#scribescribbles

[scribeofmorpheus]

As Fate Would Have It (Part 22)

Paring: WinterSoldier!Bucky x Spy!Reader

Catch Up here | Masterlist | AO3

Tumblr taglists are closed. Bookmark on AO3.

Warnings: PTSD.

Note: And the fic has been REVIVED! We've moved onto post-Civil-War era! Yay! Let me know if you want to be taken off the taglist!

~WAKANDA, 2018

“Take it slow,” Bucky read Shuri’s lips from the other side of the glass wall. She was speaking to Y/N, the data pad in her hand screening several diagnostics.

Steve stood beside him, an unreadable expression weighing on his face, hands placed on his hips. Could be disappointment, but Bucky couldn’t face that right now, not while staring at the scars and track marks lining Y/N’s back like a fucked-up star chart.

It was his fault. And it made breathing impossible; to see her so broken.

“Do you know where you are?” he read Shuri ask Y/N.

Y/N stuttered for a moment, her gaze trailing from her hands to her reflection in the glass. Her expression was that of confusion, as though it were a stranger looking back at her. She was practically a stranger to Bucky’s eyes too.

“What about your name?” he read Shuri say, a knot forming at her temples. “Can you tell me that?”

Y/N shook her head, her frame shaking.

At that moment, Shuri looked towards the observation window, meeting Bucky’s eyes with concern. Bucky’s heart nearly stopped at the implication. Something was wrong.

Steve sighed, running his hand through his hair. Not as blonde as it used to be, and uncharacteristically shaggy ever since he’d been on the run.

It was still a shock sometimes, seeing his best friend as this bastion of justice—a larger-than-life symbol of endurance. And yet, here he was, stripped of his stars and stripes, looking every bit as human as any man in a hospital waiting room.

“I still can’t believe it,” Steve said, pacing the room. “Elle… or Y/N… she’s—she’s alive.”

Bucky instinctively reached for his stump, remembering all the times he’d lunged at her with his metal arm with the intent to kill… the time he’d slipped his blade between her ribs.

Fuck! he balled his fist. What kind of monster tries to kill someone who loved him?

Now he was struck by memories of Steve on the airship. His friend's face bloodied, and so terribly close to mortality. To the end of the line.

“Buck?” Steve’s hand was on his shoulder, worry present in the tension of his jaw.

“What?” Bucky blinked several times, shaking his head clear of the past.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked. “Ever since we found her… you—well… I guess there’s no right way to take all this in, is there?”

“I did this, Steve,” Bucky’s voice cracked. “I did this to her.”

“Buck, you weren’t yourself. You can’t—”

“No! Not this time,” Bucky shrugged off Steve’s hand. “You can’t make excuses for me this time.”

“I’m not making excuses,” Steve’s jaw clamped up, then released in a controlled manner, as if gathering himself. “What Hydra did to you, what you’re going through… it’s not black and white. It’s not easy. And Elle… Y/N, whatever her story is, there’s no good to be found in blaming anyone here.”

“I know…” Bucky nodded, believing none of what his oldest friend was saying. “I know. Doesn’t make this any easier. Seeing her like this.”

“Do you know who did this to her?” Steve hesitated. “Was it Hydra too?”

“N-no… I-I don’t think so,” Bucky stammered. “I never saw her when they’d take me out of the tank. Hydra could have done this but… No. No, I don’t think it was us.”

Steve's brow arched, “Us?”

Bucky froze. “Them,” he corrected. “I never saw them experimenting on her.”

“But you have an idea who did?” Steve saw something in Bucky’s eyes, recognition perhaps.

He remembered seeing blood in the snow through the Winter Soldier’s eyes. Remembered catching a glimpse of white hair over the tundra through his scope. He never pulled the trigger though. He wished he could say it was because some part of him knew it was her, even through the brainwashing. In truth, she wasn’t a kill worth his time. She wasn’t his target that day. Instead, he’d cleared an entire encampment of mercenaries hired by Yelena Belova, the Winter Soldier’s actual target. The little rabbit. Down the rabbit hole.

“47. One of my first missions after the… conditioning. My orders were to destabilise the black widow operation in Russia. Yelena Belova. Handler of the Western Front Operatives. One of my main targets. During the…” Bucky took a deep breath, fighting the pain knocking around in his reprogrammed brain. He cleared his throat, unwilling to relive the flames and tortured cries. “In the confusion, Yelena got away. I tracked her movements throughout Russia, and she nearly got away, until I came upon an ambush.”

Steve stopped pacing and sat down on one of the chairs, “An ambush? For you?”

“No. There was a convoy transporting prisoners from some facility in the north. It had been hit by mercenaries. They made camp a few clicks west. Then I…” a dry lump fixed itself in his throat, and he almost failed to finish his sentence; Then I found Yelena Belova and ended her life with my boot on her neck.  

Steve’s eyes roamed Bucky’s form, taking in his shrunken stature, “Y/N was on that convoy, wasn’t she?”

“I think so… I think I saw her then. Through the scope. White hair in the snow.”

A mechanical hiss sounded out behind them, a pair of footsteps making their way closer, but they both ignored it—or rather, they were both too shell-shocked to respond immediately. Bucky from the memories, Steve from hearing his best friend tell him he killed an entire mercenary group that rescued POWs.

“You guys doing alright in here?” Shuri asked, her accent sounding more and more familiar to Bucky’s ears. Hell, Wakanda’s accent sounded less alien than Brooklyn’s would right now. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Never mind that, I got the diagnostics from the tests.”

Bucky opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He was too distracted by the scars on Y/N’s back.

“And?” Steve asked, standing from his chair.

“She’s fine, relatively speaking,” Shuri said, placing one of her Kimoyo Beads on an incave near a panel by the windows. The glass instantly turned opaque, blotting out the light with a matted effect, and then a hologram of Y/N’s body scans brightened the room blue. “Her electrolyte count is low, which is to be expected considering the cryostasis chamber she was in was ancient, possibly a fault with the defrost sequence. Left a lot of water to absorb into her system. A few vitamin deficiencies too, but we can treat those with supplements and diet.”

Shuri waved her hand over her Kimoyo Bead, bringing up an x-ray that showed multiple bone resets and mended fissures. One of them stood out to Bucky. Left ribcage, between the last two bones, a chip made from his military-grade issue knife.

“Looks like I’m staring at a veteran's x-ray,” Steve noted, his eyes filled with compassion. “Never would have thought… she was so… I don’t know. It’s hard to believe the woman who served us cobbler and coffee had broken so many bones.”

“She’s seen a lot of action,” Shuri nodded, “but these old breaks aren’t what’s troubling me. It's the oedema,” she waved her hand again, this time showing a brain x-ray with one part swirling and grey in a way the rest of the scan wasn’t.

“There’s swelling in her brain,” Bucky heard himself say the words like a man under some spell, never having intended to speak at all.

“It sounds worse than it is,” Shuri held her hands up to stop the both of them from freaking out, “But…”

“But?” Bucky pressed, not at all prepared for what he might hear.

“It’s causing memory loss,” she said carefully.

There it was. The other shoe finally dropped. And so did Bucky, nearly. He pivoted his weight onto his good hand to lean against the window overlooking the city, sagging onto the cool glass. His eyes focused on Y/N’s blurred figure behind the observation room’s glass, seated still on the medical bed, fidgeting with her hands.

Maybe this was a good thing, he thought. Maybe she can be spared the pain of remembering.

The image of him standing in front of the cryo-chamber, unfettered as it sealed Y/N inside with an air-sucking sound, was so jarring to relive. Then it all came flooding back: seeing cold mist fall over Y/N’s unconscious face; the name Elle leaving his unfamiliar lips; the bruising on his back taking the shape of a butterfly from caved in; the tingling in his spine as he remembered what the rubber cushioning of the mouth guard felt like as they strapped him back in his chair and made him forget.

“Is it… permanent?” Bucky asked.

“It’s too soon to tell,” Shuri worked a tense muscle in her neck, sighing. “She doesn’t remember her name, or what year it is… her memory could return once the swelling reduces, or it might take a little longer after the treatments, or…”

“Or it might not return at all,” Steve finished.

“For now, all we can do is wait,” Shuri plucked her Kimoyo Bead off the cupped indent and reattached it to the rest on her wrist. The window looking into the observation room became transparent again, startling Y/N from her thoughts.

Bucky met her eyes then, so familiar and so distant all at once. Those very same eyes had been filled with sadness the last time he saw her. A type of quiet acceptance of defeat. Now they were hollow—not in an emotionless way, just not holding any emotion towards him. And that hurt worse than any stray bullet he’d ever caught as the Winter Soldier.

“There is one more thing I have to look into,” Shuri said. “Her blood work shows a strange synthesised compound localised around both kidneys, its chemical markup shows similarities to yours, Bucky. I think she may have traces of supersoldier serum in her system, but it's not an exact match for either sample in our records. More derivative, from the compound structure. I'd need to run some more bloodwork to be sure, and maybe monitor her body's homeostatic imbalance when stressed, but for now, I think she's calm enough to receive visitors.” 

Steve’s hand was on Bucky’s bad shoulder, ushering him to stand stronger, take a step forward. “You should go speak with her,” Steve said softly. “It might help.”

Bucky’s boots scuffed the floor, his footing unsure as he almost followed Steve’s advice. Then this clawing feeling of guilt ripped at him from the inside, tore him apart like delicate paper, and Bucky found it difficult to breathe.

“No… I… I can’t,” he pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting off a worse headache between the eyes. “I need a minute,” he shambled towards the door, forgetting words on his tongue, names of things, colours.

“Buck, wait!” Steve almost went after him.

Shuri stepped in his path, hand out as if she possessed telekinesis strong enough to hold Steve in place, “He needs time, too. We can’t push him, not when his mind’s still… confused.”

Bucky reflexively recoiled, feeling cornered, uncertain of everything. Suddenly, the room was too crowded, lights too bright. He had to get out.

Bucky looked to Y/N again, remembering her bittersweet promise as Elle, I can promise that my heart will always belong to you, Bucky, remembering her frightening conviction as she pressed the detonator in the cryo-storage basement, If I can’t save you, we’ll just have to burn together, and saw neither of those women in her.

He’d destroyed her. But he’d be damned if he’d be responsible for hurting her again. Without her memories, she was safe… from him.

 “I have to go,” he said before storming out of the medical building.

TAGLISTS:

@fangirl-colo @dormousse @smallmarvel @ren-ni @sargentbucket @nikolett3 @wnygirl2012 @jentismyname @evilgeniuslabz-blog @myrabbitholetoneverland @sleepingspacedragon @500daysofbecky @reidreader @fairytaleprincess8314 @21st-century-daydreamer @httpfandxms

Permanent Tag List: @gruffle1 @thechickvic @notawarriorjustyet @savethehoneeybees @bookish-shristi @electroma89

#ASWHI #scribescribbles #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader

[ainescribe]

ZHONGLI ;; vago mundo

retired archon, ceo of geo, daddy

❝ osmanthus wine is the same as i remember, but where are those wh- ❞ ❝ venti still exists, bro. ❞

© 2021 ainescribe

#📔─────scribescribbles #zhongli #genshi impact #fanart #my man

[sincerescribe]

In response to day ten of the National Poetry Writing Month poem-a-day challenge: Deal Breaker Acrostic D-eciding to marry bears its appeal. E-xamine yourselves—is this love for real? A-ffection, just in its physical form, L-acks weight to build a bond that meets the norm. B-eginning a union with love and trust R-anks high—lifelong commitment is a must. E-lecting to align your life with one, A-ccept duty to the heart you have won. K-een sense of sacrifice is at the core. E-nsure that you can offer that and more. R-ecognize your readiness or quit now. ___________________ © 2018 Sylvia aka Sincere Scribe™ Happy National Poetry Month! Check out my Scribe Scribbles™ blog, "Deal Breaker," in response to day ten of the poem-a-day challenge! Also, subscribe to the blog. #scribescribbles #poem #acrostic #dealbreaker #sincerescribe #poet #heavenlyvibe #aprpad #npm2018 #napowrimo #instagrampoets #inspireyourself

#poet #dealbreaker #inspireyourself #heavenlyvibe #aprpad #npm2018 #poem #napowrimo #scribescribbles #acrostic #instagrampoets #sincerescribe

[scribeofmorpheus]

"The Nightmare" from Sublime Sovereignty -- a Sandman Fanfic

"Ethereal was Morpheus. A being of few words and even fewer tells. He had summoned her, beckoned her, with a single whisper. Soft and low, his voice could traverse a universe to find her. And it would find her. Always."

#the sandman #morpheus #dream of the endless #sandman fanart #sandman fanfic #scribescribbles

[scribeofmorpheus]

Sorry for going awol again guys. But I’m working on the next chapters of Himmeløyne now. I intend to make them long and release them in one go! This has been an large undertaking for me. Perhaps my longest work yet. I may enter it into the Wattys so check out my account and leave a like if you want to. In the meantime, hope your weekend is going great.

#himmeløyne #scribescribbles #fic update #loki fic

[scribeofmorpheus]

AO3 UPDATE SCHEDULE

I WILL BE SILENT ON TUMBLR FOR A FEW DAYS SO ALL MY FICS WILL BE UPDATES ON AO3 TILL I GET BACK! (tags below)

add me on twitter for updates there too: @ mimisometimes

AO3 tags in masterlists below!

AS FATE WOULD HAVE IT (THURSDAYS) | Bucky Barnes x Y/N

HIMMELØYNE (MONDAYS) | Loki x Y/N

SEASON FINALE OF “CHASING TORNADOES” (SATURDAY 19 Dec) | Dr Strange x Y/N

THE REBEL QUEEN (FRIDAYS) | Poe Dameron x Calista Ordell

PIROUETTE (will premier once Chasing Tornadoes has been finished)

Tags:

AFWI: @fangirl-colo @dormousse @smallmarvel @ren-ni @sargentbucket @nikolett3 @wnygirl2012 @jentismyname @evilgeniuslabz-blog @myrabbitholetoneverland @sleepingspacedragon @500daysofbecky @reidreader  @fairytaleprincess8314 @21st-century-daydreamer @httpfandxms

HIMMELTAGS: @mejohanssonwrites @tarynkauai @wanderlust-travler @ladybugsfanfics @electroma89 @texmexdarling @fire-in-her-veinz @whosaidididthat @themusingsofmany @adefectivedetective

TORNADOTAGS: @raindancer2004 @captaincutebutt @demonstracija @melisssaa 

#loki (marvel) #bucky barns imagine #poe dameron imagine #doctor strange imagine #marvel #fics #update schedule #scribescribbles #bucky x y/n #stephen strange x you #loki x oc #loki x y/n #star wars #writeblr

[scribeofmorpheus]

Going through some serious writers block, so I’ll be cashing in a ‘hiatus’ token till further notice. Stay warm and healthy out there guys. See you guys soon!

#scribescribbles #hiatus

[scribeofmorpheus]

Hello!

Okay, so understatement of the year would be me starting off by saying, “It’s been a hell of a year and it’s barely half-way through!” but that is the truth of it. 2020 has been tiring and tedieous and downright mentally exhausting.

Taking a break from writing last year to focus on academics was a good decision and now that I’m re-settled and feeling, somewhat, more creatively inspired, I’m hoping to start getting back into the swing of things.

My goal right now is to start small. So there’ll be sporadic updates here and there to some fics, some may stay frozen in the tundras forever, but mostly I’d just like to open up communique again and see if any of my OG friends are still active and how they’ve been.

♥♥♥

#scribescribbles #scribe is back #writeblr

[scribeofmorpheus]

Sorry on the slow updates guys, been busy with a few fingers in different pies...never understood this saying honestly WHY WOULD YOU PUT A FINGER IN A PIE? I’ll try and get some updates to you tomorrow.

#updates #fic update #scribescribbles

[scribeofmorpheus]

Sorry for the long quiet period, compiling a portfolio for my masters application has proved...mentally draining (doesn’t help that I had to do so while fighting burn out).

Anyway, I plan to wrap up all my loose ends and free myself from academic work by November. Which means more fic updates! And perhaps that first chapter of my WIP.

#scribescribbles #hiatus #update

[scribeofmorpheus]

Warm Amber Hue

First Spooktober Challenge Request!

For: @500daysofbecky​

Words: 1.3k | Warnings: None

Note: Süsser is a German term of endermeant that means “Sweet/My Sweet”.

A/N: I know spooktober is over (though as long as the leaves turn sienna or blood-ornage, it is still spooky season imo) but I decided to do this late and let’s just pretend I have good time management skills.

The crunch of the leaves spread across your driveway had turned softer, quieter. The weather was no longer warm and the air no longer felt dry and pollen infused. Autumn had settled and changed the colours of the leaves into a sunset’s palette.

Something was bewitching about your secluded cabin built for two during this season. It seemed almost like a relic preserved out of time, away from the loud noises of cars and sondering city dwellers. Secluded and intimate was just how you liked it.

Your trip to the farmers market had been fruitful to the point that your arm ached from carrying the heavy wicker basket all the way from the town square. With a relieved sigh, you were glad to finally be back in your cabin. The first things to go off were your shoes, then your scarf and jacket and finally, your gloves.

“Erik?” you called out into the quaint space.

The fireplace had logs burning to chase the bite of the chilly breeze and several candles had been lit for some time considering the puddle of melted wax threatening to put out the candle wicks. Erik was definitely home, but the place was eerily silent.

You unpacked the fruit, bread and cheese and headed out to Erik’s favourite spot behind the house, next to the woods. The hammock where Erik would spend most of his time reading was swinging –empty– with the wind. The wind chimes made sweet music of their own while leaves glided over the polished surfaces of the twin rocking chairs that faced the sunset. The padlock locking the entrance to your barn-turned-studio was untouched.

Erik was nowhere to be seen.

A part of you worried, the other part of you kept thinking of places to check.

“Where could he be?” you pondered.

Then a lightbulb went off in your head and you made your way to the only other place left he could be: the gazebo.

Erik had built the gazebo from the ground up with his own hands. Woodworking had become therapeutic for him, he would always say that building something with his own hands was always fulfilling. He had asked you to dance in the starlight when he had finished constructing the gazebo. That night had been perfect, filled with wine and music and more…

At the centre of the gazebo were two metal garden chairs and a table with a chess set laid out. The chess pieces looked different. Erik always played black and you remembered the bishop being in a different position last week. He must have played a move, but he only ever played with one opponent. That meant Charles had been by. The implication of a visit from Charles filled your belly with dread.

“Erik,” there was a hint of sadness in the softness of your voice.

You picked up the king chess piece and squeezed it in your hand.

He had promised you. He couldn’t even wait to say goodbye.

You slumped into the metal garden chair and placed the king back in his place, the pads of your finger tilting at the cross apex until the piece clamoured over.

“Y/N?” Erik’s familiar cadence startled you.

He looked worried upon seeing your wistful expression, placing the logs of freshly cut timber down on the wet moss. He walked over in quick strides, a knot forming on his forehead as he knelt down and placed his hands on your knees.

“What’s wrong, Süsser?” he asked, peering his godly blue eyes at you.

You always smiled when he called you by your pet name, there was something different in his voice whenever he said it. Something equal parts passion and possession, almost as though you were his own personal saint that he loved to revere.

“It’s nothing,” you placed your cold fingers on his cheek. He was flush from chopping wood no doubt. His body heat felt heavenly to your icy skin. Erik shivered but didn’t move, instead, he leaned into your hand and lifted your downcast chin with his thumb and forefinger.

“Tell me.”

“It’s nothing… really. I just- I thought…” you glanced at the chess table and he knew instantly what had crossed your mind.

His eyelids drooped slightly, a tightness forming around his jaw, “You thought I left you.”

“Yes,” you answered, your eyes focusing on the growing knot on Erik’s forehead.

He looked up at you again and there was a sincerity in how vulnerable he looked. The mighty Magneto, heralded as liberator or villain depending on who you asked, had never looked so fragile and human in your eyes until this simple moment.

“I promised you I would never leave,” he whispered. “Nothing good ever comes from my intervening. The world doesn’t need me.”

You gave a weak half-smile, “Charles has a way of changing your mind.”

Erik placed a chaste kiss on your palms, lacing his fingers with yours so they were one, “He did come by, yes. And we got to playing chess, but when he finally asked what he wanted to ask of me, I refused.”

His confession surprised you.

“What if it was important?” you asked, feeling a little guilty.

Erik chuckled, a dangerous edge to the darkness of it, “With Charles… it always is. But he has his army and I want nothing but peace and quiet…”

He leaned forward and kissed your lips tenderly. When you opened your eyes again, Erik was all you could see.

He placed your hand over his chest so you could feel his heart thrumming with glorious life, his heartbeat was strong and faster than it should have been. He was letting you in, completely. His heart was at your mercy and the touch of your hand on his chest made him swallow loudly.

He whispered intimately, “And I want you. That’s enough for me. You’re enough for me.”

“Erik,” you nearly whimpered as tears welled around the edges of your eyes. “You have always been enough for me, but you aren’t just Erik Lehnsherr, you’re more than that to so many people. The world will always find a reason to take you away from me.”

“That may be true, but I’m not alone anymore. I have you. And you and Erik Lehnsherr go as a package deal. Same goes for Magneto.”

“But—“

“It’s more than that,” his face turned serious again, one hand stretching out to the other garden chair beside you both. A sliver of thin metal unwound itself from the delicate woven pattern of the chair. It hovered towards Erik’s other hand that held your left hand. Slowly, the thin metal snaked gently around your ring finger and moulded itself into a spiralling band.

When he was done, Erik looked back up at you expectantly an unasked question hanging in the air.

Your bottom lip quivered.

“You’ve shown me what love can feel like,” he began. “Now it’s my turn to show you just how deeply I’ve fallen for you. If you’ll let me.”

It wasn’t traditional and calling it spontaneous would be an understatement, but the underlying question hidden beneath Erik’s words didn’t seem ill-thought-out or brought on in the spur of the moment. From the look on his face and the slouch of his shoulders, you could tell this had been on his mind for a while. It was the type of thing that could crush him where he knelt and he gave you the power to decide.

You knew instantly what your answer was.

Marriage was never something you contemplated often, but a forever with Erik certainly was.

“Yes,” you said happily.

A youthful smile crept over his face, his teeth in full view as he laughed triumphantly before he picked you up and pressed you close in a joyous hug.

Autumn had come. With it was the promise of change. It marked the time when your life would never be the same again.

 The End!

Permatags: @gruffle1​ @thechickvic​ @notawarriorjustyet​ @savethehoneeybees​ @bookish-shristi​ @electroma89​

#erik lensherr imagine #magneto imagine #erik lensherr x reader #magneto x reader #reader insert #request #scribescribbles #xmen #x men

[scribeofmorpheus]

Hey loves! I just made a twitter profile for this blog, so if you’re active there, I’ll be posting updates every time a new series chapter is up and you can ask me stuff and tag me in stuff, basically a more social oriented account.

Follow me @MimiSometimes on Twitter

(it was supposed to be MimiWritesSometimes but Twitter be twittering!)

I’ll follow back and start posting there soon! :)

#scribescribbles #blog update

[scribeofmorpheus]

Hey, so in the midst of my mad flurry of inspiration and postings, I’ve decided to make a wattpad account for an original story I’ve been working on for quite some time. 

I haven’t posted anything yet, but if you like not so obvious werewolves; sorta-vampires; mediums; cults; small, eerie towns in the 70′s and the unheimlich as a genre, then just reply to this post so I can tag you all when the story starts rolling out. ☻♥

There will be romance of course, because what great gothic tale never has romance? Homoerotic bonds of friendship? Mayhaps also,,,

Thanks to everyone who likes and reads and comments on my stories. Your praise and glee from reading is one of the main reasons I keep coming back to writing.

#original work #writeblr #coming soon #scribescribbles

[scribeofmorpheus]

Hey guys!

Sorry for me going AWOL for a bit. I know I promised I’d continue several of my fics, and if I’m honest, I thought I’d have finished my limited run ones by now. Anyway, Uni is getting kinda stressful in the final stretch and my mental health hasn’t been up to par.

I want to continue writing because it was something I love doing, and I like to think my writing improved along the way, but it’s become very difficult for me to find a moment where I’m inspired and not exhausted.

I will be back to posting (soon?), but I just wanted to let all the amazing people on here know that I miss writing for you, I will be back and I hope you have an amazing year.

#scribescribbles #hiatus

[scribeofmorpheus]

masterlist

< <

< < One Shots > >

Beignet, Done That (Jake Jensen x Reader) ~In which Jake tries and succeeds at giving you one hell of a surprise, all while setting the kitchen ablaze! (One Shot)

Shirts are for Sharing (Cisco Ramon x Reader) -One Shot

A Princess for Halloween (Cisco Ramon x Reader) -One Shot

Sparring Match (Sara Lance x Fem!Reader) -One Shot

< < ONGOING > >

As Fate Would Have It (1940’s Bucky Barnes x Reader) ~ The year is 1940 and your cover is as a waitress working at a Regular Joe Diner. However, things begin to change when a handsome, dark-haired and blue-eyed stranger walks into your place of work with his friend of small stature who possesses a mighty heart. 

Dangerous Liaisons (Billy Russo x Reader) NSFW ~Blackmail, deceit and death are around every corner as a former military prosecutor tries to bring justice to those whose lives were ruined by the revelation behind The Punisher’s one-man war!

I Don’t Dance To Dubstep (A Deadpool Fic) ~The one where Wade and Cable steal a contract that gets them entangled with a mercenary in desperate need of rent money -while causing an overly large amount of unnecessary destruction!

Himmeløyne (Loki x Reader) ~ What does a Norse trickster god, a village massacre, a life long secret and a now-forgotten past have in common? Nothing, except for the young witch at the centre of it all, with the eyes that change with the sky. -being reworked (edited).

The Liberators (A spin-off of Counterpart) -coming soon!

Pirouette (Bodyguard!Bucky x Reader) -Prologue is live.

< < SUSPENDED > >

Opposing Elements (Peter Parker x Reader) - In which the reader is an alternate version of Marvel’s Black Cat, AKA Felicia Hardy, and their origin story gets tied up with their former best friend, Peter Parker’s alter ego Spider-Man when she plans to jailbreak her father from prison.       (3 Parts)

< < One Shots > >

Glass House (Quentin Beck | Mysterio x Reader)

Master of Illusion (Quentin Beck | Mysterio x Reader) -NSFW*

Sleepytime, Aurora (A Sleeping Beauty spoof fic) -Strange, Loki and Wanda are fairy godparents. Hela is Maleficent!

< < COMPLETE > >

Counterpart (Bucky x Reader x Steve) ~A limited series that poses a what if scenario on account of our beloved characters being someone different in the Framework -where Hydra won and SHIELD is considered the enemy of society. (5 Parts)

Chasing Tornadoes (Stephen Strange x Reader) -Medical procedural limited series set before Doctor Strange.

< < ONGOING > >

The Just Kings Court (Adult! Edmund Pevensie x Reader) ~A common shield maiden pledged to Aslan’s army, a Just King and the unlikeliest of love stories occurs on the battlefields of Narnia (2 Parts -Ongoing)

< < ONGOING > >

The Rebel Queen (Poe Dameron x OFC) ~A Princess on the run with a mission left to her by her late mother, a Duchess out for blood, a hot-shot pilot at his wits end and a General who receives a message from an old friend collide in a skirmish like no other.

The Hideous One (The Mandalorian fic)

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Banner Girl (Steve Harrington x Reader) -One Shot

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His Girl Tuesday (Steve Harrington x (oc)Tuesday Adams x Billy Hargrove) -slow updates!

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Safe By My Side (Dean Winchester x Reader) -One Shot

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Mark of the Wolf (Derek Hale x Reader) ~An ancient evil, repressed memories and a veterinarian -who isn’t at all what she seems- turns Derek’s life upside down, and perhaps it’s for the better!  

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Covet of the Wolf - A sequel to Mark of the Wolf

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Core Drive (Westworld) -Ongoing

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Animaux Fantastiques (Theseus Scamander x OFC) -Only on AO3

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Reflections by the Water (Newt X Plus Size Reader) -Maze Runner One Shot

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[scribeofmorpheus]

Himmeløyne [1/?]

Pairing: Loki Odinson x Reader

Words: 4995 | Warnings: Violence | Translations in Italics

A/N: So I’ve had this fic in my WIP’s for like a year now. I wanted to finish the rest of my projects before starting this one, but... Oh well! The dialogue is in Norwegian but this is strictly for the opening chapter because it sets the scene and I didn’t anticipate how much work it would be to try and write in two languages. My translations are a bit shoddy! Like and Reblog, and don’t be shy to ask to be tagged!

NOTE: Thanks to the amazing @mejohanssonwrites for helping me with the translations! I have made slight alterations to the Norwegian dialogue and I cannot express how much I appreciate someone taking time to help me and my little blog along! You the best xx.

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~Trønsberg, Norway 1065AD -A Hundred Years after the Battle of Tønsberg

A glimmer of magnificent colours spilt through a hole in the sky. When the glass like visage ended, a man dressed in glimmering armour -adorned with a two-horned helmet and a sweeping cape- stood at the centre of a runic pattern that had been scorched into the earth.

In one hand he held a stave and in the other, an ornate box carved from wood. There was a small symbol carved into the box: eight arms spread outward from a circular focal point.

With a shimmer of brilliant light, the man’s otherworldly clothes dissipated, only to be replaced by humble rags. The man stepped away from the cliff face, making his way downhill to what appeared to be a small fishing village.

~Trønsberg, Norway 1265AD

You and your mother lived in seclusion, away from the rest of your Nordic tribe. Your little stone and wood hut was built close to the village cliff face, overlooking the frosty glazed tundra’s -a view you had spent hours marvelling at since childhood.

You loved spending hours imagining trekking up those dangerous snow-covered slopes in order to get to the summit where, in your mind, you would shout out to the heavens and the stars and they, in turn, would hear you and thunder back words of praise and acknowledgement.

Your life was a hard one. Everything you had, from the furs you slept on to the fish you ate, you had either earned through hard sweat or fought for.

This life, this simplistic life, was not for everyone. This hard life had calloused your hands, making it so they would not bleed as easily, and it had worked your legs to the point you could fortify yourself when a sword crashed against your shield. Barely into your mid-twenties and your life had already sharpened you to a bleeding edge. You were a survivor, but you were also an outsider since birth.

Your mother was a crone, one blessed with foresight. Her abilities presented themselves when she read the future in the raven bones and spoke in tongues as a conduit to the stars. Many respected and feared her. They believed her to be a sign of divine intervention, declaring her a blessed one -proof that the heavens were not empty and Odin looked down on you all.

As will all power that evokes otherness, with such important responsibility came a deep reverence. Worse yet, a stigma. Despite being a part of the tribe, the both of you were also apart from the tribe.

Being one from her blood, you had inherited an ability all your own, though it was much weaker. It presented itself as a sixth sense. Beginning with a tingle that would rush up your spine and then finishing with the draining of blood from your cheeks. On restless days, dark days, your blood would sometimes turn to ice in your veins, prompting shivers to chatter at your teeth. It was an early warning system, a deeply disturbing sense that warned when danger was near. Where your mother read raven bones, your body fortold of the rising of a bad omen.

These abilities usually affording you some fearful glances, sometimes coupled with rigid nods of respect. Everyone in the village kept a safe distance from you and your mother, unless they sought you out of their own volition seeking guidance and sage counsil.

However, this wasn't all that was special about your bloodline -about you. As odd as it seemed in face of premonition and foresight, what stood out about the women in your family was the colour of their eyes. The colour of your eyes.

Azure was the colour of your eyes. The colour of the sky, clear and strikingly bright. It was this notable trait that afforded the women of your family the title of Himmel Kvinner; Women of the Sky -even though it was a title sparsely used. Instead, your family had adopted the name Himmeløyne. But your eyes were different than the women of your family, just slightly. A ring of gold enveloped your iris. It had an odd behaviour to it. some days it shimmered and glowed like something otherworldly, almost molten. Dancing as though the gold was alive with wondrous secrets.

Your mother used to say she could see the whole universe in your eyes. Something you shared with your father. A man you never knew. But that wasn't all he had bestowed upon you. You didn't resemble many of your kin with skin less fair and hair less tame. Whenever you asked your mother about him she would say he came from the heavens and that he had loved her an eternities worthwhile in a mortals world. She had told you he was quiet and stoic, a man whose truest thoughts were never spoken aloud but realised with his gaze alone.

The day began like any other. You had spent the early mornings fishing by the stream, and once you had scaled and cleaned the fish you went on your way to gather wood for the fires. While wondering the woods you ran into a familiar group of curious children who made sure to keep a good distance between you and them.

Like hunters eyeing a prized elk, they followed you from one edge of the woods to another, tittering from delight at getting to steal a glance of your face. On occasion, you would let the children get close before scaring them with playful shouts. They would scream and run for cover behind large tree trunks, shivering one instant only for laughter to follow abruptly afterwards. It was a secret game you played with them. A game you hoped would allow them to grow out of their fear of you. As a child, you had hated being seen as the witch in the woods. Children could be mean, and fear could be a terrible teacher. An unpleasant memory from those years and the scar above your brow ensured you'd never forget the power fear could have over people.

As you bent down to pluck some wildflowers growing next to a berry thicket, you heard the voices of several men making their way into the village from a successful hunt. Cautiously, you ducked low, hiding behind the thicket -not because you were afraid they'd see you, but because you wanted to know what they talked about when they weren't aware of your presence.

"I kveld skal vi spise som konger!" One of the hunters exclaimed proudly.

Tonight, we shall feast like kings!

"Ikke hvis Olav får hendene på villsvinet først! Han er større enn Inger! Og hun spiser for to! " Another said with a hearty laugh.

Not if Olav gets his hands on the boar first! He's larger than Inger! And she's eating for two!

You recognised who they were talking about. Olav was the chief's oldest son, as well as his burliest. Even though you'd never been invited to a banquet, your mother had, and from what you knew from her stories, the hunter's rendition of Olav was spot on. Feeling courageous, you peeked over the thicket until your nose tickled the line of leaves where the bush stopped.

"Ja, men han gjør absolutt ingenting! Han bare spiser og driter. Vedder på at han ikke klarer å få’n opp for kona!" The tallest of the hunters said, his hand rubbing at his groin mockingly.

Yes, because he does absolutely nothing! All he does is eat and shit! I bet he can't even get it up for his wife!

The hunters laughed.

A stout hunter with braided red hair turned and huffed at the joke, his tone slightly wistful, "Hva jeg ville gitt for å stikke den i henne." He sighed as though he were some forlorn lover.

What I would give to stick it to her.

The rest of the men playfully slapped his back and bellowed in laughter.

With the hunters now ahead of you, you decided to sneak after them. Their strange comradery and energy drawing you near them. You wanted to hear more, to see more, to know what it was like to live with them, not just near them.

"Forsiktig nå, Bjørn, sånn som du holder på kommer du til å bli far til halve landsbyen!" The youngest hunter teased.

Careful Bjørn, at this rate you'll father half the village!

The red-haired hunter -Bjørn- grumbled something like an insult and stomped over to the younger, smaller hunter. He looked as though he were about to throw his fists at the blonde boy, but instead, he wrangled him in a headlock and ruffled his short curls roughly. The young hunter protested against Bjørn's large arms, but his grip seemed impregnable. The rest of the men laughed as they watched their two friends tousle about.

You gasped in shock, setting your half stocked basket on the ground and trotting near a large tree to get a better peak. A scamper of tiny feet sounding out behind you.

After a few tumbles on the ground, the younger hunter finally yielded and tapped Bjørn's arms, "Jeg gir opp! Jeg gir opp!"

I give up! I give up!

Bjørn released his grip and staggered to his feet. Patting the young hunter with a satisfied grin on his face, "Ikke alle kan være like kjekk som deg, Baldrick. Det er derfor vi har stygge sønner; for at du ikke skal stjele alle damenes hjerter."

Not all of us can be as pretty as you, Baldrick! That's why we have to have ugly sons to keep you from stealing all the women's hearts!

"Ja, ja!" Baldrick sighed in annoyance. His cheeks were red with defeat. He kicked the dirt around him as the men continued their trek.

Yes, yes!

That had been enough excitement for the day. You stood out from behind the tree and went to retrieve your basket. As you picked your basket and turned to leave, your foot stepped on a twig and the crunching snap it made echoed around you. You gulped, afraid that maybe the hunters had heard you. A thought that was instantly confirmed when the sound of their laughter and banter faded behind you. Surrounded by dead silence, you remembered something your mother had said when she had caught you stealing berries from the winter stores, "Hvis du ser skyldig ut, er du skyldig. Selv om du ikke er det."

If you look guilty, then you are guilty. Even if you aren't.

So, you straightened your spine, relaxed your eyes and pulled a sweet smile across your face, turning to face the men as though they had been the ones to disturb your walk. You tilted your head slightly and strolled to another patch of wildflowers.

The men gave you a nod out of courtesy and continued walking, albeit much quieter than before. You noticed the youngest hunter -Baldrick- sneak defiant looks your way, smiling more and more each time. When you smiled back, he beamed with a toothy grin that he tried to hide from the rest of his company. You felt your cheeks begin to grow hot and you didn't understand why.

The sound of children giggling behind you alerted you to the fact your little friends had returned. Feeling a little mischievous, you hooked an eyebrow up and turned swiftly in an effort to spook them.

"Raaaaah!" You shouted.

The kids screamed just as expected and scattered away from you with bubbly laughter. You watched them run to the group of hunters.

A young lass, around four or five, stopped for a moment to give you a clumsy wave.

You paused, holding your breath.

That was the first time anyone had regarded you so openly... so warmly. When the child waved at you, there was no fear in her eyes, only genuine happiness.

Reluctantly, you smiled back at her, slowly picking up your arm to wave back. When Baldrick looked back, possibly to sneak another look, he saw the young girl standing still and waving at you, his grin returning. He held out his hand and called after the little girl, "Sigrid, kom."

Sigrid, your smile grew. That was your mother’s name.

The little girl was ushered out of her daze and trotted after Baldrick, taking his large hands into her two small ones. Soon the group of children and hunters disappeared from your line of sight and you began to make your way back home with the supplies you gathered. All the while, an odd feeling began to settle inside your stomach. It made your nerves tingle and your spine shiver.

When the sun was at its peak, you had decided to go down to your favourite cavern. There was a hidden hot spring there and you were in need of a bath. As you were preparing your satchel with the necessary herbs for aroma, your mother walked into the hut with a worrying expression on her face.

"Mor er alt okay?" You asked her with worry clearly showing on your usually stoic face.

Mother, is everything okay?

The lines on your mothers face creased as she smeared on a pained smile, her eyes on you but her thoughts elsewhere. She placed a reassuring hand on your cheek and a warm kiss on your forehead.

"Ja, kjære, alt kommer til å ordne seg ,"she said softly before she took her leave and sat on the furs by the fire. The embers casting bright colours onto her aged face in a splendid kaleidoscopic show.

Yes, my daughter. Everything will be alright.

There was that feeling gnawing at your stomach again. It made you unsteady and lightheaded. The world seemed to tilt about like a boat swaying helplessly against the unforgiving waves of the sea. It was the feeling of dread. The feeling of a bad omen approaching.

Thinking yourself simply more wired than usual, you had cast those unwelcome feelings aside. You took solace in the fact your mother had shown no signs of fear, only distraction. And if the crone of the village was not in a panic, then there was no reason for her daughter to be.

She took out her black leather pouch filled with raven bones and runes and tossed them onto the floor. As her slender, wrinkly digits hovered over the bones, you caught a glimpse of the Ægishjalmar branded onto her forearm. A brand you now bore too. You asked her once what its purpose was, why it was carved into the door of your house, all she said was that it protected the source of your power. A rite of passage.

With your mother focused on the task at hand, you thought it best to leave her be. Now was not the time for interruption, not while she was summoning her powers of foresight.

You grabbed your stave and an extra cover of furs as you made your way out of the hut. Before you were out of earshot, you heard your mother whisper to herself once more, " Ja, kjære, alt kommer til å ordne seg..."

It was a steep climb to get up to the cavernous space where the hot spring was hidden. Not many knew of it, which meant it was the perfect place to be alone with your thoughts. As you made the climb, something strange occurred, a powerful surge rippled below your feet, shaking the trees and the dirt around you. In the distance, a bright blue light flashed. It came from the same direction as your home. When you looked back to get a better view, you were relieved to see nothing amiss. Still, something felt odd.

It must have been my imagination, you thought when everything had returned to normal. You kept on your way.

Once inside the dimly illuminated cave, you stripped off your clothes and poured a handful of herbs and essences into the bath waters to fill the air with the sweet yet earthy smell that you loved. You then slid your aching body into the waters, letting the heat untangle all the knots and tightness from your muscles. With heavy lidded eyes, your fingers tracing the lines of your brand absentmindedly.

The silence in the cave was almost euphoric. The feeling of letting all worries and burdens go turning you lighter than air -retirement from the uneasy feeling that had been slowly building inside you all day. Before long you had lost yourself in that feeling and you fell asleep within the waters. You would not awaken until your skin pruned and the aurora touched the evening sky. Realising just how much time had passed, you grew nervous and began to hastily gather your things.

"Mor vil bli misfornøyd," you whispered to yourself knowingly.

Mother won't be happy.

Just before you reached the exit of the cave, something green and bright caught your attention. You followed after it, unable to ignore the urge to know what it was. When you got close enough to see, you realised it was a snake. Small and unthreatening.

It had curled itself into a knot, unable set itself loose. Its scales were the most brilliant shade of green you had ever seen. Darker than the pine forests to the south of your village, yet somehow, also brighter than the summer grass that grew on the lower fjelds.

Without much thought for your own wellbeing, you picked up the snake and helped it uncoil itself. It's slippery form twisting itself playfully around your open palms. You let out a soft laugh as you watched the colours from the night sky dance and bound off its shiny scales as though it were made of crystals.

"Du er så vakker, lille grønn," you told the snake, knowing full well it did not understand the common tongue.

You are so beautiful, little green.

The snake uncharacteristically lifted its head and stared straight into your eyes. Its eyes seemed to mesmerise you because you had lost all sense of time. Sound had been blocked out of your ears and all light had been leeched away from your vision, leaving only the bluish-green colour of the snake’s eyes in your vision.

It wasn't until you heard a thunderous noise echo through the cavern that you broke free from the trance. Fear and panic once again took root in your stomach as you scurried to race after the sounds of screams and battle cries and shields breaking.

The snake tightened its grip on your hands. It was terribly strong for such a small, inconsequential creature. You mustered all your strength and pooled it around your bound hands. The snake's scales cracked and strained against the tension.

The sounds of the battle in the distance grew lower and lower with each passing moment. Your mind kept going back to that look on your mother's face and the last words she spoke before you left.

Ja, kjære, alt kommer til å ordne seg.

You fought against the snake's grip even harder. Twisting and turning your wrists and arms and elbows, trying to find an opening. It felt futile.

Another thunderous crash echoed through the cavern and this time the screams that followed were louder.

Who did those screams belong to? Was it the pretty faced Baldrick who made your cheeks flush earlier? Perhaps it was the stout and burly, Bjørn wielding his trusty axe as he rushed forward with a resounding battle cry.

Your heart was racing, your palms sweating and your chest constricting.

What was happening in your village? Were you under attack? Was your mother safe?

All you knew was that you needed to stop speculating and find a way to loosen the snake’s hold of you. Almost as though your unspoken desires had been heard y the gods, the snake's grip seemed to be falter. Using anger and fear to fuel your strength, your muscles broke free from its coiled form. However your freedom came at a price. The snake had opened its jaws, extended its fangs and sunk them into your flesh. Warm venom oozing into your veins like honey.

If the venom was poisonous you couldn't tell. Not just as yet. You threw the snake back where you had picked it from and raced back out of the cavern. You ran down the slope as you saw grey smoke crawl over the treeline. You raced passed the trees, seeing a myriad of broken shields and bloodied snow. Ash grew thicker and hotter the closer you got to the village. An ember flew into your eye and scorched it. Ignoring the pain, you kept racing passed the longhouse where you saw the entire village afire.

For as far as the eye could see lifeless bodies covered the white snowy ground, blood and soot turning it a sludgy consistency. They appeared to be struck down by frostbitten wounds. Your mind went numb, unable to process the carnage and death spread out across your feet. Sagging and limp, your body began to grow heavy. It was unclear whether it wwas from the venom or seeing this horror unfolding around you. 

Shrouded by the wall of flames, you saw giant men wielding jagged swords that looked nothing like steel. Their weapons buried themselves within the helpless villagers you had once wished to have known better. You clenched your fists, fighting the urge to turn to stone in the very spot.

You had to keep going.

As you forced your legs to work, you instinctively began to search the faces of the scattered bodies in the snow; searching for all the faces you had grown to know the names of. You held your breath in anticipation of the sorrow that would follow once you saw their faces. Would it hurt more than what you felt now? Could it? After all, even if you never broke bread with any one of them, or traded jokes after a day’s work, they were still your people and you were one of them. You always had been. And now… Now they were all dead. When everything seemed to be at its bleakest, a spark of hope lit up inside you. Maybe, just maybe, not all of them were dead.

You raced to the edge of the cliff face where your hut was. Your legs beginning to waver and shake helplessly. When you got over the hill between the village and your hut, your blood went cold as you helplessly watched your house burn to the ground. A scream rippled out from your lungs, piecing the eerie quiet that now hung over your village.

Utterly defeated, you fell to your knees. The venom began to take effect, making its way into your heart. Your arm clenched around your left breast as the world began to spin around you. Your vision blurred over and your body felt like a sack of potatoes falling onto the soft snow.

Ja, kjære, alt kommer til å ordne seg...

As you began to lose consciousness, a giant with blue skin walked towards you. He looked upon your chest and when he realised you still drew breath, he raised his sword and buried it into your right lung. When he removed it from its temporary home, a pool of blood spurt from your body as you felt your lung fill with your own blood, drowning you from the inside-out.

The pain was beyond excruciating, but somehow it was nothing compared to the feeling of loss that clung to your entire body.

Your head rolled lifelessly to the side. Unable to close your eyelids, you were forced to watch in eternal silence as the flames continued to devour your home. Your lungs were on the verge of collapsing when, suddenly, a beautiful collage of striking colours rained down around you. It was like being under a melting rainbow. And despite the fact the tips of your fingers were bluer than they had ever been, you felt warm.

Memories came to life around you. The image of you and your mother drinking ale beside the fire. The young girl, Sigrid, waving at you with a tender smile. The hunters laughing as they carried their boar to the village. You as a child with blood running down your face from where another child has thrown a rock at you. The green snake coiling around you.

And then… everything went black.

~HEIMDALL

Heimdall, the ever watchful eye, stood on his observation platform. His sword placed firmly within the bridges helm. As he watched over all nine realms he sensed strange activity on Midgard. He focused his sight, conjuring the dark magic’s to help him better see what was unfolding. When he saw the familiar wisp of Jotun magic leave its tell-tale tear within the seams of the universe, Heimdall's grip tightened around the hilt of his sword, his breathing turned purposeful.

The Frost Giants had travelled to Midgard, but Heimdall could not see where to. His sight was obscured by something, by another source of magic. Asgardian magic.

It was disconcerting, the fact he had never sensed this magical signature until now. It felt primaeval, ancient. Where ever it came from, it had managed to stay hidden for an unknowable amount of time.

Why is it making itself known now? He wracked his mind for answers it could not possibly have.

A garrison of royal guards came riding down the bifrost accompanying the Allfather and his youngest son, Loki.

"My King," Heimdall bowed as he still gripped the hilt of his sword.

"Heimdall, open the bifrost, the Jotun’s have attacked a village on Midgard," Odin ordered. Beside him, Loki rubbed his wrists, faint markings hidden beneath his long sleeves.

For all of Loki's cunning, Heimdall could tell that he was bothered by something. His eyes looked out into nothing, his presence whole fully distant from everything around him.

"But my King, I have seen no such attack," Heimdall said.

"But you felt it, yes?" Loki asked, his inquisitive eyes possessing knowledge he should not have, "The shift in the realms when they used their magic to travel to Midgard?"

Heimdall eyed the dark prince with a weary expression. "Yes…" was all he said before he sheathed his sword completely into the hilt at the eye of the bifrost and turned it clockwise.

The bridge between realms ripped the seams of the universe open and trailed a path of magnificent colours down to Midgard.

Odin and his guard stepped through, but he had not permitted the young prince to follow. Heimdall watched quietly as the young prince paced from one corner of the room to the next. His eyes squinted in deep thought while his eyebrows furrowed in silent anger. Every now and again, Loki would rub absentmindedly at his bruised wrists. Soon the All-Father returned and the bridge reopened.

Odin's head hung low, his eyes weary. The smell of smoke clung to his cloak. He looked to his son with what seemed to be regret and then he looked upon Heimdall's face. His face spoke volumes without uttering a single word. With a heavy hand placed on Heimdall's shoulder, he finally said: "Close the bifrost."

When the last of the Kings Guard crossed through, he did as his king commanded. Heimdall noticed one of the guards carried a young human woman in his arms, wrapped in the Allfather's cloak, barely alive. Her light was fading and her life would soon be forfeit. Heimdall felt his magic warded off by her own.

She was the one who had obscured his vision. Something about her felt familiar.

"Get her to the healers," Odin ordered his guards. They complied with no delays. In his peripheral, Heimdall noticed Loki let out a breath of relief as a small smile fought to make itself known. He hid it beneath a clenched jaw.

Heimdall had an uneasy feeling about this.

As soon as the girl was removed from his vicinity, the shroud that obscured part of Heimdall’s sight disappeared for good and it was like his eyes had been reopened.

Then he saw it.

The destruction previously unknown to him. All the carnage, the death… It was sickening. The soldier in him felt it was his fault, like he had failed in his duties to protect all those people.

"No," was all he had the strength to say as sorrow filled his eyes and he sunk to one knee, staying anchored only by the grip he had on his sword.

~ODIN

"Will she live?" Odin demanded to know from the healers.

They were looking over the young woman’s body, a curtain of gold hovering around her as they tried to heal the wound caused by a Frost Giant's blade.

"It is too early to tell. It is unheard of for a human to survive such injuries, but we found traces of a paralytic in her body. It appears the venom slowed her heart rate and kept her alive long enough for you to bring her here for healing," the head healer informed the All-Father as she bowed respectively and took her leave to join the other healers.

Frigga joined his side, a look of wonder on her face. "There was much commotion in the palace today. Everyone is whispering about the human their king brought with him from Midgard." Her lips parted in question as she brushed her hands over her husband’s arm.

"That girl, I sense something powerful about her. She may yet survive this," Frigga said softly before turning her head to look upon Odin's face. "And you, my husband, what troubles you so?"

Odin slowly blinked his one eye, a weak smile on his lips, "Nothing you need worry about." He said before placing a kiss to her knuckles.

"Your proud brow says otherwise," she pressed, running a finger along the lines of his forehead. "Tell me."

Odin sighed, "The Jotun’s… they attacked Midgard. Loki, he- they almost discovered the location of the tesseract."

"The girl, “Frigga took a deep breath, "That's why Heimdall couldn't see the attack. She's one of them isn't she?"

Odin glanced at the unconscious woman hovering in the air, "She is the last."

One of the healers made her way towards the Allfather, her expression grave, "Allfather, Queenmother… There is something you should know. The girl, she's- she's not entirely human." 

 <<Chapter Two>>

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#Loki Laufeyson #loki odinson #loki x reader #reader insert #marvel imagines #loki imagine #loki imagines #tom hiddleston #thor #asgard #Himmeløyne fic #scribescribbles #loki #marvel fic #some norwegian dialogue for the dual linguist in me