#I’ve never gone after anyone unprovoked

[theorangerangers]

How do you feel about the JaviAmelia shippers who hate on OllieAmelia (and Ollie in general)? For me, I think it's kind of silly and we should respect each other's ships/faves even if they aren't for us

I do think we should respect each other’s ships but I would be lying if I said the actions of some Javiamelia shippers haven’t left a sour taste in my mouth. I had someone attack me on a post I made about having a feeling about Amelia and Ollie being cannon as well as quite few people thinking it was appropriate to slide into my DMs about it. Ollie is almost a modern Connor in my eyes, (everyone knows a jerk like this in real life and generally he is also receiving the same character arch as Connor did). I like Ollie a lot he reminds me of my dad for all the good and bad that comes from a guy who told me that ‘it’s only multi variable calculus, it should be easy’ (it wasn’t but I still love him even if he wasn’t too happy with my B-). He’s also really really funny in the context of a show that fully acknowledges mystic force happened in a way similar to Preston believing in magic. I think we should make some fun of him but no more than any other ranger because also it’s a bit like how everyone hated on Dax in Operation Overdrive but when I rewatch, sure I cringe a little but he’s still fun in his own right. There’s a difference between making some light hearted ribbing at a character’s expense and then just whatever’s been going on with some of the Javi x Amelia shippers.

Generally though I didn’t care about Javi x Amelia either way I just figured it was different but nothing else about it until people attacked me just just reading into the subtext of a children’s show which since it for children normally follows a predictable plot. after that even just seeing that ship made me feel rotten inside and I’ve done my best to block it since it’s not the ship it’s self that’s ever made me feel any type of way but the my way or the high way kind of shippers and the way they’ve made me connotate being yelled at online with their ship . As a veteran of the supernatural fandom I can easily say this is not the worst thing I have ever seen on tumblr but it feels different when people choose to call you a bad person just for making one post about a couple in a kids show that was very obvious from a story telling stand point since most of the time when they have two rangers pretend to be a couple early in the show they almost always end up cannon by the end so the psychic scene kinda gave it away for me. It’s a pattern we’ve seen multiple times in the show like with Shelby and Tyler and I thought it was kinda cute so I made a post which opened Pandora’s box of just unwarranted attacks.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with the ship and Ollie is a good character and I wouldn’t have him be replaced with anyone else on the show but the way the shippers feel the need to act sometimes does make me actively avoid it block it on all my socials. I don’t have a problem with anyone who ships anything or likes any character as long as they don’t come after me for liking something else or taking something I’ve made for my ship and turning it into something it isn’t to fit their views.

Frankly I only post as much Ollieamelia on my blog as I do now as a way to ward off more people like that. If you don’t like sand, stay out of the sandbox.

#power rangers #dino fury #I was bullied as a kid and didn’t really have many friends growing up and it lead to a lot of anger issues even now #so I really just don’t care for their attitudes #because they really just push my buttons #one of my main ways of dealing with things that makes me angry is just avoiding the people and things that remind me of them #so there’s nothing in my eyes wrong with Javi x Amelia it’s just anger inducing at times #not because of the ship but the shippers #like Pavlov’s dogs that ship is the bell for me sometimes #I’ve never gone after anyone unprovoked #there are times where I do wish I had stayed a lurker on this site because of these people #I have actively considered taking this whole blog down and removing everything from my AO3 because of them #getting rid of discord while I’m at it and just rebuilding from there #I want it to make me less angry though which is why I made that meme #because they should never have that kind of power over me while they hide behind a screen #i don’t owe anyone anything about any ship but if they can be civil I can civil #I am trying to be the bigger person by making that meme to show we do have something in common #it’s the same show we all like after all

[maponyo]

🐈‍⬛

tw: this is my first time actually posting anything i’ve written. i made these pretty late at night so i’m sorry if they’re bad i just wanted to write something. probably some spelling mistakes and stuff i didn’t feel like checking it throughly.

a/n: please be nice

personal

* i’ve mentioned this before but baji absolutely LOVES the yakuza game

* favorite one is yakuza 0 (definitely not because this is the only one i’ve watched so far🌚)

* john cena fanboy for absolutely no reason. has his theme as his ringtone

* number 1 baby metal fan. owns their merch and goes to every concert

* his favorite season is summer for obvious reasons but his favorite holiday is definitely christmas because he and mikey ride around with shin

* HATES horror movies. like nothing can convince this man to watch them. even the kiddie ones like goosebumps or scary stories to tell in the dark will have him act like the devil just touched his soul

* definitely the kind of guy to walk around with one lens in his glasses after a fight

* purposely named his bike cockroach knowing pah is afraid of them

* he used to hate his fangs when he was little because kids used to tease him and say he was a dog

* that was until he started saying he’d bite and give them rabies if they kept messing with him

* cannot grow facial hair to save his life

* judges people on how they interact with animals, specifically cats

* despite popular belief, i don’t think he would get any tattoos. he seems like a piercing guy and definitely cannot sit that long for a tattoo

* gave himself the alias edward because he used to watch twilight with his mom

* he even had a phase when he acted like a vampire but will vehemently deny and threaten anyone who dares to bring it up

* is lactose intolerant and just like many of us will eat dairy and instantly regret it as soon as it hits his stomach

* sometimes he feels insecure about the fact he was held back, all of his friends moving up while he’s left behind

* even though he has a reputation for committing arson and slightly unprovoked violence, keisuke is truly a model citizen☝🏽

* volunteers at shelters, helps the elderly, feeds the homeless, solves climate change. he truly is a saint and can do no wrong!

home life

* i like the idea that his mom was a teen mom and that his father was never really around and just stopped coming one day

* due to her job, his mom sometimes works really late or super early so over the years he’s learned to cook (the only good thing he can cook is yakisoba)

* on the nights he knows his mom will be back late he cooks her food and despite it not being the best she still loves it

* even though she works a lot the two of them are still very close and their favorite thing to do is read manga and watch mystery dramas whenever she’s off

* despite not knowing his dad(he only visited when he was a baby) he never felt insecure about it

* he’s a total mamas boy, and will fight anyone who says something about her

* when ryoko was younger, she wanted to have a lot of kids but after having keisuke she changed her mind. she felt it would be selfish to have so many kids when she works so much and after realizing how much of a handful he can be.

* despite that and having him at such a young age, keisuke was the best thing to ever happen to her and wouldn’t trade him or his wildness for the world.

relationship

* back on the yakuza point, whenever you’re sad he’ll grab a hair brush, turn up the radio and start singing 24-hour cinderella to you until his voice is gone

* when you guys get in a fight he’ll act like he’s in a 2000’s r&b mv and start singing bakamitai. chifuyu gets the hose to spray water above him, kazutora plays the music, and ryusei records the whole thing so baji can send it to you

* a biter, like what’s the point of him having those sharp ass teeth if he don’t try to take a chunk out of you

* whatever your favorite animal is, he’s gonna buy every single book about them so he can share little facts about it with you

* if you’re into a specific artist or group, he’ll listen to their whole discography and learn everything in the fandom

* becomes a horanghae enthusiast and will force you to be one as well

* just like he’s loyal to his friends and toman, he’s loyal to you

* like foreva togetha foreva LOCKED IN 🤞🏽

* a girl tries flirting with him and all of a sudden he’s hellen keller

* the type of boyfriend to say you’re too spoiled whoever you ask for something while doing said thing you requested

* will literally lift his ass off the seat while you’re sitting next to him and fart on you then blame it on you

* talm bout some ‘ew the hell did you eat’ like his diet doesn’t consist of yakisoba, monster energy drinks, and beef glizzies

* speaking of farts😸 keisuke will send pics of his shit to you asking if it looks normal

* will make fun of you if you’re lactose intolerant as if he don’t be upside down on the toilet fighting for his life

* is constantly in your personal space. like he’ll be standing behind you while you play like candy crush or best fiends mumbling about moves you can make. sometimes he’ll snatch your phone and play it himself

* what’s yours is his. mid chew on something he wants? he’s opening your mouth and popping it in his, no matter if it’s soggy

* absolutely loves giving and receiving hugs, being in your arms makes him feel safe and gives reassurance that despite all of his flaws you still love him

* stares at you with his mouth open, no matter what you’re doing or how you look his eyes are on you 24/7

* takes the absolute worst pictures of you on facetime and puts each one in his favorites until the end of time

* throws rocks at your window at like 4 in the morning knowing you both have school just so you can ride around with him until the sun comes up

* i feel like he’d totally like mellow down on the things he does. he doesn’t want to worry you while he’s away

* constantly checks up with you so you know he’s okay and not lying on the ground somewhere and dying 🌚

this is so scary bye 😭

#tokyo revengers #baji keisuke #keisuke baji #kittykei #tokyo revengers baji #tokrev #tokrev baji #tokyo revengers keisuke #tokyo revengers keisuke baji #baji hcs #tr baji #toman baji #baji keisuke x reader #baji x reader #baji fluff #bajikeisuke #baji x black!reader #baji #keisukebaji #tokrev baji keisuke #toman keisuke baji #toman baji keisuke #baji headcanons

[litsetaure]

Gellert’s ‘War with Muggles’ - what’s it really about??

(Okay, I will just say, if this is really incoherent and rambly, I’ve got a horrible headache and I’ve had a really bad week, but I needed to get this out; it might free up some headspace! I will also freely admit that ‘the history of Germany before WW2’ isn’t my strongest point, but anyway.)

So, apparently there’s some SoD artwork that mentions a year - 1932. Meaning the film is set in or around 1932, but that’s presumably the earliest it could be. Judging by some of the weather patterns we see (though, admittedly, this is a far from foolproof method of figuring out the time of year, especially with the ridiculousness that is the British weather), it looks like winter. Here’s where things get interesting though. I just checked for stuff that happens in around 1932-33…and, in January, 1933, Hitler is appointed German Chancellor. And he ran in the 1932 German presidential election.

Now, we know Gellert’s had a vision of WW2; we don’t know all the details of it, but it’s not implausible that he Saw something to do with Hitler, either then or later. And if he’s seen that maniac running for power, knowing what he could do, doesn’t it stand to reason that he might think ‘okay, enough is enough, this is war. That man needs to be stopped before he causes any more carnage.’

What’s interesting - or odd, really - about Gellert’s line ‘Our war with the Muggles begins today!’ (apologies if I misquoted it) is that, on the face of it, it sounds so unlike him. For one thing, we have never seen him attack anyone first. He’s never gone in unprovoked. Even in the station where he’s in disguise as Graves, it looks like he’s only using Shield Charms - and only reacted AFTER the first spell was cast. During the threeway duel, Aberforth attacked first. The Aurors killed the red haired witch at the rally - only then did he retaliate.

For another thing, we’ve seen that he appears to take no pleasure in senseless death or violence. I read something online that said that, unlike Voldy, he didn’t enjoy murder or torture (which, yes! Good! More of the ‘Gellert is not a pre-Voldy Voldy’ please!)

But here, it looks like he IS striking out unprovoked, which seems very out of character for what we’ve seen of him so far.

Except…to his mind, he’s not. He’s seen WW2. He’s witnessed Hitler’s - terrifyingly quick; seriously, the number of Nazi party seats in the German Parliament went from 12 to 107 between 1928-1930, so that’s a rise of nearly 900% in two years (something like that, my maths might be a bit out, but either way - it’s a lot!) - rise to power as it is - he knows what Hitler will do, he knows the time is coming closer, though it’s possible he doesn’t know exactly when, only that it’s soon. It could be in the next week. He can’t risk that happening, and he knows it. He’s seen - and/or Seen - this terrible threat and he needs to stop it before it starts. There’s already been one massive war - and I’d bet a lot that he had a vision of that one, but couldn’t act in time/enough to stop it, which makes him even more determined to stop this one before it starts.

Also, the line itself is interesting. He says ‘the war WITH Muggles.’ Not ‘on Muggles.’ Not ‘against Muggles.’ It doesn’t sound one-sided. Because, as far as he’s concerned, it isn’t. Okay, they haven’t done anything yet, but they will. He knows they will. He’s realised that this time he can’t just sit and wait for someone else to attack first - because this time? That person would be Hitler.

Especially if this has happened before. Like I said, I’d bet my life he had a vision of WW1, though when he had it, I don’t know. We know he saw WW2 over a decade before it begun; what if he saw WW1 during the summer of 1899?? Or a couple of years later? He’s still basically a kid at this point, he knows he can’t do anything about it - plus, he’s probably thinking, who’s going to believe him?? (Albus might have, but he can’t go to him…)

Even in spite of all this, though, I feel like he still wants to maintain his ‘do not attack first’ ethos. But this situation is too serious. He can’t do that in good conscious. Not after the last war. He has to act first. Stop this war before it can start. And if that means going on the offensive first, if that’s what it takes…well, it might not be his preferred option, but if it’s the only way…so be it.

I’m not saying that’s the line they’ll take, or even that WW2 will even be mentioned at all (though I don’t see how they can ignore it.) But it would certainly make it interesting. That the antagonist of the piece is trying to avert something he knows would be far worse. You might even call it…The Greater Good. (Wow, that fits alarmingly well, actually!)

#gellert grindelwald #tw ww2 #secrets of dumbledore #grindeldore #theory #just a few thoughts #ow my head hurts

[kiyosamu]

HQ boys when they have too much to drink

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

———♡———

Atsumu Miya

• take his typical personality and turn up the volume to 100. this man is LOUD. his laugh obnoxiously booms around the entire place, he’s straight up yelling as he talks (he doesn’t realize it though), and he’s such a flirt.

• there is a tipping point though, that one drink that pushes him over the edge of no return. he goes from happy, loud tsumu to an absolute baby. this massive hunk of a professional athlete will cry, and he’ll cry hard.

———♡———

osamu offered to treat the msby boys to a dinner and drinks after another excellent win, of course they accepted with pure gratitude and excitement (they all loved osamu’s food).

although it was at his house and not his restaurant, the food was just as good; if not better. you all thanked him for the meal and sat around his large table chatting and drinking.

“cheers, boys!” atsumu exclaimed, leaning over the table to clink glasses with everyone, downing his beer immediately after.

“not just boys here, ‘tsumu, you forget about y/n already?” osamu smirked.

atsumu gasped, leaning down and squeezing you around your shoulders. you laughed as he practically pushed all of the air out of your lungs.

“forget her?! i was going to do a toast for ONLY her. just had to get ya scrubs outta the way first” he teased, sticking out his tongue at the group.

you smiled, shaking your head. “it’s fine, atsumu, there’s no need for tha-”

surprisingly, you were interrupted by osamu.

“cheers to y/n, for makin’ my brother happier than i’ve ever seen ‘em.” he looked down at you, smiling. “never thought he’d find anyone, ‘specially a stunner like yourself~ happy to have you in our family and to have you as a future sister in law.”

you almost teared up at his words, not expecting osamu to say something so sweet. you were about to speak again but were interrupted by the rest of the boys, standing up and clinking their glasses again.

“cheers to y/n!”

they all knocked their drinks back and you covered your face in your hands. you really were thankful for these boys, they’d come into your life and you never wanted them out of it.

“alright stop flirtin’ with my woman” atsumu grinned, pulling you up to your feet. he pulled with enough force that you practically crashed against his chest. your forearms rested against him and you looked up at the blonde towering over you.

“heh” he smirked, “fancy meetin’ ya here, pretty girl”

you rolled your eyes, pushing off of him, and excused yourself to the bathroom.

when you got back, you heard osamu cursing in the kitchen. you peeked in to see what was wrong.

“you okay, samu?”

“huh?” he peered up over the refrigerator door, “oh, yeah, i’m good. thought we had more beer but i forgot it at the restaurant. these boys knock ‘em back quick.”

“want me to go pick some up?”

“ah, would ya?

“sure” you smiled, heading into the living room where the other boys were.

atsumu pulled you into his lap, immediately giving you a big wet kiss on your cheek.

“ah, atsumu, ew!” you giggled as you wiped your face. he hummed in complete bliss as he buried his face in your hair. you could feel how warm he was, and could tell he was already pretty drunk.

“i’m gonna go to the store quick, you guys want anything other than beer?”

bokuto’s eyes widened at the possibilities. he turned towards the kitchen, and back to you.

“y/n... psst...” he whispered and motioned for you to get closer. you went over to him, kneeling down as he was sitting on the floor.

“can you get me a cheeseburger?” he flashed a classic bokuto smile and you playfully nudged him.

“hey! i heard that!” osamu said as he charged into the living room. “there’s leftovers still, you insatiable beast, eat those. don’t ya dare insult me like that.”

he threw a pillow at bokuto and went back into the kitchen, coming out again with a mixed drink in his hand.

“whatcha drinkin?” atsumu asked, looking at his brother.

“doesn’t concern ya, the last thing you need is hard alcohol.” he motioned for you to catch something, tossing you his wallet. “thanks for going, y/n!”

you told the boys you’d be back quickly, but that turned into almost an hour. the first store you went to was closed, and the second was 20 minutes away.

as you were paying, you looked down at the wallet and card osamu had given you.

it was atsumu’s credit card, not osamu’s. you couldn’t help but laugh. not like atsumu would mind (or even notice), but it was the little things the twins do that always cracked you up.

you were having a great night. however, the house you left earlier and just came back to were severely different in a few ways.

the first thing you noticed was the music you could hear from outside. not unlike them to put some on while hanging out, but it was pretty loud.

the second thing you noticed was hinata running full speed in front of you (practically knocking you over) and slamming the bathroom door.

the third was the loud slam of glasses on the kitchen counter. you peeked in to see atsumu, bokuto, and sakusa all standing over a half drank bottle of tequila.

“poor shoyo” atsumu cooed. “prolly gettin’ sick all over samu’s bathroom.”

“not like he didn’t warn you,” sakusa said casually. “you two practically forced him to.”

you sighed, setting the beer on the table and the boys turned their attention to you.

“my baby!” atsumu sprinted towards you, throwing you into his arms and squeezing you. you tapped on his shoulder for him to let you down. he gave you a kiss, the smell and taste of alcohol much stronger than a beer overtaking your lips.

“you smell like a bar, ‘tsumu, how much have you had to drink?”

“only a couple beers, and one shot, don’t worry babe~” he said between the many kisses he was covering your cheeks with. you didn’t believe him considering he was already slurring his words.

“bullshit, ya filthy liar” osamu glared at him as he walked into the kitchen. “i had one drink from that bottle and now it’s halfway gone, i leave for 20 minutes to make a phone call and you savages drink my liquor too?”

bokuto and sakusa silently left the kitchen, grabbing the beer on the table before heading into the other room.

“why, do ya gotta lie, ‘saaamu?” atsumu put you down, walking over to his brother and scrunching his nose at him.

“oh, yer done. i’d know that stupid look anywhere.” osamu peered around atsumu’s shoulders to look at you. “he’s wasted, y/n, if ya wanna keep your sanity you can just leave him here for the night.”

you shook your head. “it’s okay, osamu, i don’t mind. plus everyone’s still here. we can still hang out.”

osamu shrugged. “don’t say i didn’t warn ya, but the offer still stands.”

atsumu glared at his brother, shoving him a little harder than playfully.

“stop flirtin’ with my woman”

“ah fucks sake.” osamu rolled his eyes, giving atsumu the middle finger. “don’t ya dare get like this tonight, atsumu. yer gonna embarrass yourself in front of your girlfriend AND friends.”

you quickly grabbed atsumu’s hand, leading him back over to you to distract him. osamu scoffed and went back into the living room.

“surprise surprise, osamu ran away again” he growled. “like usual.”

you touched his cheek, looking at him thoughtfully.

“what’s wrong, baby? you okay?”

the unprovoked anger he had in his eyes vanished, he turned into complete mush when he looked at you. he nodded, his eyes watering now.

“oh, ‘tsumu...” you said quietly, leading him into osamu’s spare bedroom and shutting the door.

you guided him to the edge of the bed for him to sit down.

atsumu reached out for you and you sat on his lap. he rested his forehead on your shoulder.

you were sitting on him sideways and leaned into his chest. he wrapped his arms around your waist. as you were about to say something, you could hear his breaths become uneven.

“tsumu?”

atsumu shook his head, not looking up at you.

“hey...” you said softly, cupping his cheeks in your hands. you could feel the tears on his warm skin.

you tilted his head up. his eyes were red and it broke your heart seeing him upset like this, fueled by alcohol or not.

you pushed his messy hair out of his face, kissing his forehead. “what is it, baby?”

“it’s just, ugh-” he sniffled, “samu... pisses me off...”

“he’s just looking out for you, babe.”

“nah not that. just always leavin’ me, walkin’ away, past few years that’s all he’s good for.” he rubbed his eyes, leaning back into your shoulder.

“s’pathetic, i know, me sitting here cryin’ on ya like a total scrub”

you shook your head, ignoring the last part. “it’s not pathetic. you miss him?”

“i- ‘course i do! i mean, i’d never tell ‘em that...” he grumbled.

you nodded. “well let’s make more of an effort to spend time with him. i’m sure he’d really like that.”

your mind drifted to a previous conversation you’d had with osamu that he made you promise not to tell his twin. he’d pretty much said the same thing, but a little less emotional.

the boys did still see each other often, you were pretty sure they talked almost every day, but they went from spending almost every waking moment together to only seeing each other once a week, at most, at this point. they were both just so busy.

atsumu was always vocal about how he wished osamu had pursued volleyball with him, but he was still happy his brother found his own passion. he just wished that passion was the same as his.

when you first met their mom, she’d told you about how their bond was different from regular siblings- twins were a bit more attached to each other. she laughed, saying sometimes she was convinced they shared a brain. “they’re a package deal.”

“okay...” atsumu said, his face still in your shoulder. “ya can’t tell him i was cryin’ though. just say hanging out is your idea.”

you laughed, running your fingers back through his hair and stopping to give soothing scratches to the short hair of his undercut. “sure, baby.”

atsumu squeezed you tight and gave your butt a little pat, which told you he was ready to get up.

“you okay now? ready to go back out there?”

he nodded. you took a good look at him, his eyes a little puffy and cheeks flushed, but it wasn’t as obvious, he could easily blame the alcohol.

he tilted your head up towards him, giving you a kiss. his hand pressed against the back of your neck, the other snaking around your lower back. you stood on your tiptoes and rested your hands along his jawline.

“mmf-“ atsumu exhaled, tightening his grip on you and kissing you more. “on second thought” he said in between kisses, “think i wanna go home with ya, spend some quality time with my baby, yeah?”

you giggled as he trailed kisses along your cheek and down your neck, unable to hide your excitement. it was funny to think how this massive flirt was just crying into you only a couple minutes ago.

the award for biggest mood swings would definitely go to your boyfriend.

“hmmmm?” he hummed into you, his lips finding yours again.

you nodded. “fine, but only because you’re so handsome and i just can’t resist you.” you teased.

he smirked. “not sure if yer teasin’ or being serious, but i’ll take it. c’mon.” he grabbed your hand, both of you heading into the living room to say your quick goodbyes before heading home together

#atsumu is a big baby and has lots of insecurities and i just want to hug #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #msby atsumu #haikyu x reader #haikyu headcanons #haikyuu headcanons #atsumu hcs #atsumu fluff #haikyuu fluff #atsumu angst #haikyuu time skip #haikyuu drabbles #miya twins

[bill-y]

INURE

Peeta mellark x male reader

We all know who Katniss Everdeen is, but what if Primrose hadn't been chosen but another boy from another unfortunate family? YOUR family.

Info: This is basically a reader insert and I've changed a few rules, not ground breaking though. The reader is a bit bland for now but I plan for his actions to be different. Because he has different moral grounds from Katniss and such. Would appreciate feedback! FEEL FREE TO POINT OUT TYPOS. GRAMMARLY SOMETIMES DOESN'T DO MY DYSLEXIC ASS JUSTICE

Part one: You're here right now. :)

Part two: Over there, pepperoni. :)

Wattpad account: L0calxDumbass

—--—---—---—----—----—----—---

I sighed, smiling as I watched my brother gather flowers. It was the early morning, I had to go out hunting soon, but then again, it wouldn't hurt to keep him company for a while.

"Nal," I called, it was a nickname short for his name, Kunal. An odd name, to say the least. Mother told me it meant Lotus, her favourite flower. 

His strawberry blonde hair swayed towards me, a smile forming on his face. He held a couple of lily's in his hands, his blue eyes glittering. "Y/n!" he said back, waving towards me.

I slowly walked towards him, squatting down next to him. He gave me a lily from his makeshift bouquet, humming. "Look at what I got!" he exclaimed.

I chuckled, roughly putting my hand on his head, messing with his hair. He groaned and in retaliation, he pulled on one of my small braids. It was something my father used to do to my hair when we went off to the woods. I used to hate it, but now I wear it every day, quite funny, really.

"Ow—hey, I just fixed that you little—" I let out, pulling my hand off his head as he let out an unprovoked yell. "AHHH MOM, Y/N'S SWEARING AGAIN!" 

I sighed, managing to pry him off me, our heads turning towards our mother, she had the same hair and features as my brother, maybe that's why she preferred him over me. 

"Kunal, get inside, time for breakfast!" she called, waving him over. Nal said a small "bye-bye", waving at me before running to our mother who welcomed him with open arms. 

She looked at me, I could feel her icy glare. But beyond all of that, her eyes showed a little bit of concern, as if she's afraid. It made sense, district 12 wasn't the kindest of places, illegal hunting is dangerous and she was my mother, after all.

I watched as my brother gave him the lilies, a smile forming on her lips, her eyes wrinkling. My hands tensed a little, I passed it off to the chilly breeze, not wanting to think about this in the early morning. "Bye," I muttered, turning away as I went towards the woods.

My hands gripped the rough bark, scaling up a tree with little to no effort. I arrived at a certain spot, reaching into a hole where my hunting equipment was hidden. 

I pulled out a small set of thin, throwing daggers. I looked at it, gripping the leather strapping on the handle. This was the reason, the reason everything went downhill that day. 

Yet I still keep it, to honour my father. This set was one of the only things he left when he was executed in the most painful way possible. I let out a hitched breath at the thought of it, holstering it on my belt. 

I pulled out a hunting bow, something my friend gave me. I wasn't the best at it, I was better at throwing more than anything. It was worth learning though, it was best used when hunting smaller game like rabbits and squirrels.

To my right, was a nest of mocking birds. I whistled a basic 3 tunes to them, which they listened to and replicated. My lips formed into a small smile, waving at the birds before I leapt to another tree.

My father taught me how to traverse the forest through trees. I remember falling every time I leapt from tree to tree, my father laughing as he caught my hand. Sometimes I'd just fall to the ground, resisting the urge to cry as I insisted to try again.

He and I have a lot in common, I took more after my father more than I did my mother. Both physically and mentally. While my mother was more grounded, my father would never shut up about freedom and life without the capitol.

It wasn't something ideal for life like this. Any word or action against the capitol and you can get executed right on the spot, something I had to learn the hard way. 

I've always found the ground limiting, the coal dust in the air quite suffocating. Unlike in these heights, where the air was fresh, cool. You saw so much more, moved so much more. It was a taste of freedom, something I've always wanted.

I arrived at a location hidden away from unwanted eyes. Landing on a large rock ledge that was reachable from above if you leapt or swung far enough. Of course, there were times where I didn't stick the landing and ended up in the thicket of berry bushes, ending up with several, stinging, unwanted "friends".

"I'm early for once," I huffed, grinning as I laid down the rock. I put my leg on top of the other, using my hands to support my head. A small, yellow butterfly landed on my nose, making me smile.

"Hey, owl eyes," A voice boomed, making the butterfly fly away. My brows furrowed as I looked in the direction of the voice. "Finally stopped daydreaming of burning the Capitol down?" he teased, grinning.

I shot him a look, "Mhmm," I hummed, "Daydreaming of throwing them off a cliff instead," I said, making him snort. 

"And how do you plan to do that?" He asked, smirking. I threw a small rock at his forehead, scoffing. "Shut it, Gale" I retorted.

He rolled his eyes, a mischievous look on his face "I was going to give you some of this bread I shot, but since you're like that, I guess I'll just have to share this with Catnip," he said, holding up a loaf of bread, an arrow pierced through it.

I laughed looking up at the sky, "Oh come on, don't be like that, Gale," I spread my limbs across the surface of the cool rock. "Don't pick favourites, but— between me and Kat, who's the lucky favourite?"

Gale hummed as if thinking deeply. "Definitely Catnip," he answered making my head turn sharply towards him. I shot him a glare, a look of betrayal. He let out a bark of laughter, just in time for Katniss to arrive.

He held up the bread once more, "Hey catnip, look at what I shot," he said. "He said that two times already," I groaned, raising a finger.

Katniss laughed, the bread handed to her. "Mhh, still warm," she commented, sniffing the crust of the bread after she had pulled out the arrow.  

If I hadn't known any better, I would say that they were siblings. Straight black hair, olive skin and same grey eyes. Most of the families who work in the mines resemble each other this way. That's why my family has always stuck out like a sore thumb, like Katniss' mother and sister. 

My mother and brother with strawberry blonde hair, my brother, in particular, having my father's blue eyes. Father and I had bright copper-red hair, I shared my mother's green eyes.

From what I've heard my father used to be a merchant, selling various herbs, fruits, plants and meat until he's settled down here for my mother, began working in the mines, along with illegal hunting.

The peacekeepers and the mayor let it slide though, They crave fresh meat just like anyone else in the district. Our district was looked down upon, the capitol didn't really pay attention to it. This is why we can get away with these.

My train of thought was interrupted by a berry landing on my face, making me scrunch my face as Katniss finished a joke with a Capitol accent. The two always told me I was easily distracted, a disadvantage when it came to hunting. 

Though I'd say it's an advantage when I'm not busy daydreaming I tend to spot small animals, like that one bird flying west of me, or that small worm crawling next to me.

Gale tapped my hand, which was dangling from the rock. He handed me a piece of bread, some cheese spread on it. I sat up, one of my knees bent, resting my elbows on it as I thanked him. 

"We could do it, you know?" He said quietly, effectively drawing my attention, as well as Katniss'. "What?" she asked. I only remained silent, biting into the bread as my other foot dangled from the rock, swinging around.

"Runaway from the district, live in the woods, you and I, maybe Y/n too if he wants to, we could make it," He said, I nodded, swallowing a healthy portion of the bread. "You know I want to," I interjected. 

Gale sighed, "If only we didn't have so many kids," Of course, they weren't our actual children, though they might as well be. He has two little brothers and a sister, Katniss has a sister and I have Kunal. There's also our parents, another mouth to feed.

My mom doesn't really have a source of income, so I'm left working the majority of the month, only taking a break at least for a day. Though the three of us split our games, It's never really enough. We still have times where we would curl up on our cots on an empty stomach. It happened far more often than any of us would like.

With my father gone, I was left to provide for my own family. These forests are practically my home, the only thing missing was Kunal and my mom's icy stares.

"I don't want any children," Katniss responded plainly. "I might if I didn't live here," said Gale. 

"But you do," She responded irritably, I glanced between them, chewing on my bread slowly. "Forget it," Gale snapped, sighing,

It would be a lie if I haven't thought of this. They call me a daydreamer because of this, I'd much rather dream of being one with the mocking jays, flying freely without worrying about the Capitol's prying eyes than face the fact that that would never happen.

A trait passed down to me by my father, as I said. We hate the fact that we are treated like caged birds, though used to it, we'll never be comfortable. Unlike my mother.

Sometimes I wonder what drew them to each other.

"What do you want to do?" Katniss asked, making me perk up. "How about we fish at the lake?" I suggested. They both nodded as a grim thought settled in my head.

Kunal turned 12 this year, his name is on the ballot for today, Reaping day. Though only once, there's a slim chance that he might get chosen. He could barely stand against an angry, small mutt, running to my legs whenever he gets scared.

If he gets chosen, I wouldn't know what to do. Surely my mother would resent me even more, why was I her only child left then? No, it wouldn't get to that, surely not.

I clenched my fists as we travelled to the lake, feeling the anger bubble inside me. I remembered one of the many reasons I despised these ridiculous, power-hungry people. 

"I'll destroy them one day, don't worry, pa" I whispered, though I'm sure Gale and Katniss heard me. They just knew.

—--—--—

Words: 1.8k

#peetamellark #peeta mellark #peetamellarkxmalereader #peeta mellark x male reader #peeta mellark x reader #hunger games #hunger games x reader #hunger games x male reader #gale #katniss #x male reader #male reader series #male reader #reader insert #male reader insert

[honorable-wanderings]

Word of Honor - Episode 2 Part 1 - Stalking, but in like. A  sexy way

(Sorry! For some reason the “readmore” isn’t working right!)

WE JOIN OUR “HEROES”....

exactly where we left them.

ZZS looks confused, offended, and slightly intrigued by the new person added into Smash Bros.

Look at him. Tryin to be all cool. Make a good first impression.

----------

I’m not really sure what kind of a power move it is wrapping up her whip and pulling her closer in a chastising way in front of the man you have already decided to try to seduce but it is a power move none the less.

And it seems to be working! :o

----------

There’s more pouting in this show than I originally anticipated.

“A-Xiang, stop attacking random people on the street. At least wait until your martial arts don’t suck ass first.”

----------

And so the dance begins.

Look at that smirk. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

---------

Waste not your honored thanks on me, kind gentleman. I am but a lowly drunkard lying dirty and prone on the street. The error, therefore, must have been my own!

---------------------

I got my eyes on you!!!!

To quote a kind young lady that I met quite recently. “I don’t give a FUCK”

----------

Oh wait, you’re still here?

----------

Best boy alert is going crazy!!!

We may have just met ChenLing, but I would die for him. That also seems to be the general consensus with the other characters as well.

----------

“It is dangerous outside the town walls, so I cannot allow a child like you to... ...A sword? My apologies, sir. It was wrong of me to treat you like a child. “

What? That’s not what he said?

----------

“Are you injured or ill?”

*looks into the camera like it’s the office*

----------

ZZS out here looking like a tragic renaissance painting.

“Young master can we go now? He smells D:”

“Sure just a sec! Let me just leave him my house keys!!”

“What??? Nooooo”

“What was that phrase I learned today? I don’t give a fuck?”

(On a side note I am trying to learn French atm and deadass almost wrote “fraise” instead of “phrase” even though it means “strawberry” and doesn’t have anything to do with the conversation at hand.)

----------

I came out here to enjoy the sun and some peace and quiet and some good alcohol. The peace and quiet is gone. And so is the sun. Now this dickwad’s saying I might be bad because I dress like shit? I was the nicest dressed royal assassin ever and now that I’m a hobo I’ve never been more upstanding! I haven’t even killed a single person in like a year and a half (other than myself).

At least I still have you, alcohol.

----------

Meanwhile back with these two,

A-Xiang is still mad that she lost a random fight she picked with someone who looked like a pushover.

More pouting ensues

--------------

“Get good”

Master KeXing reveals he knows more than he revealed to know previously when he was pretending not to know what he has now revealed he knows.

A-Xiang wants to know if he’s making shit up again.

-----------

The plot is driven forward by the playful rhyming chants of children. Honestly that’s top tier horror movie quality plot beat right there. Add a sense of foreboding to your story even though we’re still in ‘lighthearted silly time”

Good job!

----------

Zhou Zishu wonders, surely not for the last time, why everyone in the martial arts world can’t just calm the fuck down.

----------

ZZS then decides that after being accosted by random people on the street while he was snoozing and minding his own damn business that that seems like a lot of fun and decides to accost some random person on the street who was snoozing and minding their own business.

---------

Why doesn’t anyone ever believe that I’m fucking loaded? I’ve got like 2 years left and I’m gonna blow my life’s savings before I go muthafucka. You want 3 mace of silver for a half-mile boat ride? Done motherfucker did I stutter?

----------

“Hello. I’m totally not stalking you. :D”

----------

“You wanna ride my boat? ;)” he asks, shouting it across the river so that he could be heard. “What?” Zhou Zishu replies, not able to understand him over the babbling of the water.

“I said! Do! You! Want! To! Ride! My! Boat? Winky Face!”

“Did you just say “winky face??”

“Yeah I was worried you couldn’t see it from there!”

----------

Somehow today has turned out much more interesting than I had anticipatd

----------

“We’ll meet again if fated!”

“Challenge accepted”

----------

Yes I am only keeping an eye on him to make sure he doesn’t fuck with my plans. And that is the only reason. Yes. that’s why I’m going to follow him. Just this. Only that. No other reason.

----------

This place is pretty! I think this would be a great place to die!

Hun, you still have a couple years. You can always come back to die here later but like chilling in a field of flowering trees for 2 years will kinda lose its novelty if you don’t do other things too.

----------

GIVE ME YO’ FUCKIN’ MONEY!!

----------

You said I’ve already ridden and dashed so what’s the point in my paying you now? Toodles!

-----------

This place is pretty but I love how people never walk anywhere. Like the trees would look prettier if you were in them you know.

----------

HOly fuck! Being rude as shit is so fun! How have I never tried this before? 

----------

Uh.. question: How did this get here? It’s clearly dry docked but it’s no where near the water. Why is it here???

Ah well. It’s free real estate

----------

WHY IS THE RUM GONE?

----------

Do I have “attack me” written on my face or something? For the love of fuck! I’m not drunk enough for this!

----------

“Meh”

“Meh? I think not good sir.”

----------

Would you believe that this wasn’t even rehearsed?

-----------

For someone who does not want people to see his chest, this is certainly a lot of chest exposed???

----------

Not sure that’s how fans work, but hell maybe I’ve just been using ‘em wrong all this time

Holy fuck is it heat seeking???

----------

Surprise!!!

-----------

Pff. Okay. Like I will ALWAYS love it when some not sharp object flies into something and sticks like it’s made of razor sharp blades. And I know TECHNICALLY it’s possible - what with a tornado being able to slam a single piece of straw through cinder block. But it will always make me smile.

(And while that is a smile at how ridiculous it is, it is with 100% legit affection and charm. I legit love it)

Just. “Thunk”

----------

Who is attacking me? Were they sent by the prince? Do they know who I am? Do I need to get serious?

Oh... It’s just that random guy again.

Well that’s okay then.

--------

I apologize for once again attacking you randomly and completely unprovoked in the middle of nowhere. My bad.

----------

“My footwork has godlike elegance huh? You shoulda seen me when I wasn’t dying.”

----------

I came here to check out dat ass again and I was not disappointed. ;)

----------

Don’t stand so- Don’t stand so- Don’t stand so close to me ♪

----------

“Why don’t we drink on my boat?“ “I don’t want to sleep with you!“ “Yet ;)”

----------

Why the fuck are you following me? Just say what you want from me already!

Bitch you invited me

-------

“He’s so good at kissing ass”

Oh just you wait.

--------

Still gonna stalk you btw! ♥♥♥

#word of honor #Shanhe Ling #zhou zishu #wen kexing #Gu Xiang #zhang chengling #spoilers #episode 2 #Long Post #Writing WoH

[sachigram]

Your jealous Shizuo prompt has me reeling, (mostly because of the posessive Shinra) <3 <3 I am now requesting Shinra purposely fanning the flames of Shizuo and Izaya's rivalry throughout high school because he doesn't want either of his friends to like each other more than they like him. Bonus points if Shizuo and Izaya do start dating after high school and Shinra is not a happy camper!

((Lol another one for the “Shinra is a creep” collection))

Shizuo sees less and less of Izaya at school.

Shinra blabs all the time about Izaya and his illegal activities. Apparently Izaya is building some kind of network with the Yakuza and other groups Shizuo despises. Sounds just like the conniving little bastard, and Shizuo only hopes Izaya gets what he deserves in the end.

Rarely, Shizuo will see Izaya in the halls at school. He still shows up for test days, aces them, and then dips out before anyone can miss him. Shizuo wonders how the hell Izaya gets away with it, but everyone seems to find Izaya charming, and Izaya has a reputation for being a genius as well as being a menace.

“He's won awards for poetry, you know?” Shinra says one afternoon, unprovoked, of course.

“That doesn't seem like the kind of thing Izaya would want us knowing,” Kadota replies, and Shinra just laughs.

“Well then he should be here to stop me!”

Shizuo tries to think of Izaya being the kind of guy to write poems. Does he paint, too? Does he spend hours in his room creating things just to destroy them later? That sounds more like Izaya.

“What's with that fond expression?” Shinra asks, turning so he can face Shizuo. He's walking backwards, and Shizuo scowls at him in return. “Do you miss Izaya-kun?”

“Do you want to die today, Shinra?”

“If you kill me, Celty will avenge me!”

“I don't think she'd mind all that much, actually,” Shizuo huffs. “I hope the flea stays gone. I hope he's dead.”

“Mm, you say that, but I think you're bored without him! You've been even quicker to anger than normal without him around,” Shinra says with a pout.

Shizuo considers this. It's true that he's more on edge when Izaya isn't here, but that's because he's waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for Izaya to come back with some catastrophe up his sleeve. Not to mention without Izaya, Shizuo doesn't have much of an outlet for his anger. He still gets in fights, but no one can really stand up to him, and most people in the school are so afraid of him that they don't even brush against him in passing.

“Shut up,” Shizuo says.

Shinra scrutinizes Shizuo's face, and then he's grinning innocently.

“He's probably plotting something for you,” Shinra says. “He really hates you, you know?”

“Shinra, come on,” Kadota says, lifting a hand. “Izaya isn't even here. Why're you trying to rile Shizuo up?”

“I'm not! I'm only saying! You're right to be on edge, Shizuo-kun, that's all. Just keep your guard up!”

Later, when Shinra breaks off from them to head home, Kadota turns to Shizuo.

“Hey, don't listen to Shinra. I don't think what he said was even true.”

“Huh?” Shizuo asks. He was thinking about what Izaya could be planning, so it takes him a moment to comprehend what Kadota said.

“It's just that he...” Kadota rubs the back of his neck as if he feels awkward. “I don't think Izaya plots every second of his time around you, you know? I'm not saying he's not an asshole to you, and I'm not saying he doesn't like to mess with you, but I really think Shinra is exaggerating. He's like that.”

“Why would he?” Shizuo asks.

“Because he has a thing for Izaya and he's worried you do, too.”

Shizuo makes a face, and Kadota laughs loudly, his hands going up in surrender.

“I'm just saying, don't read into it, okay? Don't think about Izaya so much, man, it's exactly what he wants from you.”

Kadota leaves then, and Shizuo is left frowning on the sidewalk, wondering why the hell anyone would think he has a thing for the flea.

***

The next month drags on. Exams are around the corner, and graduation not long after that. They're all pretty busy, and Shizuo enjoys the peace of not being jumped around every corner of the city. Apparently even Izaya is too busy to scheme anything.

Shizuo is on his way home one day when something hits him in the back of his head. He growls and turns, catching the object before it can hit the ground. It's a candy bar?

“Hi there, Shizu-chan!” Izaya lilts. Shizuo growls at him.

“Why the fuck did you throw this at me?”

“Someone gave it to me and I don't care for that kind of chocolate. You like sweets, don't you?” Izaya asks.

“You poisoned it,” Shizuo says.

“It's in the wrapper, you idiot. Fine, don't eat it then. Don't say I never tried to be nice to you!” Izaya sighs dramatically and hunches over like he might fall in the floor. “To think, I spent my own money on that.”

“You just said someone gave it to you.”

“Did I?” Izaya grins. “Ah, well. Someone spent their money on it.”

“Where the hell have you been? Are you trying to flunk out or something?” Shizuo asks. Izaya looks good, which isn't unusual, but he also looks well-rested for a change.

“Been busy, you know? Besides, there's no risk of me flunking. What's wrong, Shizu-chan, have you missed me?” Izaya bats his eyelashes, and Shizuo throws the chocolate bar back at him.

“Fuck off. I've actually enjoyed you being gone.”

“How cruel! You really do take me for granted!”

Shizuo huffs and starts to tell Izaya to go to Hell, but suddenly Shinra is there, tackling Izaya from behind.

“Izaya-kun! You haven't even been answering your phone!” Shinra says, his arms around Izaya's waist. “Maybe I was worried about you!”

“As if you worry about anyone other than yourself and your girlfriend,” Izaya says.

Shinra looks from Izaya to Shizuo. “Are you guys fighting already?”

“Of course we are! Shizu-chan likes to fight with me, don't you, Shizu-chan?” Izaya asks.

“I hate everything about you,” Shizuo replies, his eyes still on Shinra's arms around Izaya.

“Isn't he charming?” Izaya asks Shinra, and then he's allowing himself to be dragged away. They pass by Shizuo, who lets them go, and Shizuo is in a bad mood for his entire walk home.

Later on, when he's changing from his uniform, he blinks in surprise as he feels something in his pocket. It's that damned candy bar. Izaya must have slipped it into his pants pocket when he passed by. Shizuo looks it over, unwraps it, and takes a bite.

It's actually his favorite kind.

***

The next day, he sees Izaya again.  

Izaya is easy to find, is set up in an empty classroom, a book in his hands. Shizuo stomps towards him, yanks the book away, and throws it out the window.

“Shizu-chan, I know the thought of learning infuriates you, but does the thought of others learning really piss you off so much, too?”

“Shut the hell up. What are you doing in here?”

“Well, I was reading...”

“Cut the shit.” Shizuo leans onto the desk, eyeing Izaya suspiciously. “What are you plotting, huh? It's been too quiet lately, and I don't trust it.”

Izaya blinks and tilts his head to the side.

Cute.

The thought makes Shizuo angry, and he winds up smacking the desk so it tips over.

“When I bother you, you get angry, and when I don't bother you, you get angry,” Izaya says, pouting. “I think anger is just your default. Maybe you shouldn't blame other people for making you feel that way when it's clear you just like being angry.”

Shizuo cracks his knuckles. “You want me to throw you after your book? You could be reunited in no time, you shitty louse.” He swings at Izaya, but Izaya sinks into the chair to dodge it, does some swanky little maneuver that has him sprinting out of the classroom. Shizuo chases after him, a wide smile on his face.

The other students clear the way for them, a few of them cheering. Shizuo and Izaya are infamous for this kind of thing, and the fact it's been so long only makes it more fun. Shizuo can't deny he likes chasing after Izaya, especially because catching him seems impossible. Shizuo doesn't worry about hurting him, doesn't worry about holding back.

He wonders if Izaya finds it fun, too.

They wind up outside the school, Shizuo throwing rocks at Izaya, who keeps dodging them, cackling as he does so. It occurs to Shizuo that they're really only playing around at this point, and that's when a teacher marches outside to yell at them. Izaya waggles his eyebrows at Shizuo over the teacher's shoulder, and Shizuo bites his lip to keep from laughing.

That afternoon, Shizuo finds himself walking alongside Izaya, Shinra, and Kadota. Shinra and Kadota are talking to Izaya about tests and school, and Shinra's hand is curled into Izaya's sleeve.

Shizuo speaks before he can think about it.

“Do you have to always be so goddamn touchy?”

“Ah, this again?” Shinra asks. “Does it really bother you so much?”

“You're in love with Celty. You shouldn't act like you're in love with Izaya, too.”

A silence hangs between them, but Izaya is smirking. Of course he is.

“Love!” Shinra laughs. “As if it's love! I told you already that Izaya is just mine! There's no love to it.”

“You really aren't nice, Shinra,” Izaya says, though he doesn't seem affected at all. “You've got the personality of a goblin.”

“Now that's not nice,” Shinra replies, and he hugs Izaya's arm. “You like my personality!”

“It is kind of weird,” Kadota says, putting a calming hand on Shizuo's shoulder. “What does that even mean, that Izaya is yours?”

“It means he's mine! He doesn't like anyone else, and Celty won't accept my feelings just yet, so why shouldn't I have someone around that I like?” Shinra frowns like he doesn't get it, but then he goes back to nuzzling into Izaya, who tries to push him away to no avail. “Izaya-kun is pretty! And he's cuddly once you get past the sharp edges.”

“I will slit your throat and feed you to the plants.”

“You won't!”

“Whatever, man. It really is weird,” Kadota says with a shrug.

“Well, it doesn't concern either of you anyway,” Shinra says matter-of-factly. He tugs Izaya along, and Shizuo is so blinded by rage that he almost knocks over an unassuming businessman.

That night, Shizuo is pacing around the living room, angry for reasons he doesn't understand. Kasuka is watching with a bored expression.

“It's just fucking weird! How can you claim ownership of someone? Isn't it creepy? It's fucking creepy!” Shizuo grumbles and throws his hands up.

“Why does it bother you so much?” Kasuka asks. “If Izaya-san doesn't mind it, why do you?”

“Because!” Shizuo snaps. He doesn't elaborate, but Kasuka nods anyway.

“I see.”

“See what?”

“You like Izaya-san.”

If it was anyone else, Shizuo would snap their neck, but instead he freezes in place and stares at his little brother.

“What'd you say?” he asks.

“You like Izaya-san. It's kind of obvious, I guess. I just didn't think you liked him this much,” Kasuka says.

“I do not like that fucking—“

“Don't you?” Kasuka asks, and then he takes a sip of the tea he brought with him.

Shizuo opens his mouth, closes it again, and then roars in wordless rage. His mother rushes into the room and chastises him, so he goes into his room and screams into his pillow instead.

***

A few days pass before he sees Izaya again.

Izaya is in that same classroom, and when Shizuo enters, Izaya holds his book to him warily.

“This is a first edition, Shizu-chan, so if you throw this one, I'll be pretty—“

“You shouldn't let Shinra touch you like that. You know I hate it.”

“...Huh?”

“I told you before that I don't like it! He shouldn't claim ownership of you! Why do you let him? Doesn't it bother you?! He does it like you're not even a real person, like you're a doll!”

“Shizu-chan—“

“Does he do it just to piss me off?! Is that what it's about?! I'll kill him! I'll kill him and you!”

Izaya stands, and before Shizuo can say anything else, he feels soft pressure against his mouth. He blinks and pulls back to see Izaya is grinning, his face flushed.

“You're jealous,” Izaya says, and Shizuo growls, pulls Izaya into another kiss before he can think better of it.

“Don't like it,” Shizuo murmurs between their lips meeting. “Don't like it at all...”

“Why's that, Shizu-chan?” Izaya asks, and he nips Shizuo's lip playfully.

“You fucking know why.”

He presses Izaya into the wall and devours his mouth, loves the way Izaya curls around him. It seems so simple now that they're kissing like this. Shizuo doesn't know how he didn't realize sooner that this is what he wanted.

“You don't want to share?” Izaya asks, and he laughs softly. “Selfish, aren't you?”

Shizuo kisses him again in answer, and Izaya shuts up instantly. That's a handy trick. Shizuo will definitely remember it.

When the day ends, and they're leaving the school together, Shizuo's eyes narrow as Shinra takes his usual spot beside Izaya and clings to his arm. With a growl, Shizuo lifts Izaya, pulling him into his own side.

“Touch him again and I'll break your arms,” he says to Shinra, who pouts very openly, wailing something about them not being allowed to like each other until Celty returns his feelings. Shizuo ignores him and focuses instead on the way Izaya feels beside him, exactly where he belongs.

#lavenderboneswrites #prompts #shizaya #one sided shinzaya #possessive shinra #lol you guys really come to me and say 'pls make shinra creepy' and i'm glad for it

[vs-redemption]

From Cindy: I’ve been in a horrible mood the past few days for literally no reason. For some reason, I’ve also been thinking about Oikawa. So I wrote this.

Cranky (Friend!Oikawa x Grumpy!Reader)

You weren’t sure how or why, but you had somehow woken up with a bug up your ass that morning. Ordinarily you were a decently approachable person, but the first sign of trouble was when one of your university roommates greeted you cheerfully and it felt more like someone poking at an exposed nerve than a warm hello. Somehow, you managed to force a smile and wave back despite the less than friendly retorts threatening to spill from your lips. The surge of unprovoked anger caught you off guard, and you knew you had to do something fast if you wanted to make it through the day without physically assaulting someone for no reason.

On your way to your first class, you stopped by the vending machines to get a canned coffee and granola bar, hoping to calm the raging monster inside of you by putting some food in your belly. Hunger did not seem to be the root of the problem though because you couldn’t make it even fifteen minutes through your lecture before getting the urge to set the entire building on fire. Your poor professor was trying so hard to plant knowledge in your brain, but just the sound of his voice made you want to box your own ears. You excuse yourself from the class as politely as possible and make a beeline towards one of the empty picnic tables on the campus grounds. Luckily, nobody was hanging around outside since it was chilly day with light drizzling rain that came on and off in spurts. You sat down on the damp seat, flipped your hood over your head, and tried to think of happy thoughts.

For a moment, you are able to empty your mind but the sound of your name cutting through the static background noise of wind and distant talking pulls you back to reality. You look up and grimace at the tall familiar figure of your friend tiptoeing awkwardly across the wet grass towards you, holding an umbrella over his head to protect his hair from the rain. He comes to stand over you with a calculating look of concern on his face.

“I thought I saw you sitting over here,” he tilts his head and puts a hand to his chin. “Aren’t you supposed to be in class right now?” There was only innocent curiosity in his question, but the slight whine of his voice made you want to strangle him.

“Go away Oikawa,” you bite out the words as nonaggressive as possible, but you can tell you failed by the pout on your friend’s pretty face.

“That’s not very nice,” he huffs. “And what’s with the last name, huh? Did I do something to make you mad?”

“No!” You accidentally snap, quickly closing your eyes and taking a deep breath through your nose. When you look back at Oikawa his big chocolate brown eyes are wide in shock.

“No,” you repeat more calmly. “You didn’t do anything. I’m just a cranky bear today.”

“Well that’s not good,” His face turns sympathetic for a moment before reverting to fear when you throw a deadly glare in his direction. “Okay!” He puts up a hand in surrender and smiles sheepishly. “I’ll leave you alone then, but can you at least promise me you’ll come out of the rain? We don’t want you catching a cold!”

“Yeahhh,” you could at least agree to that much. “Fine.” You knew he was right and that you shouldn’t be sitting out in the cold, so you lift yourself off the wet picnic table bench, the damp feeling on your bottom providing an extra helping onto the growing mountain of annoyance.

“Ok, on your way.” Oikawa’s eyes crinkle at the corners as he gently shoos you in the direction of your dormitory with an overly kind smile. You turn around to glare at him over your shoulder.

“I’m going!” You tell him sharply, “You don’t have to push me!” Oikawa quickly retracts his hand, letting out a nervous laugh.

“Hmm, you definitely woke up on the wrong side of the bed today,” he hums your name thoughtfully. “Try to feel better though, okay?”

You resist the urge to give him the finger as you set off, more to put distance between you both now than to get out of the icky weather. You knew Oikawa meant well, and normally you’d be more than happy to spend time with him. The last thing you wanted to do was give him a hard time since you knew he got enough of that from his teammates on the volleyball team.

When you get back to your room, you peel off your wet clothes and throw on a pair of pajamas, determined to spend the rest of the day in seclusion. Hopefully after some rest you’d default back to your normal personality settings and not have to worry about biting anyone’s head off. You plop down at your computer desk and pull up the mellowest playlist you can find before cracking open the textbook of the class you’d ditched. Not much times passed at all before three loud knocks had you glaring at the door. You consider just ignoring the visitor until they got the hint, but then you heard Oikawa’s familiar voice cooing your name from the other side.

“What?!” you nearly rip the door off its hinges, feeling prepared to give your poor friend an earful. Your words die on your tongue though when you see him holding out a peace offering. It was a steaming cup of tea and your favorite bagel sandwich from the campus café. Before you can remember to yell at him, he pushes the gifts into your hands and lets himself into your room.

“Tooru?” You were at a loss for what to say as you watch him walk over to your desk and start clearing away your books and assignments. “Tooru, what the hell are you doing?”

“Ah, it’s good to hear my name again,” He says teasingly, watching your face for any signs that you might attack. “But I still sense some hostility. Go ahead and eat your snack and we’ll see how you feel after that.” He situates himself on the beanbag chair on the floor and starts scrolling through his phone silently, giving you your space. You eye him for a moment, wondering if he really planned on staying quiet. You unwrap the sandwich and slowly start to munch it down, sipping on the hot tea after every couple bites.

“Tooru,” you try to strike up a conversation again once you finish eating, but Oikawa simply smiles and holds a finger to his lips.

“Shh,” he stands up and walks over to your bed to pull back your blankets. You look at him as if he’d lost his mind, but he just gestures for you to climb in. You weren’t sure what exactly was happening but decided to play long out of curiosity.

“Are you seriously tucking me in?” You ask, a small laugh escaping your lips as he pulls the blanket up to your chin dramatically.

“And there’s a smile,” he says victoriously before reaching down to pat you on the head. “Who knew a cranky bear could look so adorable?”

“I…” your face heats up at the words that had rendered you speechless. Oikawa simply turns around and starts gathering up the empty wrappers from your sandwich to throw them away.

“How are you still single?” You blurt out the question before it even finishes processing in your brain. Oikawa’s head swivels around to look at you in surprise.

“Uh,” he reaches up to scratch at the back of his head in embarrassment. “I’ve been told it’s because I spend too much time playing volleyball.” You scrunch up your face at his explanation and Oikawa fears he’s somehow triggered your wrath again.

“Well, if you’re comfortable, I guess I’ll be going now!” He chuckles awkwardly.

“Wait,” you say before he can get too far.

“Yes?” he tilts his head, “do you need something else?”

“Uh,” you avert your eyes. “Stay?”

The request throws Oikawa off completely and you see his confidence waver slightly.

“You actually want me to?” He asks skeptically. You raise your eyebrows at him challengingly, even though you weren’t very intimidating anymore now that you looked all cute and bundled up. You lift up the blanket as an invitation, making Oikawa look even less sure.

“Are you luring me in so you can kill me?” he asks jokingly.

“Just get over here,” what little patience you’d built up was gone again, but at least the snap in your tone had gotten Oikawa moving. He kicks off his shoes and carefully slides under the covers next to you.

“You know, I never expected such bold behavior from you,” he says playfully in his slightly whiny tone, his nervousness disappearing for a moment.

“Let’s go back to being quiet now,” you reply while closing your eyes and settling in.

“Jeez, that’s not very nice,” Oikawa huffs, eliciting another giggle from you. He sighs dramatically but takes his chances at being scolded further by snaking an arm around you to pull you closer. When there are no signs of protest from you, his body relaxes and he hums happily.

“Hey Tooru,” you whisper after a moment.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for being nice to me even though I’m grumpy,” you mumble into his chest.

“No need to thank me,” He assures you while tucking your head under his chin and rubbing your back softly. “You’re as important to me as my teammates, you know? So, just like with them, I have to set you up for success and make sure you’re playing at one hundred percent.”

Even though it was a cheesy volleyball metaphor, you couldn’t help but find Oikawa’s admission to be very sweet. You’d known for a while that his volleyball friends sometimes underestimated or misjudged him due to his bizarre mannerisms, but perhaps you hadn’t known him as well as you’d thought either. It was kind of amazing that he could make you feel so warm and content on a day where you’d woken up feeling so moody and agitated. It was a new side of Oikawa that had you looking at him in a different way. Hopefully, when you woke up, you’d feel a bit better so that you could explore that side of him even more.

#tooru oikawa x reader #oikawa x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #Tooru Oikawa #Haikyuu #Cindy's Writing

[cozy-the-overlord]

Running with the Wolves

Summary:  After the events of Infinity War ripped her life to pieces, Queen In-Unga forges forward as sole ruler of Jotunheim, finding solace in the two orphaned wolf puppies she finds outside her sleigh.

AU in which Loki didn’t die at the beginning of Infinity War-- he accompanied Thor to Nidavellir, then to Wakanda, and died in the Snap alongside the Avengers.

Based on Frostbite by @maiden-of-asgard​

Word Count:  12,192

Pairing: Loki x Reader/Loki x In-Unga

Read it on Ao3

A/N: So let’s flashback to last summer. I had three obsessions: Avengers Endgame, A Song of Ice and Fire (which I was reading for the first time), and Frostbite by Maiden of Asgard. Those obsessions merged into a story that’s been swirling in my head ever since. I never thought I'd actually write it-- back then, I still wasn't fully comfortable with writing my own fanfiction, let alone writing fanfiction of someone else's fanfiction. But when Moa announced that she was going to be turning Frostbite into a physical book and would be accepting fan submissions, my dumbass brain went "i CaN dO tHaT."

This is the most I've struggled with writing a story ever. I've never written from the perspective of a character that wasn't my own, and I found that to much more difficult than I anticipated. Combine that with how the story I was trying to tell spanned over an overwhelming five years, my constant stress that I was ruining Moa’s characters, and the fact that I kept finding myself in "this-made-more-sense-in-my-head" territory and I started getting pretty frustrated. I had expected to be done by the end of June; when at the beginning of July I was only barely halfway finished, I kind of threw in the towel and said "forget it." I took a week off from writing to clear my head, and after a pep talk from my sister (thanks, JJ!) I decided I had to complete it. So here it is! Am I completely happy with the final product? No, but seeing as I never thought there'd be a final product, I'm proud of myself nonetheless.

One last note (this a/n is obnoxious, I’m sorry): Moa, I did intend for this story to be a part of your Frostbite book, but I totally understand if you don't want to deal with it. It is disgustingly long, and I know that you said that the book is already huge. I won't be offended if you don't put it in-- I don't want to create more trouble for you.

Thanks for reading!

It was freezing.

That was saying something. Freezing was an adjective In-Unga had learned not to use lightly. Living on Jotunheim came with the acceptance that you would be existing in extreme sub-zero temperatures year round, warmth being an elusive gem found only in the recesses of furry coats or underneath thick blankets. In the years she had spent in the realm of the Frost Giants, In-Unga felt that she had come quite accustomed to the cold. It was something she was rather proud of—when Captain Rodgers had visited with Thor a few years back, he had joked that she must have taken some kind of super soldier serum herself in order to handle it so well. She had responded, beaming, that as long as she had Loki, she didn’t need anything else to keep her warm.

She had never really considered the truth to that statement.

Njal, her burly head guard, pulled his mount alongside hers. “The temperature is dropping, my queen,” he said. “Perhaps you would be more comfortable in your sleigh—”

“No.” She hoped her voice sounded stronger than she felt. “I appreciate your concern, but I am perfectly fine as I am.” Just for good measure, she added a queenly nod.

Njal seemed unconvinced, but he bowed his head just the same. “As you say, my queen.”

In-Unga exhaled, trying to ignore the white cloud that enveloped her when she did so. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could stay out here. She couldn’t see the skin of her hands under her mittens, but she was certain they were blue. Her face, as well. In fact, at the moment she probably looked more Jotun than Midgardian.

But she was determined to continue riding. Loki had always made a point of it, in the early days when his main concern was showcasing his strength. Now that he was gone, she needed to be strong for him, and for her people.

Those that were left.

Her eyes burned in warning, and so In-Unga shook her head and went back to thinking about how horribly freezing it was. The cold hurt less.

Býleistr had questioned her decision to tour the kingdom so late in the year. The weather would be awful, he said. Her people would understand if she waited until spring. In-Unga had argued that waiting brought its own danger: ignoring the far-away regions during such a tumultuous time would foster restlessness, and the last thing they needed on top of everything that had happened was a civil war.

What she couldn’t put into words was how she needed to get out. There were too many missing faces in Utgard, gaping holes in the tapestry of family she had woven around herself. The throne room was empty even when it was full. She couldn’t focus on mealtime conversations because her gaze kept drifting to the vacant seats where her Forest Twins should be sitting. Her bedroom had become a tomb.

She had to leave, before she drowned in the silence.

Shouts at the back of the party startled In-Unga out of her pity spiral. Members of her guard rushed down the line of sleighs, weapons drawn. Those that remained by her side closed in a tight wall around her.

“What’s happening?” she called to Njal. “Are we under attack?” That’s just what we need now. The forested wilderness that surrounded them provided cover to any would-be assailants. Here, they were sitting ducks.

The wind picked up again, ice cutting straight through her many layers, and this time In-Unga found she couldn’t control her shivering. Frozen sitting ducks.

Soon enough, the cries died down, and her guards came riding back.

“All is well, your majesty. It was only a vargr.”

In-Unga thought of Mánagarmr and shivered again. “A wolf?” she asked. “Is anyone injured?”

“No, my queen.” In-Unga didn’t know the name of the guard that spoke. He was a new member of her defense, one of the many who got an unexpected promotion when their superiors turned to dust. “It jumped out at the last sleigh and startled many, but it was small, and taken down rather easily.”

The mortal queen of Jotunheim frowned. “Why would a wolf attack a party this large?” she asked.

“I cannot say, my queen.”

“Your majesty,” Njal spoke. “Shall I give the order to continue?”

In-Unga shook her head. This didn’t make any sense. “No,” she said. “I want to see this wolf.”

It shouldn’t have surprised her that a giant’s version of a small wolf was bigger than a Clydesdale. The majestic animal now lay lifeless in the snow, the pure white of its fur sullied only by the crimson stain spreading from the spear in its neck. The soldier who brought it down was only too pleased to relay the story to his queen.

“It came tearing out of the woods like a beast from Hel,” he cried, waving his hands for dramatic effect, “Snarling and hissing and baring its teeth. Most of us were caught off guard, but I’ve always been quick with a spear, and so when it turned to me, I was ready for it—”

In-Unga nodded, only half listening. She scanned the treeline from which the wolf had appeared. It made no sense to her—what would cause the creature to attack unprovoked? Right now, with the trees casting crooked silhouettes and the wind whistling in her ears, it seemed like an omen.

But of what? She wondered uselessly. What else could go wrong?

A clump of snow caught her eye. For a moment, she couldn’t understand why—it looked no different than any other clump she had come across in her life. Completely ordinary, but… there was something…

Warmth.

It was warmer than the rest.

The realization shocked her a little. Sensing changes in temperature from afar had been one of the skills Loki had taught her (unsurprisingly, given his affinity for snakes), but she had thought she lost it, along with all her other magical abilities, when she lost her husband.

Better make a note of that.

“There’s something over there,” she said, pointing. “In the snow. Something alive.” She made her way off the road, her guards scrambling to maintain their positions around her.

Damn, it was cold. In-Unga knelt in the ice, biting back curses as the snow soaked through to her knees. Getting back on her mount was looking more and more impossible.

The clump whimpered.

She let out a small gasp when the fluffy puppy head popped out of the snow, blinking ice out of its eyes. It shook the glistening snow from its fur with a tiny whine. A petulant growl followed, and a second pup appeared, pushing its way in front of the first and baring its teeth.

“Oh!” In-Unga reached out cautiously, the cold already forgotten. The growling puppy yipped and she pulled her hand back. The other merely yawned.

Behind her, Njal cleared his throat. “My queen, perhaps you should back away. They are feral—”

“That was their mother,” In-Unga interrupted, looking back at the bleeding body on the side of the path. “She must have felt they were threatened by the caravan and attacked. And we killed her.” Although, even that seemed unlikely.  In-Unga eyed the wolf-killer where he stood over the body of his prey, animatedly retelling the story of his deed to a growing crowd. It was easy to picture him wandering off the trail and provoking the frightened mother. Her gaze darkened.

Njal shifted uncomfortably. “It is unfortunate, my queen, but at this point there’s nothing to be done. We should continue before the weather takes a turn for the worse.”

“We can’t just leave them to starve!” she cried. She reached out again. The growling puppy flinched but didn’t back away. Its sibling craned its neck to sniff her mitten, sneezing when it breathed in a noseful of fuzz. Puppies in the dead of winter. That’s got to mean something. “Look at them! They won’t survive without their mother.”

“I can give them a quick end, your Majesty, if it would ease your worries,” one of her guards spoke up. “It would be merciful—”

“No.” Her guards stiffened at the ice in her voice. The first puppy nuzzled into her hand, rubbing against her like a cat and letting out a contented sigh when she scratched the fur on its neck. The other slunk forward guardedly, curiosity seemingly cracking its tough guy exterior. To her surprise neither resisted when she scooped them into her arms.

“I’ll have no more killing today,” In-Unga said as she stood. “I’ll care for them myself.”

Huld seemed absolutely horrified when the mortal queen plopped the little balls of fur on the floor of the sleigh.

“My queen, they’re wild animals!” she cried.

In-Unga laughed as the first puppy attempted to burrow back into her coat pocket. “Yeah. Real wild.” Its head popped up at the sound of her voice, and for the first time, In-Unga noticed its eyes: one brown and one blue. “Why, you’re a little David Bowie wolf, aren’t you?” she cooed, scratching its pointed ear. The puppy licked her wrist happily.

Her maid wasn’t quite as pleased. “My queen!” she exclaimed, backing away as the other pup growled. “What do you plan to do with them?”

“Keep them, I suppose. Raise them as pets.” She left the Bowie wolf to rein in his brother. They were both so small—when she held them in her arms they could easily be mistaken for Earth dogs. In-Unga found herself recalling her first sleigh ride in Jotunheim, with Greip and Gjálp and Snowball the Not-Melrakki, how shocked the twins had been at the concept of Midgardians owning pets.

How many years ago was that? Five? Feels like a lifetime.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, hoping Huld was too preoccupied with their new companions to smell her grief.

“Do we have anything for them to eat?” she asked with forced brightness. “Seal milk, or something?” Huld frowned, but obediently prepared a bowl of milk.

“They’re going to grow to be monsters,” she warned. “My queen, you saw Mánagarmr—”

“That’s right, I did,” In-Unga interrupted as her puppies began lapping up the dish. “And let me tell you, these guys are nothing like him.” The tough pup looked up with an offended growl. Laughing, she reached out to pet him. “Although this one thinks he is.”

The maid’s look of concern only deepened.

In-Unga sighed. “Don’t worry, Huld. Their mother wasn’t even that big. They won’t grow up to be Mánagarmr.” She cringed as she thought of the blood-splattered wolf lying in the snow. These puppies were so small, they had to have been born within the last month, after the Snap. Their poor mother survived the event that massacred half of every living being in the universe so she could give birth to her children, only to be stabbed to death by some hotshot with a stick. It was too cruel for words.

His hunger satisfied, the Bowie wolf paddled over to where In-Unga sat cross-legged on the floor and plopped down in her lap, grinning up at her with his multi-colored eyes.

“Awww!” In-Unga stroked his fur as he snuggled against her coat. “Huld, look at this! Isn’t he precious?”

Huld gave some non-descript reply, but In-Unga didn’t hear her. The second puppy was sniffing her boot, chewing on the sole with pearly teeth. “Come here, little guy.” He whined as she pulled him into her lap with his brother but didn’t try to escape. Quickly, they were both snoring.

In-Unga cradled them as the caravan trudged on, completely oblivious to the cold.

Her wolf pups quickly became the highlight of her entourage. At first In-Unga kept to leaving them with Huld while she met with the nobles on their various stops, hoping to spare them from the information overload of court, but they howled something terrible whenever she was out of sight, crying and chasing after her and giving poor Huld nightmares. Ultimately, the queen had two leashes fashioned out of leather, which they wore reluctantly in exchange for accompanying her everywhere she went. It certainly was a sight to behold—she had already looked rather ridiculous before, this tiny mortal woman encompassed by giants, and now here there were these two little fluffballs constantly nipping at her heels— but perhaps it just added to her effect.

They grew quickly. Within a week it seemed they had doubled in size, which In-Unga only realized when she nearly pulled a muscle trying to scoop them both up as she had done when she first found them. Their appetite grew with them. She was seriously concerned for a while that the caravan would run out of things with which to feed them until Njal pointed out one night that they were born hunters.

“Let them loose while we travel, my queen,” he said. “They’ll find food.”

In-Unga frowned. “You think they would come back?” she asked.

Her guard’s gaze traveled to Bowie, sprawled out on her lap fast asleep, his brother hunched protectively over her feet. “I don’t think you have to worry, your Majesty.”

She started taking them off the leash in the morning. At first, they’d only trot alongside her mount, too anxious to leave her side, but soon they were venturing off the trail for pockets of time, reappearing later with some bloodied creature dangling from their mouths. Birds, rodents, small animals—nothing was safe. Her little fur-babies were stone cold killers. She would’ve been lying if she said it wasn’t unnerving to see the little puppies she cuddled up with at night licking blood off their faces, but honestly their prowess was impressive. Her eyes nearly bulged out of her head when Brynjarr returned one day dragging some furry mammal twice as big as him.

Unlike his brother, Brynjarr had remained nameless for a large part of the journey. He had been bestowed with nicknames of all sorts—Hunter, Tough Guy, Mommy’s Little Fighter—but it wasn’t until they reached Márfjall that he got a proper name.

“That’s a warrior,” Hrossþjófr said to her while watching the two wrestle on the beach. “He needs a warrior’s name.”

In-Unga had been dreading this final stop, dreading having to walk down these hallways alone when the very walls of the castle screamed for Loki. She had resolved be strong, but just seeing Hross as they alighted, withered and wilted without Griep by his side, had been nearly enough to cause her to fall apart.

The wolves kept her together. Their childlike fascination with the crimson sands was almost enough to distract her from the other memories swirling around in the dark bay. In her few moments of free time, she’d take them down to the shore and laugh as they’d go tearing up the surf, Brynjarr barking menacingly at the ocean when the waves crashed too close to his feet, Bowie rolling around in the sand until his white coat was stained pink. Hross joined her often with his children, likely as desperate for a diversion as she was. They didn’t talk about the event. It was easier just to focus on the wolves.

Hross was endlessly impressed with their obedience. “How do you get them to do that?” he asked when they stopped what they were doing and came running at In-Unga’s whistle.

She shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said as she attempted to dust off Bowie’s coat before he plopped down on top of her. Even though the two wolves were nearly at the height of her hips, Bowie still seemed to think he was a lap cat. “They just always do.”

Dagný shrieked and buried her face into her father’s chest when the wolves came too close, but her brother leaned forward, his eyes like saucers as he reached for Brynjarr with chubby hands.

“Woof,” he cried. “Woof.”

Hross pulled him away. “Dali, we don’t want to bother the vargr, now—"

“It’s okay,” In-Unga said. “Bryn, sit down so Dali can pet you.”

Brynjarr sank into the sand obediently. Dali gasped in delight as he ran his fingers through the wolf’s thick mane.

“Woof!” he cried again, happily. Hross and In-Unga laughed.

From her lap, Bowie whined for attention. She reached to scratch behind his ears.

“So devoted,” Hross mused. “I’ll have to add it to your song. ‘In-Unga, charmer of wolves.’”

The party arrived back at Utgard just as the winter freeze was beginning to thaw. There was an audible gasp from the crowd gathered when she exited her sleigh flanked by the two animals, but Býleistr only raised an eyebrow.

“There were rumors, but I supposed no one really believed them,” he told her as they walked in.

She smiled. “But you did?”

“Of course,” he said. “If there’s anyone on this planet stupid enough to mistake a vargr for a pet, it’s you.”

“I missed you too, Bý.”

Býleistr and the rest of her advisors tried to catch her up on all the business she had missed over dinner, but the very presence of her wolves was quick to derail any serious conversation.

“They’re so well behaved,” marveled a forest giant In-Unga probably should’ve known the name of. “How does one inspire such loyalty, your Majesty?”

In-Unga forced an artificial laugh. “They only stick around because they know I feed them.”

The wolves laid down at her feet, eyeing the meat on the table. She reached down to scratch Bowie’s back. She doubted the giant had meant anything by her question, but the way everyone was looking at Bowie and Brynjarr was reminding her of the way everyone had looked at her when she first arrived in Jotunheim with Loki, and it was stirring up emotions in her chest that she wasn’t prepared to deal with.

She thought of the golden collar she had worn for so many years, a sign of ownership that had turned into a display of loyalty. She had despised it at first, but by the end she had been proud to wear that collar.

Lokakona. Loki’s woman.

It was in a box under her bed, along with the knife he had given her after the Rann Steinar debacle and the wooden Yggdrasil pendent Griep had given her before her first trip to Asgard. In the days following the destruction of the stones, as the heavy truth that this was a nightmare she wasn’t going to wake up from sank in, In-Unga had collected everything that broke her to look at and stuffed them where she wouldn’t see them anymore.

It hadn’t helped much.

The nights were the worst. It was stupid, because she had lived alone for years before Jotunheim, but now the concept of sleeping by herself made her sick to her stomach. When everything had first happened, In-Unga had refused to even touch the bed. It was too big, too cold, too empty to even attempt sleep in it. She piled furs and blankets on top of the couch and laid there all night, haunted by missing faces and broken memories and outstretched hands that were just beyond her reach. By morning, she’d be curled up so tightly into herself that it hurt to sit straight during the day.

At first, it was just temporary. Wasn’t that what Agent Romanov said, when she finally got into contact with her? They’d find a way to reverse it. Once they were able to locate Tony Stark, they’d find a way. It would be okay. She’d just have to rule in Loki’s stead for a little bit, just like she had before. Keep his realm together for him until he came back. But a month later, she got another call. This time, Romanov’s voice held none of the steadfast determination that In-Unga had been clinging to so desperately. They were gone. The infinity stones, and the people too. It was over. They failed. She was so sorry.

Vaguely, In-Unga remembered asking if she could talk to her brother-in-law, the silence that followed as Romanov went looking for him, her apologetic tone when Thor refused to come to the phone. The next thing she knew she was in the courtyard, heavy snow pummeling her body as Býleistr dragged her back inside with an arm around her waist.

“Are you completely out of your mind?” he snapped. “You’ll freeze to death out there!”

She held up her hand, hazily noting that her skin looked an even darker blue than his.

It was soon after that In-Unga decided to tour the kingdom. The voice inside her head scolded her for the decision even as she attempted to provide political rationale. She was running away. Pushing her problems further down the road in a childish attempt to avoid the unavoidable. Loki would be disappointed in you.

But how could she rule a planet when she couldn’t even bring herself to sleep in her own bed?

So she had left for a few months, for better or worse, and now she was back. After dinner her wolves, obviously exhausted from the long journey, trotted into her old room without issue. Bowie plopped down on the floor and was asleep in seconds. Brynjarr, ever distrustful, made his cautious way around the room, sniffing at odds and ends and barking at items that seemed too suspicious. In-Unga stood in the doorway, watching. It was almost enough of a distraction. Almost. The room was untouched since the last time she had entered, so much so that it still reeked of Loki. The feeling was so strong that for a moment she didn’t trust herself to move.

She entered slowly, drinking in the memories. Loki’s desk, where she’d lean on top of him and read his paperwork over his shoulder, currently piled up with documents he was never going to review. The table across from empty fireplace, where on rare occasions they could have their meals when the only company they felt like entertaining was each other’s. The rug next to the fireplace, where they always seemed to end up after such occasions.

And there was the bed. Brynjarr rushed ahead of her as she made her way to the bedroom, seemingly intent on confirming its safety before allowing her access. In-Unga found herself laughing despite the ache in her chest.

“Does it meet your standards, Bryn?” she asked as he slipped under the bed and out again, sniffing every corner and examining every fur. Eventually, he laid down at the foot of the bed, satisfied.

In-Unga sat down next to him, stroking his ears as he rested his big head on her thighs. This was the last place she had seen Loki. Here, in this room, on this bed. They had been woken up in the middle of the night by a messenger at the door. Groaning, he had dragged himself out of bed to answer it, only to return shortly after considerably more alert.

“What’s wrong?” she asked sleepily as he dressed. “Where you going?”

“Thor’s made a mess of things on Asgard,” he replied, pulling his tunic over his head. “He needs my help.”

“What?” The gravity of his tone woke her up quickly. “Wait, you’re leaving now? What happened?”

He leaned forward to kiss her. “It’s probably nothing. My brother is known to blow things out of proportion. I should be back within a few days.”

“Loki—”

He muffled her with another kiss. “Don’t worry, dröttning,” he whispered against her lips. “It will be fine. I love you.”

“I love you too,” she whispered back. “Stay safe.”

And then he was gone.

For months, In-Unga wondered if there was something she should’ve done. Pulled him back into bed, forbidden him from walking through that door? “Stay here with me. Thor can handle it himself.” Would it have even changed anything? Loki had told her about Thanos—not a lot, but enough to understand that his influence stretched across galaxies. Would he still have collected the stones, regardless of whether she managed to keep Loki with her? She didn’t know which alternative was worse: the idea that there was something she could’ve done but didn’t, or the thought that she was so useless that Loki and the others were fated to die regardless of her actions.

Brynjarr whined, sitting up taller so he could lick the tears off her cheeks. She buried her face in his fluffy neck.

“I miss him, Bryn,” she sobbed. “I miss him so much.”

He followed her into bed that night. It was a bit surprising—Brynjarr normally wasn’t one for bedtime cuddles, that was Bowie’s thing—but not all together unwelcome. In-Unga was a little more concerned about the bed—on all fours her wolves were now taller than her, and significantly heavier. But it seemed to hold together alright, minus a few creaks, and honestly, the comforting weight of Bryn’s head on her stomach was worth a damaged bedframe if it came down to it. Slowly, she drifted off to the sound of his breathing.

Court was sparse these days.

In-Unga had become so accustomed to the looming hallway being packed with faces that seeing it half-empty kindled even more anxiety in her chest. The faces that were there seemed anxious as well—although In-Unga was rather certain their apprehension came more from the massive wolves at her feet than the vacancies in the room. Bowie and Brynjarr were still for the most part, but they were always ready to pounce at a moment’s notice.

Everything was threatening to them. If someone addressed her with a less than respectful tone, if someone tried too come to near to the throne, they were on their feet, teeth bared and growling. In-Unga found it hard to take them seriously. Bowie was a big sweetie who liked belly rubs and snuggling next to the fire, and whenever Bryn growled, she could only picture the tiny little fluff ball she found in the snow trying to be intimidating. But they certainly succeeded in unnerving the court, a little too much perhaps.

“Maybe I should have them wait outside next time,” she wondered aloud to Býleistr after a civilian who had come to petition the queen had been so frightened he was unable to string together a coherent sentence.

“No, most certainly not,” he countered. “They give you an extra sense of authority. The Queen already controls the Casket, now the vargrs bow to her command—it’s a powerful statement, and Jotuns respect power.”

“I suppose,” she said, thoughtfully. “But I don’t want to feel like I’m ruling through fear.”

Býleistr scoffed. “If your subjects don’t fear you to some extent, then you’re doing something wrong. Besides,” he added, “they should be fearful of your wolves.”

He was probably right. In-Unga trusted Njal and his men with her life, but she knew that if there was any sign of danger it would be the wolves who acted first. Bryn and Bowie accompanied her everywhere, flanking her like a set of furry bodyguards. It was especially odd given how large they had grown—they had long been towering over her, and now were approaching Býleistr’s height. Thankfully, Utgard had high ceilings.

With time, the palace became more accustomed to their presence. In-Unga liked to think that seeing her so at ease with them had begun to rub off on her subjects. If she ever had free time during the day, she’d take the two outside to run around and play in the snow. It wasn’t nearly as spacious as the beaches at Márfjall, but they had enough room to wrestle and cavort around. A crowd usually gathered when she played fetch with an old stick of wood she had picked up while still on the road, watching cautiously with wide eyes. She felt rather like a zookeeper putting on a show in an exhibit.

And if you look here, boys and girls, we have an overgrown doggo in his natural habitat.

It had also become a well-known fact that Bowie and Brynjarr slept in In-Unga’s bed with her. She wasn’t quite sure how this had become a well-known fact—perhaps those in charge of washing her bedding had taken note of the clumps of white fur tangled in the blankets—but Huld told her that this fact was seen as quite impressive to the other servants.

“It’s brave,” she said. “To leave yourself vulnerable to such beasts every night.”

In-Unga laughed humorlessly from where she sat hunched over at the desk. It had been a rough day. “At least they’re impressed. I’m pretty sure Loki’s glaring daggers down at me for letting animals sleep in his bed.” She had meant to make a joke, but there was a familiar lump building in her throat that she couldn’t quite swallow.

Hesitantly, Huld reached out to touch her forearm. “He’d love them,” she said. “He loved anything that made you happy.”

Maybe that was so. But In-Unga was still pretty certain that he’d be pissed—if not for the constantly shedding vargrs taking over his bedroom, then definitely for the stupid ideas that they spawned.

“Alright,” In-Unga said, drawing a line in the air from her chest to the ground. “Lie down.”

The two wolves sunk into the snow obediently, though not without confusion. They clearly expected playtime when she brought them outside, as did the growing crowd of faces at the palace gate. She sighed. This was one time where she’d rather not have an audience, but she didn’t feel right having them dispersed.

“Have I mentioned that this is a terrible idea?” Býleistr drawled from behind her.

“You have, as a matter of fact,” she replied, rubbing Bowie’s neck. He sighed contently, multicolored eyes slipping closed. “I’m still not listening to you.”

“It was worth a try.”

It was Hross who had put the idea in her head, when he had come to visit a month or two ago. Even after he returned to Márfjall, she couldn’t stop imagining what it might be like to ride one of her wolves like a horse.

“Just picture it!” he had said excitedly. “Queen In-Unga, riding into battle alone atop a vargr, casket in hand—”

Býleistr had interrupted to inquire under what circumstances would the kingdom become so inept as to send their mortal queen into battle alone, but In-Unga was sold.

Although, looking at it now, mounting didn’t seem as simple as Hross had made it out to be.

“Okay,” she murmured to Bowie as she made her way around his body. “I’m going to get on your back, buddy. Don’t freak out.” She grabbed a clump of fur on his back—even with him laying down, she had to reach a bit—and tried to pull herself up.

Key word being tried.

“No—what are you doing?” she cried as Bowie stood up with her still hanging off his side. “Bowie, sit down!”

The wolf yawned.

“Oh my,” Býleistr was doing his best to sound disinterested, but she could hear the suppressed laugher hiding under his voice. “Do you need a push?”

“Shut up.” She leveraged herself against the wolf, trying to wriggle her way to a sitting position. Bowie suddenly decided to obey her earlier command and plopped his bottom on the ground, the movement throwing her off enough to tumble into the snow.

“Oof!”

Bowie grinned at her.

Býleistr’s laugh rang out across the ice.

“I take it back,” he said. “That was well worth it. Now, have you had enough of this nonsense, my Queen, or might we go back inside?”

In-Unga was already back on her feet. “Do whatever you want, Býleistr. I’m not finished yet.”

This time, she went to Brynjarr. He was still lying down, despite all the ruckus.

“Okay,” she murmured, scratching his ear. “Take 2.”

Bowie whined. In-Unga turned around to see him lying down with his head between his paws, eyes wide and repentant. “Oh, hush!” she said, rolling her eyes. “You had your chance.”

Pulling herself on to Brynjarr’s back was surprisingly easy, likely because he actually listened to her when she told him to stay still. It took her a minute to get situated and comfortable, seated in a position where she didn’t feel like she was immediately going to slip off. She wondered if she should have a saddle made. But she felt like that would be too complicated—they’d have to get measurements from the wolves since no such saddle had ever been made before (to her knowledge, at least), all the while working on the assumption that Bryn and Bowie would even wear such a contraption.

Besides, she told herself, Daenerys Targaryen rides her dragons bareback without problem, right?

Yes. That was definitely the type of logic she needed to live her life by.

In-Unga clutched his fur as tightly as she could. “Okay, Bryn,” she said, tapping his neck. “Up!”

The wolf rose to his feet in one fluid, graceful motion that nearly sent her sprawling again. Oh boy. She tightened the grip of her legs around his sides. If I die today, blame George R.R. Martin.

She was high. Extremely high. Geez, she had to be at least ten feet in the air! Since when had her babies gotten this big?

Býleistr cleared his throat. “So,” he said, looking up at her (Býleistr had to look up at her!), “Are you just going to sit up there all day or do you plan on doing something? Because if not I would like to remind you that—”

“Hold your horses, Bý.”

He blinked. “Excuse me?”

In-Unga ignored him. She leaned forward to flatten herself against Brynjarr’s back. “Okay buddy,” she whispered, tapping his shoulder. “Whenever you’re ready.”

He started off slowly, a fact for which she was exceedingly thankful. He crept ahead almost as if he was tiptoeing, so soft that she barely felt his feet on the ground, a far cry from the clodding she was used to with the wooly rhinos. He wandered around in a circle, continually looking back to check if she was still there.

“Good boy.”

They continued riding in a circle for a while. It wasn’t anything grand, and it was certainly a far cry from Hrossþjófr’s vision of her galloping into battle, but there was still something thrilling about being atop such a powerful creature. In-Unga didn’t have any delusions about being in control—she knew damn well the moment Brynjarr decided he had had enough he’d plop down in the snow and she wouldn’t be able to do anything about it—but the illusion of control was enough to make her feel unbelievably powerful.

“Look at me, Býleistr!” she called. “Aren’t you impressed?”

“Exceedingly,” he said dryly. “Are you finished? Remember, we do have things to accomplish today.”

In-Unga frowned. Býleistr was right, of course—she was the Queen of Jotunheim, she couldn’t just spend the entire day playing with her wolves. But on the flip side, she was the Queen of Jotunheim—if she wanted to spend the entire day playing with her wolves, who could stop her?

Just as she was beginning to favor postponing her next few meetings on account of essential wolf training, Bowie rose to his feet.

She sighed. “Bowie, what did I tell you—” The wolf wasn’t listening. He knelt close to the ground, muscles tense as he eyed something in the distance. Brynjarr turned around abruptly, In-Unga grabbing at his mane to maintain her balance. He too tensed, staring unblinkingly into the snow.

She squinted into the distance. At first, she couldn’t spot anything out of the ordinary, but the tiniest movement of white fur soon gave it away. A kanína. They were smaller, rodent-like creatures that lived all over the place, not unlike the rabbits she knew from Earth. Their meat was extremely tough, practically inedible to giants and mortals alike, but her wolves loved to hunt them.

Uh oh.

“I think I’m going to get down now,” she said, patting Brynjarr’s neck. “You can chance down that furball once I’m on the ground. Lie down.” Bryn didn’t move. Oh dear.

She tried again, more authoritatively. “Brynjarr, lie down! Brynjarr—” She cut herself off with a very unqueenly shriek as the kanína bolted, the wolves bolting after it.

All In-Unga could do was hold on for dear life. The wind smacked her face as they picked up speed, whistling so loudly in her ears that she could only barely hear Býleistr shouting her name. The landscape flashed by in a blur of color.

Holy shit holy shit holy shit!

“Bryn!” she screamed. “Bryn, stop!”

It was like riding a giant rocking horse running at the speed of light. Straightening up was out of the question, so she flattened herself against Brynjarr’s body and tried to sway with his movements. To the left, she could barely make out Bowie running alongside them, leaping so far that it looked like he was flying above the snow.

Just breath. Focus on breathing. Don’t think about how much it’ll hurt if you fall. Just focus on breathing.

Although… it wasn’t that bad. The longer she held on, feeling the vibration of their paws travel up her spine, the more her panic began to fade. She pushed up a little, risking a glance over her shoulder at the distant dot that was Býleistr. Shit. They were going fast.

Exhilaration flooded her body. This is what Hross had been talking about!

In-Unga, Charmer of Wolves

For a moment, she felt like a superhero.

When she hooted, the wolves howled with her. The kanína was still running in front of them, scrambling to stay ahead, but its time was up: Bowie pounced and had the poor rodent dangling in his mouth in a second, snapping its neck like it was nothing. They slowed down, Bowie stopping completely to grin at her with his prize. Look at me, Mom! Aren’t you proud of me?

In-Unga laughed. “Good boy.”

Trotting back to Býleistr was slightly less thrill-inducing now that she could actually see where they were going without getting pelted in the face with wind. In-Unga made a mental note to have a pair of goggles made for any future wolf-runs.

“So what do you think?” she asked, grinning down at her brother-in-law.

Býleistr gaped at her. He shook his head. “I don’t know why I still haven’t learned to just expect this madness from you.”

She snickered.

After that, wolf rides became a part of In-Unga’s daily routine. Every afternoon she’d climb onto Bryn’s back and take off into the snow for about an hour, flying across the countryside with only her wolves for company. That last detail drove Býleistr mad.

“You are the single most important individual on this planet,” he snapped at her one day. “And, if you’ll excuse my saying so, likely the most vulnerable as well. You need to take a guard with you.”

“I can take care of myself, Bý,” she replied nonchalantly from where she sat with Bowie in front of the fireplace. “You should understand that as much as anyone. Besides, the wolves will take care of me.” Bowie looked up with a grin, thumping his tail against the stone floor in enthusiastic agreement. Býleistr rolled his eyes.

“And when you go flying off their back while they’re running at full speed? How will they protect you then?” He shook his head. “I’d doubt they’d even notice you were missing.”

“That will never happen,” she said stubbornly. “I’d never fall off, and they’d never leave me behind.”

It was easy to sound fearless while bathed in the warmth of the fire, but there were moments where In-Unga was a little less sure of herself (although she’d stab herself before admitting such to the prince). The landscape around Utgard was high and rocky, and although her furry companions were sure footed, she often found herself swallowing her heart as they scampered up craggy ledges.

Still, every hair-raising experience she survived increased her confidence in her abilities as a wolf-back rider and encouraged her to go farther. She taught Brynjarr to understand her commands just by the way she shifted her weight on his back. Luckily, he picked it up easily— trying to yell instructions with the wind blasting in her face got old very quickly.

Bowie took a little while longer, but they got there eventually. He wasn’t as much of a fan of having In-Unga on his back, but he also wasn’t a fan of being left out, and weeks of watching his brother get all the attention for carrying the queen wore him down. Soon enough, she could ride him as well as Bryn.

They tended to keep to the rocks on their journeys. Running through the caves would have been a lot easier, as well as less windy, but the caverns that Loki had carried her through when she first arrived on Jotunheim were haunted by ghosts of memories In-Unga couldn’t bring herself to face. Instead, she stuck to sights less sacred: mountainous cliffs and jutting rocks that Bryn and Bowie loved to race each other around, places so far off the beaten path that there was no chance of stray flashbacks popping up to punch her in the gut.

Sometimes, on the way back from the palace, she’d ride through town. It was a risk, of course, but then again when was anything not? She always wanted to laugh at the crowd that gathered whenever she came through, at the way her people’s eyes would bulge at seeing the giant wolves plodding down the road completely unphased. They would whisper amongst themselves, just as they did that first time she came to the marketplace with Griep, but the words were slightly different.

In-Unga. Vargdröttning.

Usually, she made a point of stopping at some small vendor and purchasing something— a dagger, a blanket, a piece of jewelry— the item didn’t really matter to her. She just liked interacting with her people, asking them about their families, checking up on their wellbeing. With everything that had gone wrong in the past few years, she felt that was the least she could do. That too was reminiscent her trip with Griep. So much had changed since then, and yet still so much was the same. Back then, the Jotuns hadn’t known what to make of a mortal wandering through life on Utgard as if she belonged there. In-Unga got the feeling that they still weren’t sure what to make of her now, but they treated her with respect and grace and that was all she could ever hope for.

Some of the changes hurt. The absence of her Forest Twins was an ache she carried with her everywhere she went. In-Unga had never really realized how deeply she depended on them both until they were gone. Now, without them, she missed them everywhere. At the table during meals. In the throne room when she held court. Just walking through the halls—it was such a silly, stupid thing, but she felt naked making her way through the palace alone even now, a couple years after she lost them.

Most times during her afternoon ride, she’d dismount at the top of some mountain and let Bowie and Brynjarr hunt for a bit. She’d find a rock to sit on, sheltered from the wind, and make a list of all the things she wanted to tell them. How she had been trying to teach Huld to play gin rummy, but Bowie ate half the deck. How Hross had written that Dagný had finally said her first word: daddy. How Býleistr was all pissed off because Bryn had somehow gotten into his greenhouse while In-Unga had let them out to hunt and knocked over some important plants from Alfheim.

Griep would have gotten a kick out of that last one: in the months before everything went wrong, Gjálp had been spending a suspicious amount of time in Býleistr’s greenhouse, something her sister and In-Unga had been relentlessly teasing her about. You know, payback for all the teasing she had doled out over the years. She had been getting pretty annoyed about it.

“I don’t know what the two of you have gotten in your heads,” she had scowled. “Prince Býleistr was simply showing off his imported aster flowers. They only bloom for a short period of time—”

“Riiight,” In-Unga said, smirking. “That’s definitely what he’s been showing you.”

Gjálp sputtered, scandalized, while Griep exploded into a fit of very uncharacteristic giggles.

On her rock in the middle of the snow, In-Unga giggled too. It was nice, having these quick little moments where she could almost trick herself into thinking that everything was fine. They were fleeting though. By the time her wolves returned to her, a few minutes later, she was sobbing uncontrollably.

She missed them so much.

But with everything that had changed in the past few years, everything that had been uprooted and ripped to shreds, at least there remained one constant in her life.

Periods still sucked Hel.

Regardless, In-Unga always tried to carry on with her day as usual. She was the queen, after all—she couldn’t be seen as weak. So, she’d hold court like everything was normal, sit up straight on the throne and pretend she didn’t feel like someone was wringing out her insides like wet laundry. If the giants around her noticed the stench of blood (which of course they did), they knew better than to bring it up.

But today had just been too much. Meetings heaped on top of meetings, every new face bearing a different demand or a different complaint, every new conversation only exacerbating the ache in her head and the knots in her stomach. By noon, she called it a day.

In bed, burrowed into her nest of blankets, In-Unga existed in the frustrating in-between: too tired to be fully awake, but too uncomfortable to drift off to sleep. She buried her face in her pillow and cursed the blizzard outside. It seems periods always worsened with the cold.

From the doorframe, Bowie whined. Brynjarr had easily accepted the reality that there would be no afternoon run today, instead electing to pass out at the foot of the bed, but his brother did not give up so easily. If In-Unga hadn’t felt so awful, she would’ve laughed at him—the doorway to her bedroom was far too narrow for the giant wolf. He was just barely managing to squeeze through.

He whined again.

She groaned. “Can’t play with you right now, buddy.”

Rolling over, she nestled deeper under the covers, seeking protection against the biting cold. It was a useless attempt. She never seemed to be able to get warm anymore.

Bowie padded over to her bedside, his claws drumming on the floor making him sound like some sort of depressed tap dancer. He snuffled at her hair.

“Go away, Bowie,” she muttered when he pressed his clammy nose to her forehead. She pushed his giant head away halfheartedly. “Lie down with Bryn.”

Suddenly, the whole bed dipped, and the giant wolf was attempting to snuggle his way into to her blankets.

“Bow—” she tried to push him away again, with even less effort than before. “You’re too big!” But with a final push, he nuzzled under her blankets next to her, grinning widely and smacking her face with a mouthful of doggy breath. In-Unga winced.

“Such an attention hog,” she groaned, even as she reached to scratch the fur under his chin. “You don’t even care that I’m trying to rest, do you?” He snuggled closer, sighing in contentment when In-Unga shifted so that she was resting her head on his fluffy neck rather than her pillow.

“Yes, you’re a good boy. I’m sorry. I’m just having a bad day.” She heaved a sigh of her own. “Do you know what my small council said to me, first thing when I sat down?”

He cocked his head. In-Unga took that as a sign to continue.

“They think I should get married. Remarried.” She swallowed bitterly. “They said it would help ‘maintain my legitimacy as queen.’ As if I’m not already fucking legitimate!” She smacked the mattress with her palm, glaring at her wolf. “Do you know the shit I went through to get to this point?”

Bowie whined.

“Right, of course you don’t,” she apologized. “You weren’t born yet. But take my word for it, it was a lot.”

On the floor, Brynjarr shifted in his sleep. In-Unga continued.

“And then there’s the whole subject of heirs. ‘Your Majesty, since you failed to have a child to King Loki before he died, you have no one to advance your lineage’—yes I’m well aware of that!” she shouted at the ceiling, blinking the steaming tears from her eyes. “I’m reminded of that fact every damn day of my life! I don’t need you to tell me!”

Her nose was running. She wiped it angrily with the heel of her hand. They had been trying to have a baby, her and Loki. After years of pushing it off, waiting for things to stabilize, they had finally felt ready. Loki had told her not to be frustrated if she didn’t get pregnant right away.

“Our biologies are fundamentally different. It may take some time.” They had been in bed, tangled up in each other under the cover of darkness. In-Unga could still feel his breath in her hair when he leaned down to kiss her head. “Don’t worry, dröttning. We’re in no rush.”

He had gotten called away a few months later, her womb still empty.

“They had a whole list of men they thought would be suitable,” she muttered to Bowie, blocking out memories that hurt too much to touch. “They had organized it all and everything. I felt like the Bachelorette. Totally ridiculous! And they had the audacity to look at me like I was the crazy one!”

The way they had stared at her, when she categorically refused to even consider their proposition. “But my queen, don’t you want to have children?”

Yes. Yes she did. She wanted to have children whose ebony hair matched their father’s, who carried both his intelligence and his mischievous streak within them. She wanted to see her husband’s eyes light up when they learned a new magic trick, wanted to laugh at the regal King of Jotunheim crawling around the room on his hands and knees with his toddler giggling on his back. She wanted to cradle her baby and smile at its sleeping face in awe, wondering at the perfect mix of her and the man she loved so much, a mix that could exist with no one else.

Yes, she wanted to have children. Loki’s children.

In-Unga ran her fingers through Bowie’s fur. “He’s not coming back,” she whispered. “I know that. I’ve made my peace with it. But I can’t pretend that it’s okay. I can’t just… replace him.”

Bowie licked her cheek with a tongue the size of her entire face. In-Unga sputtered, snorting. “Ugh… thanks buddy.” He nodded, moving to rest his head on her stomach so she could scratch his ears. She stroked his long fur absentmindedly. The wolves were the closest thing to children she was ever going to have. She was at peace with that too. Her advisors may not understand, but they didn’t have to. She had done so much for her kingdom. They could give her this.

And so time marched on. Winter turned to spring, spring to summer, then back to winter again, over and over as if nothing had ever happened.

It was a quiet night in her quarters when things changed.

In-Unga was skimming over a document by the fire, having abandoned the desk in favor of the furry rug, a warm blanket, and her wolf-pillows. Bryn’s eyes were fluttering. Bowie was already fast asleep, sighing contently. Behind them, Huld softly cleaned up the remnants of the late dinner she had eaten alone in her room. Save for the crackling of the flames, the room was silent.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to focus on the lines of script. The flickering light was almost hypnotic—In-Unga leaned against Bowie’s back to rest her eyes for a moment and found herself unable to sit back up.

She yawned. Probably time to call it a night. Still, she felt so nice here—her bed would be large and cold, and she’d have to get up and walk all the way to the next room to even get there…

In-Unga was just beginning to doze off completely when the high-pitched beep nearly scared her out of her skin.

The wolves were on their feet immediately, knocking her out of her reverie and barking so loudly the room shook. The beeping continued, shrill and ear-piercing, and In-Unga cursed under her breath as she pulled herself up.

I live in a damn circus.

Huld was standing at the table, hands over her ears and red eyes trained on the corner of the room. “Your majesty!” she cried. “It’s the thing!”

In-Unga followed her gaze to the telephone-like communicator Tony Stark had created for them, back when everything was nice and happy and Thor had convinced everyone it was a good idea for Jotunheim to have some method of contact with the Avengers. For the first time in five years, it was flashing red.

She made her way across the room in a fog. The last time it rang… that call had broken her. Broken everything. Told her that the hopeless mess her life had turned into would be here to stay, and that she would have to clean it up alone. In-Unga hadn’t touched the device since. What could Earth’s Mightiest Heroes possibly have to say to her now?

Still, it couldn’t be worse than last time, could it?

In-Unga hushed the wolves, who fell silent at her command, and picked up the receiver.

“Hello?”

Agent Romanov’s sharp voice said her Midgardian name. “How have you been?”

“Alright, I guess, considering everything,” she answered cautiously. Somehow, she doubted that after half a decade the assassin had just decided to phone for a social call. “Is everything okay?”

She was right. “We’re working on something,” Agent Romanov said. “We’re not positive how everything’s going to turn out, but at the moment, things are looking good. I thought you should know, just in case things get crazy.”

In-Unga frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“The Snap,” she said. She inhaled softly. “We think we can bring everyone back.”

In-Unga’s heart stopped.

For a moment, she just stood there, barely comprehending her words.

We can bring everyone back.

Romanov said her name again. “Are you still there?”

“Yeah,” she said shakily. “Are—are you serious? You going—how is that even possible? You said before—without the stones—”

“I know,” the assassin said. “We still need them. But Stark’s come up with something that would allow us to retrieve them before they were destroyed. We’ve planned out where they are across the timeline, the easiest times and places for us to access them—”

“Wait.” In-Unga’s head was spinning. “Retrieve them before they were destroyed?” She had to be misunderstanding. Surely Romanov wasn’t suggesting what it sounded like she was suggesting. “How is that possible? Unless you have a—”

“Time machine?” There was a wry smile to Romanov’s voice. “Yeah, that’s about right.”

“What?”

“It’s a long story, but like I said, Stark’s come up with something,” she continued. “I know it sounds insane, but we’ve proven it works—we ran a test with Barton, and Lang basically did it unintentionally for five years—”

“Lang?” In-Unga asked weakly.

“You don’t know him. But my point is it’s possible.”

It’s possible.

“Time travel,” she said. “That’s what’s happening? I haven’t gone crazy, you’re actually telling me you can time travel?”

“Well, you did marry the guy who attacked New York, so I can’t say you’re not crazy,” Romanov said. In-Unga was so overwhelmed that the poor attempt at humor didn’t even bother her. “But yes, that’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

They’re going to bring them back. In-Unga was shaking. Loki, Griep, Gjálp… they’re going to bring them back!

“When is this happening? How is this going to happen? Is there something I can do?” The questions tumbled out faster than she had time to think.

“We’re going out tomorrow. Technically speaking, everything will only take a few minutes, so we should have the stones by then.”

In-Unga gasped. “That soon?”

“Yeah. We’re not sure exactly how they’ll work once we have them, but Thanos was able to wipe out half the universe just by snapping his fingers, so we’re guessing it’s not that difficult.”

“So, everyone could be back tomorrow!” The shock was beginning to wear off, replaced by a surge of pure elation. The wolves, sensing her excitement, began barking again. “Hey, shut up! Both of you!”

Romanov laughed. “I didn’t know you had dogs.”

“It’s a fairly new development.” So new that Loki and the Twins never got to meet them. Her eyes were stinging. “Tomorrow?”

“Hopefully, yes,” In-Unga had never known Romonov to sound so excited. “That’s why I wanted to get into contact with you. We’re not sure how this will work, what kind of widespread effects it can might cause. I thought you deserved a heads up.”

She nodded. “Thank you. Will you let me know when you get back with the stones?”

“Sure thing.”

“Well…” In-Unga wondered if she was dreaming, if she was going to wake up and curse her stupid brain for letting her hope for a moment. But this was real. This was happening. “Good luck!” she said into the receiver, pulse thrumming.

She could hear the smile in Romanov’s voice. “Thanks. I’ll get back to you tomorrow.”

In-Unga set the receiver down in a daze. When she turned, both her wolves and her maid were staring at her with eyes so wide it was practically comical.

“Huld,” she said quietly. “Get Býleistr in here, would you?”

She spent the next day huddled next to the communicator, anxiously tapping her feet on the stone floor.

Býleistr had been willing to hold court in her place today, but he had been less inclined to share her eager optimism.

“The past has already been written, In-Unga,” he said softly. “That’s not something anyone can change.”

“But there’s a chance they might,” she cried. She pushed the hair out of her face. “A chance. That’s more than we’ve had for the last five years!”

“Getting your hopes up will only cause yourself more pain when they fail. You’ll be grieving all over again—"

“I never stopped grieving,” she whispered. Her eyes were damp again as she looked back up at Býleistr. He sighed.

“I hope it works,” he said. “I do. It’s just—” he cut himself off, shaking his head and abruptly standing up to leave. “Goodnight, your Majesty.”

Behind her, the wolves paced back and forth, whining softly as they picked up on her nervous energy. In-Unga couldn’t tear her eyes away from the phone. Had they left yet? Was everything going to plan? She let out a worried breath. If only there was something she could do. Something besides just sitting here and feeling useless.

By the afternoon Romanov still had not called and In-Unga had completely chewed through her bottom lip. She should have heard something by now. She was certain of it. Hadn’t Romanov said that it was only supposed to take a few minutes?

Huld brought her lunch at around noon. In-Unga left it on the table untouched. She wasn’t hungry. In fact, she felt like she was going to be sick.

Bowie was scratching at the floor. The sound of his nails dragging across the stone put her even more on edge than she was already, but he ignored her when she told him to stop. In the corner, Byrnjarr growled softly.

Her room was warmer than usual. She found herself shrugging off the blanket she usually kept draped across her shoulders in her quarters and letting it fall to the floor. Out of nowhere, she felt confused. Nothing was the way it was supposed to be. Everything was happening at once. It was overwhelming—so overwhelming. She couldn’t think— wait.

These aren’t my feelings.

In-Unga shot up so quickly she knocked her chair over. Bowie and Bryn were on their feet in less than a second, bouncing around and barking at the top of their lungs. With shaking hands, she reached for her neck, for what had become nothing more than an old scar these past five years. At the brush of her fingertips, sparks shot through her skin.

Her gasp melted into messy sobs. “Loki.”

Outside, people were shouting, voices blending together into an amorphous blob of noise. Someone pounded at her door.

“Your Majesty!” Njal shouted. “Your Majesty, something is happening—”

They’re back. They’re all back…

In-Unga barged through her door without a word to her guards, dashing down the hallways at lightning speed with Brynjarr and Bowie trotting at her heels. There were people everywhere—servants, nobles, people gasping, people embracing, people running through the halls like maniacs like her—In-Unga ignored all of them. She flung herself down the stairs with her wolves still behind her.

The room she was rushing to hadn’t been touched in five years. She had felt stupid, giving that order, but having someone else move in was admitting that they were gone forever, and she couldn’t do that.

But it didn’t matter anymore.

In-Unga was completely out of breath by the time she flung open the door. The woman standing in the middle of room looked up as she pressed her fingers to her temple, red eyes furrowed in a frown.

“In-Unga,” she asked. “What is—”

Gjálp didn’t have time to finish before In-Unga crashed into her in a bear hug, bawling.

She sputtered. “In-Unga—”

“You’re back!” In-Unga sobbed. “You’re back! You’re back!”

Gjálp returned the embrace tentatively. “What is happening? What—Norns!” She stiffened, yanking In-Unga backwards. The mortal queen turned to find that Bryn and Bowie had followed her into the room and were now looming over the couch with all the intimidation of a pair of overexcited Labradors.

“Oh no, it’s fine—” In-Unga hiccupped, finding words astonishingly difficult to control in the moment. “Mine. They’re mine. Don’t worry! Uh—lie down!” Thankfully, they obeyed without an issue, their tales flying around like propellers. “See?” She gulped, turning back to Gjálp. She gripped her wrist, just to remind herself that this was real, and she wasn’t dreaming.

“You’re back,” she whispered again, hoarsely.

“You keep saying that,” Gjálp said, still frowning suspiciously at the wolves. “What happened? Where am I back from?”

In-Unga let out a wet laugh. “You were gone. He got the stones and took out everyone—half of everyone, half of everyone everywhere,” she laughed again, because it suddenly sounded funny saying out loud with Gjálp staring down at her like she had lost her mind. Maybe she had. It didn’t matter anymore.

“Your Majesty.”

They both jumped at the unfamiliar voice behind them. In-Unga turned to find herself face to face with a man—a human man, with a goatee and red cloak, standing in the middle of a ring of fire. In a second, the wolves had flanked her, teeth bared and growling.

Shit, I guess I have lost my mind.

Gjálp was the first to find her voice. “Who—what—how did you get in here?”

The man ignored her. “Your Majesty,” he said, facing In-Unga. “I am Dr. Stephen Strange of New York.”

The name vaguely stirred something in her memory. “You died in the Snap,” she said. “You were with Mr. Stark.”

Dr. Strange nodded. “The effects of the Snap may have been reversed, but this isn’t over yet.”  He fixed her with a solemn stare. “Your husband needs your help.”

Somehow, she had known he was going to say that. A wave of resolution washed over her. Standing straight, she wiped her cheeks. “What do you need me to do?”

The smoke was stifling. Strange had said it was a war zone, but In-Unga hadn’t expected for even the upstate sky to be blackened with debris. She had been to this compound before, years ago with Thor and Loki. It had felt a bit like stepping into the future, with the manicured lawns and the crisp white doors that whooshed as the slid open automatically. It had been nothing like the scorched wasteland flaring before her. The smoke was so thick she could barely make out the looming warships hovering over the skyline.

The dark warriors lined the horizon, a mass of limbs extending far beyond her range of sight. In-Unga squared her shoulders as she road through the portal. She could see him, standing in the middle of all this destruction, the golden light of the portals casting shadows on his purple skin. For so long, he had been faceless to her, the untouchable enemy who she had never seen but whose name she fell asleep cursing every night. And yet here he was in the flesh, living, breathing, vulnerable.

Thanos.

Brynjarr howled. From her perch atop his back, In-Unga felt the vibration in every part of her body. Bowie joined in, his usually mournful cries dark and full of promise. The sound mixed with the battle cries from portals down the line, words chanted in languages she didn’t speak, but in sentiment she understood perfectly.

You took everything. Now we’re taking it back.

The Jotuns behind her understood too. With deep voices, they answered the cries with chants of their own, shouts crescendoing with every individual rushing through the portal. Utgard had been in such chaos that she hadn’t expected anyone to rally to her call, but vengeance was a powerful motivator. She had stood on the balcony and told her people that the one responsible for their suffering was out there, still struggling to once again rip their loved ones from their arms, and just like that, her armies mobilized.

Now here she was, Queen In-Unga of Jotunheim, facing down the enemy atop a howling vargr, her soldiers armed and ready behind her. She felt strangely calm.

I’m bringing Loki home.

He was here somewhere. Even if Strange hadn’t told her how he had been resurrected on the plains of Wakanda with the other fallen warriors, she would have known. She felt his steely resolve as he prepared for battle, let it swirl and mix with hers across the battlefield.

This is it.

When Thor shouted, she screamed with him. And then they were all running. The appeal of two nine-foot-tall wolves in combat was quickly apparent: her babies tore through alien fighters like rare steaks. Brynjarr didn’t even need to be directed; he seemed to know exactly where to go, when to duck, when to tackle. Bowie cleared a way through the chaos, trampling everyone in his path.

They zig-zagged across the battleground, In-Unga pressed tightly into Bryn’s fur to avoid shooting darts of light and projectiles flying through the air every which way, no clue who was shooting them. A roar consumed the land, built from rallying cries and death shrieks, guns shooting and bones cracking, and in the midst of all this pandemonium, she found him.

Loki threw his blades with a catlike grace, completely surrounded and yet completely in control, as if he had never left.

“Bryn!” she steered him left, and he understood instantly. Snarling, the wolves rushed the scene. Loki whipped around in shock, In-Unga barely registering his fleeting moment of confusion as she felt the thud of alien bodies crushed on the ground. When Loki called out her name she found she could barely breathe.

“Down!” she choked at Brynjarr. She slid off his back to unsteady legs and managed to hold back her tears until she threw her arms around her husband.

The battle faded away. She sobbed on his shoulder, drinking in the scent she thought she’d never experience again, relishing the way he gripped her so tightly she felt as though she might break. She clutched at him too, afraid that if she let go he’d disintegrate through her fingers. He whispered her name against her hair, that soft baritone she thought she’d never hear ever again, and she held him even closer.

He was the one to pull away first, cupping her cheek in his palm as he wiped her teardrops with his palm. His green eyes held her in their stare.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

In­-Unga exhaled, the tiniest laugh. Less than an hour ago he had been dead, and he was worried about her?

“Yeah,” she murmured. It was a tiny breath under the rage of battle, but somehow, she knew he heard. “I am now.”

…

“Come on, you scaredy-cat, it’s fine,” In-Unga laughed from atop Bowie on the beach at Márfjall.

“I’m not scared, just concerned.” Loki stood on the ground besides Brynjarr, the two sizing each other up suspiciously. For the most part, her husband and her wolves had been getting along well—at least, well enough. Bowie was still bitter that his place in In-Unga’s bed had been taken from him, and Bryn was untrusting by nature, but it was getting better. Loki still didn’t understand how creatures that showed such savagery on the battlefield could be so cuddly at home.

“Look, if I can do it without a problem, you certainly can manage.” Bowie whined as he shifted his weight between his feet, anxious to sprint down the red sand. She rubbed his neck and fixed Loki with a pointed stare.

He shook his head, smiling uneasily. “You’ve had five years of practice, love.”

“Yeah, which I never would’ve got if I hadn’t gotten on first.” She turned back to the small group watching behind them. “Give me some help here!”

Griep frowned, holding Dagný in her arms. “I don’t know, In-Unga. I don’t think vargrs are meant to carry people.”

“I thought you liked animals—”

“It’s a giant vargr—”

“Now, my precious ice-heart” Hross said, intertwining his fingers with hers. “In-Unga has proved time and time again that there are those more than capable of riding a wolf. Both myself and Prince Býleistr can attest to that.”

Býleistr chuckled. “She fell off the first time she tried.”

“No, no!” In-Unga whipped back to Loki. “That was on Bowie, because Bowie likes to be difficult.  Brynjarr has never given me a problem, which is why you’re going to try riding him.” Bowie gave an offended snort.

“I still can’t believe you can tell them apart,” Gjálp said. “They look exactly the same, smell exactly the same—”

“I told you, Bowie is the one with two different colored eyes!”

“But when you can’t see their eyes—”

Dali pulled at Hrossþjófr’s free arm. “Wanna ride wolf!”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake!” In-Unga groaned. “Loki, get on the damn wolf before I give your spot to a toddler.”

Loki huffed indignantly, but he pulled himself over Bryn’s back and into a sitting position. “Happy, wife?”

“Ecstatic,” she tried to maintain her stern, but the sight of him balancing haphazardly on the back of her wolf made it hard not to grin like an idiot. “Now, tell him to get up.”

“Get up, wolf,” he said emotionlessly.

Brynjarr looked at her in exasperation. Are you kidding me with this guy?

In-Unga sighed. “Tell him nicely.”

He through his hands in the air. “It’s a wolf!”

“Loki…”

“Fine.” He looked back down at Bryn. “Get up wolf, please.”

Behind them, Hross was cackling uncontrollably. In-Unga rolled her eyes. “I think that’s the best he’s gonna do Bryn,” she said. “Come on, up, up!”

Brynjarr grunted, but still hopped to his feet far more quickly than usual. Loki gasped as he struggled to right his balance. She pressed her hand to her mouth to muffle her giggles.

Loki scowled. “I hear you snickering over there. This is why I didn’t want to do this.”

“What do you mean?” she asked innocently. “You’re doing great, sweetie!”

He glared.

Oh, if looks could kill.

“Now what?” he asked sourly.

She leaned forward, clicking her tongue. “Now, you hold on, and try to keep up.”

“What—” Loki was cut off with a cry as the two wolves took off down the rusty beach. In-Unga laughed as they rode alongside each other, Loki clinging desperately to Bryn’s fur. His startled expression morphed into something more sinister when he noticed her amusement.

“I’m going to get you for this!” he yelled over the wind.

She grinned. “You better!”

In-Unga wouldn’t have it any other way.

#running with the wolves #loki x reader #loki x in-unga #frostbite fic #maiden of asgard #loki fanfic

[ajnerdess]

Comfort (Charles Smith x Reader fluff oneshot)

Help, i’ve jumped on the red dead train and i can’t get off. This is another idea I had of the reader thinking her lover Javier is dead after the Saint Denis Bank job disaster and getting closer to Charles as a result. Lil bit of angst, lil bit of fluff, the perfect combo!

You couldn’t help but look sad as you shaved the sides of Charles head, watching the long black hair fall to the ground. You loved his hair, but since Javier had been involved in that bank job and disappeared, presumed dead, just like Lenny and Hosea were, Charles had been a great comfort to you, you had grown much closer, so much so that when he asked you to help with his hair, you jumped at the chance to help him.

“I can hear you sighing you know” he said.

You carried on shaving his head, steadying your breathing as you tried not to make any more sounds of disappointment.

“I’m sorry, I just, I love your hair, cutting it off like this, it feels like a crime in itself.”

Charles laughed. “It will grow back hummingbird. It’s just easier like this, gets in the way less” he replied.

You began to braid his hair as he instructed, smiling as Charles seemed to ease into your touch.

“So, this haircut, is this linked to why you keep disappearing on me for a day at a time?”

Charles kept quiet. You knew he was a man of few words, he only ever really opened up to you, and Arthur of course. He had his secrets and you had to respect that. He wasn’t your husband, he wasn’t even your lover. That was Javier, or had been, you didn’t even know any more. You had no idea where he was, or if he was even alive. Everything had gone to shit. Sean, Kieran, Hosea, Lenny, they were all dead. And now Javier, Arthur, Dutch, Bill and Micah were either dead or lost to you too.

As you finished his braid, you leaned down and kissed the side of his head gently. “There, perfect, handsome as ever.”

Charles stared at you as you walked around to face him and admire your work. He looked taken aback by your kiss, and even you blushed a little at the realisation you had kissed him, no matter how chaste it had been.

“Thank you y/n, thank you very much” he said as he stood up.

“Any time, though actually, I would really rather prefer you didn’t ask me to cut anymore of your lovely hair off.”

Charles smiled at your words, touching your arm gently as he passed you.

“So I suppose you’ll be off again? Off on your adventures without me, while I sit here, lonely, waiting, terribly bored, waiting for your return” you called after him.

Charles sighed as he looked up at the sky before walking back towards you.

“If I show you what I’ve been doing all this time, will you stop looking at me like a wounded deer?”

You nodded eagerly.

“Fine, ride with me. Be prepared though, it’s a long ride from here to the grizzlies” he told you as you both walked to your horses. You mounted your white Arabian stallion as you watched him mount Taima with a puzzled look on your face.

“The grizzlies? That’s where you have been going all this time?”

As he led the way, he looked at you as you rode side by side. “I’ve been helping Eagle Flies and his people at the Wapiti reservation, his father, Rains Fall, he wants his people to be treated with respect, but he wants that respect to come peacefully. Eagle Flies has other ideas, his blood runs hot. Actually, maybe you could help, you always do have a way to bring out the best in people.”

You blushed at his words, Charles always had a way of complimenting you while sounding as though he didn’t actually mean to. It was as appealing as it was adorable. The ride to the reservation was long, but you made your way there by the end of the day.

The tribe welcomed you better than you expected, after all, they had every reason to fear outsiders, but your friendship with Charles showed quickly and they were quick to accept any friend of Charles.

You listened as Rains Fall, Charles and Eagle Flies argued, trying to get Eagle Flies to step down attacking a nearby patrol for an unprovoked attack on some members of the tribe. When Charles and Rains Fall’s words fell on deaf ears, Charles gave you a pleading look to intercept.

“Eagle Flies, I understand your pain” you told the young man. “If somebody attacked my family, if someone attacked Charles the way these soldiers attacked your people, I would want revenge as well. But you have to understand, these people are provoking you because they want you to retaliate. They want you to give them a reason to wipe you out. Your location leaves you vulnerable, Fort Wallace is around the corner, Fort Mercier and Strawberry is not that much further out, the army will be on you within hours and they outnumber you ten to one. You do not want your bloodline to end over such a thing. You do not want these men, these bullies, these monsters to be the death of your people. Please see reason, your father just wants you and your people to be safe.”

Charles gave you a small smile as you spoke. You waited with baited breath to see if your words had any sway over the Chieftains son. Eagle Flies brows knitted together as he looked at you.

“Fine. I’ll leave it this time, but I will not let these animals torture us for much longer” he said before walking away.

Rains Fall shook his head as he looked at his headstrong son before bowing his head in thanks to you.

“Thank you miss, thank you. And Charles, thank you, my thanks to you both. There’s a free tent over there, please feel free to stay the night, everything here is at your disposal.”

You thanked the Cheiftain before Charles turned to you. “So, it seems a little late to travel back to Lakay. Are you happy to stay the night here?”

You nodded, a night away from the swamp was exactly what you wanted.

You both stayed by the campfire as you ate and listened to the tribes stories. Charles braided a feather into your hair to say thank you for braiding his own and you blushed when you noticed a group of young women giggled at the sight of Charles playing with your hair softly. You remember reading about how braiding things into people’s hair in Charles’ culture meant a lot, each braid, feather or bead had a different symbol and you wondered what the feather Charles had chosen for your hair meant.

After a while Charles got into a conversation with Rains Fall and you took the opportunity to go away from the crowd and admire the view the reservation had over the heartlands.

With Colter behind you and Valentine not far in-front, you were reminded of Javier. Of the journeys you had taken with him, of the night you had seen him flirt with a woman at the saloon in Valentine and how that night had very nearly been the night you confessed your feelings for him. You were reminded of how much you missed him, of how you would never see him again or feel his arms around you, you would never hear his soft “good morning mi amor” greetings in the morning or the way he kissed you and whispered “te amo” in your ear when he made love to you. He was gone. Half your family was gone.

“Everything ok?”

You wiped your tears away before turning to nod at Charles. He stood next to you, silent, comforting. You rest your head on his shoulder as he stood close.

“Sorry Charles, I know I’ve not been the best company of late” you told him.

“Don’t apologise hummingbird. You have lost a lot, I can’t even begin to imagine how you feel.”

You looked up at him. “You’ve lost people before Charles, you know how that feels.”

He nodded once. “Been a lone wolf for a long time though, this gang is the first time I’ve been around people for more than a week or two in a long time.”

You frowned at his admission of truth. “Must have been hard to be alone for that long. Is there, is there anyone you feel close to, someone you care about?”

He met your gaze, his eyes tracing over your face before he swallowed. He nodded once. “Mm, there’s one person I care for, more than anyone else, more than I’ve ever cared for anyone actually but, I’m not sure she feels the same way.”

You stared down at Charles’ full lips before you met his stare and something in you snapped. You leaned up and pressed your lips against his own. Charles’ hand went to your neck as you kissed, holding you close as he deepened the kiss, his lips covering your own before he parted them, allowing you to dip your tongue into his mouth, deepening the kiss enough to make him growl. Your hands went to his chest feeling the sheer muscles beneath his shirt clench as he tried to keep some self-control. But it didn’t take long before you remembered Javier and felt a sense of guilt.

You pulled away, leaning your head down as Charles’ lips rest on your forehead. “Sorry Charles, I, Javier, it’s too soon, I’m sorry.”

He nodded, kissing your forehead gently before pulling away enough to look down at you. “It’s alright, I understand.”

“I’m so sorry Charles” you whispered, getting upset again.

Charles’ hand shot out to wipe your tears away. “Hummingbird, it’s alright, you don’t need to apologise. Come on, let’s go to bed.”

He led you to the free tent and closed it behind you both. As you both prepared for bed, Charles placed the blanket over you both, giving you the main half of it. It was cold outside, up in the mountains.

“Will you, will you hold me?”

Charles wasted no time in scooting closer to you, spooning you from behind as he held you close, keeping you safe from the cold mountain air in his warm arms and protected in his all-encompassing hold. You stroked his hands gently as they held your waist.

“I’m sorry Charles, sorry for not being here with you the way you want me to be. Everything’s, everything is so wrong, how could everything go so wrong?”

Charles kissed your hair gently as he nuzzled you. “Everything will be alright my hummingbird, just you wait. It will all be alright, I’m here, I’m not leaving you. I’ll be here as long as you need me.”

You listened to Charles’ words, eventually falling asleep to his soothing voice as he held you tight, protecting you from the outside world, and all the pain it had caused you lately.  

#Red Dead Redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #fanfic #charles smith #charles smith x reader #fanficition #rdr2 fanfic #charles smith imagine #mywriting #fluff #angst

[zigtheeortega]

unrequited [part 3]

✿ pairing: bryce x mc

✿ word count: 6327

✿ warnings: innuendos, mention of drugs

✿ author’s note: well, this took a lot longer to finish than i expected (lmaooo). i kind of lost interest in open heart after seeing how horribly characters were sidelined, including my fav surgeon. i’ve worked on this on and off since april after i posted part 2, so this is like 4 ish months in the making. this series means the absolute world to me because it was the first time i was really confident in my writing. not as confident in the conclusion, but it’s been weighing on me for months, so i felt obligated to finish it! i hope you all enjoy it!

added my tags to the end bc there’s quite a few, so i’m sorry if i tagged you and you didn’t want to be – i’m going off of who asked to be tagged/asked for a part 3 months ago!

[read part 1 and part 2 here]

•─────────✦✿✦────────•

She slumped into the seat in the deserted waiting room, her joints popping as she stretched, her deep sigh echoing off of the tile. She was exhausted.

She could usually push through the worst of her shifts, but fatigue settled into her bones, a lethargy she’d never experienced entrapping her like a net, and she couldn’t fight her way out of it this time.

“Hey, Spence. What’s wrong?”

She glanced at the door, expecting to see his arm pressed against the frame of the door, slouched casually like he hadn’t a care in the world. Instead, Bryce was unusually close to her, standing right next to her chair, like he’d appeared out of nowhere.

“I’m just so… tired. It feels like I’m trying to sprint underwater right now and I don’t know why. I can’t explain it,” she watched him, gauging his reaction, but something was off.

“C’mon, I think I know exactly what you need right now,” his smile was Bryce’s, but the familiar twinkle of mischief and flirtiness in his eye wasn’t there.

He turned wordlessly, walking out of the door and down the hallway, which was a lot longer than she’d remembered.

She shook it off and trailed behind him, heart beating soundly in her chest. Was he bringing her to the on call room? To the supply closet? Maybe to an unattended office?

“So, where are you taking me?” She asked playfully, reaching out to link her finger in his, but she fell short, even though he was right in front of her.

He either didn’t hear her, or ignored her, walking straight ahead at the same pace. “Bryce, did you hear me?”

He didn’t pick up his pace, but she fell behind, trying to keep up, – to no avail. She looked down, thinking maybe – crazily – that she’d stepped into cement, slowing her pace to a crawl, or something else that was explainable.

But she was fine.

She pushed herself harder as she fell farther and farther back, Bryce’s stride never breaking.

She pumped her arms, leaning forward, trying desperately to swim through the thick atmosphere, practically pedaling against the ground to gain some type of momentum.

“Bryce? Bryce! Hello?” She yelled, as his figure got smaller and smaller, the hall literally stretching to accommodate the distance between them.

She watched as the wall space stretched, new door frames popping up, the number of rooms multiplying by the second.

He turned back for the first time as she clawed her way towards him, making no progress. “You gotta try a little harder for me, Spence.”

He smiled, not sinisterly, but just wide enough, lacking just the right amount of his effortless charm, that she got chills.

She jolted awake, the sound of her alarm interrupting her R.E.M. She snatched her phone off the dresser and tapped her screen, met with a brief silence before the distant noise of traffic – engines rumbling, and horns blaring below – filled her room.

She sat up, panting, her back slick with cooled sweat, the thin fabric of her top clinging to her skin. She breathed deeply, calming her quick pulse, until a muffled sound broke her concentration.

Her phone laid face down on her comforter, slivers of light peeking out of the sides. She flipped it, and her eyes widened in horror after reading Bryce’s name at the top of the screen, but even more so after watching the numbers tick higher and higher.

It wasn’t an alarm – he’d called her at 3 a.m.

“Hello?”

“Hey, you okay? You picked up but I didn’t hear anything besides heavy breathing.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. You just woke me up.”

“Right. Sorry.” He was silent long enough that she almost asked if he’d muted her. “I didn’t know who else to call.”

“About what? You’re freaking me out a little bit,” she laughed once, but it came out as a scoff, and she kicked herself internally.

She didn’t want him to think she was mad. If anything, she’d been craving any time she could get with him.

They’d maintained a semblance of normality after the party, speaking to each other in the hallways, hanging out in groups, but they never unpacked their past conversation further.

She knew she’d said some profoundly batshit things while she was drunk, and vaguely remembered professing her feelings to him, but he never brought it up.

When she surprised the group with tickets to a music festival, she had ulterior motives. She wanted to get him as alone as she could in a sea of thousands. She wanted to make things right. But because Bryce was wholly intoxicating, she couldn’t do anything but live in their moment, the tough conversations – though inevitable – a million miles away.

They danced, they kissed, and she was enraptured by him. The way her hand fit into his own, the way his warm palm felt against her lower back, the way the cool tones of the stage lights bounced off of his bronzed skin, the way the smooth bass of his voice sounded as his full lips were nearly pressed against her ear, the way his smile was just crooked enough to be a smoulder and a smirk at the same time, and it was insufferable, but she adored it… Everything about Bryce was everything she’d ever wanted.

And she thought she was close to getting it back. She thought that’d be the end of it. They made up, and they could move forward. She wanted him, and he wanted her, finally.

But nothing came of it. He never avoided her, but he never stayed around long enough for her to bring up the night of the party.

The seed of hope in her chest blossomed, budding slowly every instance they spent enough time together to make it feel like when they were interns, the exhilarating sensation of hooking up freely a nostalgia she craved. She’d worked up enough courage to treat her situation dramatically – like in a movie – showing up at his apartment, wine in hand, ready to have make up sex and lay it all on the table while they were both sober.

The hope bloomed, coming to fruition when she surprised him, only to find that he’d been hiding his personal problems. It explained why he’d been avoiding her, she thought.

Bryce Lahela was a prideful bastard – one who couldn’t admit he needed a lifesaver until he was already sinking. He was in over his head, drowning underneath the pressure of fostering his kid sister, whom he had virtually no relationship with, all the while balancing residency – as well as… whatever was happening between them.

When she planned to spend her whole life making it up to him, she wasn’t bluffing. So when she saw the opportunity to salvage and strengthen the siblings’ relationship with something as simple as cooking pasta, she dove in headfirst, hand outstretched, eagerly pulling him to safety.

“Keiki’s gone,” he sighed, and she could feel his anxiety and overwhelming dread through that one deep breath.

“Gone? What do you mean ‘gone’? Did she go back to Maui?” She asked frantically, throwing her covers back, and began pacing the room.

“For all I know, she could be at the airport or across state lines by now,” he chuckled humorlessly.

“Why didn’t you tell me? We could’ve thrown her a going away party or something. Or at least given her a card,” she huffed, kicking at a dirty shirt she’d left on the ground.

“Well, it was kind of, uh, sudden.”

“That implies that it was out of nowhere. So she just bolted? Unprovoked?”

“I mean, it was a little provoked.” He said under his breath, just above a whisper.

“Bryce… what are you not telling me?” She asked, uneasy. She didn’t know if she wanted to hear his answer.

“We got into a fight –”

“And she ran away.” She finished for him.

“... And she ran away.” He said.

She could sense his shame through the phone, his voice getting weaker with every word. She slipped out from under the covers, and tiptoed to her closet, throwing on the first shirt and pair of pants she touched.

“You can explain why later, but right now we need to go find her. We can meet at the subway stop closest to your place. You can start by retracing her steps. Are there any corner stores she liked? Maybe a skate park? She seems like she’d be into that kind of stuff –”

“Spence.”

“Yeah?” “You don’t have to help me. I know things have been kind of weird lately. Don’t feel obligated to help me. This is my fuck up, not yours.”

“We can talk about ‘us’ later, Bryce. Even if we were on bad terms, you know I’d drop anything to help you and Keiki. I know you don’t have anyone to lean on.”

He took a deep, shuddering breath that she could barely hear over the slight static of the phone. “Thank you.” “You can thank me after we find her.”

––––

As soon as she stepped off the subway, Spencer hit a near sprint, trying to get to their designated meeting spot. The Boston weather was as unforgiving as ever, the chilled wind stinging her cheeks.

She ran towards the hole in the wall pizza joint that Keiki had told her about offhandedly the night they’d cooked together.

As soon as she saw Bryce’s form, she slowed to a jog, nearly breathless, both by the physical exertion and how awful he looked. His features mirrored the one she’d seen in the supply closet, his defeated expression a painful memory she’d worked hard to bury.

She’d never seen him cry before, but from the way his red-rimmed eyes nearly sagged, nose rubbed raw, lips tight, she felt emotionally spared by not being there whilst the tears fell.

“Bryce?”

“Hey, Spencer,” He smiled weakly, sniffling and rubbing his nose on the sleeve of his hoodie.

“Did you go inside and ask the owners if she stopped by?” “Yeah, they said she was here an hour ago. She stopped for a slice but didn’t stay long,” he said, shaking his head as he pulled his phone from his pocket, before tapping on his screen.

“Okay, that’s great news! She couldn’t have gotten far,” she said, before swivelling back towards where she came from. “C’mon, I hope you have your monthly pass. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”

“Where to next?” He joked, but his heart wasn’t in it.

“First thing’s first, did you check to see if her location was on?”

“She never had it on in the first place. I guess she thought I’d show up and embarrass her or something,” he shrugged, running a hand through his hair.

They stepped onto the dingy subway car, nearly empty except for one other person who was slumped over in their seat, asleep.

“I doubt it. She has a soft spot for you, Bry,” she sat down, readjusting her loose sweatpants before doing so.

“If she did, then she doesn’t anymore. I think I really fucked up this time,” he said, more to himself than her.

He ended it there, so she decided to nudge him a little. “You don’t have to tell me, but it might help if I had some context.”

“No, no, I… want to. I trust you,” he glanced over to her, holding her eye for the first time that night. He inched his hand over to hers, cautiously, debating, she thought, before settling on rubbing his thumb up and down her pinky finger.

The dying bud in her chest bloomed once again, warmth spreading throughout her limbs at his touch, his soft gesture quenching the thirst her heart so desperately pined for. 

She blinked, eyes trained on his mouth, unable to tear her gaze away from his lips. He didn’t seem to notice, or he was good at hiding it.

“I said and did some things I shouldn’t have. Some things that might’ve reminded her of our parents,” he started.

She waited for him to continue, watching his chest shake as he tried to find the words between the deep breaths he took to calm himself.

“She’s taking after me, and I don’t like it. Not me, like Dr. Lahela, one of the best surgeons this world has ever seen –” a hint of a smirk curled the corner of his lip – “but like the rebellious, angry, reckless teen Bryce who just wanted… attention. From anyone.”

“So… why don’t you give her that?”

He blew out a sharp huff of air. “I don’t get her. And I’m trying really hard to. But there’s only so many hours in the day, and I don't think she felt like I was trying hard enough.”

“You got wrapped up in work like your parents did, huh?” She asked softly, placing her other hand on top of his, quietly lacing her fingers through his.

“Yeah,” he said, remorseful. “I just wish I could’ve kept my fucking mouth shut for once –”

“Hey, hey, stop that. You can feel as guilty as you want after we find her, but we have to stay positive right now,” she said, a bit sternly, covering his hand with her own, gripping it tightly.

He watched her face, searching for something. Maybe a crack in her sincerity? Ulterior motives? She wasn’t sure if he trusted people or not, and it perplexed her to think about it – she’d known Bryce for over a year and couldn’t name a single person that she knew he definitively trusted.

“Thanks, Spence. I really mean it,” he said finally, a little more relaxed than he was seconds before.

He checked his phone every couple of seconds, clicking the lock screen to check the time, before locking it again, just to repeat the cycle incessantly.

“Can I be honest about something?” He asked, staring straight ahead, brows furrowed.

“Of course.”

“I… ignored her. Just like they ignored me when I started acting out. I…” He shook his head. “I said I’d never be like them.”

“You aren’t, Bryce,” she affirmed, rubbing his shoulder blade in soft circles. “The fact that you’re out here searching for her says so much about who you are.”

“It doesn’t say enough.”

“What do you mean?” “Running away from home means nothing if I’m not better than them. Thousands of miles of distance and I turned out just like them,” he scoffed. “The fucking cycle repeats itself.”

“Bryce…” she shifted her body, facing him completely, while he stared ahead, not meeting her eye.

“Just because you’re not good with coping with all of this doesn’t mean you’re a bad brother.”

He turned towards her finally, attentive.

“Yeah, you tend to bottle things up until they blow up, but you didn’t ask for this. You’re not her parent – you’re her brother, first and foremost. You can’t put those expectations on yourself because you’re not them. You’re doing the best you can as her brother, not her parent.”

She laced her fingers over his, squeezing the hand she’d been holding. “You can’t fault yourself for making mistakes. This is new territory for you. You’re learning and she is, too.”

The doors opened in front of them, the only indicator that they’d made it to the next stop. They were both so engrossed that they hadn’t noticed.

“We should probably get out here,” she said, standing. She didn’t check to see if he followed suit, missing the way he watched her as he walked behind her.

They clopped up the stairs again, Spencer shivering despite her cozy getup.

“Do you want my headband?” He asked, digging into his pocket. “It’s really warm.”

“Oh, yeah. Thanks,” she took it, pulling the thick band over her hair, snug against her ears, but comfortable.

“No problem,” he said, watching her adjust it, his eyes trained on the way she pursed her lips when she couldn’t get all of her hairs to lay down just right.

“We can split up,” she started, pointing down the main street across from the subway. “I’ll check the restaurants that are open down this way, and you can go the opposite way. I’ll text you when I head back –”

“I don’t want you walking alone, Spence,” he said, shutting her down immediately.

“We’re gonna cover more ground if we split up. I can handle myself. Don’t worry about me,” she shrugged. “I’ll be fine.”

“I can’t handle the idea of you getting hurt while helping me look for my sister. Please,” he pleaded, eyes soft.

“Fine,” she sighed.

They checked a handful of diners, breakfast places, and even a bar, but with no luck. Even when Bryce flashed a photo from Keiki’s Instagram, no one’s eyes lit up in recognition.

He looked more and more defeated with each subway stop, his posture slumping, his lips set in a thin line.

She could feel herself deflating as well, but she couldn’t bear to show him she was quickly losing hope, too. No one was going to support Bryce the way he needed, except for her.

“Let’s stop by that skatepark. If she’s not there, there’s bound to be someone who’s seen her,” Spencer nodded resolutely, absentmindedly grasping Bryce’s hand and tugging him towards the stop.

“It’s no use,” he whispered, and she whipped around at the sound of his voice, his body grounded, like his feet were nailed to the ground.

“What’s no use?”

“This,” he gestured with both hands, tugging his chilled hands from her grip. “She doesn’t want to be in Boston. It’s my fault she hasn’t adjusted. I haven’t exactly been the best welcoming committee.”

She shook her head vigorously. “Bryce, she could care less where you live. She came here for you.”

His brows furrowed, his face contorting, his features scrunching like he was in physical pain. When he covered his face with his hand, without hesitation, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, pulling him down to rest his face in the crook of her shoulder.

She whispered words of affirmation in his ear as he sobbed into her jacket, and she rubbed small soothing circles, doing her best to comfort him.

He’d never been this vulnerable in front of her. It was hard to decipher how he felt about things going wrong, his killer smile usually a convincing mask.

He pulled away after a while, his tear streaked face glimmering in the light. “Sorry. That was embarrassing,” he laughed shakily, flashing his teeth, just on the cusp of being a signature Bryce smile.

“Oh, shut up. I’ve cried in front of you before –”

“And it was embarrassing,” he teased, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

A laugh bubbled from her before she could stop it. A body aching, chest heaving, breath stealing guttural laugh that shook her to her core because of how unexpected it was. That type of joy was nearly lost on her. It was so foreign compared to the past couple weeks, and it felt good.

He cackled with her, more so at the involuntary snort that ripped from her nose, less at his not-so-subtle roast. He grasped at his chest with one hand, gasping for air. “God, I’d willingly do appendectomies for a month straight if I could get a video of that snort. I’d snap everybody.”

Her eyes widened, his words triggering a memory.

“Oh my god,” she smacked her forehead with the palm of her hand. She quickly opened her phone, navigating to the app she needed. “What? Is it bad?”

“No, I just realized she added me on Snapchat, so her location might be on,” she smiled to herself, opening up the geolocation map, seeing Keiki’s Bitmoji pop up – in the city. “Oh my god, Bryce, she’s still in Boston! Look, it’s her!” She hugged her phone to her chest. “She’s a couple of stops down but not that far away from us.”

He watched her with a confused expression, a little hurt, almost.

“What’s wrong?”

“... She never added me on Snap,” he nearly pouted.

She cackled again, covering her mouth with her hand, shoulders shaking – real laughter. Another fleeting moment of pure joy was the eye of the storm, and she gladly basked in it. 

“I didn’t know you two were so close,” His mouth lifted at the corner, a knowing smile forming.

“Well, I got her phone number and snap in case she wanted me to show her around Boston, y’know, if you were busy,” she said between breaths, still coming down from her fit. “Or if she ever got tired of you,” she teased, the feeling of normality settling between them like there wasn’t a massive elephant in the room.

“How could you ever get tired of this face, though? I’m adorable,” he grinned, flashing her favorite 1000-watt smile that made her stomach flutter. “Nah, but really. Thank you. I don’t really know where I’d be right now without you.”

His eyes softened, the debonair facade parting just long enough for her to see what was undoubtedly her favorite side of him.

He laid his hand on her jaw, the warmth of his palm comforting, a striking contrast to the nipping cold of the night air. Both his touch and the temperature differences elicited a reflexive shiver from her, goosebumps raising on her arms underneath her jacket.

Part of her wanted to admit she’d shuddered solely because of his warm skin, because she didn’t want to inflate his ego – but there was no denying it. A single touch from Bryce was all it took to make her putty in his hands.

His gaze flickered to her lips, and he stretched his thumb to lightly drag the pad of it over her bottom lip, parted in awe. “Spencer…”

The tension thickened, their anticipation making it difficult to breathe. God, there was nothing she wanted more in that moment than to grab his face and taste him again. As much as she wanted to kiss him, it wasn’t right.

“Bryce,” she whispered, eyelids fluttering as she watched his tongue flick out to wet his lips. “You can kiss me after we find her.”

––––

The skatepark was nearly empty, the streetlights casting long shadows from the ramps onto the concrete.

“You’re sure she’s here?” He asked, wispy streams leaving his mouth as he spoke.

“Unless she dropped her phone here, she should be close by,” she nodded towards where a few scraggly teenagers were standing around, pungent smoke in the air.

“Keiki shouldn’t be out here with those dumbasses smoking weed out in the open like that,” he huffed, eyeing them as they walked towards the back, the grassy area coming into focus.

“Relax. I doubt she’s out here to smoke. You say that like you didn’t smoke too,” she raised a brow at him, challenging.

He pursed his lips. “Oh, so it’s like that.”

“What? You can’t go all dad mode and expect me not to play devil’s advocate,” she quipped, shrugging.

Before he could form a retort, Bryce held her arm back, stopping her in her tracks.

On the steps leading down to the grass, sat Keiki, headphones in her ears, tapping her foot as she dug into a bag of chips, crunching loudly.

Bryce looked absolutely helpless, like he had no clue what to do next – so Spencer stepped forward without a second thought, trying her best not to startle her.

When she was in her line of sight, Keiki’s eyes bulged from her head, and she nearly choked on her soda. “Jesus fucking christ, you scared me,” she coughed into the crook of her elbow. “What are you doing here? Did he tell you I left?” “I was worried about you,” Spencer said, evading the last question, trying to play it cool. Keiki hadn’t noticed Bryce at the top of the stairs.

“Yeah, but how’d you find me?” She popped a chip in her mouth.

“If you wanna be harder to find, you gotta try a little harder than that,” she said, plopping down on the concrete stair next to her. “Snap maps.”

“I wasn’t trying to go off the grid or whatever. I just wanted some space. It’s no big deal,” Keiki huffed, scooting away from Spencer.

“Maybe so, but you can’t leave after a fight with no explanation. You’re too young to be out here alone this late.”

“You act like I haven’t been through worse,” she muttered.

“I know you have. But you can’t just walk out like that. Bryce is all you’ve got out here.”

“Oh, so you didn’t come alone,” she rolled her eyes. “He begged you to come, didn’t he? Did he not feel like coming himself? Did he have work or something?”

Spencer winced at Keiki’s tone of voice, simultaneously laced with seething rage and hurt. “No, he’s here. You need to talk it out.”

She set her mouth into a thin line, whipping her head around to gaze up at the top of the stairs, flipping him off.. “Go away.”

She gently grasped her wrist, pulling her hand down. “Please, Keiki. There’s a lot of things he won’t say to you, but I’ve heard them. If he didn’t regret what he said to you, I wouldn’t be helping him,” she pleaded, squeezing her wrist comfortingly.

Keiki glanced away, then back to her eyes, then back to the ground, unable to hold her gaze. “Okay.”

Spencer stood up, motioning for Bryce to come towards her. He met her halfway down the stairs, his gaze soft and admiring. “I… I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Don’t worry about that right now,” she smiled, reaching out to rub a hand against his arm. “Go work things out with your sister.”

He leaned in, surprising her with a soft peck on the corner of her upturned lips. “Thanks.” He winked and took the rest of the stairs two at a time, a spring in his step.

She watched as he bent down to sit next to her hunched form, nearly dwarfing her. Over the next twenty minutes, she focused on their backs, heads bobbing as they discussed and argued. They gradually relaxed, Kekei’s body unfurling from her condensed form, Bryce draping an arm on the step behind her.

And when they arose to walk towards Spencer’s place at the top of the stairs, they were both laughing, flashing the same grin.

God they were so similar – and didn’t even know it.

“I’m gonna wait over there while you two makeout,” Keiki grimaced, frowning as soon as her joke dawned on her. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Glad you’re back,” she called, but she was already throwing up a peace sign, back turned, probably not registering what she’d said.

The second they were alone, the nerves hit, the heat of his body next to hers already stifling. While she debated whether or not to meet his eye, he spoke.

“You wanna cash in on that kiss now?”

She glanced up, breath hitching in her throat when she realized how close his face was to her own. Her half lidded gaze was trained on his bottom lip, caught between his teeth. As soon as a quiet “yes” fell from her lips, he captured them in a searing kiss.

For a few blissful moments, the only sound between them were their soft sighs of contentment. She couldn’t remember if Bryce always kissed like this – so passionate and so enthusiastic, yet so cool, so suave.

Every methodical movement of his jaw was so practiced, so refined, she felt like underneath the flickering streetlight, in Bryce’s strong grip, she was the one he operated on, her chest reopened, her heart exposed. Everything she had to give was laid out on the metaphorical operating table, and as cheesy as it sounded, there was a chance he could save her.

The kiss was a reawakening for her. She knew what she had to do. She’d never been more sure of anything before.

She pulled back, their noses touching, as she whispered four words she knew he wouldn’t expect to hear. Maybe he’d forgotten what he asked her the moment it left his lips, but she was determined to mend what she’d broken.

“Ask me to choose.”

“Huh?” He panted, running a thumb across her jawline.

“Just ask me.”

“What do you choose?” He laughed, clearly confused.

“You. Always,” she breathed, tugging him forward by the collar of his jacket, sealing her promise with a kiss.

––––

On the ride home, Spencer sat cuddled up next to him, their fingers tightly wound – like they were afraid if the other let go, it wouldn’t be real. 

“Did I say anything… big to you while I was drunk?” She asked, breaking the silence.

Bryce chuckled softly, trying not to wake a sleeping Keiki, curled up next to him, somehow lulled to sleep by the loud, aggressive music blaring from her headphones.

“Yeah, you did.”

“Shit, I really thought I’d made that up,” she shook her head, covering her face with her other hand.

“Nah, you definitely dropped a bomb on me that night.”

“Bryce,” she whined. “Can’t you just tell me? I’m already embarrassed enough.”

“Glad I’ve got you hot and bothered,” he grinned, teasing. “Well… you said, and I quote ‘I think I love you’.”

Her cheeks warmed, and she turned, burying her head in the crook of his neck. “Did I really?” “I said it back.”

She looked up from her place against his shoulder, mouth agape as he planted a kiss on her forehead.

“Do you think or do you know?” She whispered, unsure if she wanted the answer.

“After tonight, I’m more sure than I ever have been,” he shook his head. “Probably more sure of this than anything else in my life right now.”

He used his free hand to cup her face, kissing her lips tenderly. She couldn’t remember a time he’d kissed her with that much care.

“So are you gonna say it first, or am I gonna have to?” He murmured against her lips, earning a surprised laugh from her.

“I’ve done a lot of your dirty work tonight,” she joked.

“Not the kind of dirty I’d prefer, but I’ll give you the credit you deserve,” he laughed as she swatted his chest. He pulled back, holding her gaze with no ounce of fear in his deep brown eyes.

“I love you, Spencer,” he said, his voice taking the most candid tone she’d heard from him.

“I love you, too, Bryce. I always have,” she said, feeling her throat constrict, voice cracking. “I should’ve told you sooner how I felt.”

“I think it happened at the right time. I wanted a lot from you when I didn’t even have my own shit together,” he shrugged, still cupping her face in his calloused palm. “I couldn’t even give what I wanted to receive, ya know?”

“Wow… that’s profound,” she said, in all seriousness.

“Oh, you’re making fun of the meathead for being smart now, huh?” He cackled. Keiki didn’t even stir next to him, despite his booming laugh reverberating throughout the empty car.

“No, no, I’m serious. That’s the most self reflection I’ve ever heard from you.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve had a lot of time to think about my mistakes.”

“Me, too. But… we can work through that stuff if you want to talk it out,” she offered, cuddling up to him for warmth again.

“Is therapy your side hustle or something, Spence? Is there something you need to tell me?” He teased, tickling her ribs with his freehand.

She let out an ear piercing shriek, completely caught off guard. “Bryce! Stop it! Please,” she said between laughs, noting the way he smoothly slid his arm around her waist, so that when he stopped, they were closer than before.

“Can you two shut up? I’m trying to sleep,” Keiki grumbled, taking them out of their moment.

“Oh, so you’re exhausted from scaring the shit out of me. By all means, get your beauty sleep,” he said, taking the headband Spencer borrowed from him, slingshotting it directly at Keiki’s forehead.

“That’s it!” Keiki shouted, leaping up on the bench and grabbing Bryce in a headlock, scuffling with him while he most definitely let her win.

Spencer was thankful their car was empty as chaos ensued but she couldn’t help herself from smiling at the fight in front of her – they’d never done typical sibling things like that before. They were robbed of normality from such a young age, and a playful fight was a step in the right direction.

“Uncle, uncle!” Bryce called out convincingly, winking at Spencer. Keiki’s fingers were tangled in his hair, one of his arms trapped in the crook of her elbow. He swatted at her face, trying to get her to let him go.

“We don’t have any uncles,” Keiki said, chomping down on his hand.

“Ow! You little shit – I need these for work –” He hissed.

“Yeah, you didn’t think I was gonna go for the kill? Serves you right for underestimating me,” she huffed, hopping off of him and back into her spot on the bench.

“I won’t do that again,” he smiled softly, reaching over to tousle her hair.

The doors slid open, startling them all.

“I’ll go ahead so you can talk to your girlfriend. Bye, Spence,” Keiki said, waving, strutting out towards the stairs without a second glance.

Her heart swelled at the younger Lahela sibling’s use of the nickname Bryce coined for her.

“So…” She said, as they stepped out into the chill night air for the last time, the first rays of sunlight peeking over the tops of the buildings. “What do we do now?”

“What, after this thrilling conclusion to our months of back and forth?”

“Bryce,” she rolled her eyes, barely holding back a smile. “We barely even talked any of this out. I mean like… where do we go from here?”

“As far as I’m concerned, we’re clean slating it.”

“You don’t wanna talk about that stuff at the party? Or in the supply closet?” She winced. “Maybe when we wanna tackle that, but as of right now, I’m just happy to have you all to myself,” he grinned, snaking his arms around her hips, leaning in to press another kiss on her bottom lip.

“You don’t know how fucking badly I wanna bring you back home right now,” he murmured against her lips.

She groaned, lacing her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. “God, me too.”

“Soon as I spend some time with Keiki and can get some time set aside for us, I’m not letting you out of my sight,” he smirked, eliciting a shudder from her.

“I guess we’re dating now, huh?” She raised her brows, quirking her mouth to the side. “Don’t tell your roommates yet, please. I wanna see how long it takes them to put two and two together,” he said, a mischievous look in his eye.

“As long as you don’t tell yours,” she teased.

“Keiki’s definitely gonna notice we’re a thing if you keep showing up and leaving with wobbly legs,” he said, and raised a brow at her.

“Shit, you’re really flirty today,” she giggled, her face flushing because of both the Boston air and his innuendos.

“I’m making up for lost time, baby,” he grinned, pulling her in for what seemed like the hundredth kiss that night, but it felt just as incredible as their first supply closet makeout.

Although they had to part ways that night, both of them were rejuvenated in a way they hadn’t been in months – since they were noncommittally hooking up, secretly hoping the other made some kind of move to solidify what was between them.

And although it took way too fucking long for her to come around, Spencer was finally giving him what he deserved. Every single part of her. No distractions, no restraints, no excuses.

Every quip, every embrace, every kiss they shared that night nourished the flora of her heart, quenching her desperate thirst for his validation like a gentle summer rain, and she basked in it, head upturned like a silent thank you to the universe for giving her the chance to mend what she’d broken.

The vines that’d once had her heart in a constricting hold made way for the blossoming flowers; they’d both never forget their past mistakes, passion-fueled arguments, or the pain they’d endured at the hands of each other, but amidst those heated moments, amidst the beautiful disaster, their garden of love budded, a harmonious existence.

––––

tags: @beccadavenport ; @senatorraines ; @felix-hauville ; @messofakind ; @violinet ; @hudush ; @altairadtaz ; @agentdumortain ; @drsobemoji ; @levineseth ; @omgjasminesimone ; @lahellacute ; @doctorsurferbro ; @eleanorbloom ; @tarajoyful ; @bobbysmckenzie ; @raleiighcarrera ; @pixeljazzy 

#playchoices #open heart #bryce lahela #bryce lahela x mc #bryce x mc #my fic #jade writes choices fics #just in time for the oph awards LMFAO #um i worked really hard on this and i'm very nervous #so please be kind #this is my longest fic too #so like im sorry if there's dips in quality - but i'm still very proud of it #anyways thank you to anyone who's ever read it

[notquiteaghost]

shoulder to shoulder

the magnus archives, jonmartin, 1k, post-168, also they’re both autistic

AO3 link in reblogs

After Jon’s explained he is not, no matter how Martin asks, killing Oliver Banks unprovoked, and Martin’s gotten his sulk out his system, and they’re almost out the other side of the Corpse Routes, Jon asks, careful to keep the compulsion out his voice, “You do know why Oliver woke me up and you didn’t, right?”

Martin raises his eyebrows. “Uh, no? You’re the one who knows things.”

Which is what Jon thought, and for a moment he’s caught up in the idea of not knowing something, of having a gap in his knowledge, of— But he shakes it off. This is about Martin’s feelings, not his.

“Well,” He starts, “He… I don’t know how—” The Eye chimes in, ‘helpfully’. He wrinkles his nose, “—I didn’t, until just now, know how true it is that people in comas can hear you, that talking to them helps, but. I wasn’t in a coma. I was… You know the dreams?”

“The ones people have after giving you a statement?”

Jon nods. “I was there. The whole time, I was…” He’s not tried to describe this to anyone before. It’s difficult. There’s an echo, of a ‘statement’ Elias gave, that he pushes away. “They were all connected, all blurred into each other, and I walked through them, over and over.” There’s another echo, of the feeling, the timelessness and the wandering and the watching, seeing— He pushes that away, too. “I didn’t know if I was— asleep, and the dreams were just particularly bad, or if I was dead, and my connection to the Eye was too strong for death to free me entirely, or if it was something else. I couldn’t remember how I got there, I couldn’t remember the Unknowing — In that place, the statements were all I knew. It…”

The Eye, sensing he doesn’t want to relive being trapped in one of its domains, tries to draw his attention to Oliver Bank’s roots, instead. The closest one, if he were to follow it, would lead to—

He rubs at his eyes with the palms of his hands, until the Eye gets the hint.

“We don’t have to talk about this,” Martin says, gently.

Jon shakes his head, takes a deep breath. “No, we do, you need to know.” He takes another breath, then says, as sincere as he can, “I couldn’t hear you, Martin. I couldn’t even remember your name. I only knew you visited me at all when you told me. I, ah, kind of assumed you hadn’t, actually—” 

“What,” Martin exclaims, incredulous. “Why wouldn’t I have visited you!”

“You went out your way to avoid me, once I got back.”

“…Okay, yes, I did do that. But, uh, the first week I sort of… slept in your hospital room. Only stopped after the attack, actually, because Peter— You know.”

A moment of silence to give their hatred of Peter its due.

“Yes,” Jon says. “I do appreciate it, anyway.”

“Even though I stopped months before you woke up?”

“I’m reasonably certain you no longer visiting was a rather key step in everyone’s various plans, so yes, even though you stopped.”

Martin blinks at him. “You think you were trapped that long on purpose?”

“Oliver Banks explicitly told me Annabelle asked him to talk to me. He didn’t know it would wake me, but I’m sure she did. And would you have gone along with Peter, if I’d been around?”

“N—” Martin cuts himself off, furrows his brow. “Maybe? But I would have talked to you about it.”

Jon nods. “Things might have still played out the same, but keeping me out the picture until the Lonely had a decent hold on you made Peter’s plan far more of a sure thing.”

Unsurprisingly, Martin doesn’t look pleased about that. “Mmmm…”

“Anyway, that isn’t my point,” Jon says, and reaches out to take Martin’s hand and lace their fingers together. “I heard Oliver because he made a statement — And a statement about his own moment of… rebirth, no less. He told me I had a choice — I could renounce the eye, and die, or I could embrace it, and… continue.”

Martin huffs, but fondly. “I knew it wasn’t true love’s kiss that woke you, Jon.”

“No,” Jon agrees, “because you didn’t kiss me.”

That makes Martin grin, even as he says, “That is— so cheesy, oh my God!”

“You wanted me to murder the man who robbed you of your chance to try,” Jon points out, trying to suppress his own grin. “You write me poems—”

“That you do not know about!”

“—The substance of which I am entirely clueless of, but still. Poems.”

Martin’s smile is one of the best things Jon has ever seen. “Aren’t you meant to be reassuring me?” 

Right, yes.

“I will not leave you for Oliver Banks, Martin,” Jon says, his tone shifting back to serious, “Because he woke me up unintentionally on the whim of someone else, and you sat at my bedside and read me Terry Prachett’s Feet of Clay, because it’s your favourite Discworld book and you think it’s a crime I’ve never read them.”

Martin’s grip on Jon’s hand tightens, but his tone stays closer to teasing. “Thought you didn’t hear me.”

“The… The Eye is very forthcoming, about you,” Jon admits.

“I don’t know how I feel about that.”

“I try not to think about it. The time for musing on if the entities themselves can feel emotion in any way we would recognise has passed, I think.”

“Yeah.” They’re quiet for a beat, still walking between the dark, twisting things Jon is not thinking about the path of. “Still haven’t read any Discworld, then?”

“No, Martin, I didn’t make time during my final transformation to read fiction novels.”

“Well,” Martin says, as always far better at sidestepping tension before it has a chance to bloom, “I have read them a lot.”

“And now you’re going to explain the plot of the entire series, in great detail?”

“And you’re going to listen attentively, because that’s what love is.”

Jon could spend every moment until all moments cease telling Martin he loves him, and he still wouldn’t have said it enough. God, he loves him.

“I do love to hear you infodump, yes,” he says, and God, Martin’s smile.

“Good,” Martin says, and lifts Jon’s hand up to press a kiss to his knuckles, before his gaze drifts to the middle distance as he organizes his thoughts. “Okay, so, Feet of Clay is one of the Watch books, but it’s not the first Watch book, and also the Watch books aren’t the first books, though you shouldn’t really…”

#the magnus archives #jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #tma spoilers #yelling at clouds #fic tag #infodumping is a love language thank you

[isabilightwood]

The Problem with Authority - Chapter 4

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]

“A -Su ! I’m so sorry!” Lan Xichen grasped her hands to pull her to her feet. “I wanted to give you a gift, not a bump on the head.”

He was flushed, his eyes bright and manic, his forehead ribbon dangling around his neck. His soft gray geometric patterned outer robe was hanging off one shoulder, revealing the pale blue inner robe beneath. Jiang Yanli felt strangely like she should offer to give him his privacy.

Though they were outside. In the courtyard of her house.

Jiang Yanli felt entirely uninjured, but perhaps she had hit her head after all, and was merely hallucinating the impossibility of a discomposed and rumpled Lan Xichen. “Lan-zongzhu…?”

“Erge, wait!” Jin Guangyao sprinted towards them from the direction of the guest rooms. He stumbled to a halt, doubled over and panting. “You shouldn’t talk to anyone while you’re drunk, remember? Let’s not repeat the Moling incident. Come on, let’s get you to bed.” He grabbed Lan Xichen’s wrist and tugged, but the taller man didn’t budge.

“But I haven’t given A-Su her thank you gift yet.” Lan Xichen looked around, wide eyed and innocent. “Where did the rabbits go?”

Jin Guangyao sighed loudly. “We don’t have rabbits here, Erge. This is Lanling, not the Cloud Recesses.”

“But rabbits are the best gift. Wangji and A-Yuan both think so.” Lan Xichen pouted for a moment, then perked up. “Someone must have rabbits in town.”

Jin Guangyao’s face convulsed.

Lan Xichen nodded decisively. Dropping his sword so it hovered in the air, he tried to climb onto it. Combined with the alcohol, Jin Guangyao pulling on his sleeve was enough to unbalance him, so he fell backwards into his lover’s chest. Jin Guangyao stumbled backwards, but managed to hold him up.

Lan Xichen hummed, tugging on his arms to pull him closer. He seemed to have entirely forgotten his goal, content to remain where he was.

Stymied in his efforts to steal his lover away with minimum embarrassment, Jin Guangyao turned his head towards her. “Erge overindulged by mistake, my apologies. I will get him to his rooms — my rooms, I suppose, shortly.”

“None needed. I was merely startled.” Startled, yes, but also having the time of her life. Doubly so, considering the incoherent gibberish of Qin Su’s thoughts.

“Erge, it’s nearly midnight. You wouldn’t want your uncle to know you stayed up past nine, would you?”

“But Shufu is in the Cloud Recesses. He doesn’t like crowds.” Lan Xichen said as though revealing a great secret. “Wangji is somewhere in Qishan. He doesn’t like crowds either.”

“I could always write him a letter. ‘Lan-Xiansheng, I am sorry to inform you that Lan-zongzhu has taken liberties with the disciplines. Please have him copy the rules with the novices for the next month.’”

“A-Yao, you wouldn’t.” Lan Xichen let his head loll back against Jin Guangyao’s shoulder - somehow without tipping the shorter man over — and stuck out his bottom lip.

“I wouldn’t.” Jin Guangyao confirmed, his expression turning ridiculously sappy. “Please come back with me anyway?”

“But I haven’t thanked A-Su properly yet!” Lan Xichen grasped her hands and squeezed tightly, earnestly shaking them up and down. “Thank you, A-Su! I will take good care of our A-Yao.”

She doubted Lan Xichen would ever have mentioned it, if he wasn’t drunk.

“My deepest apologies for this.” Jin Guangyao grimaced, his cheeks flushed pink. He turned to face Lan Xichen, cupping the back of his neck and stroking the front of his throat with his thumb. “I’ve arranged to have dessert delivered to my room. I’ll feed it to you, if you’re good.”

Lan Xichen perked up, dropping her hands and —thankfully — dragged him away before she and Qin Su could be subjected to anymore unwanted details of their relationship.

As they vanished from sight, headed for a discrete side entrance to Jin Guangyao’s room, Jiang Yanli felt a twinge of guilt. Lan Xichen did not deserve to be shackled to a man who had killed his own son.

But she did not feel as much guilt as she would have liked to.

Because she had told Lan Xichen the truth, and he had chosen to do nothing.

Jiang Yanli had gone to him after she learned what she’d slept through in the aftermath of A-Xian’s defection, after Luo Qingyang left the sect and Lan Wangji slipped away unnoticed. After A-Cheng left for the Burial Mounds without her. “A-Xian did not do this unprovoked. The Wen siblings saved our lives, at great risk to their own.”

He smiled in appeasement. “Be that as it may, he killed the guards, and took away all the prisoners. You must understand what this looks like.”

Jiang Yanli’s patience had been hanging by a thread, and the patronizing you must understand snapped it. “I remember starving, terrified, dirty prisoners dressed in rags being used as target practice.” She laughed, a short, crazed thing too like A-Xian’s. “Oh, but you prefer to forget things that might upset your precious peace. Even if it dooms innocents, or breaks your brother’s heart.”

Lan Xichen stared at her, and Jiang Yanli remembered she was supposed to be the level-headed, soft-spoken one. No matter how little she felt it. “My apologies, that was uncalled for. It is simply that my brother cannot do anything, without your support.

But Lan Xichen only shook his head regretfully. “Both my sworn brothers have sworn to me that only dangerous prisoners were confined to the camp. I’m sorry, Jiang-guniang, but I cannot.”

Lan Xichen had not believed her. And perhaps he had doomed A-Xian. Perhaps it would have changed nothing. But for what she had done — was doing — to Lan Xichen, she clung to her rationalizations.

What just happened? Qin Su asked.

We just experienced the reason why Lans are forbidden to drink. Strange that Lan Xichen would get drunk like that, though. Thanks to A-Xian, she knew the Lan’s rule about alcohol was really because of the main clan’s low tolerance, but —

But I’ve seen him drink before. Qin Su’s confusion was like bubbles popping on surface of her mind.

Jiang Yanli had too. A-Xian once mentioned a trick Zewu-jun used to burn it off, while he was deep in his cups and reminiscing longingly about how cute Lan Wangji looked when drunkenly attempting to straighten his crooked forehead ribbon. Had Nie Huaisang switched their cups by mistake? A prank, perhaps?

Where was Nie Huaisang?

Jiang Yanli pushed open the door to the Fragrance Hall and froze.

That answers that question.

Nie Huaisang swore as a device he was holding up to the mirrored portal to the treasure room rebounded towards his face, using both his hands to force it back to the surface. There was a focused intensity to his expression that Jiang Yanli had never seen before, a far sight from the whining puddle who’d dragged the Chief Cultivator from his own banquet.

But then, she’d never paid him much attention. No one had, save perhaps A-Xian. “Nie-zongzhu. Is there something you need from the treasury?”

Nie Huaisang startled, glaring with a focused intensity that vanished so quickly she might have imagined it, as he threw himself back from the portal. He sprawled inelegantly on the ground, covering half his face with his fan. “Is that what it is? A treasury? I really didn’t know.”

Is it just me or is that bullshit? Qin Su did the mental equivalent of narrowing her eyes.

Jiang Yanli shut the door behind her. “So you didn’t just hide a talisman-engraved device you were using to inspect the wards up your sleeve?”

If Nie Huaisang is competent, I think we can safely say everything I thought was wrong. What will we discover next? Does my  father remember my birthday? Has Yao-zongzhu been possessed by a gossip-loving spirit for years?

“I was just curious, I don’t know!”

She supposed he’d never bothered to come up with another line because this one had worked for his entire life. “Let me satisfy your curiosity then.”

He gave an exaggerated wail as she grabbed his wrist. But whatever else Nie Huaisang might be, he was not strong. Jiang Yanli was able to easily pull him through the portal. He stumbled against her, and, as she reached to steady him, bit her hand.

“Ow! What was that for? Are you a dog?” She demanded, wiping off her knuckles on her outer robe.

“You made unfounded accusations and dragged me in here!” He slumped inward, making himself look smaller. “I don’t know why! I felt unsafe.”

Sure he did. “You wanted to see inside. Now you’re inside. Take the chance or leave it.”

He took it. “Well, if you insist. There is some interesting art in here. Is this where the paintings of the Crimson Swan ended up? Tragic. I could help display them properly, if San-ge gave me half a chance. But no, it’s too soon. Half the sects would throw a fit, and Lan-xiansheng would kidnap me for remedial schooling. I can’t go back to the Cloud Recesses! I simply can’t!”

Qin Su snorted. At least some things stay the same. He’s still annoying.

Jiang Yanli watched Nie Huaisang dart around the room, peering at items on shelves and lifting curtains in what seemed to be no particular order, keeping up his narration all the while. “You know, the Wen really had some gems in their collection. This poetry collection is priceless, and yet here it is, tragically gathering dust — Oh, dear.”

His arm knocked into an ornate vase that had been placed too close to the edge of a display.

Jiang Yanli plucked a talisman from her sleeve and threw it, so it hit the vase, freezing it in place tipped halfway off the shelf.

Nie Huaisang turned, squinting at her with an air of smug satisfaction. “You’re not Qin Su.”

Nie Huaisang of all people notices? That’s it, good night. Wake me when things make sense again. Despite her words, Qin Su remained alert and attentive.

Jiang Yanli tamped down on the urge to throw another talisman, this time at him. “That’s quite the accusation.”

“Qin Su would have reached for her sword when I knocked over that vase. You stopped it from falling with a talisman. Also, she never calls me Nie-zongzhu.” He perched on a vase-free table, his hands folded perfectly, but one leg bounced to the rhythm of his thoughts. “The question is, are you possessing her, or are you using one of Xue Yang’s human skin masks?”

“Neither.” She held up Qin Su’s sword, and drew it. “Do you deny that this is Chunsheng?”

“So that is Qin Su’s body, but you say it’s not a possession. Hmm. Did Wei-xiong find a way to permanently inhabit a living body?” Nie Huaisang jumped disturbingly close to the truth with his second guess.  “Are you Wei-xiong? But no, Wei-xiong wouldn’t have chosen a nice woman like Qin Su.”

Aww. He thinks I’m nice. So long as he’s just a sneak, I forgive him for the deception.

“I’m definitely not A-Xian.” Jiang Yanli realized her mistake even as it slipped out. She clapped her hands over her mouth, her eyes widening.

“Jiang Yanli!” He cried, delighted. “Oh, I have to know how this happened.”

“I don’t know what —”

“No, don’t protest. You’ve been caught. But don’t worry. I’m certainly not going to tell anyone in Koi Tower about you. What would be the use of that?” Nie Huaisang was positively gleeful, and she didn’t trust him for a second.

Qin Su didn’t disagree, but sighed. Unfortunately, I think you’d better tell him.

“Take a seat.” She hung up a talisman to alert her if anyone approached the portal, and checked under every curtain, just in case. Once she was certain the room was secure, she knelt across from him. “You were correct that it was A-Xian’s work that made this possible, but it was not his doing.”

“Obviously, it was Wei-xiong’s invention. His most powerful imitator is Xue Yang, and he has the creativity of a sea slug.” Nie Huaisang sank gracefully to his knees, balancing his fan across them. Seeing him now, a stranger would never guess his reputation. “Now, who is this mysterious benefactor? Do tell.”

She briefly detailed the mechanics of the array. From his performance in the Cloud Recesses, she would not have expected him to understand it, but he nodded along without interrupting. “Qin Su found the wrong journal at exactly the wrong moment. Now I’m in her body, and she lives in my head.”

Was it the wrong moment? Qin Su wondered, and digressed before Jiang Yanli could contradict her. Insult his fan for me, that’s sloppy work. His mountains still look like Jin Guangyao’s hat.

Dutifully, Jiang Yanli repeated her words.

He gave a startled laugh. “Ah, Qin Su has long been my worst critic. Sadly, this revenge business leaves little time for developing my painting skills.”

“Revenge? Does this have anything to do with why you were trying to break in here?” If so, his grudge could only be against —

“Naturally. Jin Guangyao killed my brother.” Nie Huaisang asserted this claim as though it were common knowledge. “He also set up yours, which seems relevant.”

Jiang Yanli stiffened, lightning racing though her veins. “A-Xian? Didn’t he lose control?”

“Maybe, maybe not. I can’t be sure, I wasn’t there.” He said lightly. Jiang Yanli was beginning to believe he was allergic to acting serious. Dropping this on her as though it didn’t shake her entire worldview. “He is, however, the reason Jin Zixuan went to Qiongqi path that day.”

Jiang Yanli could have sworn she heard a dizi playing as she died, when Chenqing was hanging loose in A-Xian’s grasp. But she had been dying — that memory was not to be trusted. And just how clever would Jin Guangyao have to be to plan all of that? Surely not everything that had gone wrong could be laid at his feet.

Maybe we should consider the possibility anyway. Qin Su, for whom all the greatest cruelties of her life could be laid at the feet of that same man, suggested.

Jiang Yanli was uncertain that knowing would do anything more than make their losses hurt more. She sat in stunned silence for a long moment, and wished for a plum to let her retreat and reset. A reply to Tan-daifu’s latest letter was overdue, she thought hazily.

Tan-daifu would say that the truth helps. Qin Su seized the chance to turn her own nagging about Tan-daifu’s advice back on her, which didn’t seem fair.

But the truth would only help if she was ready to face it.  Jiang Yanli still woke every day expecting to see A-Xuan beside her, was thrust back into sepia-tinged memories of afternoons on the Lotus Lakes at the distant sound of adolescent laughter.

She would not be ready until the day she saw A-Xian again.

What day? Yanli-jie? Qin Su asked, but Jiang Yanli was uncertain why she’d thought that. A-Xian was dead. She could not simply trade someone else for him.

“How did you learn this?” She asked, finally.

Nie Huaisang looked up from a book he’d snagged from a nearby shelf while she was lost in her thoughts. “I have my ways.”

“You have spies.”

He picked up his fan to flick it dismissively. “Just a few informants. Mostly, we Nies are simply very good at out-drinking people.”

She had a feeling he was downplaying the extent of his network. “What else have you learned from your spies?”

“I just ask people to keep an eye out, it’s hardly espionage.” He insisted.

“Sure.” She said, seeing this was a hill he would die on.

Mollified, he continued. “Jin Guangyao also killed his father.”

“I’m aware. Shockingly, I’m not actually upset about that one.” Perhaps Nie Huaisang had finally run out of shocking revelations.

But no, he had another left in store. “Who is? No, the interesting part is he left a witness. A little bird told me that somewhere in Koi Tower, there’s a woman trapped in a hidden room.”

Jiang Yanli would never get used to having to sit side by side on the Peacock throne with Jin Guangyao. She had been meant to share it with Zixuan, as not only his wife but his equal.

She hadn’t expected her husband to want her as anything other than the mother of his children. Not until their second engagement, when his earnest, awkward attempts at wooing her had turned to learning each other over the course of honest conversations that slowly grew less stilted. Finally, their words had begun to flow like a mountain stream thawing in spring, and Jiang Yanli knew her heart was right to choose him.

A-Xuan had listened, and confided he needed her help, not only with things like courtesy and public speaking, but in knowing what needed to change.

Jin Guangyao, she thought, was so certain that he was the smartest person in the room, that he didn’t notice his wife-slash-sister was an entirely different person.

Qin Su had nearly always sat in silence during conferences, listening perhaps half the time as she thought about lesson plans and inspected the attendees’ robes and ornaments in case anyone had discovered a talented new artisan. So for the moment, Jiang Yanli did the same, albeit paying the debate her full attention.

No matter the length at which Sect Leader Yao complained about issues that did not remotely involve him (Gusu’s high land tax rates), internal sect matters not on the conference agenda (how a small temple sect and town sect on his lands kept driving yao and gui into each other’s territory), or were entirely out of left field. “See! There’s proof! The Jiang have been hoarding the Yiling Patriarch’s inventions for themselves!”

A-Cheng, who had just reached the point in his status report regarding Yunmeng’s taxes, blinked. Clearly used to  Sect Leader Yao, he didn’t even get angry, merely rubbed his knuckles against his forehead. “The Jin have all of Wei Wuxian’s heretical writings. I explained this last conference. And the conference before that.”

Sect Leader Yao continued to prove himself the least astute cultivator in the room. “But you’ve never let anyone into Lotus Pier to check for themselves!”

At that, the flush of anger filled his cheeks. But in an impressive-for-him show of control, A-Cheng only snapped, “What, exactly, are you insinuating, Yao-zongzhu? Would you like to share Xixia’s cultivation techniques with the class?”

“I see that Yunmeng’s recovery is continuing ahead of schedule. Let’s move on to…” Jin Guangyao blanched, as he realized who was next. “Qinghe. A-Sang, if you please.”

Nie Huaisang got to his feet, looking around with what she had to assume were faked nerves, clutching his fan close to his chest. He stuttered through the beginnings of his presentation, before swaying and kicking a bird cage hidden beneath his table into the center of the room. It spoke, in a disturbingly accurate imitation of A-Cheng.

And all right, that was entertaining. But mostly, the conference continued to star Sect Leader Yao.

At least today, A-Ling was perched on the wide throne beside her, making it a little more bearable.

Leaning into her side, his tongue caught between his teeth, A-Ling scribbled on each new sheet of paper. Ostensibly, he was practicing his calligraphy. And he did do a bit of that, with messy strokes, but only when he noticed her looking down. Mostly, he scribbled blobs that he proudly declared were all the dogs he would someday own, when she asked.

Black flecks of ink spattered the front of her robes, but Jiang Yanli could not bring herself to care. She’d missed so much. She’d take every second with her son she could get.

Jiang Yanli’s continued efforts to pay attention were stymied by Qin Su’s running commentary on everything from the tackiness of the gilded everything to the dust bunny that had attached itself unnoticed to Sect Leader Ouyang’s beard, taking the chance to say everything she’d never been able to.

It’s a shame I never tempted Ouyang-zongzhu’s tailor away. He doesn’t deserve her. And oh, look, Su She’s imitating the Lan more obviously than ever. It’s almost like he sold them out to the Wen or something and misses the status. The off-white and teal blue of Su She’s robes were at most a single shade away from Lan colors, and the wave embroidery on his hems was suspiciously cloud-like.

The most notable detail of Su She’s presentation was the way the Lan disciples — save, of course, for a slightly off-color Lan Xichen — pretended not to snicker as he claimed the peasants in his lands were superstitious about musical cultivation.

She’d ensured Sect Leader Ran was next to him, and noted the two of them speaking quietly during one of Sect Leader Yao’s disruptions. This time, he was one insult away from starting a cat fight with Sect Leader Tang, over some minor territorial dispute. Jin Guangyao actually got up and went over to them to smooth ruffled feathers, though his efforts were stymied by A-Cheng’s utter apathy over whether his young, hotheaded vassal stabbed Sect Leader Yao in the eyes with her chopsticks.

It’s not a cultivation conference if no one tries to murder Yao-Zongzhu. Someday, someone will take one for the team and actually do it. Qin Su sighed wistfully.

From the way Jin Guangyao’s dimples twitched when he returned, he’d contemplated it.

During their break for lunch, Sect Leader Ran approached the Peacock throne. As she’d expected, he asked directly for a meeting with Jin Guangyao to negotiate terms for the implementation of watchtowers.

Sect Leader Zhai’s approach was more surprising.

“Xiandu, Jin-furen.” Sect Leader Zhai bowed to each of them. “I would like to request a private meeting with both of you before I leave Lanling. Jin-furen brought up some interesting points yesterday that I would like to discuss further.”

“Both of us?” Jin Guangyao was a man who planned everything himself, who seemed to believe that seeking a second opinion meant smiling and nodding and then explaining why the other person was wrong.

The implication that his here-to-fore apolitical wife had made a better offer appeared to have broken him.

“I think that could be arranged.” Jiang Yanli said. “A-Yao?”

He recovered quickly, gesturing for his assistant to put a note in his schedule. “Yes, of course. I believe tomorrow, immediately after dinner would be an ideal time.”

“Excellent. I look forward to it.” Sect Leader Zhai bowed again and turned away, without waiting for their dismissal.

Tempers frayed in the afternoon, and Jiang Yanli had to pass A-Ling off to his minders for a nap. As Sect Leader Yao rose for his actual turn to report, Nie Huaisang made his move.

He screeched, jumping to his feet as though bitten, and bumped into Sect Leader Yao hard enough to knock them both to the floor. The wine jar in his hand shattered, sharp edges lacerating his palm. He stared at the cuts for a long moment as they began to bleed. And, clutching his wrist, he drew in a deep breath, and howled.

The majority of the room promptly began to find their teacups or the nearest tacky golden peacock drapes utterly fascinating. But his elder brother’s sworn brothers were at his side in an instant.

“A-Sang, please. Let us see.” Jin Guangyao pleaded.

I think Jin Guangyao really does care about Huaisang. He’s never going to see him coming. Qin Su said, and they both winced at a particularly high-pitched cry. Nie Huaisang should have been born to a theatrical troupe.

“Oh, that looks —” Lan Xichen caught only a glimpse of the injured hand before he had to let go to avoid Nie Huaisang’s wildly swinging other arm.

“Ergeeeeeee,” Nie Huaisang wailed. “I’m bleeding out, aren’t I? You can say it.”

“No, no,” As Jin Guangyao finally captured the flailing hand, Lan Xichen pressed down on the wound with his own handkerchief. “You should see a healer, just to clean and bind it properly.”

“Will you take me?” He sniffed, his eyes wide and filling once again with tears as he looked between the two men.

Jin Guangyao exchanged a pained glance with his theoretically secret lover. “I can’t leave right now, can you?”

Lan Xichen shook his head. “I’m scheduled to speak on our findings about suppressing ghosts summoned with spirit flags next.”

“Right. Right.” Jin Guangyao stared into the distance for a moment. Qin Su hoped he was watching his plans for the conference crumble before his eyes. “Huaisang, you’ll have to go with one of your disciples —”

Nie Huaisang sobbed harder.

That was her cue.

“I’ll take him to get patched up.” Jiang Yanli offered, already striding towards them.

Jin Guangyao looked around at the determinedly apathetic audience, then back to Nie Huaisang. He sighed. “Thank you. A-Su will take good care of you, please let her take you to a healer.”

Nie Huaisang kept up his whining until they were out of sight and earshot of the hall, though still under an awning away from the downpour outside. Then, with a glance around to make sure no one was watching, he plucked a vial of salve and a bandage out of his robes. He only asked her to pop open the salve, but she took it and the bandage from him, gesturing for him to hold out his hand.

“I can do it myself.” He insisted, the vapid act vanishing in an instant.

Jiang Yanli rolled her eyes. “Bandages are more secure when someone else wraps them. It’ll help stop the bleeding.” Cultivators were always such babies about receiving help.

“All right.” He gazed at her with wide and uncertain eyes. As though no one had offered to help him without something in return, or a fit of hysterics, in a long time. Yet even as she finished tying of the bandage, that incongruous seriousness took over once again. “We have at least until the end of the evening banquet, though it would be better if you returned for that. The house should be near the kitchens, in what looks like an empty space.”

They walked back and forth past the kitchens several times, but found nothing. The hems of their robs were soaked from the rain, the line between wet and dry creeping higher with every step.

“Right. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.” He pulled one of A-Xian’s Compasses of Evil out of his pocket. “Only Demonic Cultivation could hide a building like this, but it must be shielded somehow, or people would notice a cluster of resentment in the middle of Koi Tower. I wonder… hold this.”

He thrust his umbrella into her chest, expecting her to hold it over his head. Bemused, she did so.

“A lightning talisman, perhaps, to imitate the effects of Zidian.” He mused, sketching in the air with his injured hand as though it didn't pain him. “Yes! It’s this way.”

As they walked, she watched him closely. “I had no idea you were so…”

“That I’m in possession of a working brain? Yes, I prefer it that way.” He said brightly.

Being underestimated had its advantages, but that didn’t stop it from hurting.

“I was going to say that I thought you didn’t cultivate beyond the basics.” Jiang Yanli corrected. “Cultivation has no bearing on intelligence. I would know.”

“Yes, I suppose you would. I’ve always preferred talismans to sword cultivation, much less those horrible life-draining sabers, despite Dage’s wishes. Did you think Wei-xiong was only friends with me for my sense of humor?”

She hadn’t spent much time thinking about their friendship at all, not when she was occupied watching A-Xian fall in love.

What sense of humor? Qin Su said. Teasingly, so Jiang Yanli repeated it, earning an insulted gasp.

But Nie Huaisang’s methods bore fruit, his compass leading them to their destination.

From the outside, the building looked like a shed. One of the many near-identical buildings that housed tools or out of use decorations, albeit with an unusual amount of space on either side. But when she looked closely, Jiang Yanli glimpsed a shimmer of golden energy, mixed with writhing shadows. Wards, and made from a combination of resentful and spiritual energy at that. No wonder neither of them had so much as glimpsed it before.

Jiang Yanli stepped forward to inspect the wards in detail. They looked to be designed to hide the building, and keep someone in. Though the details looked overly complicated for concealing a single person, she and Nie Huaisang agreed. Keeping anyone who knew it was there out would require a level of intricacy that risked collapsing the entire ward every time someone passed through.

Their presence would not be detected.

Still, Nie Huaisang stepped through first, claiming, “I can talk my way out of this, if we’re wrong. You, on the other hand…”

When Jiang Yanli stepped through, there was a wave of disorientation, like stepping onto solid ground after hours on a boat. It passed, and a two-story pavilion of modest size stood before her. Far less elaborate than her own, she thought it might once have been used to house servants, before it was repurposed into a prison.

Keeping out of sight of anyone who might look out, they approached the open windows on either side of the door. Jiang Yanli plastered herself to the wall, and peered inside.

She and Nie Huaisang had agreed that if they found the woman’s prison, they would only scout from the outside.

But what Jiang Yanli saw through that window changed everything.

A young woman in linen servant’s robes knelt at a table, her shoulders hunched over as she methodically ground herbs into powder. A text depicting the anatomy of a human body was open to her left.

The woman looked up, and Jiang Yanli was certain she was seeing a ghost.

#the untamed #cql #wangxian #yanqing #qin su #my fic #the sacrifice summon! JYL fic #where the summoner (qin su) sticks around #this time featuring drunk! LXC #NHS's acting skills #and everyone's desire to kills sect leader yao

[italktomyghostnamedrichard]

a box to scream into

i've described my blog as a box to scream into before, but i don't usually make significant posts about things in my life. usually i post one-off thoughts i have, or i vague-post about whatever social issue i'm contemplating at the time. but i'm at a place right now where i feel very intellectually isolated, and i'm struggling to get perspective on my thoughts because i don't know who i could actually talk to about them - so... screaming box.

i was born and raised in the mormon church. i'm now an atheist, and have been since i was 17. my journey to leaving the church isn't necessarily important to this story? but i'm happy to share if anyone actually happens to read this and is interested in hearing it. suffice it to say that that time in my life was incredibly stressful - i knew in my gut that my family would hate that i wasn't going to go to church once i moved away to college, i was struggling to parse my new perspective of the world to the one i'd been surrounded by my whole life, and i felt legitimately trapped by my circumstances. i'm 21 now, and doing way better, but a lot of those dark feelings from that time in my life are coming back to me now because my brother is leaving on a mission.

since i stopped going to church and kept not going to church, my non-mormonism has meant two different things: to me, it's been a lens through which i can view some of the weird shit that happened in my childhood (partially as a consequence of church membership). to my family, it's basically been A Thing Not To Bring Up - a phase (because mormon parents always think you'll come back to the fold). in any case, while they put a lot of stock into my not being churchy, i had never really considered the fact that they still are. so my brother getting his mission call brought up a lot of Unexpected Feelings.

i feel scared for him. not even really for his safety (he's going somewhere state-side), but a frantic panic for something i don't even know how to name.

i feel like i want to explain to him why i left the church, and even more like my efforts would be unwelcome and potentially relationship-ending. i also have a massive complex about trying to force people to match my understanding of the world (some of that sweet sweet ex-mo trauma), and trying to have that conversation would feel too much like me bearing an anti-testimony. which, like, ah. at the same time though, i'm just itching to ask if my brother actually knows about the institution he's repping on the front of his shirt. i'm the kind of person whose original faith crisis was obsessively researched and mentally gymnastic'd until there was no other conclusion available than holy shit, it just isn't true. i've since (and recently) found some ex-mo creators online (shoutout nuance hoe and zelph on the shelf) who have really helped me feel less alone and less insecure about my leaving story, but, like i said, my brother doesn't know what i've studied or gone through. i don't know if it would change his heart or his mind, and i honestly don't know if i want to be the person to do that.

i want to ask him, or anyone in my family, if they've really thought the whole mission thing through. does anyone actually think it's a good idea? because sending a teenager to an unknown environment with the expectation that they give up all personal freedom and personal space in order to teach people about a young, american religion, unprovoked, for two years, seems like a really shit idea. my brother is sinking literally all of his savings into his mission, and every time i even allude to this being an unsound financial endeavor (let alone social or personal endeavor), i'm shot down and gaslit. and before anyone tries to get after me about using gaslit incorrectly, trying to say that serving a mission is just as valuable as going to college is gaslighting. they're different. so admit they're different and accept that missionaries are essentially taking a very expensive double gap year which will fuck over their interpersonal skills for the rest of their lives.

anyway. i feel extremely conflicted. for years, my mom has been telling my brothers not to talk to me too frequently or about things which are too deep. i know that it's because she thinks i'm going to corrupt them, or whatever. i don't want to live up to that expectation, and i especially don't want to be the atheist version of every mormon i've ever met.

at the same time, my conscience is screaming at me to do anything, because my little brother is about to go away for two years and essentially be brainwashed and support an institution which has a history of extreme racism, and a current philosophy of harmful misogyny, homophobia, and transphobia. not to mention the fact that missions themselves are imperial nightmares propagated by an over-wealthy, tax exempt financial conglomerate.

i'm having a really hard time reasoning out what the best thing to do here is. at the moment i've settled on being supportive and accepting like i wish my mormon relatives were when i was 18 and making my own choices about religion. my worries are lingering, though, and i thought getting them all out might help. advice and commiseration are appreciated :-)

#ex mormon #ex lds #exmormon #exmo #post mormon

[thelioncourts]

CAN WE GET A SNIPPET OF SOMETHING?????????

um. okay, so i was going to write a second halloween story this year, also about witches, but it was basically going to be, in summary: damen is a hunter and was out to hunt a witch, but gets attacked in the forest. he wakes up surrounded by witches and they soon realize they are all on the same side. in the process of hunting down their common foe, some of the other witches try to match-make damen with a young witch named laurent who is less than thrilled that his mother is the loudest match-maker of them all

***

The very first thing Damen noticed upon waking was the pain.  It was a searing kind of pain, located on his left side and consuming the entirety of his rib cage there.  It was bothersome too, the pain, and though Damen was aware of its location, it also seemed to be seeping everywhere in his body, bringing with it an ache in his arms and legs, a blinding light behind his eyelids.  It was all so much that he didn’t initially take into account his surroundings.  That only happened when someone coughed lightly.

Damen froze at the sound. 

Adrenaline spiked through his blood, pushing the pain to the back of his mind suddenly, and he stayed statue still, listening to the happenings around him.  He heard the crackling of a fire, something that explained the stifling heat of the room, he heard the howling of the wind outside, and, most awfully, he heard the muttering of voices from every direction around him.  

The hunt must have gone real bad, he thought to himself, immediately using what little energy he had to hold back a groan and instead try to think of a plan.  Gently, he tested a small movement to see how extensive the injury was, and when he barely moved his leg a brashing strike of white-hot pain bore into him, willing his body to still.  Not happening.  Next, he tried his non-injured side, wondering if he could rely on it for most of his movement; when he tried, however, it felt fine up until his left side tried to follow.  More pain.  Lots more.

Okay, so a physical escape was not an option.  That was fine.  He could come up with something else, maybe try to --

“We can see you moving around, dear one.  We know you’re awake.”

Shit.

There wasn’t any denying it.  The voice was right next to his head.  Swallowing once before bracing himself for the worst, Damen slowly began to open his eyes.  He saw the ceiling, the ceiling of a wooden cabin, and the flames from the fire were casting shadows onto it, the figures dancing with the waving of each orange-hued tendril.  Turning his head ever so slightly, he then saw the figure the voice must have belonged to and startled.  There, with her back facing the fire, was a witch.  

Damen only knew she was a witch because of the brooch pinned to her cloak.  Witches didn’t wear them in public, no, for it would make it too obvious as to who they are, but they did wear them when with their own.  Each coven, after all, had its own symbol. 

This coven was a starburst of gold metal, the tips of the burst itself adorned in jewels.  The witch wearing it was lovely.  She was older, perhaps but a few years younger than Damen’s own father.  It was hard to tell, for she looked quite youthful, but there were small things that gave her away, like the lines by her eyes and mouth.  She was beautiful though.  She was smiling at him, almost indulgently, and it was a kind smile; a beautiful smile actually.  It complimented her blue eyes well.  Her blonde hair was swept all to her right side, tumbling over her shoulder in golden waves that matched the brooch.  Yes, she was lovely.  And a witch.  

“You took quite a fall,” she told him.  

Damen only blinked up at her.  Then he asked, his voice hoarse, “Who are you?”

“My name is Hennike,” she said kindly.  Then she added, “I’m one of the witches you came here to hunt, I believe.  Who are you?”

“Does it really matter?  You know I’m a hunter already,” Damen said.  He turned his head a little more, catching sight in his peripheral vision of a pair of feet attached to a body in a rocking chair.  

“Well, yes, we do know that,” Hennike said, “but I suppose we’d like to know who you are to better understand why you would be here hunting us?”

“Why?” Damen asked incredulously.  “Gods, leave it up to witches to be so separated from society that they cannot even make sense as to why someone would hunt them after what they’ve done.”

“We’ve done nothing,” said a distinctly older voice, perhaps from the body in the rocking chair.  

“Then explain the fires in Mellos,” Damen said, now letting out a groan as he went to sit up, pain be damned.  

All the witches were on clear alert with Damen’s movements.  He could see Hennike’s hands up, could see blue light so bright it was almost white ready at her fingertips.  He could see now the older witch in the rocking chair, her hair long and gray, and her knitting needles moving on their own, and her eyes sparkling with a magical intensity.  There were several other witches in the cabin as well, all women and of a range of ages, and each had their own kind of magic ready for him at the drop of a pin.  

“What fires in Mellos?” Hennike asked, voice soft and wary.  

“A witch has set fire to the farmlands in Mellos,” Damen told her, told them.  “There is nothing left now.  All the crops are destroyed just before harvest was to begin, and there are villages and people that are going to die without them.  It’s utter devastation there.”

“How do you know it was a witch?” asked one of the younger witches.

“I don’t know many fires that burn green other than fires created by magic,” Damen said.

“How do you know it was us?” asked yet another.  

“Because we traced it here.  By the time we reached Mellos, the witch was still there.  We caught the briefest sight of him before he vanished, but he must have exhausted himself setting as large a fire as he did.  He could only vanish so far before reappearing, running through the woods on foot at times.  Though he did eventually pull ahead as he regained some of his strength, we found his footprints all the way to this very forest edge.”

“But that’s impossible,” said the older witch.  “Our men have been gone for weeks.  It couldn’t be one of them unless --”  She stopped cold.  

As though everyone but Damen reached the same conclusion at the same time, the room got eerily still.  Then Hennike finished the thought aloud.  “Guion.”

“Guion?  Who’s Guion?” Damen asked, his eyes searching all of their faces.  

“Guion is a witch from a coven in Belloy,” said one of the witches.

“He came through here not but two days ago,” said another.

“We thought it strange, but allowed it for he passed through without stopping or causing a scene,” said the older one.  

“It would explain his harried expression,” said Hennike.  “Oh dear.”

Suddenly her hands were on Damen’s exposed right forearm.  Damen jumped at the touch, partially from the surprise and fear of it and partially from her cold hands.  Looking at her, he could see the line of worry pinched between her brows.  

“What are you doing?” Damen asked her as she tugged once on his shirt.  

“It was one of our traps that brought you down in the forest,” she said.  “We have them set should hunters ever attack in the night.  I’ve allowed you to lie here bleeding because I thought you were intending on hurting us, but now that I know the truth, we must heal you immediately.  Shirt off.”

Logically, Damen’s brain told him not to trust a witch.  He had learned from his father long ago to never trust anyone, but least of all a wielder of magic.  But his gut-feeling told him to listen and Damen was never one to not trust a gut-feeling.  Gingerly, he pulled at his shirt from the hem and lifted it over his head.  

At his ribs, where he had determined the location of the injury to be, the shirt pulled, stuck to his skin with sticky dark blood.  Still, the shirt came off quickly and Damen finally was able to see the extent of it all.  His ribs were definitely broken, he determined quickly.  Underneath the blood and raw coloration of the skin was an undertone of deep blue, the appearance black with his own skin tone.  

“Look at that,” said the older witch and Damen looked up, expecting a grimace or expression of disgust at his side, but her eyes weren’t on his side at all.  Damen couldn’t tell exactly where they were, but they were definitely focused in on his shoulders, pectorals, or arms...or all of that really.  

“Betilda,” Hennike chastised, laughing.  

“What?  We don’t have men like that here,” Betilda said.

“We really don’t,” said one of the younger witches, her chin resting in her hand.

“Not you too, Melanie.”

“Oh, don’t deny it, Hennike.  Well, actually, do deny it.  Because the closest we have to that here is your son,” said another younger witch, waggling her brows at Hennike who just laughed again.  

“I’ll be sure to pass that along to Auguste.”

“He already knows.  I tell him every time he comes by to pick up bread.”

“I’m sorry about them,” Hennike said.  She moved from his right side to his left, fingers gentle on the edge of the injury.  Damen winced.  “This is worse than I thought it was.  I’m going to need ***, ***, ***, and ***.  Gale, would you --”

“Yes.  In the cabinet above the window in the apothecary?”

“The *** might be in the cabinets by the near the door, but the rest should be above the window.”  

Gale disappeared into the cold outside, leaving Damen sitting awkwardly on the table being watched by a few pairs of appreciative eyes.  

“Who are you?” Hennike asked him again.  When he looked at her he was struck by how utterly kind she had come across since he awoke.  

“My name is Damen,” he told her. 

“Damen,” she repeated, smiling at the name.  “It truly is very nice to meet you, Damen.  I wish it were under different circumstances.”  

“Well,” Damen started, wincing again as he attempted to lean back onto his palms and stretch out his torn up side, “I have to thank you for not immediately trying to kill me for trying to attack your coven unprovoked.”  

“It was understandable.  You did everything right, you were led astray by someone far darker than yourself,” Hennike said.  

Gale returned quickly with the ingredients Hennike asked for….

#captive prince #unfinished ficlet #nice human #kirsten answers #(yes i put three asterisks when i need to look up something later) #it works for me so far #my writing #Anonymous

[possiamo-andare]

So Sweet: JJ Maybank

Chapter Two: Best Behaviour

word count: 4k

mini series

chapter one

masterlist

~

you were born to be a troublemaker

JJ Maybank - 

If I could wake up to one sound for the rest of my life, it'd be the sound of waves crashing to shore. If I listen closely in the morning, before anyone else has woken up, I can almost hear each droplet hit the sand. Of course, in reality, it's probably just my groggy state but I'd like to think that time in the morning is reserved solely for me to listen to the waves.

With that being said, this morning, I was not given the pleasure to wake up to the sound of waves. Instead, I was awoken by Pope screeching in my ear about how late we were.

"JJ! Get your ass out of bed!" He tugged on my hair, making me yelp out in pain before opening my eyes.

"Jeez! What's your deal Heyward?" I ask, rubbing my head where it hurt from Pope's tugging. I sit up on John B.'s couch, looking around for him. He usually wakes me up before Pope comes storming in and I wanna ask why he decided against doing that today.

I instantly make eye contact with JB, who is chewing on a piece of bread in the kitchen. He smiles at me with a mouthful of bread before looking to Pope. "I tried to wake him up twenty minutes ago but he wouldn't budge."

I roll my eyes. "Bull." I get up from the couch, pushing past Pope who is still calling me. "Can I have some of that?"

JB nods, handing me the second slice he had in his other hand. "It has some mold in the corner."

I shrugged, not disgusted by this at all. "Whatever, mold is like an organism."

I can hear Pope scoff from behind me. "Are you insane? Eat around the mold or you'll get sick."

I turn back to Pope, who is impatiently tapping his foot against the floor. "I wish. Then maybe your dad will give me some time off."

Pope smirks. "Yeah, sure. While we're talking about shit that's never gonna happen, you're gonna be on time for once."

I chuckle, enjoying how impatient Pope looks. Pope needs to chill sometimes and just enjoy life. I've never met someone as uptight as him. "It's your dad's fault for making us go on the ferry this early in the morning. No normal teenager wakes up at 7am anyways."

Pope crosses his arms over his chest. "We have to pick up some of the Kooks groceries. We won't be on time if we stay here any longer. Let's go."

Pope is out the door before I have time to make fun of him any longer. Begrudgingly, I slip on some sneakers and plop, like, five mint flavored gum in my mouth before following after him. Surprisingly, Pope's dad is waiting in his car for us. Usually, Pope and I have to walk all the way to the pier and board the ferry without Mr. Heyward. I guess today he was feeling generous. When we entered the car, Pope and I both sitting in the back, Mr. Heyward can't help but crack a joke at my tardiness.

"Rough night JJ?"

I press my lips together, letting him make fun of me. "Yessir. You know me."

Mr. Heyward laughs. "That I do." He pulls out of JB's driveway before speaking again. "These are for the Cameron household. Just some extra groceries for the gala they're hosting in a couple of days."

Pope nods, his eyes dancing with amusement. I look to him and he meets my gaze, both of us smirking. I wonder who is gonna speak first and when I know he won't, I do. "Yeah, we heard about the gala. JB is escorting Sarah."

Mr. Heyward nods, glancing at the rearview mirror before looking back at the road. "Hm. Well, you boys are invited too."

Pope and I both frown. "Hm?" Pope and I look at each other we both mumble at the same time.

Mr. Heyward nods again, turning a corner and getting closer to the pier. "Pope'll be helping me out while you, JJ, will be one of our charming servers."

I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest. "With all due respect, I ain't serving no Kook. Especially if it's Rafe Cameron."

Pope nudges me with his elbow. "He'll do it dad."

I roll my eyes. "I will -" I'm cut off by Pope shoving me into the door, knocking the wind out of me. It takes me a couple seconds to regain my posture before I can speak. "I would be glad to help you out Mr. Heyward."

Mr. Heyward smirks, looking to Pope. "Don't worry, Jay, I'll be paying you."

I chuckle, reaching my hand over the passenger seat to high five Mr. Heyward. "Music to my ears."

Only when the car is parked does Mr. Heyward high five me. He then unbuckled his seat and shifts his body to turn to us, his face unreadable. "Make sure Jeff has everything this time."

Pope nods, pulling out a list from his pocket. "Got it."

Mr. Heyward looks at me. "And behave yourself JJ."

I wink at him, finally opening my door. "Of course sir. I'm always on my best behaviour." I can hear Pope scoff from behind but I close the door before I can look at him.

Once Pope exits the car on the other side, Mr. Heyward does not waste another moment before driving off, leaving his son and his son’s friend alone. Although I would never admit it, I actually enjoy going on these trips with Pope. I’ve always connected with Pope in a different way than everyone else but I seriously don't realize how much Pope and I get along until we’re alone. I would never tell Pope this, knowing my friend did not need any more ammunition against me to make fun of me. Besides, if the roles were reversed, I would not let Pope hear the end of it.

“Do you think my dad knows what happened last time?” Pope asks, closing the distance between us.

Once he is close enough, I speak. “Nah. Although, he probably has an idea.”

Last time we were at this pier, Topper and Kelce had also been here. They had come to pick a package up but when they saw us, all of their past responsibilities went down the drain. They tried to confront us but we ran before they could reach us. One of the things I did so that Pope and I could get away was throw a bunch of large bins on the floor to create a distraction. The owner of those bins called me by name and Pope has been scared ever since that someone is going to tell his dad about the mischief we caused last time. Personally, I think Mr. Heyward has no idea. Sometimes, even when I have yet to do anything wrong, he warns me and tells me to be on my best behaviour.

I take the first step towards the ferry first, knowing Pope is beside me overthinking everything we have done. Before you board the ferry, there is a bridge where you wait in line and pay your toll. Mr. Heyward makes us go this early because he knows the lines will be shorter, but I secretly suspect it is because he enjoys watching me get up early for a change. He’s always complaining whenever he sees me that I wake up too late and that’s why I have no discipline. The real reason I have no discipline is actually because I hate being told what to do.

“What kinda idea do you think he has?” Pope asks nervously as we both wait in line on the bridge connecting the pier to the ferry.

I shrug, fishes the coins Mr. Heyward had given me only days ago. “He knows I’m a troublemaker and he knows you follow whatever I do so, it’s not that hard to guess.”

Pope scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “I do not follow everything you do.”

I give him a look, telling him right away that I didn’t mean to be mean. “Don’t take it the wrong way, bud, but you follow along with everything I do.”

Pope rolls his eyes, his arms still crossed. “I’m always the one telling you how stupid whatever you’re doing is.”

I nod. “True, but you follow along to make sure I don’t get in trouble. Which ends up getting us in trouble.”

Pope shakes his head, clearly agitated at my statement. “I can think for myself. I’m not just some brain dead -”

“I never said that.” I interrupt, already knowing the road this conversation is going to go down. “I’m just saying you like the adventure as much as I do. The only difference is that I admit I like getting in trouble.”

Pope presses his lips together and I can tell he is trying to suppress a smile. “I do not like getting in trouble.”

I chuckle. “My point exactly.”

“I do not!” Pope raises his voice, trying to look angry but I know he’s not. He would never admit it aloud but the adventures that we go on actually bring him a lot of joy.

“Tickets please.” One of the toll booth workers says to me, watching me closely as I reach my hand up and through the small opening of the window before setting it down in front of him.

“Two tickets.” I say, gesturing towards Pope. The toll booth worker quietly prints out two tickets before handing them back to me. “Thanks.” I mumble before giving one of the tickets to Pope.

As we walk up the bridge and finally cross over onto the ferry, I start to smell the stronger scent of sea salt. I love this smell almost as much as I love the sound of the waves crashing to shore. It’s calming. I know to some people it is a smell that can cause them to get sick but to me, a Pogue who has grown up here, it is a beautiful scent.

Pope and I finally sit on a bench, with a beautiful view of the water. We don’t speak for a while; not until we both hear the familiar rumble of the boat starting. When I feel this rumble beneath me, I let out a small sigh.

“What?” Pope asks, staring at how my chest is rapidly rising and falling.

I shrug staring at the sea instead of my friend. “I don’t know. I feel weird.”

I can feel Pope’s gaze hardened on me, knowing he’s worried already. “Weird how?”

I shrug again, trying to calm my racing heart. It feels as though my body is trying to tell me something. I think I know what it is. “I feel like something is about to happen to me.”

Pope chuckles, his face relaxing. “Haha. Yeah. You’re about to get paid dude.”

I chuckle with him but it’s dry and I can’t even bother to look at him as I do. It’s not that but I try to tell myself it’s nothing. I’m just tired. Then, a thought crosses my mind. It’s unprovoked and out of left field but I know it’s right.

Your life is about to change forever.

~

Amelia Hepburn - 

“Breaking News coming from New York City today, where the heiress to the Hepburn fortune has gone missing. Officials in New York report that Amelia Hepburn, granddaughter to Audrey Hepburn, vanished from her estate last night. A man hunt has been organized to recover Amelia safe and sound. Amelia’s parents…”

I turn down the volume of the radio, not bothering to listen to anymore news. I figured they’d be looking for me; just not this soon. At least I’m out of New York now. I have an eight hour head start and I’m gonna make every second count.

“Hey!” The man beside me shouts in my ear. He must have been listening to the radio too because he leans forward and turns it back up. “Was listening to that.”

I mumble a sorry before putting the right earbud back in my ear to continue listening to music. As I continue to listen to music, I focus on the rumble of the ferry underneath me. It’s a subtle shake and anyone who has rode a ferry more than once would get used to it. But I haven’t and it’s the only thing I can focus on. I’m doing so many things I have never done before and it’s so exciting. Ferries were always so crowded and it would’ve been impossible for someone like me to ride them but now, I was just a regular girl to these people. It was liberating to just be seen as a teenager and not the future heiress of anything.

Suddenly, the rumbling stops and so does the ferry. The stop causes me to lean forward but I hold onto the armchair and balance myself so I don’t fall. I can hear the intercom come on over my music and I decide to take my earbuds out. I’m going to need someone’s help locating a hotel or AirBnB and I can’t do that while I listen to music. As I put my earbuds away in my backpack, a bunch of passengers start collecting their belongings and leaving. I look out the window, a smile instantly creeping onto my face. I’m here. I’m in Outer Banks.

There’s a small bridge that connects the ferry to the pier where dozens and dozens of people are walking about and waiting in line to board the ferry to go back to the mainland. It’s very early in the morning but the sun is already half way up and looking as beautiful as ever. The sky is different than it is in New York and I can’t help but sit in awe as I watch the sky turn from a light purple to orange right before my eyes. Then, there’s the smell of sea salt and I know I could wake up to this for the rest of my life.

“Excuse me?” A voice comes from behind me and my stomach instantly drops. For a moment, I think someone recognizes me and I think of returning home. In terror, I turn around to see a girl my age with a small smile on her face. “Are you staying?”

I shake my head, letting out a small sigh of relief. She doesn’t know me. “No. Sorry. Just a lot to take in.”

This girl is very beautiful. She has brown, curly hair and dark skin to match. Her eyes are twinkling with excitement and I can tell she is a local just by how she dresses. She is wearing a see through shirt and black shorts but I can see an orange swimsuit underneath her shirt. Her smile is so gentle but strong. I realize, as she smiles at me, that I think I just made my first friend.

She smiles at me, slowly nodding. “It’s very beautiful. Have you ever been to OBX?”

I shake my head, watching as she leaned against one of the chairs. “Never. I’ve actually never been anywhere without my parents.”

She raises her brows. “Really?”

I nod. “Yeah. This is kinda like my first vacation ever.”

She chuckles, placing a hand over her heart. “Well, now I need to make sure you have the best time ever. I can make sure a local shows you around if you’d like?”

I nod enthusiastically. I’m so surprised at her offer, I almost wonder if she’s able to read my mind. “Yes, thank you.”

I stand up from my seat and once I do, she starts walking towards the exit. I follow behind her, holding onto my phone for dear life. I turned off the location hours ago so I’m not worried they will be able to track me. Once we get to the exit of the ferry, she outstretches her hand for me to hold. I take it and carefully step over the space between the bridge and the ferry. Once I’m safely on the pier, she lets go of my hand and turns to me fully.

“Wanna meet my friends?” She asks, fiddling with a bracelet on her wrist. I only nod, too nervous to speak. “Just gotta find those rascals…”

She mumbles the last part and I’m a little apprehensive of who she is going to choose since she just called them rascals. I try to follow her gaze as she scans the pier but I can’t seem to see who she is looking for. Instead, I scan the crowd and watch as different people interact with one another. There’s some construction workers working on the pier while others are tourists reading a map. Everyone at this pier is coming from different walks of life and I think it’s absolutely beautiful that all these people who never would have known each other before, have come together on this pier.

“Ah!” She yelps, pointing to two teen boys carrying bags of groceries in their hands. “There they are. JJ! Pope!”

Both the boys stop and slowly turn to face where the sound has come from. I’m not sure who is who but by the smiles, I think I can tell. The blonde boy has a small smirk playing on his lips and he just seems like a JJ while the other boy has a sheepish grin on his lips, his shy demeanor matching his sweet name. As we approach them, I can’t take my eyes off the blonde boy and I can see him watching me too. He’s so freaking handsome I think I just might faint right here. I’ve talked to boys my age but they’re all the sons of diplomats who have to be kind to me so I wonder how boys will treat me when they don’t know who I truly am.

“Hey Kie.” Pope smiles still, glancing to his feet. I can tell he likes her and I wonder if she likes him too.

She leans forward to hug both of her friends. “Hey Pope.” She hugs the first boy as she says this and I knew my assumption was right. Then she hugs the blonde boy and says. “Hey JJ.”

JJ smiles but keeps his eyes trained on me. I look to Pope instead, slightly embarrassed he is looking at me so much. I wonder if he recognizes me or if he thinks I’m beautiful. I hope it’s the latter.

“And who is this?” He finally says, all eyes on me now.

I realize that I have to make up a name. I know that it will be too much of a coincidence that a girl that is named Amelia is missing and my name is Amelia so I fumble around for a moment. I don’t know what name to use and I watch as they all become increasingly aware that I am too nervous to speak. I am very embarrassed but before I can make myself look like an idiot any more than I already am, Kie speaks up for me.

“I met her on the ferry coming back from the mainland. She’s never been to OBX. Thought we’d show her around.” Kie looks between Pope and JJ, both of their eyes now trained on her. With eyes away from me, I now have time to think of a name before someone asks me again.

JJ looks at me again. “What did you say your name was?”

“I never did.” I clear my throat, finally speaking to him for the first time. “My name is Audrey.” I want to slap myself. I could only think of my grandmother’s name and I wish I was a better liar.

They all nod, a smile only on JJ’s lips. “Nice. Well, I’m JJ,” He says, pointing to himself. Without thinking, I extend my hand for him to shake and his eyes widen. “I’ve never shaken hands with anyone.” I watch as he chuckles, shaking my hand before letting go.

I am instantly embarrassed again. “Sorry.” I’ve been raised by adults who never allowed me to spend too much time with other people my age and I am confused on the proper edicate when interacting with teenagers. I look to Kie for support and she just smiles. I feel a little better knowing that at least she doesn’t think I’m odd.

JJ shrugs, his eyes full of laughter. I wonder what my eyes show other people. I hope they’re as vibrant as JJ’s. “Nah, it’s okay. I love weird.”

There’s a moment of silence for a moment and I realize that JJ might be flirting with me. The only other time this has ever happened is when an English diplomat’s son tried to grope me at a charity gala for impoverished children. I still remember wanting to hit him but remembering there were cameras around. I had to restrain myself even though he deserved it. My whole life is an exercise of restraint and I never want it to be like that again. I want to be able to slap a rude boy if I ever have to again. Although this is true, I know I won’t ever have to slap JJ. I like him too much to ever push away his advances. Besides, he is so charming it’s hard to not be flattered.

“It’s nice to meet you Audrey.” Pope finally says, a polite small across his lips. Instead, I nod and decide against shaking his hand to save myself from embarrassment.

Although I know it is silly, I can’t help but look at JJ again. Something is drawing me to him and I am more than happy to see him still looking at me. Before I can speak again, Kie decides to. “How long are you gonna stay in OBX for, Audrey?”

I shrug, my eyes on Kie now. “I don’t know.” My mind is running at the speed of light to figure out a good and believable lie. “My parents are at a conference for a couple days in the mainland so they told me to explore the Outer Banks for a while. I’m supposed to get a room and wait until they call me to leave.” I fumble on some of my words but at the same time, I am so proud of thinking of this lie on the spot.

Everyone nods, all their eyes on me. I wonder if the lie has worked for a moment before Pope speaks up. “Well, while they’re at the mainland, we can definitely show you around. Even get you a place to stay.”

I smile at Pope, nodding my head. “Thank you so much. It’s greatly appreciated.”

Kie wraps an arm around my shoulders. I almost jump at the touch, not used to physical affection. I have to remind myself that normal teens are used to being so touchy with people they trust, “There’s even gonna be a party at the Boneyard tonight where you can meet the rest of our friends.”

I frown. “The Boneyard?”

I hear JJ chuckle from beside me. “You weren’t kidding, she is a touron.” I look at him, a smile on his lips now instead of his signature smirk. “Hunting Island. It’s where Pogues and Kooks have parties.”

I only frown deeper when I hear these new terms. “Pogues? Kooks?”

Kie laughs from beside me, finding my confusion hilarious. She squeezes me a little tighter. “We got a lot to teach you before tonight sister.”

I smile at her, finally wrapping my arm around her this time. “I’m intrigued.”

And for the first time, I feel as though my life is mine. I am finally myself. As we walk off the pier and towards Kie’s car, I think of how disappointed my mom would be of me. She would think I’m stupid fro getting in the car with a bunch of teens I don’t know. And maybe she’s right. But I think of my grandma and I’d like to think she’d be proud of me and everything that I’ve accomplished so far. I’m making my life my own. I’m living for me.

and you will do it until you die

~

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