#expectations from authority figures to save/destroy the Entire World all while having to choke down their own true wishes

[ferociouslycreativemystery]

Anyone who wishes to understand the murky depths of my psyche only has to watch Merlin, Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency and Good Omens. they reveal something fundamental to my very being that I cannot quite put my finger on

[stariwrites]

Part One

Red: An Underground Hero Deku x Crime lord fem! Reader

18+ Minors DNI or else I’ll revoke your kneecaps

Author’s Note: All characters are aged up and this fic is a monstrosity so I figured I’d split it up into two parts this is part one and I’ll link part 2 as well when I post it

Tw: fem dom, corruption kink, praise kink, biting/marking, club setting, dry humping, slight choking, alcohol is mentioned (Izuku doesn’t drink it) use of the pet name baby boy, semi public sex

Thank you to @chaos-night for beta reading, I appreciate it!!

For @yixxes I hope you like it!!

Do not repost or share

“None are known to be good, till they have an opportunity to be bad”-Benjamin Whichcote

Summary: From the day you laid your eyes on Izuku Midoriya you knew you were going to be drawn to him. 

From the day you laid your eyes on Izuku Midoriya you knew you were going to be drawn to him. There was something about the way the college student stood in front of you with his arms drawn into himself as if he shrank far enough he would disappear. You couldn’t help but smile softly at him. 

The man in front of you was impressive to say the least even though he didn’t look it. He was able to track your group for days without your people even knowing. He documented everything in notebooks he carried with him. You watched as his Adam's apple bobbed the more he stared at you. He was trembling slightly, but his eyes never wavered. They held a fire behind them, one that you couldn’t even begin to describe. 

“Midoriya, right?” you asked, folding your hands in front of yourself.

“What do you want with me.” 

It wasn’t a question. Part of you grinned at the challenge. You had to give him credit, his voice only shook a small amount. Anybody else wouldn’t have been able to have the courage to do so, much less to you. 

Standing up from your chair, you signaled to the guards on either side of the door to stand down when they tried to move closer, weapons raised. 

“Do you know who we are?” you asked peering down at the streets below you. All Might was battling a water quirk user. You scowled at the scene before you, it was only a matter of time before he beat them to a pulp. 

“I know,” he said slowly in an attempt to keep his voice level, “that you’re an organization dedicated to uprooting false heroes.” 

Without turning around you gestured for him to continue. You watched his reflection in the window, he took a deep breath almost willing himself to talk once more. 

“You took Endeavor down and made a deal with Stain.”

“Very good,” you clapped, turning back around to face him. He was focused entirely on you. ”Now do you know who I am?” 

He didn’t hesitate, “The Woman in Red, heroes and villains alike haven’t been able to catch you. Nobody knows what your quirk is or if you even have one.”

You nodded to yourself, he showed promise. If you could use it to your advantage there would be no way your plan would fail. With his help you could uproot the fakest hero of them all.

“Tell me, what do you think of us Midoriya?”

It took him a couple of seconds to register what you said judging by the way his green eyes were transfixed on the destroyed All Might poster off to the side of the room. 

“A reminder,” he jumped at the sound of your voice while his eyes fixed themselves onto you. “All Might isn’t the hero that everybody believes he is,” you watched his eyes widen at your words. Part you assumed it was from shock at the way you said them so carelessly, but there was something else there. It was swimming under the surface almost begging to be unleashed.

Before you could place it, he coughed and straightened his posture. He could’ve looked confident when he stood like that if he didn’t shrink into himself at the last moment. With the proper training he’d stand to his full size without feeling insecure.

“Why am I here?” his voice was softer than before, concealed. It made a vicious smirk cross onto your face. You couldn’t wait to help him unlock his true potential. The thought alone almost had you pouncing on him, but you refrained. You wouldn’t scare him away just yet.

You moved closer to him, allowing your nails to drift across the wood over your desk before using one of them to tilt Midoriya’s face closer to yours. He didn’t pull away.

“Because, Izuku Midoriya,” you refused to leave his gaze, “I want you to join Chimera.”

He gulped at the proximity, “And if I refuse?” 

You couldn’t help the breathless laugh that escaped your lips. He was too cute for his own good. You flicked your eyes to his before locking them on his lips. 

“Then, I guess I’ll just have to find a way to persuade you,” you emphasized the words by moving closer until your lips brushed against his. You watched as he unconsciously closed his eyes and leaned into it, but before your lips fully touched you turned towards the door. 

You didn’t miss the pout that crossed onto his face when you broke away, but he missed the sadistic smile you wore as you gestured for the guards to file out. All you received in return was a nod from them until they headed out the door. 

When it was your turn you held the door open, but before leaving you met his gaze one last time.

“I’ll give you two weeks to make a decision, until then I look forward to our next meeting,” you purred and leaned against the open door in a way that rivaled Jessica Rabbit, “Izuku Midoriya.”

After you spoke those final words you left with a laugh while he stood in the dark room wondering what just happened.

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“She wants you to join, huh?” Aizawa said from where he was perched on the rooftop. His eyes were scanning below, from the lights of the buildings Midoriya could make out the bags under the man’s eyes. It had to be a late night that was for sure.

Part of Izuku felt guilty pulling the man away from much needed sleep, but being an underground hero he needed allies and the only one with enough experience was Aizawa.

“What should I do?” he asked, moving out of the darkness and closer to the man. He watched the capture scarf blow in the wind slightly while he shivered. It was becoming colder even in Spring, he’d have to get warmer gear. 

Out of the corner of his eye Aizawa seemed to notice because a soft smile slid onto his face, “I told you to bundle up problem child, but you never listen.” 

Before Midoriya could say anything a jacket was flung his way, he jumbled it until he was able to hold it steady. Peering down his eyes widened with disbelief.

“Are you just going to stand there or put it on?”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Stumbling out a yes, he wrapped the jacket around him and zipped it up. It was sleek, light fitting but also warm. Izuku couldn’t help but sink into the feeling. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been hugged, but wearing that coat he felt like he received the biggest embrace in the world.

A peaceful silence fell over the two of them while they stared out at the streets below. It was a quiet night, the only sounds were of the cars driving by and an occasional group of friends walking past. Their voices echoed off the buildings and were burned into Izuku’s ears. 

He wondered what that was like, having friends. He knew going down the path he was on would be dangerous. He couldn’t have time for them if he was going to save people, especially since there was a chance they could become targets.

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if his life would’ve been different if he’d had them when he was younger.

“I think,” Aizawa began, causing Izuku to fix his eyes onto his mentor. “That you should do it. You can get into their organization and gain intel, be a double agent of sorts.”

Izuku’s heart stopped. “Me?” he sputtered, “Do you really think I could pull something like that off? Half of the pro heroes have tried to take Chimera down and they’ve come up empty handed everytime! And besides the only reason I followed them was to bring the information to you!

How do you know I won’t end up like the others?”

“I don’t,” came the response. Izuku expected that to be it and for Aizawa to leave, but instead he turned to Midoriya and placed his fist on his protege’s chest, “But if there’s one thing I know it’s that if anybody could take down Chimera it would be you.”

Izuku focused his gaze onto the ground until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Aizawa shot him a look of genuine faith. “She went out of her way to try and recruit you. I doubt she’ll want to hurt you, but keep your guard up.”

With a nod of understanding followed by an “I will”, the man took that as his cue and began to walk towards the edge of the building.

“You don’t have to of course, but if you do, don't try to do everything on your own kid. You’ve got me. And it’s about time you actually started working on the front lines rather than behind the scenes.”

 With that he was off, a sigh left Midoriya’s lips. He’d been told time and time again that he wasn’t cut out for field work. Not with college he was juggling as well as the fact that his lack of a quirk was always taken into account. He stared up at the sky, he couldn’t remember when he became like this. 

He thought back to the earlier times where he constantly believed he could be a hero. He still believed, but it was subdued. Sad even, but he’d try. If he could take them down it would mean helping more people. 

“I wish you were here, mom,” he said to the stars while tears began to slide down his face, “I’m a little lost right now.”

————————————————————————------------------------------

The two weeks seemed to crawl by. Izuku was getting restless. He knew his decision, but he couldn’t find Chimera anywhere. He checked every back alley, store, restaurant that the members usually went in and came up empty handed. Even when he did find the members and tried to follow them shouting wait or slow down it was like they’d disappear at the last second. 

After running around for nearly three hours he found a bench next to a nearby park and took a seat. He tossed his head back, attempting to get all of the air he lost back. His clothes stuck to him uncomfortably while his forehead was making his hair stick to it. 

They sure can run when they really want to, he thought in between puffs of air. He didn’t know how he’d make it through patrolling, especially now. He dreaded the thought, clutching his side at the reminder. He managed to take Muscular down but not without the villain getting a few hits in. It was worth it though, considering Koda’s smile once he was discharged from the hospital. 

Yeah, he thought looking up at the sky with a serene smile. It had been worth it. 

After catching his breath, he was about to get up from the bench until a person sat down next to him with a note. They didn’t look at Midoriya, instead they were focused straight ahead. The shades made it difficult to see their eyes, while their hoodie and jeans made them look like an ordinary person.

“An invitation,” the person grumbled out, “Don’t be late.” 

Izuku didn’t watch them go, flipping the envelope over he noticed neatly scrawled out cursive. The envelope itself was red with a wax gold stamp. A chimera was in the center while the cursive was in gold. He didn’t open it until he was safe in his apartment.

His breath hitched as he read the words over and over again to make sure he had them right. Once he realized he did, he texted Aizawa on the burner phone they used specifically for underground work and buried his head in his hands.

“What am I getting myself into?”

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The neon lights bathed everybody into an ocean of colors. People were swarmed into the center of the room, dancing and grinding on anybody close to them. The bass caught in Midoryia’s chest as he navigated through the crowd. He glanced around, taking all the strobing lights in. The letter said to meet at The Tavern, but it never specified where.

After bumping into several people and almost being roped into dancing, he finally found the bar. He took a seat and checked his phone as he waited for his nerves to calm down. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been to one of these. He thought back to freshman year when he first started out he’d gone to a local club to see what it was like only to realize he wasn’t really fond of it.

“Not exactly your scene is it?” a bartender asked, sliding him a drink. Midoriya looked up at the woman with a sheepish smile. She looked to be about his age, her short hair framing her face. Earphones were dangling  from ears. Must be her quirk, Izuku thought with excitement. Her pierced brow was raised as she stared at Midoriya.

“Is it that obvious?”

She hummed for a moment, studying him before she nodded, “Nobody wears a shirt that says ‘Club Shirt’ on it. It’s an interesting pick.”

He flushed slightly and rubbed the back of his neck. He knew he should’ve gone with something different. 

“Yeah,” he said trailing off until his eyes landed on the drink.

“I don’t—”

Before he continued the woman stopped him, “It’s on the house, you’re waiting for her aren’t you?” 

He was about to ask how she knew when you sat down next to him with a smile, “I see you’ve met Jirou, my most trusted friend.” 

Izuku watched as the woman, Jirou’s face turned bright red. He almost thought he heard a don’t mention it before she went off to serve more drinks, leaving him with you. 

He was nervous, that much was easy to tell with the way his eyes kept jumping from corner to corner. Poor thing you thought while his leg bounced up and down. Part of you cringed, he felt out of place.

“Do you want to go somewhere else?” 

The sound of your voice over the music snapped his attention back to you. Taking his blank stare and furrowed eyebrows as a sign, you huffed out a laugh and repeated yourself. He joined in albeit nervously.

“It’s okay,” he said, stirring his drink with the straw, “You planned to meet here. I don’t want to cause any trouble,” he took a deep breath, “Boss.” 

You turned to him with wide eyes before waving him off as you leaned closer to the table, “You don’t have to call me boss you know,” you said nonchalantly, “Not even the guards call me that.” 

He couldn’t help but stare at you in awe. How you were able to be so calm in a place like this was beyond him, but it helped him relax. With furrowed brows he focused back on his straw. The ice clanked against the glass, but he couldn’t hear it over the song playing. 

“What should I call you then?”

Just like the first time you met, you used one of your fingers to tilt his head up, he could feel your breath mingle with his while his face turned a vibrant shade of red. He silently thanked the lights for making it almost impossible for you to see it. He watched as your eyes clouded over while a sinister smile fell onto your face. It made him feel small underneath it. 

Before he could say anything, you leaned in close to his ear. 

“I have a couple ideas,” your words sent goosebumps to ripple against his skin while his mouth felt dry. He wanted to know what they were, wanted to ask. What was going on with him?!

He didn’t have much time to dwell once he felt your breath ghost against his neck. It was warm and sent shivers down his spine. He briefly felt the touch of your lips against him, part of him hoped you wouldn’t pull away. 

“Please,” he rasped before he could stop himself. Your lips curled into a grin, one of your hands snaked from the table to bury itself in his green hair. 

“Let’s get out of here.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

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The cool air of the outside clashed with the warmth from the club. Izuku barely processed your lips meeting only to find that in the next minute he was up against the brick wall behind the club. Your hands tangled themselves into his green curls causing him to whimper against your lips.

“Fuck,” you muttered, pussy clenching at the sound he made. You wanted to hear more, wanted him to scream. You placed your knee in between his legs, he instantly started to grind down on your thigh. He tried to pull away from you, but that only made you hold his curls tighter before letting him go. A string of saliva was all that left the connection until you wiped it away with the back of your sleeve. 

Izuku’s face was flushed as he tried to catch his breath. Everything about you was intoxicating, especially the way you looked him up and down like he was your prey. He was still grinding against you, his puffs of air were visible in the night. It wasn’t until you touched his side that he flinched.

You pulled your hand away in concern, but he was quick to shush you with the way his lips latched back onto yours. He could tell you about the wound later, you thought. His lips were soft against yours, when you met for another kiss you opened your mouth. Catching the hint, he opened his mouth enough for you to snake your tongue into his mouth. Judging from the way he was grinding faster against you with broken moans you could tell he was enjoying himself. 

You pushed him further into the wall, it was surely digging into his back by now, but he made no sound of pain. You made sure to avoid his waist, instead you grabbed a hold of his belt loops and yanked his lower body into an arch.

“Oh my god,” Midoriya groaned, tossing his head back against the wall. He needed more, you were everywhere, breathing into his neck, sucking and biting the skin there. Weakly he went to push you off.

“No marks-can’t ah-can’t ngh cover them.” 

A grin casted onto your face. He was so cute like this, all sprawled out under you just as you knew he’d be. You kissed the skin close to his pressure point before staring directly into Izuku’s eyes. Your lips brushed against each other. His eyelashes fluttered as he went to close the space, but you held his neck with one hand and pressed him back.

“I don’t think so baby,” you whispered. Your voice lower in pitch. You didn’t miss the way his pulse jumped under your fingers. Your eyes widened in shock until you gained back control. This was more interesting than you thought. “Does the little hero like this, hm? You like being helpless?” To emphasize your words, you guided his hips with one hand and ground him against your thigh once more. 

A high whine escaped his mouth before he could prevent it. He knew this was wrong, that he should stop this but the way your hand made him dizzy around him and the pressure against his cock caused his mind to become fuzzy. What Aizawa didn’t know didn’t hurt him anyway.

“Please,” he whimpered, meeting your leg. He wanted more--no he needed more. “I’ll do anything, I’ll do anything just please.”

“Such a needy little thing aren’t you?” With a huff you slowly stop moving. Tears sprang into the corners of Midoriya’s eyes as he thrashed in an attempt to bring some of the pleasure back, but you only moved your leg away. Broken no’s spilled from his lips and into the cracks of the brick wall. He’s a mess of babbles and pleas. You wait a second longer until you lick a tear from his face, starting at his chin and stopping just below his cheek bone.

He’s about to thank you when you send him a devilish smirk and drop to your knees in front of him. The sight alone causes him to reach his high. You let him calm down, rubbing his thighs through his jeans. You whisper soft encouragements that he can barely decipher. 

Looking up at him you can see that his pupils are still blown wide while his chest is heaving up and down. Under the neon red light he looks perfect. You want to devour him, but you hold back. Soon he’d learn how to get hard just by your words alone, but first you’d have to train him.

It isn’t until he comes down from his high that he realizes what he’s done. Mortification falls over him faster than you thought from the way his face flushes even further. You wished he wasn’t in so many clothes, you could almost bet that the same would be found on his neck leading to his chest.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to, I tried holding it in but-”

Slowly, you rose to your feet and before he could stumble over more excuses you kissed his cheek whispering “Good boy,” into his ear. If Midoriya hadn’t just cum he would’ve from those words alone. 

You laughed softly at his body’s reaction before breaking away from him fully. You don’t miss the pout that formed on his face when you stepped away. At first it was cute, but now seeing it after this made something snap. You quickly grabbed him by the jaw and traced your thumb over his bottom lip. 

“Such a sweet little mouth, making all those pretty sounds earlier, but I think I have more uses for it rather than just pouting,” you locked onto his wide eyes. “Wouldn’t you say, Midoriya?”

He could only nod against you, completely trapped under your gaze. You had him right where you wanted him. “Well then baby boy,” you said detaching yourself once more. “Get to work.”

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Midoriya woke up in a cold sweat for the umpteenth time that week. He fell back into the pillow with a groan. It had been weeks since that encounter and he was desperate to do it again. He couldn’t escape the sound of your moans echoing in the night or the way your nails dug into his hair just right to send waves of pleasure zipping down his back. And the way you tasted, he craved feeling you against his tongue, drowning in you. 

However now that he was officially part of Chimera after being tested the night after he was able to taste you, it had been pretty standard. There was nothing out of the ordinary, the organization ran just like how any other underground facility would. Midoriya had his own jobs that he had to handle such as keeping track of shipments and making sure nobody was caught. He didn’t have much to report back to Aizawa which caused the older man to worry.

Izuku huffed at the sound of his phone vibrating on the nightstand. Speak of the devil. Why couldn’t the man just leave him alone? He knew what he was doing and what he went there to do. Even if his mind was preoccupied with you, he would still put Chimera down first and besides you weren’t serious about him either. 

Without looking at the contact he put the phone up to his ear. “Look Aizawa I’m fine I don’t need you checking up on me every second of every day so please just this once don’t contact me on my day off.”

Izuku expected to hear the gruff voice sigh into the other line and promptly begin telling Izuku why checking in is important because it could mean the difference between life and death which, being an underground hero, the lines tend to blur. 

Instead, there was a delayed pause followed by a low whistle, “And he lets you talk to him like that? I’m impressed.”

At the sound of your voice, he instantly shot up from the futon. “Boss, hey um why are you calling?” His blood froze for a second. “I didn’t miss anything, did I?!” He tossed the covers off of him and was about to head to his dresser to change when his foot got caught in the sheets causing him to crash to the ground.

You heard the loud bang on the other line causing you to snort. There was a heavy sound of stomping followed by another brief crash that caused you to look out into the city with a smile. You were reminded in that moment that he was still a college student, so full of life. 

“Nope, I was just calling to check in.”

Midoriya scowled on the other end of the phone. “You and Aizawa both. I’m fine if that’s what you’re wondering. I have all my body parts intact and none of them are broken,” he even wiggled his hands and sat back on the futon to swing his feet even though you couldn’t see him. “Thank you very much,” he said dryly. 

You hummed, mulling over his response. Ever since he joined he’s been more sure of himself, capable. It was an accepted change, after all he needed to be strong. Especially if your plan was going to work. After all, the stronger they are the more fun to break.

“He and I are alike then. You do realize that there’s a very fine line between life and death, right? People like us have to stick together.”

“How are you both the same person?”

That question alone had you laughing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Midoriya, but I do have something you can do for me.”

He perked up at that. “What is it?”

“I’ll pick you up, how does noon sound?”

“Yes-” he said all too fast before coughing. “I mean yeah sure, whatever works for you.”

“Good, be sure you’re ready early, I always come on time.” 

With that you hung up the phone and spun back to face your office desk. Phase one was complete, now you could move on to phase two. Leaning your head on the desk, you could feel rather than see Jirou’s eyes boring holes into your forehead.

“Why aren’t you worried about Midoriya?”

You cocked you head to the side. “Why would I need to be worried?”

“He’s working with Aizawa.” It wasn’t a question, but it didn’t need to be. You knew Izuku was working with the man for years before he even discovered your group, but that didn’t matter. You thought back to his confidence, how he was able to give orders and stand up for himself now, but still looked at you to make sure he wasn’t speaking out of turn. It caused a fire to burn in the pit of your stomach.

“Rest assured, Midoriya won’t be a problem. After all,” you said interlocking your hands on top of the desk. “I have him wrapped around my finger.”

tag list: @chaos-night​ @yixxes​ 

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[isabilightwood]

The Problem With Authority - Chapter 7

Or, Sacrifice Summon! Jiang Yanli is here to make things right, be the ultimate big sister (step 1: bring back her dead brother), and maybe steal the Peacock throne in the process

[AO3][1][2][3][4][5][6]

Awareness rushed in with a crack like lightning. With it came pain, but not as much as Wei Wuxian would have expected from exploding into a pulp of blood and guts.

The ground beneath him felt solid. Cool and rough like poorly sanded wood, nothing like the smooth, burning volcanic stone that should have bordered the river of lava, should he have been unlucky enough to neither fall in nor die on impact.

Wei Wuxian was still, it seemed, in possession of arms. Because those were what hurt — and only those. That, and a bit of a crick in his neck from lying face down on a hard surface, and a possible splinter in his cheek.

He inhaled the scent of dried blood with every breath, and still, only his forearms burned.

Dust from the floor made his nose itch.

Fuck. He was alive. And definitely not at the bottom of a cliff.

He could only conclude that he had been resurrected. A few feet away he would find the names of whoever someone had decided to give up their very soul to destroy.

What if he just… didn’t? Wei Wuxian hadn’t agreed to this. He hadn’t wanted to be brought back. He’d only wanted the two people left in the world he cared about to live, without him around to get in the way.

He lay there longer than necessary, contemplating it. But in his heart, he always knew he would get up. Besides, he felt… not great, honestly. But more alive than he’d felt in a while. Like his soul had taken a nice sabbatical.

Like he’d come out of an extended, impossibly peaceful meditation. Similar to that used to cultivate to immortality, but for the dead. And landed in a body only slightly less full of resentful energy than the one he’d vacated.

Wei Wuxian pushed against the floor, raising his head. Someone gasped.

As he raised himself into a seating position, he swept the curtain of hair away from his eyes, and laid eyes on a stranger. A short young woman, draped in Jin gold and muted pink, both hands pressed over her mouth. A sword lay on the ground next to her, almost like she’d dropped it.

But cultivators never dropped their swords.

“A-Xian!” The woman breathed.

That couldn’t be good. Only Shijie had ever called him that. Did the Yiling Patriarch still have obsessive followers even after he so publicly self-destructed? Or worse, had the Jin decided to use him for their own purposes.

Wei Wuxian had only just been resurrected, and he was already in trouble.

Unfortunately, wherever he’d been must have been peaceful, because Wei Wuxian was feeling a lot less self-destructive, compared to the last thing he remembered:

Lan Zhan, still trying to save him, though he was already dead long before destroying the Stygian Tiger Amulet sealed the deal. Jiang Cheng, finally done with him, but missing his swing, and nearly killing Lan Zhan as well. Wei Wuxian had been happy to fall.

Yet now he felt more alive than he had in years.

Which meant that whatever this was, he had to deal with it. Ugh.  “Who are you?”

“Oh, right. You won’t recognize me like this.” She hurried to the wall behind her, and picked up a tureen. Wei Wuxian maneuvered himself into a sitting position as she did so, readying himself to run, once his legs felt strong enough.

And once he figured out who this woman and who the poor sap had killed himself for revenge expected the great and terrible Yiling Patriarch to kill.

She set it down on the edge of the array, and lifted the lid.

Only one thing in the world smelled like that. Just the smell was enough to bring tears to his eyes. His world shifted on its axis. “Shijie?”

She nodded, blinking rapidly.

He launched himself forward out of the array, and into her arms. “I’m sorry.” He sobbed. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Xianxian, no. I’m here.” She said, but she was crying too.

They fell to the ground together, and, because neither Wei Wuxian nor Jiang Yanli had ever been ashamed of crying, stayed that way for a long time. He stroked her hair and clung like he was nine years old again, and she was the first person he could remember tucking him in at night. The one he ran to when he didn’t understand why Madame Yu hated him so much. But now, she clung back just as fiercely.

He couldn’t believe she was here. Who would ever have summoned sweet, caring Jiang Yanli to take revenge? Few people knew how strong she was in spirit. And the body she was wearing remained entirely unfamiliar. Smaller, but more solid in his arms than Shijie had ever been.

Eventually, she pulled away, just far enough to ladle out a bowl of soup and press it into his hands. She watched him like a hawk until he’d eaten half the bowl, though he was still more than a little choked up.

When she was satisfied he wasn’t going to wither and starve to death in the next five minutes, she said, “There’s something else you should know. Your Lan Wangji —”

“He’s not mine.” No matter how much he wished it. Wei Wuxian had only ever cast his shadow on Lan Zhan’s light. He couldn’t let himself do that to him again.

“You should let him decide that for himself, but that wasn’t the point.” Shijie rolled her eyes as she patted his hand. She even took away his bowl and set it on the ground, which went to show that this was serious. Shijie would never take away soup without good reason. “He saved your A-Yuan. Lan Yuan, courtesy Sizhui now. ”

“Sizhui? Lan Zhan — me?” Lan Zhan couldn’t really have named his A-Yuan Sizhui, could he? That was — Wei Wuxian had been the one yearning, longing for someone out of reach. After Wei Wuxian’s first stint in the Burial Mounds, he never could have been worthy of Lan Zhan, of what they could have meant to each other. Lan Zhan, well meaning, had persisted in trying to help him. But he hadn’t thought Lan Zhan would still — not after all he’d done.

“A-Xian.” Shijie wiped her thumbs under his eyes, and he realized he’d begun crying again. “Those of us who know you for who you are, and not the masks you show the world, cannot help but love you.”

Lan Zhan was — Lan Zhan —

Wei Wuxian could not drag him into this, whatever revenge he was expected take. But maybe, someday —

“Anything else I should know while I’m out of tears?” He asked, when his eyes were swollen and puffy and finally dry.

She told him about the Wen siblings, and he wasn’t out of tears after all. At least Shijie had always been a sympathetic crier, so at least he wasn’t alone in his weeping.

After their tears finally died away, and Shijie had plucked a pair of his drying talismans from her sleeve, she refilled his soup. Wei Wuxian really was out of tears this time, or he might have started off again.

Only then did he remember to clarify what, exactly, was going on. Now that Shijie had told him all the important things. That he hadn’t gotten everyone he ever loved killed or condemned to a life of misery, after all.

“How did you manage this?” He asked around a mouthful off heavenly pork. “Whose body is this, I mean? And yours?”

Wei Wuxian listened with increasing horror as Jiang Yanli told the story of waking up in the body of the new Madame Jin, all the way through to the array he’d woken up in. His curiosity was sparked by the implications of what Qin Su had done — closer to what he’d been trying to accomplish with the arrays than anything he’d been able to achieve.

And she’d done it entirely by accident, with consequences they had yet to fully understand. All of which seemed to rest on Qin Su’s shoulders, with no signs that Shijie was anything but firmly anchored in her body. It bore further investigation anyways.

Though for the moment, another concern was more pressing.

“Xue Yang?” Shijie had gone near Xue Yang to bring him back? That twisted, murdering bastard without even a sense of scale to temper his depravity. And she’d done it for him. He wasn’t worth the risk. He should have killed Xue Yang years ago, when he had the chance — There was a wrenching feeling in his gut as his fear and anger spiked, irrationally, over a matter already settled. “Oh, ow. What the fuck.”

No, not his gut. His lower dantian.  That sure was a tainted golden core, so it really must have been Xue Yang. The state of his golden core would certainly explain why Wei Wuxian felt so off.

Xue Yang’s golden core, which was now his. A golden core, something he’d long believed lost to him forever, resting inside him, an unwilling gift from his enemy.

Wei Wuxian was simultaneously disgusted and euphoric.

He’d never had to deal with the risk of qi deviation before, because the resentful energy hadn’t interacted nearly so badly with the sluggish flow in his meridians after its driving force was removed.

“What’s wrong?” Jiang Yanli put one hand over his forehead, and held his wrist in the other. He felt her, prodding around for what was wrong with spiritual energy. Something she never could have managed before.

Only Wen Qing knew how to treat this, though.

“Well, when a cultivator with a golden core uses demonic cultivation, it taints it with resentful energy. A little is fine and gets burned off, but a lot like Xue Yang — I’m surprised at how well he was holding off from a qi deviation, honestly.” “That’s why when I —” He broke off in a laugh.

Shit.

It was too much to hope that Shijie hadn’t caught his slip. “A-Xian. What happened to your golden core?”

“Um.” He really should have said Wen Zhuliu, but he couldn’t lie directly to Shijie. Not when she was staring at him, wide-eyed and concerned. Even if those eyes weren’t the ones he knew.

Wei Wuxian dared anyone to resist that.

When his confession was complete, she said nothing. Only sniffled.

Finally, she hugged him tight again, and ladled out more soup, though Wei Wuxian had yet to finish the second bowl. He dug in, shoveling each bite in, but chewing slowly, savoring the flavor like he’d never known he should before.

Tainted or not, the golden core inside him was fully formed and strong. An impossibility and a blessing.

“Are you all finished with the emotional reunion?” Nie Huaisang of all people swanned through the door. “Great! Hi, Wei-xiong!”

Gaping, he looked from Nie Huaisang to Shijie.

Shijie’s expression said oh right, him.

Ok, then. This was happening. “Hi, Nie-xiong. How have you been.”

Nie Huaisang plopped down in a heap across the soup tureen from him. “I’ve been better! Jin Guangyao killed my Dage, so we’re getting revenge.”

“Right, Shijie told me. Is he the only one I have to kill?”

Shijie shook her head, confirming his suspicions. “Him, another sect leader, and a few of Jin Guangyao’s guards. I’ll write the names down for you.”

Wei Wuxian really wanted to be done killing people. He wanted to — well, he wanted an impossibility. Traveling with Lan Zhan and A-Yuan, visiting Shijie and Jiang Cheng often in Lotus Pier, helping Wen Ning grow new varieties of vegetables in his garden, and arguing cultivation theory with Wen Qing. Even if Lan Zhan still wanted him, if they saved both the Wens, Jiang Cheng would never want to see him.

Shijie turned to Nie Huaisang. “We need to get him in to see Wen Qing.”

“Well, I can certainly provide a distraction, but he can’t just walk into Koi Tower like that.” Nie Huaisang hummed, tapping his closed fan against his lips. “You need a disguise.”

“A mask?” That would be the easiest thing to get a hold of.

But Nie Huaisang was shaking his head. “No, no, that won’t work. That’s just suspicious. You need something no one will see through.”

“I’ll think about it.” He wasn’t entirely sure that a mask wasn’t the solution — just not the sort of mask anyone else had ever come up with.

“You do that. In the meantime,” Nie Huaisang clapped his hands together. “Questions.”

“How did you get Xue Yang to give up his body to me?” Shijie hadn’t mentioned the details, but Wei Wuxian assumed the trickery had been at Nie Huaisang’s hands.

But Nie Huaisang tsked and shook his head. “I didn’t do it. Your sister did.”

“Shijie?”

“I lied.” She said, a slight flush rising to her cheeks. By the time she finished explaining what she’d done, he was looking at her in an entirely new light. “I wanted you back. I could save you, so I did.”

“Shijie. I — but. Your husband.” Wei Wuxian had been so caught up in having her back, that he hadn’t even apologized yet. What kind of useless brother was he?

Nie Huaisang got to his feet and practically ran for the door at the first sign of emotion.

“It wasn’t on purpose.” Shijie tried to put her hand on his shoulder, but Wei Wuxian flinched away.

“How did you know?” After all the time he’d spent antagonizing Jin Zixuan, calling him the Peacock and even attacking him in public, no one should have been willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Shijie did not deign to answer, simply looked at him as though the question was ridiculous. As though she still trusted him, after everything.

“Well, you’re right. I didn’t mean to, but it was my fault.” No matter how he thought of it, if it were not for Wei Wuxian — if he’d taken a less obvious route, if he’d taken Wen Qing with him instead or gone alone, if he’d imposed on Lan Zhan enough to ask for an escort, if he’d simply remembered how easily the power given by the Yin Iron could be stolen away — . “I stole Wen Ruohan’s control, and I forgot someone could do the same to me.”

“It is not your fault. You were ambushed, and scared, and trying to defend yourself.” Shijie hugged him, and again, he melted into her arms.

“It is, though. It is.” Wei Wuxian choked down a sob. He really couldn’t start that back up again. “I just wanted to meet your son.”

“You will.” She assured him, petting his hair soothingly, the way she had as long as he’d known her. Wei Wuxian couldn’t believe his luck.

When they emerged from the warehouse, Nie Huaisang was waiting.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Shijie asked Nie Huaisang.

“If it’s here, Xue Yang hid it well.” He sighed heavily, and didn’t even flourish his fan. So clearly whatever he’d been searching for was important.

Something in this little town full of coffins and burial goods, complete with paper mannequins peering out the windows. It was scarcely dusk, but the streets were already empty. He could feel — but not see, not like the mysterious resident of Shijie’s head — the mostly inert resentful energy everywhere. He could see what would have attracted Xue Yang to the town, but not why he wouldn’t have simply made it more of a living hell, and moved along.

The slippery little bastard had done nothing but complain of boredom on the way to what should have been his execution, after all. “What was he doing here anyway? It’s an eerie little town, but you said he’d been here a while?”

“Well, he was kicked out by Jin Guangyao, and it seems he set up a domestic little arrangement with Xiao Xingchen.” Nie Huaisang made an effort to sound flighty but his mind was clearly still elsewhere.

How the — no, actually, he didn’t want to know. Everything Wei Wuxian learned of the events following his death was stranger and more unsettling. “And my shishu won’t wonder what happened when he never comes back?”

Peering into the darkness of an alley, Nie Huaisang flapped a hand dismissively. “I’m having Song Lan tracked down. He’ll forget all about him soon enough.”

Good for his shishu. He deserved his second chance at love. Wei Wuxian hadn’t had time to be devastated over their separation, the failure of what he’d wanted his life to be because he’d been too busy throwing it away.

But maybe, just maybe. If he completed Xue Yang’s revenge and was here to stay, if Shijie and A-Ling and the Wen siblings were all safe and secure. Maybe he could earn a second chance with Lan Zhan someday.

It would take years to make up for his mistakes, Wei Wuxian imagined, a slow courting of hundreds of handmade gifts and tracking down the most challenging hauntings across the cultivation world. He’d remind Lan Zhan that he was good with children, and be there to help him raise A-Yuan the rest of the way. Show him he would never miss another moment.

There went his imagination, wanting things that were distant possibilities as best. Who was to say Lan Zhan hadn’t moved on? All Shijie had to go on was guesses, gossip, and a glimpse.

They passed a row of coffins, just waiting to be filled with some unlucky sap. Wei Wuxian drew up short. “Why do I sense some really strong resentful energy?”

“Xue Yang was turning people into puppets for fun.” Nie Huaisang said, causing both him and Shijie to glare at him. It seemed he’d failed to mention that to both of them.

Though, honestly, Wei Wuxian should have guessed. He pinpointed the coffin that felt like a mass grave, and whistled with no force behind it. Even so, a shifting spiderweb of resentful energy briefly became visible. That was a ward. One that would take him about an hour to unravel, using demonic cultivation.

Or, conveniently, application of Xue Yang’s own spiritual energy.

“No, this is more static. Almost like — “ He shoved hard at the lid of the coffin, and it slid forward a few inches, letting out a cloud of black smoke. “Shit, Xue Yang’s piece of Yin Iron.”

“Excellent! Exactly what I was looking for.” Nie Huaisang perked up, his usual good humor restored. “Do you think you can —” Shijie, uncharacteristically, pinched his arm sharply. “Jiang-guniang, why? I was going to say destroy it.”

“Sure,” He said absently. “Same way I did the Tiger Seal.”

“Can you destroy it without hurting yourself?” Shijie asked gently, reminding him exactly how that had gone.

“I can’t, but didn’t Lan Xichen manage it somehow?” He kept shoving at the lid, to no avail. Right, Xue Yang must have a sword somewhere. He reached into his sleeve and found a hilt, as well as a pair of qiankun bags.

“He said that, but Dage told me in confidence that the pair of them sealed them away again in secret. I don’t know if Erge told him where. I certainly don’t know.” Nie Huaisang paused. “And yes, I do mean that.”

The sword felt worse than the core, like it was used to Xue Yang’s cultivation. Jiangzai, it was called. That felt suiting. But though it resisted him, when Wei Wuxian sent a bolt of energy through it, the lid went flying into a wall thirty feet away.

Oh, so it was either nothing or too much with Jiangzai. He saw how it was.

Wei Wuxian stared down at the contents nestled inside. The Yin Iron was there, shaped into what looked like another Tiger Seal, but less powerful by far. Stacked right on top of two items that were undoubtedly just soaking in that resentful energy. Fuck. “Um. Nie-xiong? I think Xue Yang has your brother’s body. Also Baxia.”

It was agreed that Nie Mingjue’s body would have to be retrieved the next day, as Wei Wuxian had only just been resurrected and neither Nie Huaisang nor Shijie could fly. Shijie didn’t say, but he assumed she either hadn’t had time to learn, or temperamental swords were a side effect of resurrection.

In case it was the latter, he should probably bring that up at some point.

Shijie handed him some talisman paper, so he could construct a ward over the coffin, and they went down the foothills to an inn where Jin Ling was waiting.

His baby nephew had already been put to bed by the time they arrived. Which was all for the better because that meant Wei Wuxian actually got to see him.

Jin Ling was so big already, grown bigger than A-Yuan had been in what seemed to him the blink of an eye. Six years old, when he should have been all of a hundred days. Wei Wuxian reached out and hesitated, looking up at his shijie.

She nodded, watching them both with her heart in her eyes.

He hesitated several more times on the way to touching A-Ling’s hair, afraid that touch would shatter the illusion. But A-Ling didn’t disappear when Wei Wuxian touched him. A-Ling’s skin had the downy texture of childhood and his hair was silky under his fingertips, a sign of how healthy and loved he was. Jiang Cheng had taken such good care of him, though that never should have been his job, if not for Wei Wuxian.

A-Ling stirred under his touch, and he snatched his hand back, but the boy only shifted onto his side, and stuck his thumb into his mouth.

Wei Wuxian loved him so much, just as he’d known he would.

Because Wei Wuxian couldn’t bear to give up his scant moments with his darling nephew, he, Shijie, and Nie Huaisang sat on the floor to discuss how they would break Wei Wuxian into Koi Tower unnoticed.

Not something he ever expected to want. But he did want to see Wen Qing for himself — they needed to yell at each other for self-sacrifice, without her paralyzing him again. And Shijie would worry if she didn’t know he was alright. So Wei Wuxian supposed he would let Wen Qing poke around in Xue Yang’s core.

As Shije and Nie Huaisang heatedly (for them) debated their methods, Wei Wuxian occupied himself by unpacking Xue Yang’s bags item by item.

The current Nie First Disciple, a woman he’d fought alongside on occasion during the Sunshot Campaign, stood guard outside the door. Neither she, nor the younger disciples accompanying her, had seen remotely surprised to see him. So Wei Wuxian assumed resurrecting notorious traitors was just par for the course in things their sect leader did.

He reached in and grabbed something with an odd, elastic texture. Pulling it out, he flinched. And flung it on the floor.

It was a mask of someone’s face. He’d seen them before, when a possessed woman in Yunmeng had started carving the faces off her neighbors and wearing them as masks. This, though, was melded together to form a face disturbingly similar to Song Lan’s. And according to Nie Huaisang, Song Lan was still alive.

Had he written about that night hunt? Xue Yang could easily have modified the method. He would bet Jin Guangyao had focused on the profitable ideas among his inventions, and let Xue Yang make the most grotesque techniques of his demonic cultivation worse. The techniques that could do good had almost certainly been left to languish.

Even if Jin Guangyao wanted to leave reform as his legacy, he couldn’t openly use techniques that showed demonic cultivation was not all sacrificing virgins and creating puppets from amalgamated rotting meat. Better for him that the Yiling Laozu remained a monster under the bed, even if it meant leaving people to starve, their fields and forests tainted with resentful energy.

Well, if Xue Yang could twist his techniques, Wei Wuxian could twist them back.

“You, Wei-xiong, look like you’re having an idea.” Nie Huaisang fluttered his fan. Wei Wuxian’s eyes narrowed as he looked back and forth between it, and the creepy skin mask on the ground.

He thought back to the brightest period of his childhood, flashes of a masked figured twirling and kicking on a stage, flourishing a fan in sharp movements, creating an illusion of transformation. “Nie-xiong. You’re a cultural connoisseur.”

“I make an effort.”

“That dance where the performer changes masks behind a fan — do you know how it works?” The dance, from Meishan, involved face changes, using greasepaint or changing the color of a beard. Or, more importantly, masks. Madame Yu had enjoyed it, often hiring troops from her natal sect’s territory to perform for guests and during festivals. Wei Wuxian didn’t know the trick to it, but Nie Huaisang might.

“The Bian Lian? That is a particular favorite of mine.”

“No, really? I would never have guessed.” He never would have expected Nie Huaisang of all people to enjoy a dance that involved fans! Or masks!

Nie Huaisang rapped him on the shin with his fan, and “Ow, fuck, is that thing made of steel?”

“I wouldn’t know.” Nie Huaisang said primly, which Wei Wuxian took as a yes.

“Huaisang.” Shijie gave him a disappointed look.

It wasn’t quite as stern as in her own face, Qin Su’s heart shaped face rendering it somehow even more gently chiding, but it was just as effective. Nie Huaisang sighed. “Yes, I know how it works. Would you like me to sketch a diagram?”

“Please.”

Wei Wuxian interpreted Nie Huaisang’s caving to Shijie as his having been officially taken under her wing. He wondered if that meant they were brothers now.

It was a little-known secret that Wei Wuxian was not the only child raised by Jiang Fengmian to collect family wherever he went. He had, in fact, picked up that trait from his sister. Around the time she’d decided he was her didi, no matter that Wei Wuxian was never officially adopted into the clan.

“What are you thinking, A-Xian?” Shijie asked, while Nie Huaisang was busy being unnecessarily artistic with his diagram. Wei Wuxian would have so many extraneous swirls to work around.

“Well, I’m not wearing that thing. I’m pretty sure it is human skin, just not the person’s face it’s copying.” Wei Wuxian might control corpses on occasion, but he wasn’t wearing one on his face. That was just gross, in a uniquely Xue Yang fashion. Just remembering the moment he’d touched it made him want to spend the next week becoming a prune in an excessively soapy bath. “But I can’t just run around like this.”

Neither Wei Wuxian’s own face nor Xue Yang’s was exactly ideal. But Xue Yang had committed each and every crime he was accused of, with more undoubtedly yet to come. Wei Wuxian had only committed some of crimes he was given credit for. He was grateful Shijie had ensured he was given his own back.

Besides, Wei Wuxian was clearly better looking than Xue Yang, whether they were being judged on a scale of handsomeness or prettiness.

That didn’t stop either face from being a problem. “So I thought, why not make a mask where I can pretend to be Xue Yang? But where I can also quickly change to a harmless face, and avoid any future angry mobs.”

Wei Wuxian would strongly prefer not to be the target of future angry mobs. The once had been more than enough.

“Impersonate Xue Yang? But A-Xian —” Shijie frowned, an expression he never wanted to put on her face. “Don’t get more involved in this than you need to be for my sake. I brought you back for selfish reasons, and I can ensure those marks disappear and leave you free.”

Obviously, Wei Wuxian would never do that. “Shijie, you brought me back because you care. And I love you too, so don’t tell me not to help you.”

She reached out to pet his hair, and he leaned into it. “You’ve sacrificed enough.”

Shijie might think so, but he would never agree. Wei Wuxian would always want to help. Not because he owed her for what he’d done — which he did — but because he loved her. On top of that, she was trying to overthrow a child murderer, and improve the lives of ordinary people in an unprecedented way. Of course he would do anything he could to help.

And he didn't want her to have to learn how to kill.

He pulled away, and grasped her too-slim shoulders instead to meet those bizarre, smaller eyes that still, somehow, felt like her. “It’s not about sacrifice. I can be a distraction for you. If Jin Guangyao’s as clever as you say — and I remember that was  my impression of him — he won’t stay ignorant of what you’re doing forever.”

“A-Xian—”

Wei Wuxian cut off her protest. This was the best way for him to help. Any protest she had could only be an attempt to protect him. “But if Xue Yang’s a ghost he can’t catch? Maybe you can pull it off.”

[realityhelixcreates]

Beta, Theta, and Me Chapter 7: The Invisible Cage

Chapters: 7/?

Fandom: Thor (Movies), Avengers (Movies) Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: PG

Warnings: Relationships: Loki x Reader (But not right now),

Characters: Loki(Marvel) Additional Tags:  A/B/O, Sorta, More Of An Exploration Of Life And Self Expression Within An A/B/O Framework, Loki Does What He Wants, But Loki Does Not Actually Do What He Wants, Antagonistic Bosses, Loki Has A Throne Now, But It’s Not What He Wanted

Summary:  Loki and his servant discuss the nature of freedom.

You found yourself hiding in your apartment for several hours that day. Loki had gotten a call-the first you could remember-and had instantly bid you leave his presence. In fact, he said he would have preferred you leave the building altogether, but it was suddenly pouring outside, so you'd opted to hide out in your room instead.

You didn't know what would cause him to act that way, but you'd tried to use the time to take a nice relaxing nap. But the sound of rushing wind had rattled the tower, and someone had entered Loki's apartment without bothering to be quiet about it.

Shortly after that, the shouting had begun.

So much for napping.

You opened your door just a crack, and peered out into the round living space down the hall.

Thor was there.

THE Thor, the God of Thunder himself, the only man you'd ever thought might make a good case for monarchy.

He was pacing back and forth in front of Loki, gesticulating broadly, both of them speaking in raised voices. You didn't understand the language at all, it was round and bouncy, with long rolled R's, and rock hard consonants. They didn't seem to be fighting; this was not a shouting match with each other. This looked like shared anger, a common indignance over some other subject.

They discussed loudly with one another, Thor standing across from Loki, around the little table where you shared meals. He was drawing something in a note book, tapping the paper for emphasis, while Loki took up the pen and drew something else. Eventually, the loudness died down, both men becoming absorbed in whatever plan or problem they were going over, and you hid back away in your rooms, satisfied that there wasn't going to be a fight.

They were more than a little frightening when they shouted. There was power in those ancient voices, and it jellied your insides. What must it have been like for people, hundreds of years ago, to hear these beings speak? It wasn't surprising that bygone societies had been built around them.

Thor left eventually, with grim laughter, but seemingly on good terms. When you slunk back out into the hallway, Loki remained at the table, writing in his notebook. He seemed tense, but not angry.

“So...” You started. Loki blew out a long breath.

“I desire some kind of sweet confection.” He said. “If you do not already know how, please learn to make some kind of cake or cookie, and then do so.”

“And then...”

“And then eat some with me.”

Dismissal then. So be it. He'd tell you, or he wouldn't, what business was it of yours?

It was time to level up. It was time to learn how to make cookies.

                                                                         ******

You knew that if this were a movie, or TV show, smoke would billow out once you opened that oven, and your cookies would all be burnt. But that's not what this was, and your cookies were actually fine. A little flat and crispy around the edges, but perfectly tasty. Loki seemed to take extra pleasure in their crunchiness, a detail you filed away for later. He was still agitated, but it was like a swift current at the bottom of a calm stream. You found yourself a bit afraid to step in.

“What do you think freedom is?” He asked abruptly. He'd been back into his extra-long-titled philosophy books again. You'd been trying to convince him to move on from Keirkegaard, but the existentialism spoke to him.

He'd had you sit with him next to his huge fireplace, and sing a few times now, and he even translated excerpts from his books for you in order to discuss them with you. He liked your somewhat cynical, layman's view on these lofty subjects, even seemed to find validity in your sometimes frustrated “I don't know, why should it matter?” answers. This time you thought about it for a while.

“I think it doesn't actually exist. It's an unobtainable idea.” You said.

“Care to expand?”

“Well, okay. So what is freedom? That's a really tough question, right? Like, for some people, its 'not being discriminated against because of skin color' or something like that. For others, it as simple as financial stability. But both of those have something in common with what I think is the average definition, which is 'not being beholden to capricious authority figures'. But is that even possible? I mean, say you're a king.

Not literally!” You exclaimed, as Loki opened his mouth. “But as a king, there's supposedly no higher power than you in all the land, right? But...you also have responsibilities. Burdens. You have to rule, and you have to do it well, or you won't be king for long. You still, in some part, owe your time and effort to the people you rule. You aren't free. You can't just do whatever you want, whenever you want. The people won't put up with it. Eventually, they'll rise up an overthrow you, maybe even kill you. It happened a lot.

But if you go with the Divine Right idea, even though you're telling the peasants that they have to do whatever you say because it's God's will, it's still admitting that you answer to a higher power. Therefore, you are not free, because you are under the authority of a deity and supposedly have to abide by their rules and doctrines. If you don't, your Divine right to rule may be revoked and again, if you have ruled poorly, you'll be overthrown and killed.

You can't even reach freedom by removing yourself from the chains of society. Take yourself off to some deserted place with no other people around, and you can do whatever you want, right? Except you still have to eat. You still need shelter. You still have to spend a lot of time dealing with those things. You are still trapped by the laws of nature. Try to defy them, and you will be killed.

Even in death...either there's no afterlife, and you just stop existing at all, and therefore can't engage in concepts such as freedom, or there is an afterlife, but it follows the rules of the god who created it, and you have to follow those rules while you're there. There's no such thing as true freedom. It can't be achieved.”

“How does that make you feel?” Loki asked softly.

You shrugged. “Not as frustrated as I should, I guess. I don't feel strongly about it. What am I supposed to do about it, rebel?”

“Isn't that what your parents did?”

“Yeah, and they're both dead!” You exclaimed. Loki fell quiet.

“I'm sorry.” You said. “It's just that everyone who finds out about them expects me to be like them, but I'm just not. I'm not their opposite, but I'm not...them.”

“What happened to them?” He inquired. “I don't actually know about them, save for what you have alluded to.”

“You have a phone, right? Look up the 'Joyful Liberation Compound'. I'll clean up these cookies.”

You washed the dishes and cleaned up all the flour and crumbs. When you joined him at the table again, he was staring at his phone, expression grim.

“Yeah.” You said.

“You are the only survivor.” He stated.

“Yeah, because I ran away when I turned seventeen. Had to smuggle myself out in the back of a supply truck. They didn't let us back outside once we came in. Only very carefully vetted individuals, high in the pecking order were allowed back into the outside world, and then only to recruit or bring back supplies that we couldn't create at the compound. 'Liberation' was right in the name, but we were very Not Free.”

“Brave little thing.” Loki said. “It must have been very difficult to make that choice.”

“We joined when I was fifteen.” You said. “I was only there for two years. Not like the other kids, who were raised there, or spent most of their lives there. They didn't know anything else. Now they never will.”

“Your government baffles me sometimes.” Loki said. “Billionaire slavers are elevated rather than criminalized, yet they're perfectly prepared to raze an entire compound to the ground? With everyone inside? Even the children?”

“They were an accelerationist cult.” You pointed out. “They thought the end of American civilization was coming, and that they were supposed to help bring it about.”

“And your government is full of dominionists and fascists.” Loki pointed back. “This seems nothing more than one civil deconstructionist cult destroying the competition while it is still small.”

“Yeah, it sucks all around.” You agreed heatedly. “That's what happens when you have one set of laws for a favored class of people, and another for everyone else. The scum rises to the top and then chokes out everyone else...Sorry.”

Loki regarded you sourly. “You speak very freely, brave thing.”

“Is it different where you come from?” You asked.

“Yes, actually. We have an unbroken line of succession that oversees a thriving and prosperous culture, kept that way by firm, yet judicious leaders.”

“You tried to take over a whole planet by force!”

“I intended to fix your crumbling infrastructure and even out your unbelievable inequality issues.” Loki insisted.

“By enslaving us all? Making us all equally subservient to you?”

“There is a difference between bravery and foolishness.” He warned. “I meant to rule as a benevolent god. You do not wish to see me vengeful!”

You snapped your mouth shut. His Alpha scent intensified when he exerted his personality, but it was the power in his voice that shivered through you.

You hated that. You hated it. The scent made you so uncomfortable, dredged up so many tainted memories. And the vocal power of an Old God squelched your spirit. You sat, still and quiet, practically radiating resentment.

After a few moments of extremely uncomfortable silence, Loki sighed.

“It would not have worked.” He admitted. “My intentions were not pure. I would certainly have tried, yes, I would have given my best effort, but there were...other...factors.”

“What other factors?” You asked. Hadn't your real boss, the one that paid you, the Tony Stark one, asked you to find out things about this exact subject?

Also, you were curious. What was the secret? What had brought the great god Loki low?

His mouth opened and then closed. No sound came out. As you watched in growing confusion, his face began to twitch, twisting into a grimace, his eyes filling with frustration. Breath hissed through bared teeth, his fists clenching over the armrests of his wheelchair. Sweat broke out on his forehead.

“Loki? Loki! Stop!” You exclaimed. “Stop, you don't have to! Stop!”

Loki let out a groan of pain, then shoved you away when you grabbed his hand. You fell right on your rear.

“Get out of here!” Loki roared. “Get out of my sight, and do not show your face again today!”

You scrambled to your feet and rushed to your apartment, slamming the door behind you. Your organs felt like water, as you slid down the back of your door, flinching at the sounds of destruction coming from outside.

What was that? What had just happened? Did it hurt him to try to speak of what happened to him? It had seemed like some painful, physical battle. You fumbled for your phone and called your real boss.

[kaweeella]

PersonA3!

Chapter 9- The Sun Has Risen, But He’s A Little Tired

Word count- 1804

Description- The boys are on the case

Author note- That was fun. Time to stop existing for a week

“Can we still save him?”

Tsuzuru and Kazunari agreed to meet up at the theater and Tsuzuru got Kamakichi up, now going as fast as they can down the cold dark streets.

“Well it’s possible, depending on when he finds the stage, assuming he found it already.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been in there more than once. You’ve had to have seen how it changes. There's no guessing what it’ll look like.”

“So there is some hope?”

“Correct, but don’t get your expectations too high.”

Tsuzuru can hardly imagine what he’s been going through if it really has been days. He doesn’t know what would be worse, succumbing to your insecurities and whatever it is that happens after or being stuck in there for days wandering through that maze filled with who knows what.

Reaching the theater, he looks around for Kazunari, not seeing him anywhere.

Tsuzuru doesn’t know how long it takes for him to get there as his anxiety warps his sense of time. Or at least he hopes it’s just his anxiety because if not then it means that Kazunari really is taking forever to get there.

When he finally arrives Tsuzuru meets him halfway on the sideway and grabs him by the wrist, pulling him into the theater.

Entering, their clothes change again and they see the three winding paths.

“Where could he…” Tsuzuru starts, but then notices a small trail of papers leading down the right hall.

“Do you think…?”

“It’s our best lead.”

They follow the papers until they stop and they quickly find wet spots on the walls and floors then a broken down door.

They follow these trails of ruined carpet and destroyed doors before they find the door they were looking for. Big metal doors with small windows on them. Looking in, they see Sakuya up on stage on his knees and surrounded by the ghosts. They don’t need a closer look to know that he’s fading.

~~~

Sakuya looks around frantically to find who was speaking, finding no new person around him and he can’t hear where the voice is coming from.

“Come now, look ahead.”

Doing as it says, Sakuya looks up and sees three figures running toward the stage, one of them smaller than the others. He scoots back from them.

“Think clearly, boy, think. Get rid of the fog around your senses and see clearly.”

He blinks a few times, tempted to rub his eyes but he knows that it's not good so he blinks quickly to clear his vision and looks back. The three figures are two guys, wearing weird clothes, and a bird. He recognizes the bird and one of the guys. He had met them a while back. He’s nice. 

“They’re allies. Make sure you can clearly know who are truly your friends. That is a powerful ability, and you’ll need to be able to tell when someone is genuine.”

Sakuya watches as they turn back to the door, reacting to a noise he can’t hear. A woman with green hair and skin with a long red gown floats into the room.

“Do you have all the information you need?” Sakuya nods. “Good, then now make your move.”

With all his might he gets up and runs to the edge of the stage, hoping off with a loud shattering.

“I am thou, thou art I. Now's the time to act.”

The three turn to face him, the bird perched on one of the chairs. The two duck as he goes past, landing in between them and the woman.

“Hamlet!”

A large man appears, his skin is pale and he’s wearing a red tunic and hat with a large feather sticking out of it that reaches all the way to the ground. In one hand he holds up a skull and is looking at it. He holds a sword in the other. The sword is dripping with some sort of liquid and his clothes seem to be torn.

“B… Bufu!” Sakuya yells, with some struggle.

The man draws his attention from the skull and slashes towards the woman, a beam of frost hitting her. She falls to her knees and puffs into purple smoke.

Sakuya breaths heavily before falling unconscious.

Tsuzuru picks him up and carries him out. When they leave the sun has already risen and people are starting their routines.

“What should we do?”

“Well first he probably needs to eat.”

“Are there any places around here that serve food?”

Tsuzuru sighs. “No, nothing good anyway.”

“Maybe we could take him back to the house?” Kamakichi suggests as he lands on Kazunari’s head.

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt. I hope they don’t get upset…”

“I’m sure they’ll understand. They’re super nice so it’ll be alright.” Kazunari gives a big confident smile.

They walk back to the house ignoring concerned glances from strangers. When they get there Tsuzuru carefully hands Sakuya to Kazunari to unlock the door.

“Hey, man. Where’d you…” Izumi exits the kitchen and pauses as she looks past Tsuzuru to the boy in his friend’s arms. “Is he okay?”

“Oh, uh, no. Probably not.” Tsuzuru answers.

“What happened?”

“We found him passed out in the park.” Kazunari replies this time.

“He looks roughed up. Put him on the couch, I’ll get something cooking for him. Tsuzuru, get him some water.”

They do as they’re told, Kazunari putting him gently onto the couch and Tsuzuru bringing him a tall cup and placing it on the coffee table in front of him.

Sakuya comes to and the first thing he sees is the water. He looks over and sees Tsuzuru who gives him a nod. With that little signal, Sakuya grabs the cup and downs it in seconds.

“Do you need more?”

Sakuya looks from the cup in his hands to Tsuzuru. His expression is soft and caring. He gives a small nod and Tsuzuru takes the cup from him to refill it.

Izumi had gotten Kazunari to help make curry. Kamakichi wanted to help but couldn’t because of obvious reasons, so he sat by watching and commentating.

“He wasn’t lying when he said you can only cook curry, huh?”

Izumi ignores him, chopping vegetables and mixing ingredients.

Tsuzuru brings the cup and hands it back to Sakuya, who drinks it quickly again, though slower than the first time.

“Do you need another one?”

Sakuya shakes his head. “No, thank you.”

“Alright. My friends are cooking some food for you. It’ll be done soon.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“You’re doing so much for someone like me.”

“That’s nothing to be sorry for. You’re a kid and you seem to have been through some rough stuff . You aren’t a problem.”

Sakuya looks at the cup still in his hands. His words are nice and his face looks sincere but he can’t bring himself to believe it.

“Alright, it’s done.” Izumi sets a plate onto the dining table and gestures for Sakuya to go over there. 

When he sits at the table he takes a slow reluctant bite, looking at the people around him. After a second of chewing, he starts to eat quickly, as though they were going to take it away at any second.

“Slow down a little! You’re gonna choke like that.” Kazunari warns, but he doesn’t stop until the plate is clear.

“Would you like some more?” Izumi offers as she picks up his plate.

“If it’s not a problem, I would.”

“No problem at all!”

While he waits Sakuya plays with his hoodie strings.

“Sakuma-san,” Tsuzuru sits down next to him “Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah. I’m okay.” Sakuya glances quickly around the room. “Why do you ask?”

“You look nervous. It’s okay. You’re okay.” Tsuzuru puts his hand on Sakuya’s.

Sakuya looks at his hands and he starts to tear up.

“Am I interrupting something?” Izumi brings in another plate and puts it in front of Sakuya, who promptly begins eating again.

Tsuzuru leans back, still looking at Sakuya. What have you been through?

“Thank you.” Sakuya says putting down his utensils.

“There’s still more if you want.” Izumi picks up the plate again.

“N… no, thank you.”

“Who’s the kid?” They hadn’t noticed that Yasashii had gotten home. “I think I’ve seen him on the news.”

“What? Why was I on the news?”

“Is your name Sakuya Sakuma?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re that missing kid. What’re you doing here?”

“Missing?”

“I am curious. You were in a pretty rough state when you got here. What happened?”

“I… I don’t entirely remember. It all kind of became a blur.” He’s being honest, he can hardly recall a thing from then. Which is a big relief to Kazunari because if he did then Izumi would know he lied.

“Well, I suppose we’ve gotta take you home. Come on.”

“Actually, could I stay here for tonight?”

“I’d love to allow you to but you are still legally considered missing.”

“Right” Sakuya stands up and walks over to the door.

“Alright kids, I’ll be back in a few.”

“Huh? Where are you going?” Sakuya asks, turning back to her.

“I’m walking you back.”

“You don’t have to…”

“No, no. Come on now.” She grabs Sakuya’s hand and walks him out.

“Goodbye! Thank you for the kindness!”

“Oh yeah, I gotta go too. Seeya guys!” Kazunari quickly sees himself out behind them.

“Alright, Minagi-san. Help me with dishes.”

“Huh? Okay.”

They put on gloves and start washing.

“So why were you and Miyoshi-san just… walking through the park before sunrise?”

“Huh?”

“I heard you leaving this morning. It wasn’t even six yet.”

“Oh.” Think, Minagi, think. “I had to go out for something else and I ran into Miyoshi-san after so we talked some.”

“Really? What was it?”

“Oh well…” Tsuzuru is internally panicking, and is hoping all of the panic stays internal. “I’ve been looking into part time jobs and one of them had called while I was asleep so I wanted to go there to see about it… I didn’t get the job.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“And you complained about me not paying rent.” Kamakichi lands on the faucet.

“He’s such a hypocrite.”

“Come on now, at least wait until I’m not in the room.”

“Nope!” Izumi starts to laugh, and Tsuzuru eventually gives in and laughs too.

The three of them laugh when the world seems to freeze, for the second time now.

“I am thou,

As thou art I

Thou hast acquired a new vow.

When bonded together you shall find

The arcana of the Empress

You soul shall bind.”

Another card appears in front of him. On it is a woman sitting on some sort of throne with the roman numeral for three on the bottom.

“Hey, whatcha looking at?” He didn’t notice time resuming until Izumi asked.

“Oh yeah. I’m just thinking.”

“About what?”

“I… I dunno.”

[aij-writes]

“I could use something smaller,” Luna spoke.

Ignis looked up from his phone.  “Here,” he offered, summoning his dagger and passing it to her.

Crowe cried out, but she tried to stay still.  Ignis and Noctis had lifted her to a table where Luna had busied herself with cleaning the wound.  She’d not waited for help, tearing off part of her dress and stanching the bleeding.  She tied a makeshift tourniquet.

“You have it too tight,” Ignis spoke stiffly.

Luna shot him an annoyed look.  “Excuse me, I know what I’m doing.”

“And what you’re doing is de-arming her,” Ignis insisted dryly.

“Has anyone ever called you unpleasant?” Luna asked, concentrating despite the verbal spat on working the bullet out.

“My entire life.”

A tense silence stretched between them, where even Crowe seemed too afraid to grunt in pain.

Ignis sighed, going over.  “Let me help.”

“I don’t expect a bureaucrat to have much advance first aid, but thank you anyway,” Luna said tightly.

“I’m also Crownsguard, your Royal Highness and I’m afraid pride is not a luxury we have right now.”

“You keep being afraid and I’ll help her,” Luna snapped.

“You’re both pretty,” Crowe shot at them.  “Now would you two work together to get this bullet out?”

Ignis blinked in surprise, only to adjust his glasses.  “I’ll hold her arm steady and you operate,” he insisted.

“Yes, of course,” Luna agreed.

“Ignis,” he offered.  “Ignis Scientia.”

“Luna is fine,” she said after a bit.  “Noctis couldn’t say my whole name when he was younger and I’d rather prefer it.”  She stole a glance at Ignis.  “The bullet is a creation of the Chancellor.  It’s imbued with miasma.”

“Starscourage.”  Ignis watched the ashen wound spreading up Crowe’s arm.  “Perhaps we waste time trying to save the arm.”

“Brutal, aren’t you?” Luna asked, before letting out a small “aha!” having worked the bullet out.  Crowe let out a sigh of relief, even if Luna was back in, scrapping the wound clean.  Luna, satisfied, slapped the dagger down on the table.  She bent over, whispering a prayer.  The wound lit up and healed, though a faint redness was left behind.

“Amazing,” Crowe said, with Ignis echoing.

“It is my duty as Oracle to heal the wounds of our Star.  Eos is suffering.  The True King is the only one who can fix it, but it is my duty to serve by his side.”

Noctis looked up, as if realizing all eyes were on him finally.  He frowned, seeming as if he hadn’t been paying attention.  “She good?  Does that mean we can leave?”  They’d holed up in a safehouse Ignis knew about.  They’d watched out the windows as the night wore on, destroying their city and any sense or semblance.

“And where will we go?” Crowe asked, testing her arm.  Despite it all, it hurt and she winced and cried out.  “I’m waiting to hear from the Captain.”

“You won’t,” Ignis said quietly.

Crowe jumped off the table.  “Captain Drautos will not have fallen.”

“I never said that.”  Ignis turned from her.  “But while we’re on the subject, we can suffer no assumptions to the body count of last night.  We weren’t simply double-crossed, we were betrayed.  The Kingsglaive were responsible for the Gala’s security and the King, while the Crownsguard were reassigned to the people.  I have it on highest authority, the Shield himself, that these orders were directly from His Majesty.  The Marshall broke rank last night and was sent away again to his post.  He knew something we didn’t.  As he made sure I was aware of, Captain Drautos never made it to his post.”

Ignis walked to Noctis, his hand going to press on the back of his arm.  “The Kingsglaive was made up for refugees that were able to wield the King’s magic.  Show me that magic now.”

Crowe looked confused, only to realize nothing happened when she tried.

Ignis gave her a grim look.  “As of right now, I will not entrust the heir apparent’s safety to anyone but myself.”

Noctis knocked Ignis’s hand off him.  “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying the peace treaty angered those that trickled in from beyond our Walls.  Demonstrators made up of those hailing from the outlands made it known that there could be no peace if their homes were sacrificed.”

“They’d already lost them,” Noctis said carelessly.

“We fought by our King!” Crowe argued.  “We wanted the war to stop!  Not just to protect this last bastion, but for a hope that it would release our homes!  You can’t blame us for our frustration, but the Kingsglaive remained faithful to the Crown!”

“Some of us, at least,” Luche spoke up.

Ignis drew his daggers, ready.  His magic, tied to Noctis, had not faded.

Luche stepped into the safehouse, shortsword drawn in defense.  “Go on, Dragoon, preach to us about what we’ve lost.  Your people remain scattered in Nif territory to this day.  United under a banner for Old Solheim but what, are you better for dragging your way here and wiping the prince’s butt?”

“That’s enough,” Libertus cut in.  He had a commanding, hoarse voice.  “Crowe, you alright?”  He was still relying on crutches from a wound he’d received at the final battle before the tentative ceasefire.

“I’m...I’m fine.  Where’s Pelna and Nyx?”

“The hero?  He went after the king.”

Luche frowned, not as willing to put down his weapon.  “Arra saw to Pelna,” he said darkly.

Crowe watched him, confused.

“And they rallied around their leader,” Luche continued.  “Bunch of traitors.”  He motioned his head to Ignis.  “Afraid the Goonie’s right.  People weren’t happy, Crowe.  They took us, molded us, and now we fought for nothing.  A broken crown sits upon a broke world.  They manipulated us, but you know what’s worse?  They manipulated the faithless, too.  General Glauca has the Kingsglaive sworn to him.  Because it’s Captain Drautos himself.  The man that led the Nifs into our homes time and time again.  Titus Drautos, man of Cavaugh, taken in by a compassionate prince, only to become bitter when his father retreated the Wall.”  Luche spit at Ignis feet.  “Your king couldn’t even protect himself.  We all stood for a king too weak to protect even his own son!”

“That’s enough.”  Ignis had a commanding air of his own, without reaching for anger or rage.  He stepped to Luche, his eyes narrowed behind his glasses but otherwise straight backed and proud.  “What side will you stand on now is all I ask?”

“And why you ask?” Libertus demanded.  “You’re a foreigner, just like us.  This isn’t your home and the world out there suffered while you attended meetings and played house.”

“You say what you want about me.  But I stand by my king and I will accept any such allies that see our prince through.  Otherwise, we part.”

“Hold up,” Crowe ordered, reminded the boys it wasn’t a pissing contest.  She held her finger up, listening in on the frequency.  “Captain Drautos is ordering a rally for all Kingsglaive to meet at the central square.”  She lifted her eyes to Libertus.  She often scoffed and rolled her eyes, but she did look to him like a brother.  “Tell me it wasn’t the Captain,” she asked, eyes begging but her voice strong and professional.

Libertus looked down.  “We were tricked.  I...I was vain, Crowe.  I went...”  He sighed heavily.  “The resistance.  It...we’re how the Nifs got past the Wall.  They have the Crystal.”

“Oh no,” Luna gasped.  She shook her head.  “And the ring?”

“I don’t know about a ring,” Libertus said lamely.

“My father’s?” Noctis finally asked.

Luna reached for him, grabbing his wrist.  “The Ring of Lucii houses the souls of the dead kings.  Your grandfather, you great-, all the way up to the Founder himself.  It’s your right and burden to wield this power when your father--”

Noctis jerked away from her, hanging his head.  “Dies, Luna?  Why does everyone want to remind me...?” he choked around the rest.  He went up to Luche, getting into his face.  “Is my father dead?  Did the Kingsglaive betray him?” he asked, voice harsh and cracking.  Without even thinking, a mere will of his angst summoned his blade in his hand, though he did not raise it.  He gripped at it to anchor himself to something.

“As a whole?  As a unit?  Yes.”  Luche stared Noctis off, grabbing his patch and ripping it off.  “We’re all traitors.  Your father to us and we to our office.  You want to stay and fight the will of the Empire, go ahead.  Maybe they’ll let you rest on Aldercapt’s arm the same as her bitch brother.  Or maybe they’ll slaughter you, too.  I don’t intend to wait for it.”  He pointed his sword below the prince’s chin.  “After what I saw in my homeland, maybe I’ll do you a favor and show you mercy here.  Quick painless death for a coward.”

Noctis stared at him, chin raised in a haughty, defiant way, but he said nothing.  He merely raised his sword to block Ignis’s intervention.

“Lazarus, enough,” Libertus warned, voice cracking with emotion.  He grabbed Luche’s shoulder, pulling him off.  “Crowe come on.  We’re going to find the Hero and see if we can’t figure out how to jump ship.”

“The rats come in and the rats get off,” Ignis scoffed.

“You want to pick at a carcass, Goonie--!” Libertus started only to realize Crowe was squaring up at Luna’s side.  “Crowe?”

“No matter what happened tonight, I will complete my mission.  Traitor or not, I am to accompany the Princess.”  Crowe stared at Libertus.  “And I do so owing my life to her.  You can abandon your stations; I don’t blame you.  But I have my own duty.”

“And I must see to the King,” Luna declared.

“What’s the point?” Noctis demanded.  “He’s dead, right?  How...?  How could he believe their offer?  How could he be so stupid!” he yelled, going to strike out.

Ignis caught his prince by the wrists, pushing him back.  “Noct!  Your father loved you!  You must hold onto your faith in that!”  He turned to look at the rest of them.  “My duty is to my prince.  The rest of you are free to leave here; traitor and ally alike.  I will not ask to share the burden when our king has failed you.”  The words came wrenched, refusing to see King Regis’s actions as such, but knowing that they’d all been failed personally.

“How gracious,” Luche muttered.  “Careful spouting about faith, Dragoon.  Your kind hardly know the meaning.”

“My faith has been and remains in my prince.”

“Weak that he is, I suppose that’s all you can muster.”  Luche turned, though he refused to put his back to Ignis.  “Ulric!  Report.”

He and Crowe heard the same words, though the rest did not.  “You can’t synchronize with Crowe or me,” Luche explained.  “We turned off our beacons.  Yeah, I...”  He looked over to Noctis, frowning.  “Yeah, I got Libertus here, too.”  He dropped his gaze down, despite staying at rigid attention.  “I’m with the Prince and his Chamberlain.  I’ll...I’ll let them know.”

Ignis watched him, waiting.  When he didn’t speak up, Ignis demanded, “Report.”

Luche twitched at the careless authority Ignis wielded, but remained silent.

Crowe finally said, “His Majesty is gone.”

“Gone?” Noctis asked.

“Presumed dead,” Luche filled in.

Luna frowned, arms going to hug herself.  “But no body?”

Noctis turned away.  “Ignis, we do our own search,” he ordered.

Ignis watched Luche with a stony expression.  “Ask Ulric if he’s been in the hotel tower.”  He kept his voice even.

Luche rolled his eyes a little but asked.

Crowe snapped on high alert.  “Nyx says there’s airships descending on just north of Telegraph.  That’s us.”