you? Without anyone quivering in fear of what might happen to them if they displeased you?

When… when had you become like that? You swallowed thickly. Loki had left earlier this morning. You were not going to sulk away in his absence, now were you? He had left you in charge for a reason and you would make him proud.

“Y-your majesty?” It was one of the maids, standing in the doorframe like she was about to be sacrificed to the Norns and hence ripping you out of your thoughts with brute force, making you drop the fountain pen back on the desk and spin around.

“Don’t you know how to knock, you silly girl?”

“I… I did, your majesty.”

“What is it?” You barked.

“There… there has been a brawl on the street right in front of the Tower. The guards have told me that two… two men were fighting over a stolen loaf of bread.”

You rolled your eyes. Well, theft was a crime and it was going to have to be dealt with.

“I am to let you know, I wasn’t going to let them in just in case you were not decent yet… which… which you aren’t, so I was…”

“Get me my morning robes,” you cut her off. “I shall get freshened up and meet the culprits in the throne room.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The maid nodded and hurried away quickly but even the hot shower you took before she returned did not succeed in washing away the seeds of doubt in your mind. Something was wrong. It was the very same thought you had harboured back when you had first found Loki again after his attempted suicide. It felt like ages away now and yet… you remembered your concerns like they’d been keeping you awake only yesterday.

When you entered the throne room an hour later, the two men were quivering, one of them crying even and the fight they had had over a mere loaf of bread—pathetic—all but forgotten. You tilted your head as you raised your eyebrows and made yourself comfortable on Loki’s throne.

“Well?” You spat.

“My q-queen, w-we are so sorry. I-I just… I need to f-feed my family. We have been living in p-poverty after K-King L-L-Loki shut down m-my b-business. T-the oil factory?”

“The oil factory that kept polluting the seas, you mean? Killing the fish, contaminating all of your drinking water, making you all die even faster?” You scoffed. “Perhaps now you know what the fish must have felt like.”

“N-no, I-I mean… y-yes. I… r-realise my mistake but my… my family, they had nothing to do with it. I need to f-feed them. My w-wife s-suffers from severe social anxiety, she is unable to work. O-our children… we are going to starve to death. W-we… I would have paid for the loaf if only I could have, all I want is to k-keep my f-family alive!” His last words were swallowed by pathetic sobs. The urge within you to roll your eyes grew with every passing second and yet, for some peculiar reason and for the first time in years, you felt your heart clench with something you almost did not recognise anymore. Compassion.

This man had not stolen out of spite or malice. He had stolen out of desperation. The other man, you presumed, must have been the vendor then. He too now feared for the worst for causing a scene. The punishment for theft was execution by dismemberment. Fingers first, arms next, lastly the head. It was a surprisingly effective way to keep the robbery rate at a minimum.

“W-Will I… will you have me killed, my queen?”

You took a deep breath. Whatever it was that overcame you, Loki would not be pleased. But this man had not truly committed a crime, now had he? It was a loaf of bread, for Heaven’s sake!

“No. Now get out of my sight and you,” you pointed at another maid, “have that bread replaced for the vendor.”

One of the maids had once called you “ruthless” and “dangerous”. Loki had had her executed for her disrespectful behaviour and gossiping behind your back. As of today, however, you were wondering if she was right. The maid who had caught you off guard earlier this morning, she used to be a Mathematics student, you knew that from when you had taken her belongings back at her arrival to see if she had anything you liked. She did, as a matter of fact. A beautiful emerald stone necklace reminding you of Loki’s colours. You had barely worn it since, it was more the principle of being able to simply take what you wanted. Not to mention what the mortals were to expect if they resisted you. As if on cue, your seidr tickled your fingertips, once more reminding you of Loki.

Tricks and pranks you had always enjoyed together but this? You did not want to give up the life you had, did not want to give up Loki because what was done was done. He ruled Midgard now, with you by his side, you could not have one thing without the other.

But when… when exactly had you begun to doubt that a kingdom drowning in blood, tears and hard labour was not what you wanted after all? After everything Loki had gone through? He deserved happiness, he deserved to rule but not… not like this.

You growled. “Run me a bath.” You ordered, avoiding looking at your shivering maid.

“Y-yes, o-of course, Your Majesty. Would you like a bath bomb, too? I… I had them brought to the Tower for your baths. They are with… with lemon tea, your favourite scent.”

Really? You meant to say. Instead, you froze her in place with your scrutinising gaze. Your expression uncontrollably softened when you met her terrified and tear-stricken eyes. “Thank you.”

The maid’s eyes widened. “O-Oh! Y-You’re welcome, my queen. I… I will also prepare your favourite wine for you.”

Well… She doesn’t do this because she likes you or respects you, a reproachful voice in your head whispered. She does it because she’s afraid that you will kill her if she so much as breathes in your direction at the wrong moment.

~*~

Loki had made sure to have all of your personal belongings, along with your beloved fountain pen, brought to Asgard. Stacked away, somewhere in this gorgeous bedroom, were your old books too. Books that you had studied so intently and so often that they were on the verge of falling apart. Most of them were about the Infinity Stones and their creation.

You could not shake off the feeling that your subconscious was trying to tell you something—yet all you knew was that the answer was hidden in between the lines of your books. It had to be. Seeds of doubt had clouded your mind after Loki had gone, alas once he returned… you had felt more powerful than ever.

And now, something was keeping you down like a heavy blanket of snow on Jötunheim.

“One of the maids was caught snooping around in our bedroom last night, did you know?” Loki said casually when he entered the room, his armour melting off of his body to reveal a pale but well-defined body. Distracted, you blinked, losing all focus on your books.

“Which one?”

“You know the girl with the brown hair who spends most of her time in the kitchen. Only the Norns know what she is doing in there when it is not meal time.” He began to smirk, bending down to kiss you gently.

“Would you like to have her?”

You grinned. “With pleasure. I don’t wish to kill her though.” You replied. Loki frowned. “She is one of our best cooks! Let us torture her a little and punish her for invading our privacy like that. If she has not learned her mistake by then, we can still kill her.”

Loki sighed. “Well then. As you wish, my queen. Now come to bed. I wish to feel myself inside of you.”

~*~

You laughed, hysterically almost, when the maid screamed. Your fingertips were tingling with seidr, one of your hands clutching Loki’s sceptre. Pain distorted the girl’s face as she cowered on the ground before you, trembling to the point she would be unable to stand on her own accord. Her eyes were glowing blue, the sceptre’s influence clouding her mind.

Power rushed through your veins, from the mind stone into your arm and through your entire body, making you feel invincible.

Loki chuckled behind you. If you kept going for much longer, the nosey maid would die after all. But oh, playing with the sceptre was just too much fun.

“Go on. Hold your arm into the flames.” You commanded, nodding your head over to the chimney. The fire was crackling peacefully, the warmth spreading all over the throne room. The maid’s lower lip, chewed on to the point it was bleeding, was shaking. You sincerely hoped there was still a part of her knowing what was going on, knowing what she was being forced to do and yet, without any hesitation, she crawled over to the fireplace, stretched out her left hand and held it straight into the flames.

Her ear-piercing screams echoed through the room like sharp needles stabbing your skin and from the corner of your eye, you could see the other slaves in the room swallowing thickly, forced to watch the horror unfolding before their eyes as a lesson that would surely not fail its impact.

“See… who plays with fire will likely burn themselves.” You spat through gritted teeth, albeit with a dangerously sweet voice. Then, before she could utter a single word, you knocked her out, hitting her hard on the head with the blunt end of the sceptre.

She would not need any more mind control when she woke up and yet, the moment the sceptre struck her, a painful sting tore through you, her physical agony turning into mental torment for you. For just a brief moment, you saw a young, innocent girl who had been robbed of her entire life to serve you and Loki as a mindless slave to be punished severely if she dared to step out of line.

You blinked, stumbling back a few steps to chase away the atrocious feeling in your guts, crashing straight into Loki. He frowned, steadying you, and took the sceptre from your hand in response. The moment it left your grasp, the sensation grew even worse. What was wrong with you?

“Are you quite alright, my love?” Loki whispered, quiet enough only for you to hear it. You nodded, taking a deep breath.

“I feel a little dizzy, is all. Let me go lie down for a bit—and tell the maid to prepare us supper with salmon when she awakes.”

The God of Mischief was still frowning by the time you fled from the throne room and retreated to your shared chambers.

Heavens, what in the nine realms was going on? Staggering over to the window, you gaped outside to take in the beautiful skyline of New York City and rubbed your eyes. It almost felt like you had been seeing the world in black and white and, for some dubious and peculiar reason, the colours were now slowly pouring back into your perception. It scared you.

You were not surprised when Loki entered the bedroom not soon after you had stormed out, finding you biting your nails nervously—which was something you had never down before.

“Perhaps you should tell her about supper yourself. She is even more terrified of you than she is of me, my queen.” He chuckled, stroking over your hair as he approached you. When you only sighed with hesitation sparkling in your eyes, Loki’s lips parted.

“You are unwell.”

“I’m fine, I…”

“You are not. Should I call for a healer?”

“They’re called doctors here.” You replied weakly.

“I do not care what they call them as long as one of them helps you, my love. I will not have you suffer.”

“Perhaps it is my cycle, Loki. I am fine. Let us—“

There was a sudden tumult in the throne room that interrupted you both. Loud gasps and even screams became audible with a start, almost as if a wave of relief washed over the entire staff… well, your slaves.

“Sire! Sire! Help!” Alarmed, the both of you exchanged a look. Your heart sank to your boots when you hurried back into the throne room and were greeted by an assassination commando.

“Loki. Amnerys. It’s Game Over. Stand down.” Red dots in your field of vision blinded you when you came to a halt, laser pointers, so you figured, belonging to heavy machine guns aimed directly at you two and before you… Natasha Romanoff, Bruce Banner and, much to your surprise, Thor.

“Chloe… take the elevator downstairs, someone will be waiting for you there. And take all the others with you.” Loki glared at her. It was the maid Thor had addressed and if looks could kill, the poor girl would have dropped dead this instant. You should have killed the stupid wench after all. She had been spying on you all along, catching glimpses of moments where you would be unprepared… Both Loki and you growled.

“Thor… what a lovely surprise.” The God of Mischief announced then, arrogantly lifting his chin. “Have you at last decided to see for yourself what I have done to your precious Earth? Is it not better to keep the humans under control like this, to keep them from destroying their own planet?”

“By enslaving them and working them to death? I don’t think so, Loki. This is madness.”

“Perhaps. But so is you coming here.” His expression hardened. “You have signed your death warrant, brother.”

“Not this time. Our father—“

“Your father!” Loki spat.

“We did not want to do this, Loki. But you left us no choice. You must be stopped. Both of you.”

“Skip the reunion speech, Thor…” Natasha muttered. You snarled at her all the while holding on to Loki’s arm. What did he mean by no choice? What had he planned?

With your heart in your mouth, you soon found your seidr tickling your fingertips, ready to fling them all straight into the nearby wall to listen with delight how several of their bones would break in the process.

When you turned your head back to Loki, he gave you a barely visible nod. It was in the very moment you sent both Natasha and Bruce flying through the throne room with but a flick of your hand that Thor called for his beloved hammer—only it was nothing like you remembered it anymore. It was enveloped in orange fire, its flames licking high up into the air, ready to devour. Blood Orange. There was only one being in this universe who was able to create such indestructible and powerful flames—Raskk, the highest fire demon from Muspelheim.

If Thor intended to use his hammer against Loki… as a Frost Giant, he would be dead before it dawned. Surely, your heart had now stopped beating altogether.

“Loki…”

The God of Mischief growled in response. His hand found yours, fingers entangling and before you knew it, he materialised the sceptre just in time to catch his brother off guard. The both of you teleported.

Knowing how much harm Raskk’s fire was able to do to your husband and king, something inside of you snapped. If they found him again… they would kill him for sure.

You felt broken and mended at the very same time. Like a thread cut in two with a pair of sharp scissors, your vision cleared to finally reveal all the colours drained from your eyesight for so long. Breathing heavily, you gasped for air in a desperate attempt to fight off a panic attack.

“Amnerys…” Loki caught you in his arms before your shaking knees hit the floor of the shabby motel he had brought you to, an inconspicuous place you had discovered a while back on the hunt for electricians to maintain what used to be Stark Tower. Loki had done well to remember the tacky place in the suburbs. You would be safe here until you could come up with a plan.

The truth was, Thor’s hammer, strengthened by Raskk’s blood orange fire, had caught you both off guard. Loki had expected any form of resistance from his brother—not, however, that he would try and end his life in such a brutal and excruciating way.

Your fear for Loki’s life… it had broken the influence of the sceptre. You saw it so clearly now… how it had been the weapon all along, dragging you down a rabbit hole so dark it had blinded you.

“I… I…” Unable to speak, you allowed him to scoop you up into his arms like a bride. Your thoughts were too tangled up to follow the harsh commands he barked at the poor receptionist behind the desk in the foyer, only dared to whimper once he had closed the door behind you.

He put you back on your feet, ensuring you would not simply drop like a marionette. “Amnerys, speak to me. Are you in pain?”

It took you another moment to pull yourself together. With a deep shaky breath, you locked your eyes with his.

“What have we done?” You whispered, your lower lip shaking. “Loki, what have we done…”

“What?”

“What have we done… the slavery, the torture, the murder… Loki… we turned Midgard into another Helheim.”

“Whatever are you talking about?”

“Don’t you see? It’s… the sceptre. It’s been the sceptre all along… it… it brainwashed us like puppets!”

“You are confused.”

“I am not. Loki, listen to me, please!”

He shushed you, pressing you against his chest. With his heartbeat against your cheek, you could not help but relax into his arms, your rapid breathing calming down again—if only a little.

“We are safe here. Relax, my queen.” His lips found your neck, planting feather-light kisses on your sensitive skin in an attempt to distract you further. His mouth on you did not fail its effect. Your eyes fell shut with a sigh as you went limp in his arms, albeit reluctant to allow him to seduce you now of all times.

“Loki… w-we shouldn’t… not now… we have to… Raskk’s fire, we… you h-have to get rid of the sceptre. Thor will listen to reason once he learns—“ You were cut off by his tongue demanding entrance into your mouth, forcing you into a kiss that stole away your breath. Loki pushed you down on the hard mattress of the motel room, one of his hands capturing your wrists to pin them down above your head, rendering you completely helpless.

His sheer strength overwhelmed you and despite your Asgardian blood, you were no match to Loki… at least not when he had you on the brink of utter submission and with pleasure coursing through your blood, clouding your mind as your body kept pleading for more and more of his pampering.

“Loki… please. Loki, listen. We have to… this isn’t right… Thor… P-please… get rid of the s-sceptre, you’ll see it’s…”

“Amnerys, stop it!” He growled with a start. His dark and chastising glare sent both fear and excitement through your veins. “What is it with your obsession with the sceptre? It is making us powerful, is it not? You, my dear, are the one with the insatiable interest in the Infinity Stones and their workings.”

“I was wrong… Loki, I was wrong, we were wrong, I…” You groaned when his digits found the hem of your dress and pushed it up your pale thighs to give himself access to your wet folds, your whole body shivering the moment his fingertips brushed against your lips and finally, parted them to reveal your throbbing clit to his greedy eyes.

“L-Loki… Loki, l-listen to me…”

Part of you wanted him to stop, to talk to him rationally but… oh… it just felt too good. Your blue eyes rolled to the back of your head, your nails digging into his naked back. You hadn’t even noticed him removing most of his clothes.

“Oh, I am listening. I will be listening to your moans and whimpers as you come undone for me, my sweet Amnerys.” He paused, indeed eliciting a defeated whine from you. “Tell me you want me inside of you.” He whispered into your ear, sending pleasant shivers up and down your spine.

You swallowed thickly. You did. Your quim was aching to be filled by him, to have him mark you with his Jötun seed and make you his like he had done so often in the past and yet… was now really the time for pleasure? Now that your husband’s life was at stake? Now that you had realised the harm you had done to this planet, to its people? You were monsters. You had become exactly what Loki had feared to turn into when he had first learned about his true heritage.

Loki made you gasp for air when he slipped two of his long fingers inside of you, curling them at your g-spot and making your back arch.

“Tell me.” He spat through gritted teeth. He was in a frenzy—and you were unable to shake off just how much you loved his dominant side, this side he had developed the very moment Frigga had handed him Gungnir. You were lost. Lost in his embrace, lost in his desire, lost in his love for you.

“I do… I always do…”

He chuckled, content with your response. Freeing himself from his remaining armour with his seidr, he pushed your legs apart meeting only little resistance and positioned himself at your entrance. A moan escaped your lips when you felt his rock-hard cock press against your slick opening, the red tip leaking pre-cum already.

He never let go of your wrists, even when he sheathed himself deep inside of you with but one firm thrust, watching with an animalistic growl how you threw your head back in pure bliss, welcoming him in. His free hand was all over your pale skin, exploring every inch of your tall body.

Your walls clenched around him at once, moulding around him perfectly and unwilling to let go of him again, no, willing him even deeper when he retreated only to plunge back in and claim you thoroughly, fucking you with a steady but firm rhythm stealing not only your breath but all of your senses.

Your mind drifted away from how Loki was still under the sceptre’s control and how it made him more ruthless, more dangerous and more villainous. His lips found yours again to keep you from talking, his strokes getting more and more frantic.

You moaned when his free hand found your clit, massaging it swiftly and applying just enough pressure to send you flying. You tightened around him fast, with his name on your lips like a prayer.

Again and again, his length grazed all of your secret pleasure spots, some of them hidden deep inside of your quim. Loki moved the way he knew he would throw himself off of this delectable cliff of pleasure with you and when you came undone, rhythmically clenching around him and milking him for all he was worth, you instantly triggered his own release.

With but a few more eager thrusts, he emptied himself inside of you, coating your walls with his warm seed of which he shot rope after rope into you. He stilled, his length throbbing hotly inside your cunt as he filled you up.

No less than ten seconds passed, seconds in which you were still pulsing around him, failing to come down from your high and the pleasure and the love you felt for this man as it overwhelmed you once more, even more so when he collapsed on top of you and you inhaled his intoxicating scent.

Another ten seconds and you could Thor’s voice bellow through the lobby. You gasped.

“I shielded this place. The motel owner must have told them. I will tear him apart.” Loki growled and jumped out of bed. Your legs were still shaking from your orgasm, his warm seed dribbling out of you and running down your inner thighs when you stood to follow, enveloping yourself with seidr to get dressed much like Loki had done and followed him—only to stop dead in your tracks when ice-cold realisation hit you. You had only just arrived. There was no way the motel owner had been able to alert the Avengers this fast, let alone reach them when they were out and about to hunt you down.

Your lips parted. “They’re after the sceptre. It’s not the owner, Loki, they’re tracking the sceptre! It must be just like the Tesseract, the stone gives off traceable energies.” And the only reason they had not done so before was proper preparation. And a risky alliance—with Raskk.

The God of Mischief slowed down and glanced at you from the corner of his eye but did not halt. Too angry were his steps leading him back towards the lobby, ready to murder the receptionist despite the unusual alliance Thor had formed with one of Muspelheim’s most dangerous fire demons.

“Loki, stop! Listen to me!” Finally, he obeyed albeit turned around so slowly you feared he might pounce on you like a wild wolf at any moment. “Please. Leave the motel owner alone. We have to get out of here, we…” You gasped once more, your feeble attempt to calm yourself with deep breaths failing miserably. “Leave the sceptre behind.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Leave it behind! Else we have to find a way off-world, Loki. Listen to me, I will not risk you dying at the hand of Raskk’s fire just because you are too keen on satisfying your enormous ego!” You shrieked, clenching your fists so hard your knuckles turned white. Your heart was pounding in your chest so loud you feared his words would be drowned by the blood ringing in your ears.

Loki’s nostrils flared. “I am not leaving our kingdom behind for Thor of all people to overthrow it!”

“Then give me the sceptre!”

“No!” The word was so loud it echoed through the entire dimly-lit hallway, without a doubt giving away your location and you realised in that very moment that he was not going to relent. The sceptre’s influence kept its steel grip on him like an unescapable prison.

Tears formed in your eyes when you swallowed, locking your eyes with his—you had never noticed how the blue colour of his irises had intensified to the point of utter mind control. Whoever was behind this… they would pay for it but for now… for now, you had to save Loki’s life.

“Then go. Take it and leave. I will find you.”

“What?”

“I am going to distract them. Go. You cannot go near Thor’s hammer.” Loki hesitated. His thin lips parted once he understood you meant to give yourself up in order for him to escape.

“You are not leaving my side.”

“Do not argue with me, Loki. You know they will not kill me.”

“No,” he growled, “worse. They will torture you.”

You scoffed. “Do you truly believe that?”

A young man stumbled out of one of the motel rooms, a pathetic whimper escaping his lips when he spotted you both standing in the hallway, and legging it instantly.

“Thor has always liked me, Loki—he knows how much I love you and why I did this.”

“If he is prepared to kill me in the cruellest way possible, what makes you think he will not make you suffer a similar fate?”

“They’re up here! Up here! Avengers! Help!” Loki gritted his teeth. With but one swift hand movement, he shot an energy blast from the sceptre into the panicking young man’s direction. It hit the railing of the stairs with an ear-piercing crack, sending pieces of sharp wood flying through the hallway. Luckily, only one of them hit the man in the thigh, who, screaming in surprise more than agony, almost fell down the carpeted stairs and straight into the Avengers’ arms—one of which had turned into a giant green rage monster.

Loki growled once more when you attempted to push past him, his free hand slipping around your waist. He pressed you close against his strong body in an attempt to teleport you both to safety once more, heeding your advice even if he would never let go of the sceptre after everything it had done for him. You spun around, cupping his face in your hands and kissed him hard.

“Go. Do you not trust your queen?”

His lips parted and he scowled. He had no need for a reply, for he did. He trusted you with his life and by the time the Avengers finally reached you with their weapons raised, only you were left standing there, your fingers tingling with seidr urging to be released to help you survive.

Thor stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you, his mortal companions following his actions suit. Your gaze found his glowing hammer spitting Raskk’s fire.

“Amnerys?”

“Hulk? Any moment now.” Widow said surprisingly calm.

“Don’t. Please. I am unarmed.” Lifting both of your hands to prove your intentions, you met Thor’s puzzled expression.

“Where is Loki?” The redhead’s voice was harsh, her glare deadly. You understood now why she was one of Earth’s fiercest assassins and yet, she did little to intimidate you.

“Gone,” you spat in response, “for now. I know where he went. But… but first… we need to talk.”

~*~

Thor buried his hands in his face. “So what you are saying is that this whole time Loki has been under the influence of the sceptre?”

You nodded, shifting on your seat. The Avengers’ hideout was filthy, hidden away in an alley you would have never even set a foot in under different circumstances.

“I have been to. That is why… by the Norns, all those people we killed… all those innocents we tortured… I cannot believe what I have done.” Looking up, your expression hardened with a start. “Loki and I have always been mischievous, you know that. But neither of us would ever have intentionally hurt anyone.”

“It’s kind of hard to believe that, you know.” The Black Widow gave you an incredulous look.

“I agree. What if this is a trick? What if it’s a trap?” Bruce whispered. He was himself again, wearing no more than a pair of ripped jeans that were way too big on him and appeared to swallow up his mortal body whole, making him look even more fragile and meagre than the humans already were. You rolled your eyes. Of course they would not trust you… but then again, you understood. You would not have trusted yourself either, not after everything you had done.

Thor lifted his chin and gave you a warning look. “I have known Amnerys my whole life. She loves Loki, she would do anything for him. I have Raskk’s demon fire—if she is luring us into a trap, my brother will not live long enough to see daylight tomorrow. She knows that… don’t you, Amnerys?”

You swallowed. All of a sudden, all you could muster was a weak “Yes”. Your heart was beating like a steam hammer, your instincts screaming at you to either run or kill. You were with your greatest enemies after all. You were with the very people eager to send your husband to Valhalla, sitting at the same table and drinking tea that might as well have been poisoned.

“If what you are saying is true… then how did you break the sceptre’s influence?” Bruce asked. And it was a good question, one you did not quite know the answer to yourself.

“I am not sure,” you responded, “I had… these strange moments of clarity, a whispering voice in my head telling me to practice caution but once…” You paused, pondering. “Loki was gone. He travelled to New Jersey and he took the sceptre with him, that was the first time I felt these… all these doubts about… about all this.” You motioned around yourself, shame and remorse once more rolling over you like a tidal wave.

“And then?” Bruce probed.

You looked up, your blue eyes once more falling on his oversized jeans. You frowned. “You. I think it was you. All I could think about was how Loki’s life is in danger, how scared I am to lose him… I think this ultimately overwhelmed the power of the mind stone.”

“You know about the Infinity Stones then?”

“Better than you think.”

“What I still don’t understand is what you’re expecting from us now, Amnerys.” Natasha tossed in. “Loki is a criminal and so are you. He will be arrested once we get his hands on him… until Thor can take him back to Asgard, at least.”

Your eyes flew in Thor’s direction. “Odin will have him executed.”

“Not if my mother gets a say in it.”

“You truly believe Frigga will be able to stop him? Face it, Thor, Odin has been looking for an excuse to get rid of him ever since Loki found out about his true heritage. Perhaps he knew. Perhaps he knew that he was still alive somewhere and yet he chose to feign grief.”

Thor opened his mouth to contradict. You cut him off before he could even take a breath.

“Swear to me on your life that no harm will come to him.”

The God of Thunder looked up, meeting your stern gaze with all but resignation and guilt. “Amnerys… I… I cannot swear. I shall speak to Mother and Father, that is all I can promise you to do. You are coming home with us, are you not?”

“Where Loki goes, I go.” It was one of the most sincere truths you had ever spoken.

“So here is what we will do then. We’ll gather the team and you will lead us to Loki, like you promised, we capture him, Thor gets him off-planet. That sounds simple enough. It shouldn’t be too difficult to overpower him now that Min-… Amy…? I’m sorry, what was your name again?” Bruce raised his eyebrows and pointed a finger at you, making you roll your eyes in response.

“Amnerys. My name is Amnerys. Out of mere curiosity… why do you not track the sceptre down again?”

“We could do that eventually but it requires a lot of power. You see, these wires connecting to the…“

“Don’t,” you interrupted, “I have no idea what you are talking about, Dr Banner. It’s electricity, that is all I need to know.”

“Well, yeah… what I’m trying to say is that it will take a lot of time to recharge without cutting the power in the entire city… which would make it even easier for Loki to disappear unnoticed.”

“We never expected you two to separate.”

You scoffed. “I know.” But we will not be for much longer, you added silently.

~*~

Loki was indeed where you had expected him to be. And you had a plan. Centuries ago, the fetid sewers of New York used to be a labyrinth made of beautiful caves and underground rivers—one of which led straight to a secret passageway to Asgard. Loki had discovered it one day, by accident, if anything, for he had been looking for a way to enter Helheim for minerals. Back then, you had been too young to comprehend that Loki had taken you to Midgard a while later.

“Are you sure she’s not leading us straight into an ambush?” Natasha whispered into Thor’s ear. With your heightened hearing abilities, however, she looked to the moist ground quickly when you turned around to raise an eyebrow at her—warningly.

“Trust me,” you spat, “if I had wanted to kill you, you would all be dead already.” You smirked. “Thor is very well aware of how powerful I am.”

Bruce cleared his throat. The sound, much like your voices, travelled through the long and disgusting tunnels seemingly endlessly. “I don’t like this. Where is he?”

“Keep your mouth shut and follow me. Loki’s hearing is as good as mine. And watch your step.” The mud, dirt and brown water to your feet had mixed with garbage only the Norns knew how old. You had already cast a spell to hide your sounds from unwanted ears—you just didn’t want to have to listen to the remaining Avengers expressing their concerns about your person like you were a mischief-maker with no heart or soul. You shook your head silently. They thought the same of Loki, did they not?

Your plan was simple enough. Loki and the sceptre had to be separated, for good. And the best way to do that, if not for your persuasion skills which had failed this time despite how infatuated he was with you, was for the Avengers to do the job for you.

You were not going to let them take him to be executed by Odin. In fact, you would murder them all in cold blood before they even tried.

Now one more turn to the left and then…

Loki would not dare use the sceptre in the sewers due to the underlying danger of collapse; he’d rely on his seidr and his swift fighting skills instead.

You turned around the corner and he looked up as if ripped from a deep thought. His face lit up when you approached him. He stood from his crouching position on the ground and away from the fire he had lit and which was throwing eerie shadows on the wall, and opened his arms for you to embrace him.

You did. A sigh escaped your lips the very second you wrapped your arms around his middle, pressing your face against his chest. “I’m sorry…” You whispered.

“Whatever are you sorry for, my queen?”

You glanced up, praying to the Norns that he would take the hint and see the deceit and mischief sparkling in your blue eyes when the Avengers entered one by one, their weapons aimed at the both of you.

Loki’s face fell, his soft expression transforming into a frightening rage. Not directed at you—but at the god he had called his brother for centuries. Staring daggers at Thor, his voice when he spoke was so dark you felt shivers racing up and down your spine.

“Did they hurt you?” He asked you.

“No. I’m fine, Loki.”

“Actually, she took us here.”

“What?”

His eyes met yours again and in this very moment, you wished you had worked harder on your telepathy skills. Loki had introduced you to the art only two decades back…

“I did this for us, Loki. There was no other way anymore.” You mumbled, inhaling his heavenly scent. He had to understand. He had to understand why you were doing things the way you were doing them.

Just trust me, you willed for him to hear in his mind.

But in the end, your unease betrayed your body, whatever happened next happening too fast for you to comprehend. Someone pulled you to the side and whoever it was, their grip felt like steel around your upper arm. There were shouts, screams, sounds of rage and torment, growls and pants and then… then you heard a pair of Asgardian shackles lock in place around Loki’s wrists, the sceptre clattering to the ground with an ear-piercing noise ricocheting through the cave. Just like that, the God of Mischief, eager to avoid the flames dancing on the indestructible metal of Thor’s hammer, was defeated. Or so they were led to believe.

They did not let you carry the sceptre, of course. Natasha Romanoff never took her eyes off of you on the way back to the Avengers’ secret base, wary and vigilant in fear of you turning the tables after all.

Meanwhile, you did not dare look Loki in the eyes, not until you would be alone together again, and part of you even longed to join him in the cell a man called Nick Fury had been working on for months after Loki’s and your triumph and beginning of a tyrannical reign.

“Thank you,” Thor said, observing his brother on the camera they had set up in the cell. He was sitting there on the wooden bench like a Greek statue motionlessly, staring holes into the metal walls with a blank face. There was disappointment, unease and even… even remorse clouding his flawless features like eerie fog on a gloomy day in the woods of Niflheim. “I owe you, Amnerys.”

“No, you don’t. I did not do this for you. I did it for Loki.”

“I know. I still owe you my gratitude.”

“Just remember your promise, Thor.” You only hoped he would not have to act on it anytime soon.

“I will. Good night, Amnerys.”

It isn’t Good night for me, you thought as you watched him walk off. Regardless of how well the remaining Avengers had prepared for this, their security measures were meagre, embarrassing almost. You were quite surprised they had not locked you up as well for the night after all, as a matter of fact. As of right now, the only thing keeping Loki in his cell was the threat of Raskk’s fire. Nothing, whatsoever, that would harm you any further than inflicting a second-degree burn.

The spell you cast that night to shield both Loki and yourself from the cameras was so simple you resisted the urge to laugh out loud as you snuck through the dark and scabby hallways and eventually reached Loki’s cell.

“My love…” You whispered. The Trickster looked up, glaring right through you for a second before finally meeting your blue eyes.

“Thanos…” He began.

“What?”

“His name is Thanos. He was the one who handed me the sceptre. He promised me victory and power in return for the Tesseract. He manipulated me. Tortured me.” Your lips parted. “I wish I had truly died the day I let myself fall off the Bifrost when I subjected to the pain he made me feel.”

“Oh Loki… this is not your fault, none of this is…”

He snorted, gaping at you darkly. “Are you still blaming the sceptre, my queen?”

“Loki…”

“I heard your plea in my mind… and yet you have signed my death sentence, my sweet Amnerys. Did Thor not tell you what will happen once the Bifrost is fully restored?”

“I do. I know exactly what will happen.” You replied as you unlocked the door and swiftly stepped inside. “They will be looking for us. They will tear the nine worlds apart in their search and yet they will never find us. We will be free, Loki. Just us. No thrones, no sceptres, no obligations and rules.”

Loki began to smirk, warming your heart. “We leave it all behind?”

You nodded, reaching out for him so you could teleport together. “We leave it all behind.”

And you would start by planting little seeds of doubt into his mind, seeds that you intended to grow into nothing but unconditional love.

~*~

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it! Head over to my blog to read more of my writing and to find my Kofi link! ♥

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beardedmrbean · 2 years

Text

Kabul, afghanistan — Arooza was furious and afraid, keeping her eyes open for Taliban on patrol as she and a friend shopped Sunday in Kabul's Macroyan neighborhood.

The math teacher was fearful her large shawl, wrapped tight around her head, and sweeping pale brown coat would not satisfy the latest decree by the country's religiously driven Taliban government. After all, more than just her eyes were showing. Her face was visible.

Arooza, who asked to be identified by just one name to avoid attracting attention, wasn't wearing the all-encompassing burqa preferred by the Taliban, who on Saturday issued a new dress code for women appearing in public. The edict said only a woman's eyes should be visible.

The decree by the Taliban's hardline leader Hibaitullah Akhunzada even suggested women shouldn't leave their homes unless necessary and outlines a series of punishments for male relatives of women violating the code.

It was a major blow to the rights of women in Afghanistan, who for two decades had been living with relative freedom before the Taliban takeover last August — when U.S. and other foreign forces withdrew in the chaotic end to a 20-year war.

A reclusive leader, Akhunzada rarely travels outside southern Kandahar, the traditional Taliban heartland. He favors the harsh elements of the group's previous time in power, in the 1990s, when girls and women were largely barred from school, work and public life.

Like Taliban founder Mullah Mohammad Omar, Akhunzada imposes a strict brand of Islam that marries religion with ancient tribal traditions, often blurring the two.

Akhunzada has taken tribal village traditions where girls often marry at puberty, and rarely leave their homes, and called it a religious demand, analysts say.

The Taliban have been divided between pragmatists and hardliners, as they struggle to transition from an insurgency to a governing body. Meanwhile, their government has been dealing with a worsening economic crisis. And Taliban efforts to win recognition and aid from Western nations have floundered, largely because they have not formed a more representative government and restricted the rights of girls and women.

Until now, hardliners and pragmatists in the movement have avoided open confrontation.

Yet divisions were deepened in March, on the eve of the new school year, when Akhunzada issued a last-minute decision that girls should not be allowed to go to school after completing the sixth grade. In the weeks ahead of the start of the school year, senior Taliban officials had told journalists all girls would be allowed back in school.

Akhunzada asserted that allowing the older girls back to school violated Islamic principles.

A prominent Afghan who meets the leadership and is familiar with their internal squabbles said that a senior Cabinet minister expressed his outrage over Akhunzada's views at a recent leadership meeting. He spoke on condition of anonymity to speak freely.

Torek Farhadi, a former government adviser, said he believes Taliban leaders have opted not to spar in public because they fear any perception of divisions could undermine their rule.

“The leadership does not see eye to eye on a number of matters, but they all know that if they don’t keep it together, everything might fall apart," Farhadi said. “In that case, they might start clashes with each other.”

“For that reason, the elders have decided to put up with each other, including when it comes to non-agreeable decisions which are costing them a lot of uproar inside Afghanistan and internationally,” Farhadi added.

Some of the more pragmatic leaders appear to be looking for quiet workarounds that will soften the hard-line decrees. Since March, there has been a growing chorus, even among the most powerful Taliban leaders, to return older girls to school while quietly ignoring other repressive edicts.

Earlier this month, Anas Haqqani, the younger brother of Sirajuddin, who heads the powerful Haqqani network, told a conference in the eastern city of Khost that girls are entitled to education and that they would soon return to school — though he didn't say when. He also said that women had a role in building the nation.

“You will receive very good news that will make everyone very happy... this problem will be resolved in the following days,” Haqqani said at the time.

In the Afghan capital of Kabul on Sunday, women wore the customary conservative Muslim dress. Most wore a traditional hijab, consisting of a headscarf and long robe or coat, but few covered their faces, as directed by the Taliban leader a day earlier. Those wearing a burqa, a head-to-toe garment that covers the face and hides the eyes behind netting were in the minority.

“Women in Afghanistan wear the hijab, and many wear the burqa, but this isn't about hijab, this is about the Taliban wanting to make all women disappear," said Shabana, who wore bright gold bangles beneath her flowing black coat, her hair hidden behind a black head scarf with sequins. “This is about the Taliban wanting to make us invisible."

Arooza said the Taliban rulers are driving Afghans to leave their country. “Why should I stay here if they don't want to give us our human rights? We are human," she said.

Several women stopped to talk. They all challenged the latest edict.

“We don't want to live in a prison,” said Parveen, who like the other women wanted only to give one name.

“These edicts attempt to erase a whole gender and generation of Afghans who grew up dreaming of a better world,” said Obaidullah Baheer, a visiting scholar at New York’s New School and former lecturer at the American University in Afghanistan.

“It pushes families to leave the country by any means necessary. It also fuels grievances that would eventually spill over into large-scale mobilization against the Taliban," he said.

After decades of war, Baheer said it wouldn’t have taken much on the Taliban’s part to make Afghans content with their rule “an opportunity that the Taliban are wasting fast."

#nunyas news

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calaofnoldor · 4 years

Text

Sixth Time’s the Charm [2]

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean

Words: 2,139

Series Summary: All the times Dean has tried to get Sam to admit his feelings for you.

Chapter Summary: You’re injured and Sam is overprotective. Dean gets caught in the middle.

Warnings: protective moose, badass!reader, exasperated squirrel, mutual pining, idiots in love, slow burn, fluff

A/N: thank you for all the love and support on part 1! here's part 2 of a mini series that is essentially an amalgamation of all the jealous/protective tropes lol

← BACK UP | MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

The second time was an accident, although that did nothing to lessen Sam’s resulting ire. It was the middle of November and the three of you had been hit with one case after another, giving you no time to recover from injuries and keeping everyone rather keyed up.

A stupid misstep during a wendigo chase had left you with a sprained ankle on the last hunt. Sam, being the modern Prince Charming kinda guy that he was, had carried you back to the car while you protested futilely within his solid arms, eventually giving up in favor of hiding your embarrassment in the crook of his neck, though that only made your foolish heart beat faster.

“Sam, I’m fine, seriously. It’s nothing! A bit of ice and I’ll be good to go. You don’t have to do this,” you had nearly begged after he set you down on your motel room bed. His proximity always made you nervous, but when it was just the two of you and he was taking care of you like this? It set your heart racing and left a bittersweet aftertaste in your soul.

“Y/N, would you just let me look at it?” Sam hadn’t meant to sound so snappy, but he was growing tired of you always pushing him away whenever he got too close. He figured you wanted to keep your distance, keep things platonic, and he could never blame you for protecting yourself, especially given his history with women, but he genuinely wanted to help you. Sam needed to make sure you were all right.

His irritable tone had shut you right up, so you simply nodded in consent. ‘Great, now I’m annoying him,’ you thought with a quiet sigh.

Sam tried to send you an apologetic smile, to show that he was simply worried, but you wouldn’t meet his eyes. ‘Great, now she hates me,’ he thought with a defeated sigh.

Choosing not to dwell on the lump in his throat, Sam quickly got to work, ever so gently removing your boot and then sock before rolling up your pant leg just enough to get a clear look. His capable hands and eyes meticulously examined your swollen ankle, turning it this way and that as you leaned back on your hands and shifted uncomfortably on your bum.

“Well, you were right, I don’t think it’s broken. Probably just a bad sprain. You should stay off it for a while though,” his magical kaleidoscope eyes peered up at you through thick lashes as rays of setting sunlight pierced through the only small window in the room and bounced off his cheekbones in ways that left you speechless once again.

You gulped, finding it impossible not to hold his gaze. “Right, thanks doc,” you whispered awkwardly after a beat, swiftly removing your leg from his hold, and rolling your pants back down.

And that had been that.

Now here you were a week later, discussing your plan for a possible witch hunt.

“So here’s what I’m thinking,” Dean started, “Sammy can go through the back door, and I’ll go in from the front, while Y/N keeps watch on the outside and-”

“Dude, what the hell?!” Sam’s sudden outburst surprised both you and Dean, as he slammed his laptop shut and raised both hands in question.

“What? What do you mean ‘what the hell’?” Dean shot back, completely perplexed.

“Dean! She has a bad ankle!” Sam’s voice was filled with an unrecognizable anger and his darkened eyes bored fiercely into Dean’s.

“Okayyy, and I put her on lookout duty…” the older Winchester repeated slowly, trying to suss out his brother’s mystical problem.

“Which means she’s gonna have to walk back and forth around the place, and if she sees something, she’s gonna have to run!” Sam accused his brother incredulously, gesturing wildly with his big hands.

Dean couldn’t hold back the dramatic eye roll that accompanied his sigh of disbelief. ‘Here we go again,’ he thought, wishing his baby brother would just man up and tell you how he felt instead of throwing these little tantrums.

Your jaw had been slack as you watched the entire exchange in bewilderment. Feeling a little bad for Dean, however, you decided to finally speak up, adjusting your voice to take on a soothing tone, “Sammy, I’m fine. Honestly, it’s feeling a lot better!” While that wasn’t exactly true, you weren’t sure you could handle another round of his huge yet gentle hands caressing your bare skin. “Besides, it’s not exactly unheard of to be on a job while you’re still a little battered and bruised; that’s just part of the life. I mean, you guys do it all the time!”

Sam turned to look at you for the first time since he’d started speaking, trying to ignore the whirl of butterflies that erupted in his stomach when you used the nickname that had been reserved for Dean only up until you came along (it always sounded so sweet coming out of your mouth, he could never find it in himself to correct you), so he could focus on his train of thought. “Yeah, but we don’t do things that’ll make our injuries worse. Y/N, you need to stay off that foot or it’s not gonna heal properly!”

“Look, Sam, I appreciate the concern. I really do, but I’ll be fine. I’ve had much worse and we need all hands on deck for this case.”

“Well, she ain’t wrong about that. This bitch has been tricky since the start,” Dean chimed in.

Sam flashed his brother a dangerous glare, the muscles in his jaw popping, before he turned back to you, “No. I’m sorry, but I think you’d be more help to us if you just stayed in the car.”

“No?” you questioned him with narrowed eyes. Sure, he was the most gorgeous man you’d ever laid eyes on, but that didn’t mean he could tell you what to do – especially not when it came to hunting, the one thing in which you were fully confident of your abilities.

Dean looked on with an amused smirk, glad he wasn’t the one about to get chewed out anymore.

“Sam, I know you mean well, but you don’t get to make that decision for me. That’s not how this works. I joined you two ‘cause we work well as a team. But that only holds if we all get equal say, if we all respect each other as hunters. I’m telling you that I can do this, and you need trust me.”

Sighing as he rubbed his temples, Sam stayed quiet for a moment while he pondered his response. He knew you were right. You were a total badass and he was painfully aware of it (there were times when a stand-alone part of his body was painfully aware of it as well), but still, he couldn’t resist the urge to protect you. Lately, it was becoming harder.

“I trust you, Y/N/N,” Dean cut in, breaking the silence, and then raising a brow at his brother.

Sam ran a large hand over the lower part of his face, nodding his head without looking at either of you, before rising to his feet and walking out abruptly.

Turning your head to stare after him with furrowed brows, you began uncertainly, “Should I…?” You sent Dean an inquiring glance in lieu of finishing your sentence.

“Nah, I got this. Kid’s probably just cranky after all these hunts. You just stay off that foot for as long as you can, make sure you’re good to go for later.”

You nodded as you watched Dean leave to find Sam. It was only a matter of minutes before you heard their loud voices travelling through the thin walls.

“Yeah, and whose fault is that?” You recognized Sam’s low and enraged voice immediately.

“Well maybe if you just told her!”

“Told her what, Dean?!”

That’s when things got quiet again.

After a moment of pause, you shook it off and went back to reviewing your research for the case in silence. As confused and curious as you were, you weren’t about to let your mood distract you from the perils that laid ahead. Like Dean said, this witch was tricky, and you needed to have the brothers’ backs.

It was two in the morning when the three of you finally managed to kill the bitch. The hunt turned out to be a team effort after all, with you saving the boys’ asses at the last minute. Your chest was heaving and your ankle throbbing, but you were satisfied with the job well done.

Sam watched as you slowly hobbled back to the car. He could tell that your limp had worsened, but he kept his mouth shut since he knew there was no way they could have done it without you. In fact, he wasn’t even sure if he and Dean would still be here without you, but seeing you in pain tore at his heart and made him wish things were somehow different, despite the overall positive outcome.

Dean clapped him on the shoulder, interrupting Sam’s thoughts and urging him forward with a tired grunt.

“I don’t know about you kids, but I am beat,” Dean looked over at you and Sam as he cut the engine twenty minutes later, “We good with staying another night and heading back tomorrow?”

“Yeah, that sounds good to me,” you agreed, climbing out the car and retreating to your room after bidding the brothers good night.

“Dude,” Dean’s head rolled heavily to the right when only he and Sam were left in the Impala, “Just go talk to her, will ya? You’re driving me nuts here.” He sent his brother an imploring look, a bit of Winchester telepathy.

There was a light knock on your door moments later. You swiped your gun but lowered it when you saw Sam’s hulking form through the peephole.

“Hey,” you greeted quietly after opening the door, keeping one hand on it to help steady yourself.

“Hey,” he echoed, “I just wanted to check on you.”

“Oh, thanks. I’m fine,” you lied easily, trying not to make it obvious that you were resting all your weight on your good leg.

But of course, Sam was much too shrewd for that, perceptive gaze flickering down to your feet right away, “Can I look at your ankle please?” the words rushed out of his mouth, and he was quick to add more before you had a chance to protest, “I swear, I’m not here to tell you off; I just want to help you. Please.”

It always amazed you how Sam could go from towering, ferocious hunter to bashful, adorable, man-boy so seamlessly. He was really stinking cute when he begged, and you could never say no to those puppy dog eyes, “Yeah, OK,” you muttered while backing up to let him all the way in, too exhausted to offer any form of resistance anyway.

You sat on the edge of your bed obediently, bending over to remove your shoes, but Sam was there kneeling beside you in an instant, waving your hands away. He unzipped your boot and slowly slipped it off your foot, careful not to rattle your ankle in the process, with one hand holding on firmly to your calf.

“I wanted to apologize,” he said as he repeated the process with your sock.

“What for?”

“For making you feel like I don’t respect you as a hunter, for making you believe I don’t trust you.” He was down to the compression wrap he’d picked up for you at a drugstore, with which he took extra care removing, keeping his movements slow and cautious. “None of that’s true; I just didn’t want you to hurt yourself more.”

You studied Sam in the pale light, drunk on the feeling of his hands on your skin, “I saved your ass though, didn’t I?”

That brought a chuckle to Sam’s lips, his hands still supporting the full weight of your lower leg as he prodded lightly at the bloated skin around your foot, “Well, the swelling’s definitely worse, but yeah, you did.”

“Then it was worth it. Your ass will always be worth it.”

Sam looked up at you and found himself getting lost in the truth within your eyes. There was a buzz of raw emotion vibrating through the air between you, and so many words came to his mind, but in the end, he settled on, “Come on, we gotta keep this foot elevated.” He then grabbed your waist and managed to move you up the bed in one smooth motion, “I’ll go get you some ice.”

You immediately missed his fingers and the way they had absentmindedly stroked your calf, staring wantonly at his back as he walked out the door.

→ CARRY ON

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writeswheneverpossible · 3 years

Text

Perception, perception.

Perfect. Jeno was perfect. Despite all his imperfections, he was perfect. You didn't know anyone else who felt so right for you as he was. You had met many boys before, but none like him. But, would he even feel the same? You kept asking yourself that question ever since the day you knew you had fallen for him. That was a few months ago. Things changed when a new girl moved into your class. You still remembered that day clearly. To say she was pretty was an understatement. She was beautiful. If you could describe another person as perfect, you'd say it was her.

Your eyes had trailed on the pale girl then as she walked past you to the empty table next to the one by the window at the back of the class. You still remembered the way your breath got caught in your throat. As she sat down gracefully on her seat, Jeno’s face came to view and you could have sworn that he looked like an angel had appeared before him. That was the day you realised how silly it was for you to like him. After all, the two of them looked good together sitting side by side, like jewels crafted by the same hands.

The days went by with you trying your best to act normal around Jeno, no matter how badly you were hurting inside. The new girl had made friends with him and you saw them together around school most of the time, which had been your intention all along, wasn't it?

When your batch was done with the exams, a long holiday awaited all of you. But you spent most of the days alone with a heavy heart. After all, your current life was going to change once the results were out.

One day before the official release, the sadness in you got so overwhelming that you decided to take a walk around your neighbourhood. There was a small playground nearby which you used to play at when you were younger. At one point, it had become your comfort place. Anytime you needed a good place to cry, you would head there first, with a cap and the hood of your favourite oversized jacket to shield your face when necessary.

When you got out of your house, the sun was setting. The dark orange hues made you feel nostalgic. You took in a shaky breath before shaking your head and smiling sadly. You decided to savour how cosy your jacket felt that day and how it was similar to a comforting hug as you began to walk, trying your best to soak in the picture-perfect scenery around you. You took out your phone and clicked the camera icon. How ironic, you thought.

The walk to the playground was a seemingly short one, but one thing was different that day. Lee Jeno was standing in front of you. You looked down immediately. The two of you were a few metres away, but that only made you feel even worse. You felt like disappearing. You couldn't stand having him look at you. Especially not then. Not at that moment. Not when you were certain you saw him entering his house before you even went out. How? Before you could think of a possible explanation, he spoke up. You realised that you hadn't heard his voice in a long time and your heart wrenched inside you. It hurt.

“When are you going to tell me?” his voice was soft, but stern. You knew what he meant immediately. He began to walk towards you, but your eyes remained glued to his shadow, which was growing bigger by the second. “Y/N,” he called. No answer. “Y/N!” he shouted, grabbing you by the shoulders. Something inside you broke before you raised your eyes to look into his. They were glistening, and you couldn't tell if it was because of their usual spark or his tears.

“There is nothing for me to say, Jeno,” you said, smiling sadly. His grip on you tightened. “What’s wrong with you, Y/N?! Why are you like this?”

You could feel your bottled up frustration burst at his words. “What's wrong with me? Do you really want to know?” You asked him, getting teary yourself. “Yes!” he exclaimed, letting go of your shoulders, watching as you looked down, not missing the few tears that trailed down your cheeks, making his heart ache.

Jeno realised that you had been distant sometime in March. It was odd of you, considering how close you two were. Things only worsened when Irene, the new girl, moved into your class. Sure, Irene was interesting, and she was a great person, but that did not stop Jeno from noticing the way you would refrain from coming in between them, as if you were some outsider the two of them probably did not want to have around. You weren't. He initially shrugged it off when you repeatedly rejected his offer to study as a group with Irene together after school, choosing to believe that it was because you preferred to study alone since he knew how important the final year was to you. It was a determining point after all, as everyone would walk on their own paths afterwards. But that did not mean you should also stop walking to school together. The two of you lived next to each other after all. That was when he knew something was wrong, but you were so unreachable that he could never get the chance to confront you. You had stopped hanging out at his house during the weekends as well. It seemed the more Jeno tried to see you, the more you drifted away. You barely looked at him at school and talked to Jaemin instead whenever possible. Yet, you weren't your usual self even when he wasn't around. He didn't know seeing you act this way would affect him this much. But nothing compared to the pain of finding out you were going to move. To somewhere far, far, far away. And he didn't know, until the night before, when your mom went to have a drink at his place with his mom since they were best friends. That was how the two of you were able to grow up alongside each other. You were his childhood friend, his basketball buddy, his partner for all the imaginary adventures you guys went on as kids. So yes, it hurt to find out through catching the word ‘move’ in his mom’s sentence when he went down to get a drink in the kitchen. It hurt to realise that you were planning to leave without telling him. It really hurt. Yet he had no clue as to why you were acting this way.

You took in a deep breath before looking him straight in the eyes and said, “It’s because I hate you, Lee Jeno.” You looked away when you realised he didn't show any reaction. “I hate you for making me fall for you.

The way his eyes looked like they held the stars of the night sky on New Year's Eve as you two laid down in your backyard after you told him your resolution for the year flashed before your eyes. His eyes...they were understanding and comforting even after you insisted that your wish was silly. Falling for him was never your intention, but you went back to your room that night with butterflies in your stomach.

I hate you for making me feel pathetic for it.

The scene of you staring at Jeno as he slept replayed in your mind as it made you realise that he was beautiful all the time, even if his mouth was open and his face was squished. You, on the other hand, could never compare.

I hate that seeing you with Irene would only make me pity myself more.

Thinking about Irene and Jeno standing next to each other, talking and smiling only made you feel small every time.

I hate you for affecting me this much...for hurting me,” you cried, the sentence trailing off.

Tears streamed down your face. You wiped them away with the sleeves of your jacket. You took in a breath and calmed yourself. “But most of all, I hate myself for liking you,” you continued, looking at him then. “I mean, look at me. I'm nothing compared to someone like Irene. When I first saw the two of you sitting next to each other in class, something inside me broke and I realised it was pointless to even have feelings for you. You're my best friend after all, but you're also the most amazing person I've ever met and known. Who am I to even like you? Nothing is what I am.”

You turned to walk away without even giving Jeno a chance to speak. Yet he didn't stop you. Not even once. When you reached home, you realised that this was all probably for the best. You were going to leave tomorrow anyway. Even if Jeno did stop you, you knew even him couldn't prevent you from flying to the United Kingdom, your soon to be new home. As you were about to enter through the gates, a figure ran past you, coming from Jeno’s house, and you knew straight away who it was. Jaemin. Instinctively, you knew something was going on, but you were too tired to even come up with anything.

Jeno’s entire system broke down the instant you said you liked him. He was too shocked to even react. Irene and Jaemin had been right all along. The two had been trying to convince him you felt the same whenever they could sense he was worried about you or wondering why you had been behaving differently lately. It was wrong of him to doubt them. Deep down, however, he was certain you wouldn't like him. You were way beyond his league after all. You were the strongest yet kindest person he had ever known. He swore he had never seen anyone who smiled through their pains as much as you did. Even during the period of your strange antics, Jeno had never seen you lose your beautiful smile, which looked sincere all the time. The beauty of your entire being was and had always been clear to him for as long as he could remember. If you had only fallen for him recently, Jeno had liked you for years, masking his feelings by joking around whenever he accidentally blurted out things he admired about you. To Jeno, you were someone he could depend on. Someone he knew would believe his words even if the whole world insisted he was lying. Someone caring, patient and understanding. It was as if your heart had never been tainted by this harsh world, even though that wasn't the truth. Any guy would be lucky to have you because he already knew a few who actually thought the same. That was how he truly felt.

Shaking, he took out his phone and tried his best to type a short text before feeling his knees give out and beads of cold sweat form on his forehead. His breathing turned heavy and his vision was slowly darkening. He hoped to see you again when he opened his eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You woke up the next day feeling lifeless and numb. You looked into the mirror of your vanity and noticed that your eyes weren't as puffy as you anticipated. You only cried during your talk with Jeno anyway, so it was expected. You brushed your brown hair, looking at yourself with utter distaste. If only you’d realise how beautiful you actually were. From your eyes to your lips, from your ears to your cheeks. You may look nothing like Irene, but to Jeno, you were something else entirely.

When you walked down the stairs with all your things in your luggage, you were surprised to see Jeno’s mom standing beside yours at the end of the stairs. You smiled weakly. You looked behind them in case Jeno would be around. He wasn't.

“Y/N!” Jeno’s mom cried, sounding worried. She rushed forward to clasp your hands once you reached the bottom. “Do you mind looking after Jeno for me? He came home looking so pale last night that he woke up with a fever this morning. I swear that boy can never take good care of his health...” she muttered the last part to herself, before flashing you her signature puppy eyes. “Please?” You were taken aback, uncertain that Jeno would even want to see you and whether you would want to see him too, after what happened. You looked at your mom for help, but she only nodded at you. You slowly nodded at Jeno’s mom as a result.

The walk to Jeno’s room was a difficult one. Your whole body felt heavy with reluctance. You prayed with all your might that he'd still be asleep as you hesitated outside his door for a moment. You twisted the doorknob, revealing a dark room with a figure laying on the bed. The curtains were still close and he was indeed still asleep. You closed the door. You grabbed the wet towel on his forehead and wet it in the warm bucket of water on his nightstand, before carefully placing them on his forehead again. He squirmed when you did, before fluttering his eyes open. Your heart stopped, before it began beating like crazy when he held your wrist. He felt extremely warm and his grip was soft. “Y/N?” he mustered. You hummed, not moving a muscle. You see him smile a little before a tear streamed down the side of his face. And another. He held his other hand to his face as he began to silently cry. You stiffened at the sight. It had been a long while since he cried in front of you since he mostly kept his feelings to himself, so you were uncertain of what to do.

“Please don't leave me, Y/N. You don't know how important you are to me.

When he first found out from your mom that you were hospitalized due to a bad fever, he had stayed by your side the entire time, missing out on school and getting his video games confiscated by his mother. Yet, he'd do it again in a heartbeat.

How beautiful.

Jeno found you the most beautiful when you talked from your heart because that was how he got to know the real you. Ranging from politics to the latest movie you two watched together, anything that came out of your mouth was beautiful. Not just that, but the way your eyes reflected your emotions as you spoke was equally breathtaking. You could be frowning, huffing, sighing, or even running a hand through your hair out of frustration and he wouldn't look away for even a second. In fact, they were all some of his most favourite looks on you. But, your smile? The one that never failed to make his heart race, but also calm him down at the same time? He would do anything to see it. Your laughter? He'd set it as his ringtone if possible. The giggles that escaped your mouth whenever he did something weird? He wished he could keep them in a jar forever.

How precious.

The first time you told him the story about your father, you had broken down crying. You rarely cried, just like him. You preferred keeping your negative emotions to yourself, which gave you the tendency to explode at unprecedented times, Jeno noticed. Nonetheless, the sight of you that day made him cry as well as the need to protect you from all the bad things in this world suddenly became overwhelming. He was unsure if he could do it, but one thing was certain: he wanted to be there for you, always.

Please,” he sobbed, eyes still closed.

You clenched your fists. You wanted to stay, you really did. But your plane ticket had already been bought and you had completed all the procedures necessary for you to study at your chosen university. You couldn't possibly go against your mom's words when this move was her job’s latest requirement.

Jeno let go of your wrist when you remained silent, and that was your cue to leave the room. You were more than surprised when you were met with your mom’s serious expression outside, her stern eyes boring into yours.

“Y/N, tell me the truth. Do you love this boy?” You gulped. You weren't sure if you loved Jeno yet, but having to leave him would surely wreck you in ways you never thought was possible. That much you were certain of. She crossed her arms when you didn't answer. “It appears you do.” She sighed. “If having you move with me would affect the two of you this much, I would have never accepted the request straightaway.” You shook your head. “It’s fine, mom. We'll both grow past it,” you lied. She sighed, placing her hands on your shoulders, and looking into your eyes. “It's not, though? Y/N, listen to me. When someone you love loves you back, you should realise that this kind of thing doesn't happen every day. Heck, people would do anything to have what you two have. Yes, your future is important, but if you can't even chase for who your heart wants at the moment, have you even the heart to chase for your dreams?” You were silent. You didn't know what to think. “Boy, are you stubborn,” your mom chided, straightening herself. She waved a hand as she turned to walk down the stairs. “By the way, I've asked someone else to replace me so the two of us won't be flying to the United Kingdom anytime soon. And I've also enrolled you to Seoul National University, which has been your dream university since you were 15 by the way,” your mom called back. Your eyes widened. How did she know, you thought. But she was your mother after all and that alone was reassuring enough. You couldn't believe what you just heard. All at once, you felt better. You twisted the doorknob behind you once more and promised to stay by Jeno’s side for as long as possible.

#nct 2021 #nct #nct x reader #nct jeno #lee jeno #jeno angst #jeno fluff #jeno x reader #nct dream

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farfromsugafanfic · 3 years

Text

Sutures - Chapter Five: Murmurs

Genre: Soulmates AU, Idiots to Lovers, slight Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Yoongi/Named Reader

Warnings (chapter specific): mentions of family illness, a disgusting amount of fluff

Synopsis: “A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it.” –Jean de la Fontaine

There was only one thing you and Min Yoongi had in common that night. You were both brokenhearted. You only intended to be together for one night, but when you both end up in the hospital the next day you discover that you are soulmates. It could kill you to be apart. As you and Yoongi attempt to sever the bond between you, will another be formed?

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"Sumi!" Jungkook called. "Can you do us a favor?"

Jungkook and Jimin stood outside your door. You could tell they were up to something based on the smirk on their faces.

You had been quietly knitting, trying to forget the events of earlier that day with Minki and what happened in the backseat with Yoongi. You still felt Yoongi's lips on your stomach, soft, yet, demanding. He hadn't managed to leave any marks this time, which you were grateful for, but part of you wished you could have a reminder of the secret between you.

"What?" you asked.

"Yoongi was going to wake up at four to help us with the production on the new song. And it's almost four thirty now. Can you wake him up for us?"

You glanced at the two boys who while they seemed mischievous, seemed genuinely like they didn't want the task of having to wake up Yoongi.

"Why can't you do it?" you asked, putting aside the hat you were currently working on.

"He'll be nicer to you," Jungkook said. "He's grumpy when he wakes up."

You laughed slightly. "All right, fine."

You followed the two boys towards Yoongi's bedroom. You hadn't stepped foot in his bedroom yet, having only been in his studio. You opened the door slowly and tiptoed towards the bed where the boy's form was curled up asleep. Despite being taller than you, when he slept he made himself look so small, his knees curled up towards his chest and his arms around a pillow.

"Yoongi," you said, lightly shaking his shoulder. "The boys said you wanted to get up at four. It's four thirty."

You hear an annoyed groan and before you could protest, Yoongi dropped the pillow and pulled you onto the bed, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. He rested his chin on your shoulder and you felt the soft scratch of his barely there facial hair.

"Sleep with me," he whispered, his hot breath tickling your ear.

You reached up to the pillow above you and threw it back towards him, hearing it hit with a solid thud.

"Fuck you." You attempted to squirm from his grasp, your legs kicking the covers and his legs. Yet, he never loosened his grip.

"Already have," he whispered, his voice husky. You felt his smirk against your shoulder blades and for a moment you thought he would begin kissing you again. But, as you reached for another pillow, his arms released from around you.

You got up from the bed and walked out of his room, his scent clinging to your clothes. You stopped to glance at Jungkook and Jimin who stood by the door, wide eyed at what they witnessed. You could only imagine what it looked like to them: Yoongi pulling you onto the bed and kissing you as you playfully tried to push him away.

"I see why no one likes waking him up."

The two boys awkwardly nodded and walked into Yoongi's bedroom, shutting the door behind them.

You couldn't help but laugh slightly at the boy's assumptions before walking back towards your bedroom at the end of the hall.

---

You hadn't spoken to your parents since before the night you and Yoongi met. You didn't call much due to the long distance charges to the US, but you figured you needed to update them about everything.

"Hello?" your mom answered the phone. "Sumi?"

"Hi mom," you said. "How's everything?"

"Good, busy as always. But, don't worry about us, how is my daughter?"

"Well, there's a lot that's happened since I talked to you last."

You explained the situation, careful not to tell your mom too much. You knew if you explained that you'd had a one night stand your mom would be disappointed and scold you. Despite being an ocean away in California, your mother still managed to make you feel like you were a fifteen-year-old again who got caught sneaking out.

"Oh, I'm so happy you finally got rid of Minki," your mother said. "I never liked him. And I can't wait to meet this soulmate of yours, what did you say his name was again?"

---

"Min Yoongi," Yoongi heard as he walked towards your room on the way to the bathroom. He stopped, noticing the small crack in your door. He wondered if you had managed to see him in the hallway, but as he approached he noticed that you were pacing around your room.

"No, mom, don't Google..." You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. "I get it, mom," you said laughing. "He's cute."

You didn't talk for a moment, but you cutely chewed on your bottom lip which made Yoongi want to replace your teeth with his own. He pushed back the thought as you spoke again.

"Well, we all agreed it would be best for me to move in with his band so that his career wouldn't be affected and I could continue working online or once things get better do in-person sessions."

You went silent again. Yoongi couldn't hear what your mother was saying because she was speaking so quickly.

"I know, mom," you said. "I'll be careful. The only trouble we've had has been with Minki. His fans don't know."

Yoongi's stomach turned. Guilt.

"At first, I wanted to go along with what the doctor's said and do the relationship, but I'm glad we didn't now. It may be harder for a while, but we barely knew each other and asking one another to put in effort to a relationship neither one of us wanted didn't make sense."

Despite your words being Yoongi's rationale, they felt so harsh coming from your mouth. He was glad the arrangement had become easier for you, but there was part of him that felt disappointed.

---

"How's grandma?" you asked, once your mom had finally calmed down about Yoongi. She had taken it better than you expected her to, however, you were slightly worried she was expecting grandchildren any day.

"Good," your mom answered. "The doctors say her treatment is going well. As they say, no news is good news."

You sigh, wishing you could be in the US with your family, but you stayed behind to go to school and by the time you finished, you already had a life you didn't want to leave in Korea. You visited as often as you and your parents could afford, but that was normally only at the holidays.

You had no siblings and many of your parent's siblings were also in the US or in Busan. Seoul was a lonely city, but you made it work.

"All right, well take care of her and yourself, okay, mom? And tell dad I miss him."

You ended the call after you both said your goodbyes. You sighed in relief at having finally explained the situation to your family, but you couldn't help the worry that formed in your stomach. You were normally able to suppress the constant worry about your grandmother, but every time you talked to your mom it always seemed to worsen.

---

Yoongi stepped away from your door once you hung up, so he wouldn't be discovered. He felt a small pang of guilt from eavesdropping, but your door was open and you had been talking about him. He pushed it away, knowing it really didn't matter.

He walked back to his studio and sat down at his desk, Jungkook and Jimin listening to their vocals. He wondered what was up with your grandma, while it didn't seem out of place to ask how she was doing, the way your brow had furled and the way you chewed your lip nervously made him think that there was something else going on.

"Yoongi?" Jimin asked, taking off his headphones. "Everything okay?"

Yoongi shook himself out of it.

"Yeah," he said. "Sorry, not awake yet."

---

"Sumi," Namjoon said, knocking politely on your bedroom door. "Do you want to come and help me work out some lyrics?"

You looked at the leader in somewhat disbelief, your eyes wide and your lips pursed.

"Me?" you asked. "Wouldn't one of the boys be better?"

"Maybe," he said. "But, it's not often we get a perspective of someone outside of the industry, and you've been in your room since you got back. I know it was tough to face your ex and thought you might like some company."

You smiled, Namjoon was so perceptive, you wondered if he could read your mind. You realized how much easier it would be if you were his soulmate instead of Yoongi's. Namjoon understood you and always seemed to know how to make you feel better.

"You can bring your project with you," he said, leaving towards his studio and leaving the door open for you.

You followed the leader to his studio, which had fewer obstacles to enter than Yoongi's. Although, once you entered it was largely similar. A simple design with a few decorations and various awards hung on the wall.

He pulled up a chair beside him and motioned for you to sit down beside him. You sat down and looked over all the equipment on his desk. A normal desktop with multiple monitors, other things you didn't recognize, like a machine with various knobs and switches, and a microphone.

You remembered seeing most of the same equipment in Yoongi's studio, except he had a keyboard he kept in the center of everything. The black and white keys almost taking over the room.

Namjoon opened up a notebook with various notes in it. You even noticed a few notes in English, making you smile and remember that the two of you shared the language in common.

"How'd you get into music?" you asked in English.

"I always liked music," he said, also responding in English. "I read a lot and eventually it translated into writing. I don't know, it all just kind of happened naturally."

You smiled, noting the way his face lit up as he talked about his passion, his dimples appearing on his cheeks.

"I understand," you said. "I always liked to teach people when they learned that I speak English. I should've charged when I was in high school for all the tutoring I did, but I enjoyed it enough that I didn't care."

"What about knitting?" he asked.

"I was always crafty," you said, laughing. "Whenever I visited my grandmother in the US, she always had a knitting project and she talked about how it calmed her, made her realize she had more control over her fate than she believed. She used to tell me stories about the Fates in Greek mythology and how knitting made her feel like one." You looked down at your project--a black hat. "So, whenever I feel out of control, I knit. Sometimes, I don't even know what I'm making until it's finished."

You quickly bound off the yarn and slapped the finished hat on Namjoon's head, giggling. You expected him to take it off immediately and hand it back, but instead, he used the nearest computer monitor to adjust it so it sat over his hair attractively.

"It looks nice," you said.

---

The two of you worked in comfortable silence, the hat you made still sitting on Namjoon's dyed hair. You'd started a new hat with the same black yarn. You wondered if he had a girlfriend to give it to. You and Minki always used to wear matching hats or scarfs or gloves. He took whatever you made him wholeheartedly. They were probably still sitting in the top drawer of his dresser. You wished you could unravel the yarn and turn them back into a tangled ball of string.

Namjoon would occasionally run a line past you or hum a melody without realizing. You even found yourself humming the same melody back to him and when you did, he always shot you a small smile.

"Let's see what fans think of my new hat," he said, taking a selfie with his phone.

"Wait! Don't post that! Won't they think you have a girlfriend or something?"

He gave you an odd look before looking down at the picture.

"Does Yoongi have you that paranoid? If anyone questions it, I'll just say a fan made it," he said. "Not exactly a lie."

Your shoulders slumped realizing the easy solution. It was true that since the shoe incident, you were scared to be visible in the boys' lives. Their careers meant more to them than it did to you. You could be an English tutor nearly anywhere and no one could take knitting from you, but their music could be taken from them. You didn't want to be the reason they lost their passions.

"Come on," he said. "I have to go run this past Yoongi. You're welcome to come along."

You followed Namjoon to Yoongi's studio, taking your yarn and knitting needles with you. Namjoon rang the doorbell to Yoongi's studio and you had to stop yourself from laughing at the ritual of it all.

Yoongi came and opened the door. He greeted Namjoon and while he seemed slightly surprised to see you, held the door open to you.

"She's great to bounce lyrics off," Namjoon said. "Surprised you haven't picked up on that yet."

You sat down on the couch in the back of the studio while the two boys discussed the lyrics and the song. You took the opportunity to go on Twitter, seeing the picture of Namjoon in the hat. All of the fans complimented him, telling him he looked cute and demanding he go to bed because it was late. You smiled, hoping that if the fans ever found out about you, they would have similar reactions.

You went back to knitting, but couldn't help and look up when you heard the sound of the piano. Yoongi was playing the melody Namjoon had been humming earlier and you were impressed by his ability to translate the hums into notes so quickly.

His fingers slide over the keys naturally--the keys an extension of his fingers--much like the needles you held. Yoongi was serious, but unlike his normal seriousness which was grumpy or sexy (depending on the day), this time he was focused. His lips slightly pouted and his body relaxed.

Music for him was the knitting to you. It was the creation that helped you escape yourself to feel the smoothness of the keys or the needles beneath your fingers and trust that something beautiful would come from it.

---

You had fallen asleep by the time Yoongi and Namjoon had finished; still occasionally moving your fingers, trying to knit in your sleep. Yoongi smiled, remembering the times he woke up in the studio seeing the notes he'd unknowingly composed while he was asleep.

"Do you want me to wake her up?" Namjoon asked.

"No," Yoongi said, shaking his head. "Let's not disturb her."

Namjoon nodded, grabbing his notebook and leaving the room. He closed the door softly so he wouldn't wake you.

Yoongi looked down at your sleeping form. It seemed he'd seen you sleeping nearly as much as he'd seen you awake since the first time you met. The night you spent together, you'd fallen asleep first, cuddling into his side. Normally, he wasn't the cuddling type, at least not with a girl he'd just met, but seeing the lipstick smeared across your pouty lips and your tangled hair spread out across the pillow, he hadn't been able to resist.

He grabbed your knitting needles and yarn, setting them on the edge of his desk, within your sight so you could easily find them in the morning. It wasn't the first time he'd moved your knitting needles, for something you loved so much, you often left them laying around. Yoongi opened the bottom drawer of his desk where he kept a blanket for when his studio was cold or when he fell asleep while working.

He covered your form before shutting off the light and leaving the room quietly.

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