#heratic!reader

[bamsara]

I find it really funny that The One Who Waits keeps up with saying that they do not care about Lambert but at the same time whenever someone threatens them or tries to court them he's just like "do you want me to kill them for you? Yes???"

Like yeah sure hun

Also funny thing from one of your first chapters that got me snorting:

Bruh is really calling him out like Nari baby you are NOT slick

The God of Death's love langauge is killing ;D /j

Lambert killed his siblings and countless heratics for him at his command so what's a little uno-reverse with a little murder as an act of service? Not that he's gonna admit that other than the 'it's getting in the way of the mission' sort, but ah, he's got a habit of indulging the vessal. :)

ALSO IM SO GLAD YOU'RE BRINGING THIS UP I wanna talk about a sentence I ended up ommitting from the final draft of Chapter 9

The Mystic Seller's words come back to haunt Narinder in this one moment  (Some folks in comments actaully sensed it too and that made me happy)

The sentence 'The Tight grip on his weapon's handle shaks' was originally 'The Mystic Seller's words echo', calling back to what it said, but I felt like the scene needed to be primarily Lambert's pov and not give any ways into Narinder's pov or thoughts, so just an action of body langauge showing tension like that would let readers interpret whether it's because Narinder is debating on killing them and is hesitating for some reason he doesn't know himself, is shaking from the pain and extent of his injuries, or because he was recalling was the Mystic Seller said, and what exactly that means to him.

(It was all three)

I really really like the running joke of Bishops/Followers/The Fox/literally everyone being able to sense the connection Narinder has to the Lamb and vice versa (Whether through divine magic or simply because they can read them easily) and it's become my favorite repeated gag

[inbabylontheywept]

i have just speed-ran through the babylon-lore tag and it wasnt until i got to the post explaining how you wrote your cosmic horror story based off the heratic teacher that i realized that i had been reading your posts in the youtuber exurb1a and exurb2a (one dude, two channels)'s voice. it was specifically the line of which the teacher says that god had asked people to be nicer to each other.

im not sure if that line was just said in one of his videos or not but now his voice is linked to your writing in my head (not at all a complaint or a bad thing, i love your writing and his videos.) the video of his i recommend the most bc its the most in tune with your writing style is "then next comes"

and also because it does somewhat i suppose get into cosmic horror? or at least it starts getting into what the heratic teacher was teaching.

its eleven at night, i might be reaching.

anyways, i hope you have a wonderful time of day/night and i will in the near future be making my way through your other tags, in a hopefully more moderate pace.

I checked that guy's voice to see how close it was to mine, andI'm flattered, but uh. Not quite. I like my voice, but it's an odd mix of gravel and brass. A memorable description I got in speech in debate was "like Gilbert Gottfried, if he wasn't trying to sound awful." It's great for talking on stage because it carries so well I don't have to strain my voice to be heard, but it has rendered me basically incapable of normal whispering. If I want to be quiet I just drop the pitch until it's basically just my mouth moving interrupted by these weird stacatto pops as my vocal chords remember they're supposed to be making noises. I looked up the "then comes next video" to see what it was, and it was indescribably weird. But also indescribably beautiful. Another compliment. Thank you. It was a good night. But my brain was fully cooked by the end of it. I'm glad to have you as a reader.

[wierdpersonononelikes]

Don't leave me (Brienne of Tarth x fem reader)

“Ugh i hate having night duty” night duty was the worst i always hated it there is only a few times where I like being outside, i love when Brienne is out here with me she is the one that makes me like being out here she is so pretty but she is in love with someone else even though some people still hate him i guess she loves him how I wish to be that man ughh, but as soon as I keep walking near the gate I heard two people two very familiar voices getting closer I saw Brienne and Jaime but jaime was on a horse like if he was leaving but before riding off, Jaime tells Brienne "You think I'm a good man? I pushed a boy out a tower window and crippled him for life, for Cersei. I strangled my cousin with my own hands justice in to get back to Cersei. I would've murdered every man, woman, and child in Riverrun for Cersei. She's hateful. And so am I.” I stayed looking at them. Yes, my heart broke because from what it looked like, Brienne and him had spent most of the night together, but that did matter. I just felt bad for her, but that is when I heard her say, "You're not like your sister - you're better than her. You're a good man. You don't need to die with her. He mounts his horse and rides away, leaving Brienne in tears behind him. (from what I remember that is how it happened if it happened like that imagine that part but How it actually happened) I froze I wanted to hug her I felt bad but I also wanted to scream how foolish I was I thinking I would have a chance with her tears start to fall from my face I just couldn’t stop them but when I realized she was moving I tried to pretend like nothing happened wiping my tears she looks at me I look at her she looks devastated knowing what just happened how is she not “ser Brienne are you okay” I asked knowing that she wouldn’t answer we weren’t that close we did talk but she would never let me get that close and hurted knowing that I would never be able to with her “nothing happened just taking a walk and thinking about some of the things that have happened” I stare I felt tears coming but I was able to stop them I wouldn’t want her to know what I know “should go to your room it getting colder and we don’t want one of our best fighters to get sick” I tighten the blanket the she had and squeezed her shoulds giving her a simile “I will” she said staring at my eyes “have a great rest of your night Ser Brienne” as soon she turn to the corner I started to breath again I didn’t realize I stoped breathing I stare at the stars and waited. (time skip because I need to work but I’m doing this instead) It was finally morning I wasn’t tired so I went to eat breakfast and saw Brrienne so I went to sit with her, put my breakfast on the table and sat in front of her she looked up and saw “good morning Ser Brienne” “good morning“ she mumbled I sat down and started to eat “wait aren’t you supposed to be sleeping” I stared at her for a bit “yeah but that was my last night duty so i'm not tired” she stared at me she tighten the grip of her fork and slammed it “well I hope you don’t fall asleep during training” I smiled at her as I put a piece of food in my mouth and said “you don’t have to worry about me” and smiled it is hard try to make her feel better after what happened yesterday night, but she just rolled her eyes I hope I can make her feel better (time skip because I am supposed to be doing work) it was good to be close to her during raining I can have an eye on her and how she is doing i hope she can get better soon from her herat being broken… where is she… fuck I was just looking at her right now.

End of POV

Brienne’s POV

After hard training and holding my feelings I can let them out. I hate this. Why am I falling in love with someone that we are going to war in the next couple of days, months. I hate him but I love him at the same time.(Day 2) There is something wrong with Y/n I feel like she is trying to cheer me up but it feels like she knows ugh i hate this, i start to hear footsteps getting near gives me sometime to wipe my tears and sit down looking at the lake “uh Brienne is that you” Y/n what is she doing here “yeah it’s me don’t worry” what the heck I is she following me ever since when she saw me last night I feel like she is following me “Brienne I need to tell you something” “what is it” please tell me that you didn’t saw or heard anything from last night please “so last night-” I knew it shit what I’m going to do how do I tell why her “I heard and saw something I think You know what it is”I felt tears start running down my tears…

End of POV

Y/n’s POV

“I heard and saw something I think You know what it is” I looked at her face and I see tears “I’m sorry I didn’t me-” “it’s fine can you just leave me alone for while please” I get up start to walk and just see Brienne’s back and I tell her “if you need someone to talk to you can talk to me” I started walking to the camp again I was tired I feel sick but I need to go eat some lunch and go train the wars is starting soon again (time skip day 2 working on this really good progress) night time, I spend all day training because tomorrow morning we take our way to king's landing I really don’t want to go ugh is going to take to long to get to king's landing (let’s make it long even though in the last season it was like in a few minutes they were already there) (Day 3) while looking somewhere to sit I see Brienne sitting alone again so I decide to sit in front of her ‘should I sit next to her… yeah’ I walk up to the table and she looks up and I just simile and she looked down to her plate “so how you are doing” “none of your business” “aww come on Brienne don’t be like that”I said pouting and I laughed she looked at me like mad and I just cleared my throat “Brienne“ “yes” “listen I understand what you are goint through that is why I’m trying to cheer you up” “what you mean that you went through the same thing I am I don’t think you fell for a traitor and when he was being good he left you beause he thinks he is like he sister but he is not” I looked at her tears started to form in my eye I was already broken from what I heard that night because no matter what he did she still would defend him and love “well you think I didn’t went through something like that well let me tell you I try to show that person how much I cared for them, I even tried to show my feelings for them but ignored it and they decided to be with someone I knew that they where youst going to break their heart and I was right but you know what I did I tried to spend my days as normal as posible but still hurts to think about it hurts and you don’t know how that feels at least he spend some time with you." She looked at me and there were tears in my face. I wiped them before getting up “you really don’t know what it feels like when you love someone and they chose someone else” and I left for my room. I took my armor and went to the fire and sat there crying.

End of POV

B.O.T POV

‘Shit what do I do now she left and couldn’t even apologize for what I Said I wish I would haven’t said anything she was just trying to cheer me up but I guess she went through something too’  I ran outside and looked for her and as much as I tried I couldn’t find her I decided to look for her in her room but when I reached her door I heard sobs I wanted to knock the door but I feel like she might not want to talk to me I leave and go to my own just a few rooms pass it  I take my armor and sit by the fireplace ‘I regret everything I said to her I feel like an idiot ugh, I decide to read a book (time skip again this time is because I’m lazy) it was already late I think there shouldn’t be anyone in the baths (I forgot what they are called) I go down looking for the baths place (I that is what I’m calling those things now) when I got there I enter and saw Y/n and she was there sitting there I was going to clear my throat but I saw her moving but when (Day4)  I saw again she was already up I, decided to hide but I don’t know Why I did that but in my tempt to hide I accidentaly knocked something but lucklky I was able to hide

  End Of POV

Y/n POV

While crying in my room I fell asleep when I woke up I decide to go to the bath place when I enter the place was empty which it was good I took my clothes off and went in the water was hot just the way I like it I spend like a few minutes in and I started to think ‘how much I love Brienne but I guess she only has eyes for jaime, which is sad because everything we went through but I guess is my heart’s fault’ I felt tears on my face. I pulled my legs to my chest and sat there, I decide to go in fully to wet my head, I got up and when I was about to down I heard something fall I turn around and I see no one there so I turn to continue my bath (time skip) when I was done I dry myself and left for my room and I saw Brienne standing outside of my room “yes” “uh, I was wondering you where ok” “why do you care, stop bothering me and fuck off” I went inside my room and slammed my door (day 4 actually 6 but im working on it so it counts as 4) layed in my bed tears running down my face ‘what have I done to deserve this’ cried for a long time wich means I cried myself to sleep  (sorry im tired I don’t know what to write) (time skip yeah) it’s and morning we are getting ready to leave I putted my armor on and went to eat breakfast there isn’t to many people awake which I was glad I saw an empty table and went to sit down my back facing the door few moments later I see someone put a plate on the table when I look up I saw Brienne her golden hair that it shines with the sunlight and her blue eyes that when you look at them you can feel the breeze of the ocean but shoke those feelings and just looked at her while sat and started to eat she looks at me and says “what” “well what are you doing here” “eating don’t you see” “yeah I know” “so what you asking” “you know what I’m leaving to get ready” I as I got up she gtrabed my hand and she said “sit down” I saw her face sort of mad angry I don’t know is that face that she mades to scare everyone so I sitted back down “what do you want” “I wanted to apologize for saying what I said I know you only wanted to cheer me up and thanks for that” there it is it again after she said those words that light turned on again those feelings that where leaving after everything happened well that I was making leave came back but stronger but I couldn’t I had to fake it I cant let her know not until we go to war. She looked at me I could see she wasn’t lying Brienne had this look on her face that said that she wasn’t lying “ok fine” “thank god” said Brienne ”so are you still gonna  cheer me up everyday” “I don’t know you tell Ser Brienne do you want to cheer up everyday” “hmm let me think, it sounds like a great idea so maybe” we both just laughed until it was time to leave we were in the same group so we are going to be together all the time perfect to make things better.

End of POV

A New POV

As time passes Brienne and y/n spend more time together they laugh and they like to talk about Y/n feelings for Brienne grew and Brienne she was falling for… well she fell for Y/n she still like jaime but not as much as she likes Y/n but they were getting close to king's landing that is what she doesn’t like she is afraid something happens to her or Y/n.

End of this POV

Y/N POV

“Brienne can we talk for a while” “yeah wassup bean” (hey it just came to mind for some reason so yeah) I told her to follow me we were next to a river and I wanted to cry “Brienne there is something I have to tell you” “okay go ahead” Brienne for sometime I had feelings for you and after this couple of months they have becoming stronger so this is my way of telling you I love you” “Y/n… I… I Love you to this past couple of months I was able to forget about jaime and focus on you the way you are and everything makes me love you” “so that means you want to be my partner”  “yeah you little shit” (hehehe) “but Brienne can we get together after the war” “why” just so we can leave happily without having to worry someone is going to attack us” I looked at Brienne she thinks about for a minute “yeah I guess that makes sense” (time skip where everything is getting melted and they are fighting at the end of everything) “Brienne we won we can finally be toge—”. I don’t understand why we won. I look at Brienne and she screams I feel fuzzy.

End of POV

Brienne POV

I look for Y/n when I heard her say “Brienne we won I look ate her and I was going to start to walk up to her when I see someone behind her “we can finally be toge–” I ran and stab my sword on the gerd stomach and cut his throat  i bend down and pick y/n up and started to run I need to get her to a nurse lucky the camp was near but far away to run, I was able to find a horse “y/n look at me” “y/n please look at me” as I try to ride the horse and keep pressing on the wound I see y/n looking at me “darling please don’t leave me” “Brienne If I die I would be leaving happy I was able to tell you how I feel so please don’t be sad I would always love you” I get to the camp I look around were the nurses are and I lay Y/n in the bed “ser Brienne we need you to get out” I look at y/n and give her a kiss she grabs my face and says” everything would be fine” her hand slips and I leave I saty outside and wait and I see a nurse “ser Brienne about Y/n…”

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Surprise 😮, this was supposed to come our yesterday but I couldn't. Anyway, i tried my best writing it. I do hope I did well. I accidentally added some random words right now because I was editing some things 😅

[seeingivy]

i’ve been reading fanfic for a long time and have read more x readers than one could fathom but i have never once read an x reader fic where i related to the reader so much as when i did when i began reading roommates. the reader in roommates is literally me!!!!!!! thank you for writing THE eren fic. you will always be remembered, seeingivy 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

first. so real. i literally used to read x reader like it was my morning breakfast - but have recently refrained because I have a deep down fear that i'm actually going to plagiarize someone LIKE its actually like a very scary fear that I have I can't read anything anymore out of crippling fear. anyways...

THIS MAKES MY HEART SO WARM! this is actually so sweet because this was one of/is one of the thigns that I am most critical of when I reread roommates (if I can even get myself to do that) and it makes me happy that it makes you feel so seen!!!!! like actually that makes me so happy and actually wants to make me reread it AHHHHH IT MAKES MY HERAT SO WARM

[just-a-ghost00]

FEEDBACK

As a tarot new tarot reader i alsway find it difficult to ask or communicate with my guides about my future spouse. Thankyou so much for bringing clarity its really herat touching cause its resonated so well . My gratitude towards you Thankyou once again and your decks . Stay happy and healthy. 💙✨️🫂

Thank you so much for your feedback 💙✨️ I'm glad that you enjoyed the reading ~ Stay tuned for other readings and ask games.

[dertaglichedan]

We are nothing here if not always aware that we owe our gentle readers the widest window on happenings in the world we can possibly open. In light of that solemn duty, and a recent, unexplained travel phenomena, I felt it incumbent upon me to fill you in on the latest developments.

The first was rather surprising, all things considered. For God only knows why, it seems a burgeoning tourist business has popped up, offering tours to Afghanistan.

Twenty months on from the chaotic fall of Kabul, when thousands of Afghans and expatriates scrambled to flee the country, a small but growing number of tourists are going back in.

On May 6, the first group trip with newly established tour operator Safarāt is due to arrive in Kabul for a two-week itinerary that will circle the country via Kandahar, Herat and Bamyan. Another operator, Untamed Borders, has a group arriving this weekend to undertake a similar route in reverse.

And no amount of emphatic HELL, NO, DON’T GO warnings or already incarcerated compatriots seem to have any effect on these fools hardy adventurers out looking for a thrill-ride.

…The tourists are flying in the face of the starkest official warnings. The UK Foreign Office says the country is “extremely dangerous” and recommends no one should visit; the US State Department warns that “the risk of kidnapping or violence . . . is high”. Three UK citizens, including the 23-year-old YouTube “danger tourist” Miles Routledge, are currently being held in prison by the Taliban; Isis cells continue to operate in the country.

Meanwhile, the UN says Afghanistan remains “the world’s largest humanitarian crisis”, and that there has been an “annihilation of women’s rights” since the Taliban takeover. It says it may have to take the “heartbreaking” decision to pull out of the country next month if it cannot persuade the Taliban to reverse its edict banning local women from working for the organisation.

There’s the crowd who works in an office and wants to do something besides go to the beach like everyone else does.

“To be honest, a major part of going on the trip was that I was bored as f— at my desk job doing nine to five, five days a week,” mulls Callum Darragh, a 26-year-old office worker from Swindon, Wiltshire. “Maybe it was a slight overreaction to the mundanity of modern life, but there we are. We turned up in Kabul after 40 hours, on four different flights, and when we landed it was kind of terrifying because you see the Taliban posters and whatnot and then you think to yourself, ‘What the hell have I done?’.”

Then you’ve got these “adventure/danger” tourists who are all into sticking their necks out to see if something slices through it. If they do manage to get home in one piece, they have cool stories to tell, and can wax poetically about how “bucolic” moments around campfires and flagpoles with Taliban chanting “Death to America” are because, hey. She’s Scottish

[dr0wning-in-hell]

Mate pt.3 - Jed

Summary: Jed tires to gain Y/N’s trust and wants her to know that there is nothing wrong with her, Y/N think’s its all a game until she doesn’t.

Word Count: 4.6k+

Warnings: cursing, some angst, fluff

Pairing/characters: Jed x heratic!reader, Hope, Lizzie, Josie, Landon, MG, Raphael, Kaleb, Dr. Saltzman

Prompt: a/n

A/N: I honestly did not think I was going to get so much feedback on this mini series! I do apologize for how long it’s taken me to write literally anything, but I’m trying to get back into it. Also!! If anyone has any ideas for part four pls let me know! Comment it or send me a message!

new masterlist| prompt list| color prompts| ko-fi

A few days after the incident in the cafeteria Y/N began to slowly talk to the witches and vampires, but still kept her distance from the werewolves. After what happened she didn’t want to give them any ammunition against her. For whatever reason, she noticed that Jed was constantly trying to talk to her or apologize for the events that happened days prior. She really didn’t want anything to do with him or his pack considering they were just trying to pick a fight with her for no reason, but Jed really did want to apologize to her.

Y/N had a study hall, which she generally spent with the twins and Hope. She was already sitting at their usual spot in the student lounge, working on her homework and waiting for the girls. Jed just so happened to have a study hall as well, but most of his were recently trying to figure out what he was going to say to Y/N. Today was the day he decided to pull on his big boy pants and just talk to her. Taking in a deep breathe he walked over to where she was sitting and sat in the chair opposite of her. 

“I know you probably don’t want to talk to me but I want to get to know you and apologize for what my pack did the other day in the cafeteria.” Jed said quickly. Y/N looked up from her notebook, a clear ‘I’m not interested’ look plastered on her face. “Please let me make it up to you.” There was a moment of silence before she let out a sigh and nodded in agreement. Jed grinned as he stood up, clapping his hands together. “Great, uh okay, tonight around seven?” Y/N agreed and Jed finally left her alone just as the other three girls showed up. They all eyed Jed, giving him a death glare as he walked by them.

Jade let out a breathe of relief as he went to go find Landon, Kaleb and M.G. After walking around the school for a few minutes he found them in Landon’s room, all of them arguing about which Superman actor was the best. 

“Nah man, Henry Cavil as Superman was the best, he just embodied it more.” M.G argued with Landon as he shook his head at him. 

Landon let out a grunt as he leaned back against his head board. “The original Superman was the best, I don’t get why you can’t understand that.” Their stupid banter was cut short as Kaleb looked over at an awkward Jed standing in the doorway. “Uh, hey man, can we help you?” Landon said as looked just confused as his two vampire friends. 

“I need your guys’ help with setting up a date tonight to make it up to Y/N.” Jed spoked quickly, his nerves starting to get the best of him. 

Kaleb snorted as he shook his head, “And why should we help you? You’re the one that fucked up with your little crush.” Kaleb rolled his eyes.

Jed balled up his fists and clenched his jaw. “She’s not just a crush.” He said as he began to calm himself down, “She’s my mate, and I feel horrible about what happened in the cafeteria.” He said softly, sincerity was laced in his voice which told the three boys that he was serious about making it up to Y/N.

As much as the three boys didn’t like Jed for everything he had done to them and how he treated all of them, they could tell by the way he was fiddling with his hands and tapping his feet, he was nervous and really wanted everything to be perfect. 

M.G. nodded as he stood up, “I’ll help, but only because Y/N deserves to know that she has people that care about her.” Jed nodded in agreement and glanced over at the other two students. They groaned as they grumbled a ‘fine’, all three of them going along with whatever was about to happen. 

“Do you at least have any plans? You’re not just gonna get her and not having anything to do right?” Kaleb questioned as he raised an eyebrow at the werewolf. Jed stayed silent. “So not only are we helping you get this ready for Y/N, we’re helping you plan the whole thing because apparently you can’t plan something as simple as this.” 

Jed rolled his eyes, “It’s not as simple as you think. She’s my mate and I messed up with what happened the other day, she deserves to know how I feel and everything needs to be perfect.” The three boys sighed as they put their belongings to the side and made a spot for Jed in their group. Jed walked over to where they were, taking a seat on the floor and pulling a notebook out from his backpack.

The four students planned the nights events during their off period and during lunch, making sure that Jed had all of his bases covered. They had decided to go with a night time picnic, making one of Y/n’s favorite dishes but also making sure to keep a blood bag cooled in the basket. They were going to set it all up in the witches hang out spot, thinking that it would be more romantic and secluded there than anywhere else. Everything seemed good so far, they had the place, time, meals, it seemed perfect. 

That was until someone told the rest of the werewolves and they were making it their mission to sabotage the evening. 

Jed and the other three boys began putting everything together for the nights events once school was over, which was around three o’clock. MG and Landon were on decorations out in the little witch hide out while Jed and Kaleb were on meal prepping. Though Kaleb hated the boy, he did have to admit that what he was doing for Y/N was sweet and he thought it was almost honorable that he was going to such lengths to apologize to Y/N. 

Kaleb let out an awkward cough as he walked across the kitchen to grab some ingredients for his side of the meal he was making. “You know man, I think it really is nice what you’re doing for Y/N. It shows that you really care about her.” Jed was taken back a bit, surprised that such kind words came out of Kaleb’s mouth.

Instead of saying some snarky comment he replied with a simple ‘thank you’, before the two fell back into silence. 

While the boys had been preparing for the night, they had managed to rope the girls into their plans and got them to help Y/N get ready for the evening. Yes she did know that her and Jed were having dinner that evening, but she didn’t know just how far he was taking it. When Lizzie began pulling out these fancy dresses she thought the girls were really just out here trying to get her laid. It aggravated Y/N that everyone else knew what was happening but she had no clue. Being left in the dark was her least favorite thing, it meant she couldn’t prepare for things.

“Hello, earth to Y/N.” Lizzie snapped her fingers in front of the heretic’s face, causing Y/N to snap out of her daze. Her eyes locked onto Lizzie who had an annoyed expression on her face since Y/N wasn’t paying attention to what she had just asked her. 

Y/N hummed looking at her like she had been listening, tilting her head to try and make it more convincing. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” Y/N asked. 

Lizzie rolled her eyes as she held up two dresses.  One was a longer floral dress with a slit up the side, and the other was a slightly shorter floral dress as well. In Y/N’s eyes she didn’t see the difference between the two dresses, they were just clothes. Lizzie handed her the first dress since Y/N didn’t want to make a decision and told her to go put it on. Y/N did so with an annoyed groan. Did she think something spontaneous was going to come out of this? Y/N was only being nice to Jed and that’s why she accepted his offer for dinner tonight, there was nothing else to it. 

Y/N slid into the dress, sighing as she didn’t want to see what she looked like in it, she was never one to dress up and draw extra attention to herself. She got enough that being a heretic. She stepped out of the bathroom, smoothing down the sides of the dress and looking up at the three girls were gawking at the sigh in front of her.

“What? Does it not look good?” Why was she stressing over this? It’s not like this was a date or anything. “Maybe I should just put my other clothes back on.” As she went to reach for the outfit she wore earlier that day Josie stopped her by gently grabbing her wrist.

“You look amazing, Y/N. You should see for yourself.” She said as she turned her friend towards the mirror. Y/N looked up at her reflection, her own gasp almost escaping her lips. She did look good, really good in fact. The dress hugged her just right, every curve, roll, and dip of her body the dress perfected it.

Y/N could see the girls smiling behind her causing her to smile herself. She had never felt so.. happy with how she looked before, this was a first for her. The girls continued on their quest to help Y/N get ready for the rest of the evening. 

About an hour and half later, Landon came knocking on the door to see if Y/N was ready yet. Thankfully they had just finished up her hair and she was ready to go. She hugged the girls and thanked them as she walked out and followed a very speedy Landon down the stairs. He didn’t walk her all the way out to where Jed had set up their evening. 

Y/N followed the trail of fairy light along a pebbled path until she reached the witch’s hiding area. It was decorated quite nicely, even she would have to admit that the boy had put in a lot of effort to make the place look nice. Y/N’s doubts about the werewolf hadn’t completely faded as she hadn’t seen any sign of him, that was until she saw him lighting a few more candles around the edges of the small building to give it some more light.

“Looks like you’ve really out done yourself, huh?” Y/N said as she stepped under the roof. Jed quickly turned around, nearly knocking over a candle and setting the place on fire. She chuckled at his clumsiness and walked over to the table. 

Jed cleared his throat as he smoothed out his blazer. “You look amazing.” Jed’s breathe seemed to have a hard time returning to his body after his first look at the girl in front of him. Of course he thought she was beautiful anyways, but this? This was something else. Jed walked over to where Y/N was going and pulled out the chair for her to sit. She did so, mumbling a soft ‘thank you’. The werewolf walked back over to his seat and smiled awkwardly.

Yes, Jed had been on dates before, many dates to be honest, but this was his fist date with his mate. The person he’d be spending the rest of his life with if the world would to be so kind and allow that to happen. He reached into the center of the table and unveiled the nights meal, Korean beef bowls with fried dumplings. Y/N was a little shocked to say the least, Korean food was one of her favorite foods so the fact that he made her something she enjoyed was pretty unexpected. 

“Kaleb said you liked Korean food and I remember my parents teaching me how to make this so I thought it was a good idea.” Jed nervously explained as he handed one the bowls to Y/N. She took with a smile.

“It’s great thank you.” She said softly. Her hard exterior was finally starting to come down, something that rarely happened even if she was with close friends and family. Jed smiled as the two began to eat and make small talk, the two finally learning new things about the other. 

There was no doubt in Y/N’s mind that something was.. different when she talked to Jed. She felt safe, which was a new feeling for her since she had literally been hunted down and despised her whole life. She felt like she was able to talk to him about anything, though she knew she wouldn’t because of how bad of an idea it was, she still felt like she could. 

As the night went on Jed kept trying to figure out how he was going to tell Y/N that she was his mate. The one she was meant to be with forever. It’s not something to take lightly, and lord knows what a half witch, half vampire would think about this. Y/N would for sure thing Jed was playing another sick joke on her, something the pack put him up to. It was eating away at him on the insides, he just wanted to blurt it out and clear the air.

That’s kind of what happened.

Jed was about to explain everything to her, from why he was so mean to her on her first day, to the moment he invited her to eat lunch with him and the rest of his pack, to that very moment of the two teens sitting and enjoying a meal. That didn’t happen though. 

Somewhere around them there were pack members ready to pounce on their prey and ruin Jed and Y/N’s night. The girl from before, the one who had started trouble with Y/N in the first place, wanted revenge for being humiliated in front of the whole school. In the midst of her anger, she and a few other werewolves who weren’t too fond of the new girl, hatched a plan to completely ruin Jed’s wonderfully planned evening and to make his mate hate him forever. 

She nodded to her pack members as they emerged from a few bushes, all of them holding a dark colored liquid that resembled blood a little too well. As soon Y/N caught their scent she had stopped talking and narrowed her eyes at Jed. He was confused at first, and then he saw his friends. 

“Well, what do we have here?” The girl hummed. She swung the bottle around haphazardly, not having a care in a world what would happen if it splashes onto the two. 

Jed stood up in a protective type stance, his hands bawled at his sides. “What are you doing here?” Jed was pissed, that much was obvious. Y/N watched as they slowly became surrounded by the small group of wolves, all of them holding identical bottles. 

“Just came to see if you told your mate, what she is to you.” One of the other wolves sneered, “wanted to see if you told her the truth yet.” 

Y/N was beyond confused and looked at Jed with raised eyebrows, her arms crossing over her chest as she waited for a response. There was chuckling all around her as the wolves drew closer, encasing them in their circle. 

“It looks like you haven’t yet, have you?” They mused towards Jed, he looked at Y/N with a wary glance. Y/N looked at them, wondering if any of them were going to spit it out or not. They looked her dead in the eye as the opened up their bottles with a wicked grin. “He thinks you’re a nasty bloodsucker that he’s stuck with as a mate.” Without any further hesitation they doused the teens in a waterfall of the deep red liquid. It wasn’t blood, probably watered-down fake blood, but it still triggered Y/N.

Her dress, the one that wasn’t even hers to begin with, was now stained red as if she had just gone on a ripper rampage, she was just told this was all another joke and everyone basically thought of her as a monster. She couldn’t hold back anymore as her fangs released themselves and she made her way towards each of the werewolves.

The scene unfolding before Jed’s eyes could have honestly been from a horror movie with the way everything was moving. Before Jed had even realized, Y/N had put two of the werewolves on the ground in a whimpering mess. They were hurt, badly as it seemed to be. She took them out one by one, switching between her strength and then spells. She had the last wolf corned against the wall as they tried to back away from her as far as they could. Her hand wrapped around their throat, squeezing slightly as she growled at them, “You come near me again I’ll rip your hearts from your chests and use them as sacrifices, do you understand me?” Her voice was terrifying, menacing even. 

The wolf nodded as she threw him against the wall then skirted off with the rest of his pals. Y/N was never one to lose control the way she just did, but after all this torment from the wolves they needed to put into place. 

As if it was second nature, she calmed down with a few mumbled curses under her breathe before she turned to face Jed. This would not be easy to recover from. He saw her lash out, he saw what she could do and how utterly terrifying she can be. She was a monster, one that didn’t deserve a mate like Jed. 

The boy was still stuck in his original place, the blood drying to his clothes and staining them. Jed went to go move forward to Y/N, but in return she stepped back even more. She was trying to stop the tears forming in her eyes, though it seemed her body and emotions were getting the best of her. Jed looked sad, he felt sad. Why would his pack, his friends ruin this? They all go to same school, they all share the same walls of the school. Why was her being his mate so horrible to them?

Before Jed could even get a word in to Y/N they heard rapid footsteps approaching, turning their attention to the group of friends that stood behind them. Y/N turned around to look at their faces, sure that they’d all hate after how she lost her temper. 

“Oh my god,” Josie covered her mouth in shock as she looked at the scene. Though the wolves were no longer present, the blood stained clothes and tears in Y/N’s eyes said enough. 

“I’m so sorry,” Y/N whispered softly as she looked at the group, tears now falling freely down her cheeks. “They ruined the dress- I’m so so sorry. I can pay to have it cleaned, or buy a new one, I’m so sorry.” Y/N was rambling about something that didn’t even really matter, but yet she was still worried about it. 

Josie, Lizzie, and Hope walked towards Y/N as she stayed still in her place, not daring to move. “Y/N, we don’t care about the dress.” Lizzie said softly, “We wanted to make sure you’re okay.” 

At that moment she lost it, crying so hard her knees almost gave out below her. She shook her head rapidly, sobbing as loud as her chest would allow her to. “No, no I’m not okay. I don’t understand why they hate me so much, I haven’t done anything to them!” She exclaimed rather harshly. “I hate it here, I hate this.” She sobbed.

Hope looked at Jed who was still standing their quietly. The tribrid was giving him the death stare, and boy if looks could kill he’d for sure be dead. Jed was staring at his alpha, Raphael. He was begging for help, any help in fact. He didn’t like seeing his mate in pain, sobbing that she hated their school and possibly him. This was his chance to make up for what his pack had done the other day at lunch, but here they were again, his pack ruining everything for him.

Anyone with a good pair of eyes would be able to tell that Kaleb and M.G. were pissed beyond belief. Their eyes locked onto the young wolf, and if it weren’t for Raphael being there they would’ve ripped him a new one. 

Y/N turned towards Jed after a moment, her tears mixing with the dried fake blood, her mascara running down her face. “I no longer wish to be your mate.” She said in a dead tone. “I will not be treated like this, and if it is true that you are my... mate, I do not wish for this to go any farther.” She didn’t think that saying those words would have hurt as much as they did, but now she felt like she was having her crushed with a mallet over and over again. 

Jed’s heart fell to his stomach at her words. He was losing his mate, all because his stupid pack wouldn’t accept the truth. “No, no please I promise you they were lying. Not about you being my mate, that is true, but I don’t think you’re a monster. I want you as my mate, please.” Jed had managed to get within a few feet of Y/N and now she could see that he was also crying. Y/N looked down at her feet, refusing to look him in the eye.

“This was a mistake,” She mumbled towards so the ground, “it was all a mistake and I’m sorry it put you through so much trouble.” Jed’s heart was breaking, he felt like his life would end right then and there. Y/N turned back to her friends who were shocked that she had just ended with things, and more importantly that Jed was pleading for her to stay. 

Without another word Y/N began the walk back to the school, cloaking herself in the invisibility spell as she walked. The group followed, leaving Jed there in the dark to cry to himself. 

-

Days passed after that horrid night and no one had seen or heard from Jed and Y/N as the two had locked themselves in their rooms. They stayed there all day and night, only occasionally coming out to get food or shower.  

While the vampires and witches were trying to console Y/N and reassure her that she did nothing wrong and was not a monster, the werewolves were out spreading rumors about that night. She heard everything of course, between gossip and her advanced hearing, it wasn’t hard to miss

Jed wanted revenge. He was angry, pissed off beyond belief. These people were supposed to be his family, his pack, and they went out of their way to make his life a living hell so that he wouldn’t have his mate. No matter their reasons behind it, they were all probably insanely stupid anyways, he was going to get back at them for what they did and get his mate back. 

Most of the time he’d spend in his room he was hatching a plan to get back at his pack and teach them a lesson. He knew that practically all of the pack had not met their mates yet, the few that have had not gotten involved in the fighting over his mate. He’d hit them where it hurts and then go plead with Y/N to get her back. 

Meanwhile, Y/N was looking at other schools for the supernatural. She really didn’t need to be in a school for the supernatural, but she figured it’d be easier to go there then to a regular human high school. She no longer wished to be within the same walls as her mate, even if she barely knew him, having told him that she did not want to be his mate made her heart ache in ways she didn’t know were possible. 

Y/N’s music was playing softly in the background of her room as she looked at the dark web for the supernatural to find another school to go to. Any would be fine, there were a few out there, not a lot took heretics or mixed the species, but there were a few that did. Too lost in thought as she scrolled through a school in London had she missed the knock on her door. She ignored it, turning her music up a bit to drown out the person on the other side of the door, but unfortunately this person seemed very persistent. 

“Go away!” Y/N shouted to the person on the other side of the door. The knocking continued, making Y/N more agitated. She got up, slamming her laptop shut as she marched to the door and threw it open. “I said ‘go away’, do you not understand that?” She growled, her anger get the best of her and turning her eyes that vibrant purple. 

Jed stood there, mouth dry and heart racing. It took Y/N a moment to realize that it was him standing there and one her anger stopped blinding her, she shrank back a bit and stepped further behind the door. Jed was holding flowers and her favorite candy, the saddest most desperate look crossing his face as he looked at his mate. 

Slowly he held out the gifts as he stuttered out an apology, “I’m sorry for what happened the other night, I want you to know that and I want you to know that- that I don’t see you as a monster or anything like that. I see you as my mate, someone I want to be with until the day I die and I will do absolutely anything for you to understand that.” 

Y/N looked down at her slippers, the only shoes she had been wearing since that horrific night. “I- I don’t know, I don’t think this- whatever it is, would work. It’s just not in the cards for either one of us.” She mumbled as she was about to turn her back and close the door, but Jed’s foot got in the way of that. 

“Tell me you don’t feel anything, and if you don’t then I’ll leave you alone but I know you have to feel something.” His eyes were pleading for her to say that she felt something like he did, that she felt the connection but instead she shook her head and lied. 

 “I- I don’t feel anything for you. I’m sorry.” Before Jed was able to get out another word Y/N had the door closed and locked. The pain they both felt was enough to make them stop breathing for a few seconds. Both of them waited on their sides of the doors, hoping the other would continue to fight for their mating bond, but that is not what happened. 

Too much pain and heartbreak had been endured by these two teens, but there was still more to come..

[nonbinary-octopus]

it's always interesting to listen to an audiobook and notice the occasional words that make you go "huh. that's a very different pronunciation."

especially when the narrator doesn't seem to have a different accent than you

[kingdomheartsmarts]

Would you- please.. how does Dilan react when his s/o says /i love you/ for the first time? ...I need distraction -🥀

rosie anonie! you ask and i will deliver. i know what ever you’re going through- you’re gonna make it. my private messages are always open if anyone needs to talk- that said, i hope you enjoy!

Dilan reacting to his s/o’s first “i love you”

Dilan tended to be romantic- bringing home flowers, leaving fluttering, fleeting kisses on your lips, and walking with you once he was done with his guard duties. He loved holding your hand, gently kissing the back of it when he came home, and holding you from behind. He would bring you away from all of your troubles, all of your fears, with a simple touch of a soft kiss, the gentleness of it all bringing you to your knees. Every bit of his love language showing you how he truly felt about you, even if he did not vocalize it.

YOu knew. You knew this strange, burning, bubbling feeling was not something to be ignored- no- it was something to be completely and utterly embraced. You knew he felt this too- the way his violet eyes seemed to light up every time the both of you seemed to get a little too heated, the way his hands became more possessive in the passion to have you, the way his actions always told you what words never did. 

That being said- you knew he loved you- everything that he did told you that he loved you- but he hadn’t said those three words that meant everything and nothing at any given time: 

“I love you,” you whispered against his neck, gently kissing around his earrings as his hands gripped onto your hips, quick kisses driving him insane, just for everything to freeze at those three words- his eyes locking on yours in a stare that could stop the ones who never could before; an unbreaking gaze of sheer force and a mix of passion intermingled- something terrifying and gorgeous all at once.

A small moment of silence fell between the two of you- the silent memorizing of the eyes of each other, the soft beauty of something unknown deep within his, the rush of something unknown- but something that you knew had to be love. This strange feeling was never new- but it was new for it to be told, it was new for it to be truly understood and accepted as what it is.

“I-I’m sorry it slipped”- you quietly said, pulling away in fear of breaking what had already been there- the passion which threatened to stop in between the two of you, but something told you it never would. Just as you attempted to move away completely, his strong grip pulled you back, his lips connecting with your neck in a fury of passionate, rough kisses, causing a low moan to escape your lips. 

“Don’t apologize-” Dilan lowly growled, biting below your ear, the strange sting of pain and pleasure coursing through you at the action, “I love you too.” 

The sudden change of pace- the exhilarating shift from slow loving to the fast passion he moved to show you brought weakness to your knees as his lips and bites continued down your neck, your hand gripping onto his chest while he held onto your back. The roughness was not something you wanted to coward from- no- it was something you wanted: you wanted to feel his passion, you wanted to feel his wanton, you wanted to feel his love. Dilan’s rough bites bringing a strange burning passion in you. 

“Let me show you that I love you.”

[kkruml]

Hello friend! I’ve seen discussion on here about Claire’s love for Jamie versus her love for Bree. Some have argued that she loves Jamie more. And there is a passage in Voyager before Claire goes back that can be interpreted in that way. Are you familiar with that section of the book? What do you think?

Hello @lindseyylu17!

I haven’t read the books since before season 3 aired, but I’m pretty sure I saw the post  you’re talking about, by the lovely @youmissher-terribly.

Book readers are MORE THAN WELCOME to challenge me on this, as I am not as well-versed on the books as many others are in this fandom. BUT not knowing what I’m talking about hasn’t stopped me before… so let me put my food in my mouth/step in something I have no business touching. Shall we?

I think that until she actually gives birth, there is a sort of resentment towards Bree. She’s forced to leave Jamie, because she’s pregnant. She’s back with a husband she doesn’t love, because she’s pregnant. But once she actually holds her and she’s REAL, I think she finds a piece of herself- a mother- that she’s never expected to find. And I think she LOVES that side of herself.

I don’t think she regrets being in the future raising Bree for the fact that she has Bree- her flesh and bone and the only remaining piece of Jamie she thinks she’ll ever have.

BUT she was willing to die on the battlefield of Culloden- KNOWING she was with child because Jamie and Claire are so all-encompassing of each other. Your face- my heart, your soul, my conscience (or something like that IDK I’ve had whisky).

I think her love for Jamie is so visceral that once she gets Bree’s blessing, she feels like she can press the “pause” button again to restart her life.

FULL DISCLOSURE- I say this as someone who is married but does not have children. Loving a spouse is very different than loving a child.

IN THE END ALL OF IT IS HEARTBREAKING.

[aerynwrites]

Please can I request Viktor x Fem reader in a modern au? Maybe a meet-cute or strangers to lovers? I have a hankering for something in the snow. Perhaps a ski-trip or getting snowed in together somewhere? Idk. My ambiguity is yours!

Okay this is such a cute idea! Sorry it took me a while to get around to it, I hope you enjoy!

Snowy Troubles

Modern!Viktor x Fem!Reader

A/N: finally decided to post this after that little ask game yesterday…so thank you to @zaunitearchives for asking about this piece and giving me the courage to post haha.

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: meet-cute, reader literally falling for Viktor, fluff, possibly ooc!Viktor? One use of (y/n), Fun sorta wing man Jayce, fluff.

You should have known better than to try this slope. Sure you’ve been skiing for several months now, but you still felt a little unstable on your feet. But you were determined to get off the beginner slope, something that is now showing itself to be a huge mistake.

The air is frigid around you as you speed down the slope, snow stinging your cheeks as you continue to pick up speed despite trying to slow down. The end of the large hill is approaching and you try to maneuver in a way to slow your momentum, Herat racing as it does little to diminish your speed.

Panic swells in your chest as you focus solely on trying to slow down instead of also paying attention on the direction you’re heading. The end of the slope keeps getting closer and despite finally starting to slow your speed, you realize you’re now pointed straight at two men.

One of them is strapped into a snowboard while the other is standing off to the sidelines, clearly a bystander.

“Watch out!” You call, waving your hands as best as you can with your ski poles in hand. “I can’t stop-woah!”

As if things can’t get any worse, in your haste to warn the two guys you cross your damn skis! With little warning, this action causes you to come to a screeching halt, tumbling forward straight into the bystander.

Your bodies collide with a solid thud, the wind knocked out of you both as you tumble to the snowy ground. Thankfully you manage to do something right and wrap your arms around him and turn to throw yourself to the ground, saving him from being squashed beneath you.

“Viktor!” A deep baritone calls out from above you and your eyes fall to the snowboarder.

He’s frantically trying to unclip from his board as you and, Viktor, start untangling your limbs.

“Oh ny god.” You rush out, looking to the man above you, who’s golden eyes peel open from where they had undoubtedly slammed shut upon impact. “I’m so sorry! I’m such an idiot - here.”

You grasp onto his upper arms, steadying him as he pushes himself off of you. He shakes his head as he braces his arms beside your head on the ground, and you thank the gods above he can’t see your flustered expression below the buff you’re wearing.

“I’m sure you didn’t intend to run into me.” You immediately notice his accent and how the words curl from his lips.

“No, absolute not I just-“ You cringe, ears burning as he finally gets to his knees off to the side of you, allowing you to sit up. “I got a little bit too ambitious,” you say pulling your buff down so they can hear you better.

Finally, the other man is by Viktor’s side, worried eyes dancing over him quickly. “Are you okay?”

Viktor nods. “I am uninjured, my leg is a little sore but…nothing worse than usual.”

Finally the man looks over to you. You expected harsh words or scathing comments but instead he looks concerned for you as well. “What about you? You good?” He reaches out a hand to you, hoisting you to your feet with ease once you untangle your skis.

Nodding, you avoid his eyes as shame eats at your chest. “I’m fine. I’m more worried about Viktor over here,” you say, gesturing to the man who is also being pulled to his feet by his friend. “I really am sorry, I didn’t -“ you sigh, angry at yourself, frustrated that you could have really hurt someone. “I shouldn’t have gone on that slope.”

Your eyes never leave Viktor as he takes a few staggered steps before picking an item up off the ground. An item that you quickly realize to be a cane.

However, Viktor seems to be unbothered by the incident, brushing the snow from his shoulders and hair lazily before adjusting the red scarf around his neck. “It’s okay, truly.” He insists, a thoughtful look coming to his face. “What’s that saying? Eh….no harm no foul.”

You release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your shoulders drooping dramatically. “Well, I appreciate it,” you say honestly, turning now to look at the other man. “So, you snowboard?”

At the mention of the sport, he lights up, eyes sparkling. “I do! This is my first time at these slopes though, and it’s been great. I’m actually competing later today, just trying to get in some practice runs since I’m unfamiliar with the area.”

You nod, leaning down to unclip from your skis, glancing over to Viktor as you do so. “And you? I didn’t see any gear.”

He lets out a light laugh, the action making his eyes crinkle at the corners. It strikes you then just how handsome he is. Golden eyes, chestnut hair sticking out adorably in different directions, sharp facial features…

His response cuts off your wandering mind as you stand. He taps his cane against the metal brace around his leg.

“I am not the athletic type,” he jokes, a smile on his face. “I just came to support Jayce during his competition.”

You glance over to the other man and nod. “When’s the comp start?”

Jayce glances down at his arm, tugging up the sleeve of his snow jacket to look at his watch. “In about…2 hours.” He sends you a teasing smile. “You gonna stay and watch?”

Returning his grin you shrug. “Might as well.” You stick your hand out to him and then Viktor once he shakes it. “My name’s (y/n), by the way. Figured you should know the name of the person who plowed you over.”

Both men laugh, and Jayce claps you on the back. “I would ask you to join me on the slope but…”

You wave your hands quickly. “No, no. I think I’m done for the day.” You turn to Viktor, shoving away the butterflies that erupt in your belly as you speak. “There’s a coffee shop inside the lodge. Would you want to go grab a cup while we wait for the comp to start?” You try, and pretty much fail, to hide the hopeful tone in your voice, wanting nothing more than to get to know the man you literally ran into.

Jayce glances at Viktor, and you don’t miss the way he waggles his eyebrows at him. He just huffs, sending you a small smile.

“Coffee and warmth sounds much better than standing out here in the snow. I would love to join you,” he says.

You beam at him, grabbing your skis and poles quickly before starting a slow pace towards the lodge. You weren’t too far, but you could tell Viktor was being careful with his steps.

“Don’t forget to come back and actually watch me compete!” Jayce calls, making both you and Viktor laugh.

The latter waves a hand over his shoulder absentmindedly and Jayce must take that as a response because he doesn’t call after you again. The rest of the short walk to the lodge is comfortably silent, and once inside you pull your jacket hood down and stomp the snow from your boots.

“I’m sorry again for before. It could have been much worse, and I shouldn’t have gone on a slope I wasn’t ready for.” You tell him again, lips tugged downwards.

Viktor shakes his head once more. “No serious injuries occurred,” he points out. “But if you truly want to make it up to me, I won’t refuse a cup of coffee.”

You smile at him, unable to stop the way your heart flutters at his flirting. “I think that’s fair. Let me just go put my gear away in my locker and then I’ll meet you back here in ten.”

He dips his head. “I look forward too it.”

He turns away before he can see the dopey look on your face and you rush away to get your gear put up.

Maybe attempting the slope was a good thing after all.

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Misconstrued

Pairings | Kai Parker x f!reader

Warnings | swearing, some slight violence, fluff

Word count | 1.3k

Summary | you and Kai get stuck in the 1903 prison world. Unfortunately for you, Kai is a prick and you're ill

requested by @kktolani

Mastetlist

You threw a harsh glance his way. Kai couldn't help himself from chuckling, lips pressed together to contain his smile.

"You bastard! You got us stuck here, again!" You exclaimed, smacking a hand harshly against the witch's chest.

"Hey!" Kai called in mock hurt, a hand rubbing over the spot you hit. You groaned and rolled your eyes before beginning to trudge back in the direction of the house.

Kai scoffed before jogging to catch up, his hands tucked into the thick sleeves of his winter coat.

"I don't see why you're so mad. I'll find a way out." Kai threw a sideways glade at you as you walked side by side.

"Why am I mad?" You retorted, pulling to a sudden stop. "I'm fucking mad because my friends out now out there with seven heratics for God's sake and I can't do anything to help them!" You snapped, face flushed hot with anger as you stared Kai down.

The boy merely nodded before continuing walking.

"That's it? Now you've been corrected you have no comeback, no comedic retort?" You called after him. Kai could feel his anger building.

"I don't want to argue, y/n." Kai's tone was clipped. You held back a scoff.

"I think that's exactly what you want. That's the only reason you screwed up the spell, right? So that you could piss me off! You know, if anything-" you were cut off when your back hit bark, head knocked back against a tree.

"Just shut your bratty little mouth for one goddamed second!" Kai shouted, fingers curled threatening around your throat. You struggled against him, but his grip was slowly growing.

Your fists slammed into his chest as your air was cut off, little black spots fizzling across your vision.

"I'm trying to fucking help you." Kai muttered, before letting go.

You collapsed to your knees, gasping for air and rubbing at your tight throat. You dry heaved for a moment before finally collecting yourself.

...

You winced as you lightly touched your neck, cold fingers tracing along the already-purple bruises.

The wanker.

A small cough bubbled out of your throat and you sniffled, aimlessly trying to find some sort of tissue for your now-rubbing nose.

You must've caught a cold amidst all the trecking through snow and ice over the past day.

You finally found some sort of old toilet role and you shrugged, deciding it was as good a substitute as anything else.

"You okay?" Kai asked as he strolled in the room, only to see you coughing your guts back up.

"I'm fine." You answered curtly when you were done coughing, but Kai grimaced at the clogged sound of your unusually-raspy voice.

"I don't think so, sweet cheeks." Kai mumbled, stepping closer to you and reaching a hand to your forehead.

"What are you doing?" You demanded, taking a step back in disgust. Kai rolled his eyes, taking a step forward again.

"Checking your temperature. I know my parents were pretty shitty, but even they taught me to check for fever." Kai said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You scoffed, but (reluctantly) didn't move out of his way this time when Kai pressed the back of his hand to your forehead gently.

"Fuck, you're burning up. You should get into bed, sweetheart." Kai said, a hint of concern edging his voice.

"Don't tell me what to do." You folded your arms over your chest in defiance.

"Fine, don't. But don't come complaining to me when you start heaving your guts up again." Kai dismissed.

"I won't, sweet cheeks." You mocked him and Kai simply gave you a vulgar gesture before swaggering out of the room.

...

Kai was clenching his fists watching you cough, nose tinged red with your cold and eyelids heavy with the tyrannical exhaustion that was consuming your body.

"I'm gonna get you some soup." Kai said into the room, before hopping up and swaggering into the kitchen.

You groaned in your pain and let your head flop back to the sofa, legs kicking to frantically get the suddenly-suffocating heat of the woollen blanket off your torrid body.

Kai came skipping back in with a proud smile, a mirthful whistle on his lips as he carried the broth to you.

"What's got you so happy?" You snapped.

Kai have you the fakest smile he could, "Seeing you looking like you've been dragged through Hell and back."

You wanted to slap his pretty face- wait, pretty?

"Here you go. I made it extra soup-y." Kai sang, setting the bowl down beside you before retreating back to his chair.

You huffed, pushing yourself into a seated position as slow as you could.

"What are you reading?" You asked, trying to fill the silent room. Kai flicked his eyes up briefly from his book before letting them flit back to the page he was on.

"Oh you know, just trying to get us home," he gave you a pointed look and a shrug, "nothing important or anything like that." You scoffed at his nonchalant tone.

You held back a grimace as you sipped from the soup.

"How is it?" Kai asked.

"Delightful." You answered curtly. Both of you broke out into a laugh.

...

Your cold was fucking persistent.

It had been well over a week by now, and you were still chained to the sofa with a tight throat and a dry cough.

Kai had spent the week with his nose buried in old books. Fortunately, the house you two were occupying had been inhabited by Herarics, so there were plenty of spell books knocking around.

Over this time, you had begun to empathise with Kai - sure, he was a sociopath, but he seemed to know how to take care of you.

"Kai!" You groaned, pulling the blanket up to your chin.

Kai came sliding into the room, panic on his face at your desperate tone.

"I'm freezing." You chattered, teeth banging against each other as you shivered.

Kai threw you a suggestive wink, "I have a way to warm you up."

After about four days, Kai switched from insults and snappy comebacks to outrageous and blatant flirting.

To be honest, you didn't mind the change in behaviour.

"Go on then." You sighed, and Kai's eyes blew wide in shock.

"Really?" Despite his drastic attitude change, you had stuck to the insults and running your mouth.

"I'm shivering to death, so get over here and keep me warm." You wailed, and Kai strode over to the couch with a pleased grin.

Kai joined you on the sofa, tucking his body under yours and letting you rest your head on his chest.

"Better?" He asked.

"Better." You nuzzled into his chest, before pausing. Just because your fever was making you cold, you were snuggling up to this bastard? After a split second of deliberation, you decided that yes, yes you were.

"I used to take care of my siblings." Kai murmured.

"Really?" You asked.

"Before the whole murderous rampage, yes. My parents were...disinterested in anyone other than Liv and Luke, so they others tended to get disregarded." Kai explained.

"So you looked after them?"

Kai breathed a soft chuckle, "With Jo's help, of course. It kinda makes sense she's a doctor now I think about it."

"You're not so bad." You whispered into Kai's t-shirt, and the boy felt his lips split into a grin.

"I'll get you out of here soon." Kai mumbled, running a ring-adorned hand over your hair.

"Hm?" You hummed dozily, and Kai held back a chuckle.

"Nothing." He hummed back, wrapping his arms around you tighter. In a moment of courage, the siphon lent down and placed a soft kiss to your temple.

You smiled at the touch, and soon felt sleep tugging you under as you couldn't help but think: Kai Parker wasn't so bad. He was just misconstrued.Kai Parker

[hecohansen31]

Rev Up Your Engines

Team Manager! Ivar x Team Manager! Reader

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

I did this small thing for @dreamwritesimagines‘ challenge (her fics are actually one of the first that I ever read and they are the ones that inspired me to start writing and be active in the ‘Vikings’ fandom).

I do hope you’ll like it and this might be a series (although after October I’ll stop writing other stories).

Also I just wanted to give you a few heads up since this is set up in a MotoGP AU:

FIM=the guys who check regulations and other stuff (give penalties and check the circuits).

There are three steps before qualifying (FP1, FP2, FP3) (which are basically free practice) and there there is qualifying and the race.

If you need anymore info, I am here.

If you liked this, please consider leaving me some feedback, either through a comment or a reblog, I’d just apprecciate to know if you like this kind of thing or would be interested in others.

Feedback makes us writers write faster, and our heats beat stronger!

Have a nice reading!

SUMMARY: Having a rival such as Ivarr can be the worst nightmare for many, even more for you, who seems to be his latest prey outside of the circuit.

WORDS: 5,5 K

WARNINGS: Bullying, Misogyny, Mention of Dementia and Herat Problems, Troubled Family.

Women in sports were only welcomed in two ways: silent or in bikinis.

And you weren’t in neither of the positions.

You were actually in the worst position for a woman in a sport like ‘MotoGP’.

You were the daughter of a stable owner, having inherited the whole stable after your father’s heart problems had obliged him to stay behind.

Your hands were already hands in the family business, operating through a more secluded area, mostly in the social media market, when your father had asked you to take care of his beloved stable, the thing that had always brought him away from you.

And you had taken it onto yourself.

Although you barely knew anything about the dangerous sport.

You had at first tried your best through informing about all the important things of the sport, although your researches had been mostly done by yourself, because the team wasn’t very cooperative, even more after you had shown your interest in the more practical side of it.

Everybody expected you just to sign checks and party with the pilots.

So, when you had suggested innovations to both the team and the bikes, you had been met with weirded out eyes and annoyed dismissals.

And you had to admit that the whole thing was heavy on you, who had never liked the whole biking panorama, mostly because although your father had been thoroughly a fan of it, you had grown with your mother, separated by a father that spent more time at the stables than at home and eventually this had brought your mother to exhaustion, making her run away when you were barely fifteen and you had been left to raise yourself on your own.

Still, ignoring your obvious disinterest, you had done everything in order to pass the winter tests and present yourself with a powerful team of mechanics and a duo of young but promising riders, coming to the first competition with hopes and expectations, just to get your idiotic riders to crash into each other.

And you had been greeted with the laughing of all the other teams on the team radio.

To say that you were displeased it was an euphemism and you had almost thought of seriously leaving the reigns of everything to the whole mechanic team, but eventually you had just tightened your teeth and got your idiotic riders to collaborate, through threats and small smiles.

And eventually you had set yourself to become fourth in the ‘constructors’ championship’, something that wasn’t bad, in the slightest, even more because your father, in the latest years, had always hung lower in the gradings…

… but as you had slowly started to raise in the motosport climate, you had soon understood that it wasn’t simply your own team who didn’t like your presence, but also others…

… more specifically the team that was in third place in the constructors’ championship: the Lothbrock.

It was also a family-established stable, the sons having inherited it from their father, but unlike you, they weren’t only an all-male group, but also they had stuck on the circuits for much more time than you, not only having more experience, but also having more complicity with the whole team.

Ragnar Lothbrock had created the team with the few money he had received from his own father, siding with a bigger stable, and eventually growing to fame and success as he gained slowly more and more freedom, which lead to him creating his own independent stable.

His sons had inherited it after his untimely death and if what their father had done was extraordinary, what they did was miraculous and extremely fulfilling, although they hadn’t yet won a championship, unlike their father.

Not to talk about the fact that Hvitserk, one of the youngest brothers, rode on the satellite team, ‘Lothbrock: The White Tire’.

They were highly competitive, even more because exactly like you, in their father’s late years they had lost much of the prestige for their own stables, although as of lately they had come to good places both in the riders’ championship and the constructors’.

All of this had been obtained under the lead of the youngest brother, Ivar, covering the same position as of you, in the team, setting himself apart from his brothers, and being the most competitive, although in a very non-sportive way.

And as of lately his focus had ended up on your own team.

Which was an obvious choice since you were the ones that were the closest to them and had one of your riders ended up on the podium the following week, you would have passed them, catching the third place.

So, flashforward to the following week, and right as you were partying for your first rider’s third place, champagne all over your clothes, you had been asked to follow the security to the commission, because that your rider’s podium was actually being discussed.

‘Your rider ended up on the green’ had tried to explain to the member of the staff, who had come to you to give you the bad news, as they passed you a piece of paper with a written complain.

Signed by the Lothbrocks.

‘I do know of that, but…’ you had shot back, already red from anger, as a few of the spokespeople of your team came near to you, trying to ease up with diplomacy the whole discourse ‘… he fucking got pushed by the Lothbrock driver’.

You knew perfectly that the rules required for the pilot who ended up on the green to lose a position, but at the same time the FIM had allowed your pilot to reach the podium with no complain.

And it was justified since the Lothbrock driver had basically thrown his front bike against your own, without any solicited contact.

Which had made them end up in the green.

They should be actually the one under investigation for having irresponsible driving.

‘… we are sorry, but you’ll still need to come to the headquarters immediately’.

But you had had to take a bit of time to scream in a bag, not wanting to ruin your riders’ party, and once you were halfway done with your breakdown, Cameron, your head of the mechanics, came to you and tried to calm you down, explaining that you hadn’t any fault in this.

‘I just fucking hate Ivar Lothbrock’ you had muttered, as you swiftly changed your dirtied team-shirt with a new one, in order not to give to your mortal enemy any reason to doubt you or challenge you, at the meeting ‘… why do you have to fucking try every dirty trick in the book, when you could spend the same time getting your fucking bike to be better?’.

‘We don’t all get a team manager with a brain’ had commented the man, softly smiling at you, because there wasn’t much he could do, in such a situation.

But you’d definitely report the incorrect behavior of the stables to the FIM.

‘… just breath calmly’ Cameron had then suggested softly ‘… don’t attack him and don’t lower yourself to his dirty tricks. We know we weren’t at fault for doing that, the FIM ruled it out, they are just being annoying’.

‘… more like assholes’ you uttered under your breath.

But in the end, there wasn’t much you could do, except being calm and talk quietly in order to get the FIM to realize that the Lothbrocks’ pretenses were solely abusing their time.

But as you stepped in, facing Ivar Lothbrock’s annoying arrogant smirk, you were halfway through having a hard time stopping yourself from hitting him square in the face.

‘… you were making us wait’ he simply commented almost as a justification for his shit face, as he crossed his arms over his chest, already plopped in his chair meanwhile behind him stood his older brother, Ubbe, looking as happy to be there as you.

‘… sorry your Majesty’ you muttered, gaining an harsh look from the team manager, although it was laced with surprise, because as soon you’d catch him looking at you or trying to stir up a fight, you’d back off, ignoring him.

He wasn’t used to you answering him.

‘… I was partying with my pilot’ you added just for the extra burn.

‘Congrats…’ he uttered, as impressed with you as he was with the dirt beneath his nails.

‘Gentleman and…’ the FIM inspector assigned to your case recalled you order “… lady”.

You sat down, keeping your gaze on whatever was in front of you, not wanting to give Ivar the satisfaction of even letting him bother you.

‘… Mrs. (L/N), you have already received a preview of why we have asked you to come here, but I’d like to explain it to you again’.

Oh Gosh, didn’t you love some ‘mansplaining’?

As if you hadn’t read the regulations yourself, consulting yourself with your own pilots and a team of experts.

‘I do know that it is against the rules to go through the green side, and that if a pilot do end up on it on the last lap, they lose a position…’ you retorted quickly, not wanting to lose any ground you stood on ‘… but my pilot didn’t go on the green, he was pushed in it… by Mr. Lothbrock’s pilot. You can obviously see it…”.

“That’s a whole other process” commented harshly the FIM inspector, sending you a glare that said clearly to stick to what you knew and not interfere with this.

But you were fucking pissed.

Even more when Ivar looked like he was extremely pleased with the FIM inspector’s behavior

“It isn’t a completely different process, but…” you tried to protest “… it is easy actually: hadn’t my pilot been pushed he wouldn’t have been thrown on the green. You didn’t rule him out of the third place after the race was finished, why would you do it now?”.

Because it was Ivar who protested.

And because you were an easy prey.

You were the one thing man like the FIM inspector didn’t want between their feet: a woman.

One in power and with many questions.

You could seem completely paranoid.

But had the same thing happened to Ivar, none of these questions would have been sent his way.

“My pilot was trying to overtake yours, the push was accidental” commented Ivar, probably because he had felt like he had been called out by your words, sending the FIM investigator an innocent look as if to say ‘you are crazy if you thought I did it on purpose’.

“… even if it was…” your whole tone seemed completely disbelieving of Ivar’s affirmation “… my pilot didn’t go on the green on purpose”.

“But he ended up on it” muttered the FIM inspector, something that you couldn’t deny, since the cameras of the stewards had caught “… and we have to be stricter with these rules, many have been daring more and more… and it won’t take much before this sport will end up being dangerous than it needs to be”.

“… it has already happened and you weren’t as severe with it as with me, although the pilots used it to their advantage” you muttered, feeling some kind of desperation cursing through you “…in moto 2, there was a similar thing happening and Martin, who went on his own in the green, wasn’t penalized”.

The whole situation was starting to be unbelievable and very much heavy on you, not solely for the fact that being diminished by the inspector in front of everybody was pretty humiliating (and to add something to it, the whole act being witnessed by a smirking Ivar Lothbrock didn’t help) but you couldn’t help but be heartbroken solely at the thought of letting your pilots know that they’d have to step down the podium.

Many would have thought it was a simple sacrifice, but they didn’t know the competition between all the pilots, but also all the sacrifices they made on their own to train to be the best of the best.

“… it’s moto 2” it didn’t seem in the slightest a justification to you, but you had noticed that fighting didn’t help, and neither did calm words or retorting ones “… we’ll announce it, tonight, this way you’ll be able to warn your pilots, and he’ll have to give back the trophy…”.

You had to say that your mind had zeroed after that affirmation, as your eyes found the satisfied ones of Ivar, slowly pushing himself up to talk with his older brother, Ubbe, probably expressing to him his happiness at having managed to make your stable keep your previous position.

Fourth, behind them.

But worse, you felt like a child being reprimanded in front of somebody that you hated.

An embarrassed shade of red coated your cheeks, but you endured it, making a mental note to require another FIM inspector to analyze the case, preferably not a misogynistic idiot.

After the reunion was over the FIM inspector dismissed you and Ivar.

The man immediately raised himself up a bit slowly, to set himself up on his crutches, helped by his brother, although he looked annoyed by the unwanted help.

He had been born with a genetic problem that made the bones in his legs brittle, a big disappointment for a father that had not only been a biker, but also had pushed his sons in the game as soon as they could walk.

So, part of you knew and understood Ivar’s bitterness and his desperate desire to prove his late father wrong, expanding his legacy.

You knew yourself how heavily a dynasty could hang on a child’s shoulder,

But this didn’t allow him to fucking destroy you to simply build yourself up.

You stood after him a few seconds later, seeing and witnessing his strength as he pushed himself on the braces and crutches he wore and trying to still your whole body so it wouldn’t tremble from rage once you got up.

You had to admit that Ivar was as beautiful as he was cunning and you weren’t surprised to know that the whole Lothbrock clan had admirers everywhere, having become a meme on the net, almost like a band with their own groupies.

He had beautiful tormented blue eyes, something that was common among the brothers, but his were definitely the most gorgeous, hauntingly active, unlike Ubbe’s matching glance, annoyed and tight, polite but in no way as firey as Ivar.

You would have loved to have him as a competitor.

But not this way.

And this was enough for you to raise yourself, as you strutted out, having a pilot to inform and a few interesting things to say to the journalists, who had already started filling your own stand.

But before you could do anything, Ivar’s hand shot out to you, hooking itself on your wrist, something that made you turn around extremely fast, hitting the man on the hand which held your hand, the grip loosening itself as he made a few steps backwards.

Probably because you looked like you could have burned him alive, on the spot.

“… I just…” whatever evil thing he wanted to say seemed stuck on his tongue.

“I have a pilot to inform” you muttered immediately, as you exited his grip and moved to turn around, just to have a brilliant idea and turning around for the last word.

Because he might have won the battle...

… but he hadn’t won the war yet.

“I fucking work with my team, instead of using dirty tricks for my own bidding”.

You had many times accused Ivar of using ‘dirty tricks’, but everytime it had been concealed between nice and soft words, the ones you used with the press, avoiding cursing and smirking the whole time  to make the accusals seem more a joke.

You almost expected Ivar to reply something mean as you exited the building, but he simply looked like he had lost any ability to talk, his brother behind him having to shake him lightly to get him to react and right when he opened his mouth again to speak, you were gone.

It was better not to waste your words on a crook.

The news of your pilot being dropped from second to third place had been the scandal of the whole following week, which you had spent in a small island in Greece to relax a bit, you had come back home to journalists storming your house.

‘I can’t make any comments’ because you had been warned not to, since a second investigation was in place, although Christian, your first pilot, had had to already give back the trophy already ‘… we’ll see and I am hopeful that the right choices will be made’.

Which meant that you hoped the Lothbrock would push back the appeal.

They had also been stormed with journalists and attack.

Although the FIM inspector hadn’t had much interest for your version, the media had been actually very interested in hearing your own side of the story, alongside the fact that the audience cheered for your squad since it was ‘a true underdog story’.

You had built a team from scratch after years of failures and you were swiftly raising to the Olympus of bikes.

Ivar’s reply had been the same of yours, just shorter and colder, and the Lothbrocks had chosen to make him disappear from the latest posts on their social medias, instead pushing forwards his brother, who had been scoring a lot of points in the latest race, although the satellite team was much slower than the official squad.

But it was a win.

And it had made you regain the strength to face Ivar again the following week.

But you had had another big storm coming for you.

Your own father.

You had a complex relationship to your father: you obviously loved him, but you knew the feelings weren’t reciprocated

Your father hadn’t ever made you miss anything, except love.

You knew it could be worse, but to this day you found it difficult to face your father.

Even more when it happened in front of your mortal enemy.

Your father had been already in the stables when you had arrived, after releasing an official message about the sanction you had been undergoing for the last race’s ending.

He had been talking with your engineers, as you entered, everybody looking as uncomfortable as you, exchanging small talk with the man, although he immediately pushed for more information on the technical side of stuff.

Your pilots looked bewildered and with an annoyed smirk you simply tried to catch your father’s attention, to bring him away from the garage, this way the engineers could work in peace.

But you didn’t arrive halfway through the box that he was already vocally attacking you.

“Where the fuck are Trenner and Lobon?” asked your father, as you grimaced.

“… you have actually fired them two years ago” you muttered.

Your father’s heart problems hadn’t been the only reason why it had been suggested to him to slow down, but he had started showing signs of dementia.

He had forgotten your name the day you had come to visit him in the hospital and even worse, he had asked the names of pilots that had been in your stables, years ago.

“… I shouldn’t have…” he looked shocked as he always did when you revealed to him that he had forgotten something, which you did graciously, having discussed with his doctor about the trauma that acting like that might cause him “… do you think they are still on the market?”.

“They are retired, dad” again, calm tone and sweet words “… but what are you doing here? You should be at home, relaxing”.

“I heard the shit the Lothbrock threw on us” Gosh, you should have told his nurse to stop letting him see TV, even more the sport section “… what the fuck have you been doing in my stables?”.

His disappointment hung heavily on you and it stole your breath for a minute, but you regained your coolness immediately.

“I have been trying to do my best and we have reached new heights” again your tone was attentive and careful, slow and peaceful, but the end of it had an exasperated note and your father sent you an annoyed look.

He was clearly thinking that you were an undisciplined child.

Not that the undisciplined child was actually him.

“… the Lothbrocks have been playing dirty” you said it with your voice on low, since the garage next to you were the Lothbrocks’ ones, and you knew that many eyes were set on you “… I have the medias on my side, don’t worry dad”.

“Instead I fucking worry!” now the attention was definitely on you.

And with the side of your eye you noticed that Ivar was coming up right now, an earpiece in his hands showing that he hadn’t been aware of the convo till right now.

You tried to usher your father, lightly pushing him away to try to bring him away from all this attention.

“Too much of anything, you never know how to quit” uttered your father loudly, again, but he lost the second part of the discourse, lightly, his eyes shifting on Ivar who was suddenly close to you, probably trying to get pass the crowd of journalists.

Stealing a bit more of info and trying to pass unnoticed.

But your father’s eyes caught onto him quickly.

Changing completely attitude as he approached the man.

Although now you couldn’t deny that Ivar now, up closer, and under your father’s watchful gaze looked much younger than you had perceived him.

And definitely blushier.

“Lothbrock, fuck you are grown” commented your father, as you gently tried to catch his hand, playing the devout daughter’s part, as you tried to get him to shift away from Ivar.

Nobody knew about your father’s dementia and you tried to keep it away from the flashes of paparazzi, since it’d get many investors to back off and you needed them for at least this season.

Then had you proved your worth, you could have handled your father’s dementia publicly.

“… Mr (L/N)” Ivar called out to your father, smiling brightly although it was obvious he’d like to continue his trip “… it’s nice to see you again, we thought about you…”.

“Don’t bullshit me, boy” you hated your father’s presence, but you had to admit that seeing Ivar back off from his usual arrogant attitude was a bonus “… I know you fucking took advantage of it, but I am back to fucking stay”.

You stopped yourself from rushing your eyes to sky because if there was one place your father would go to immediately after this conversation, would be the medical center.

His heart was still weak, and he would just bother the mechanics.

And his demeaning behavior made you extremely uncomfortable.

You hadn’t had to take on his stables, after his sickness had made it impossible for him to handle it firsthand.

You had accepted because you thought it’d make him happy and proud of you.

But now his disappointment was heavy on you.

You weren’t certainly the best, but it had been years since the team had been stuck in the midfield and you were slowly bringing yourself to exit it, coming towards the fourth and third place.

If you couldn’t obtain his appreciation and respect through doing this, there wasn’t much you could do.

“… tell your father… tell Ragnar, that we are coming for the podium this time” your eyes opened completely, and you couldn’t deny that your hands started shaking, at your father’s obvious show of his lacking health.

You rushed to try to cover his phrase, but Ivar smiled softly at the man, something that you had to admit didn’t make him look like some kind of dangerous snake anymore and you smirked softly at that, returning the smile, with no intention to.

“… I’ll tell him, but we won’t let it go that easily” his voice was full of playful competition and you wondered where the heck was this guy when you were fighting for the podium, instead of the spiteful athlete you had been meeting constantly “… have a nice day, Mr. (L/N) and (Y/N)”.

And then he moved off, making you aware that he hadn’t ever said your name, till now.

And it sounded strangely so beautifully from his lips.

“That fucking wanker” commented your father as he went away, right as you remembered the assholish behavior he had always had with you.

And that now he knew about your father.

Shit.

Fucking shit.

You had been basically just laying face down on your hotel bed since you had come back.

Your father had been actually joined by his nurse, after you had found him in the paddock, and they’d be staying just for the qualifying set-ups and then see the game from home, since you didn’t want to have to worry about him and the pilots, at the same time.

He had actually gotten to know them and being surrounded by the whole atmosphere had helped calm him down, alongside his nurse knowing how to deal with him.

The entire situation still managed to make you worry, but you had been able to focus on FP1 and FP2.

FP3 and qualifying looked like they’d be stressing, but you had just received the news that the problematic of the previous race had been resolved with a win for you, and soon your pilot would be having back his trophy, and your team would regain the point.

You were officially back on top of the Lothbrocks.

And strangely you hadn’t heard anything from them.

Which was worrying.

Even more now that Ivar had officially witnessed your father’s conditions.

You were already expecting a sanction of having made him come in the garage although he wasn’t on the list of the people allowed inside of it.

So, you were just waiting and trying to ease all the anxiety in your body.

There were so many things that could go wrong.

So, you weren’t surprised when you heard a knocking on the door.

You were surprised when it turned out to be Ivar Lothbrock.

Your first reaction was to almost slam the door, but you held it quickly, knowing perfectly that there were many journalists in the same hotel and it was already scandalous that your open rival was visiting you.

Outside of the paddock.

“What do you want?” it wasn’t laced with annoyance but genuine curiousness, because you couldn’t find many reasons why Ivar would be here.

If he wanted to complain about the fact that you had gained the upper hand in the investigation, he could have reported it to the FIM, not to you.

“… were all the FIM investigators finished?” you muttered, now true sarcasm in your eyes “… and they decided to send you for some fucking idiotic claim, again”.

“I actually came here to apologize” the words seemed to burn on his tongue.

And you were again startled by the fact that he had just done something that you never thought you’d see him doing.

“… what?” you asked, sure of not having heard right.

“I didn’t realize that my behavior towards you was this offensive…” you didn’t understand the change of heart, hence you regarded Ivar as a dangerous beast ready to eat you up, had you lowered your attention “… I might have exaggerated”.

“Erase the ‘might’ “you weren’t able to stop yourself from the pure sarcasm in your reply.

“I have exaggerated my competitiveness against you”.

You didn’t honestly know what to say, simply settling up on torturing your bottom lip, as you bit it to try to keep your face in a calm expression, although you didn’t know whether you should be careful with what you said, assuming this was some kind of proof.

Or you should have just laughed at his face.

Either ways seemed very tempting.

“… I just came here to apologize” he repeated shooting you a look as if to understand your expression, probably because he expected it to be some kind of relief.

You blessing him with accepting his apologies.

“I don’t care” it was the words that you found more fitting for the entire thing “… I can’t even believe you”.

Ivar looked, in that moment, like he might have eaten the sourest of fruits that he was ever given, and he lightly bit off his own bottom lip, before lightly swiping his finger across it and nodding his head.

“… I understand it” he didn’t seem to, but you didn’t say anything more “… I just thought that I’d try my luck”.

“… and I hope that you won’t say anything about my father” you knew that uttering out what you just said might have been dangerous but Ivar looked like he was under a train because you hadn’t accepted his apologies.

“Don’t worry, in the slightest” he replied, raising his hand in front of himself “… I don’t mean to tell anybody”.

Which reassured you greatly, although you didn’t trust Ivar fully.

And you were halfway through pushing the door in his face, when he continued on talking.

“… I actually…” he looked as uncomfortable as you, but strangely you couldn’t bring yourself to close the door in his face.

It must have been because of those puppy dog blue eyes.

“… when did it start?”.

“The heart problems started it” the doctors had also explained to you that your father had been undergoing a rather stressful period that had brought both the problems to speed up during the years, eventually destroying both his heart and mind.

“Shit” muttered Ivar, and you honestly didn’t understand why he wanted to talk about this.

Was he seriously thinking of gaining as much info as he could and then sell you over to the medias?

Because it would have just resulted in a loss for him.

“… yeah, we are in big shit” you repeated “… I am trying to keep it hidden from the investors, since I know they wouldn’t trust my lead”.

Again, that light bite of lips and Ivar lowered his eyes to his feet, something that convinced you that maybe just maybe… he was hiding his own emotions.

“… when my dad died, the investors all left us and went to Lagertha’s side, we almost had to sell it to her” commented Ivar and you couldn’t help but be surprised, because the Lothbrocks had always been one of the best stables, both for the money and for the pilots.

You did know that Lagertha’s stables, ‘The Shieldmaiden’, their rivals,  had been having quite the fight with the Lothbrocks, but you hadn’t ever thought it was rooted that far.

And this time you weren’t able to keep your face straight and Ivar probably recognized the surprise on your face.

“… it was all over the magazines”.

“I don’t read that shit” you had stopped since they had critiqued you.

You didn’t want to be held back by critiques or false information about your private life, in your work.

You had always grown up with the constant pressure of what others would say about you, because you were your father’s daughter and now that you had to come onto your own reputation, you would have done everything in your power to build it.

Instead of listening to what others created.

“I might have been wrong about you” commented Ivar, and you couldn’t deny that strangely it seemed almost like a compliment, on the mouth of the arrogant boy.

“Did you peg me for some kind of vain spoiled brat?” and strangely a smile came onto your face.

Becoming even bigger when Ivar blushed lightly.

“… I left out the ‘spoiled’ part out”.

You couldn’t stop the laugh on your lips.

“Well, I still think that you are an entitled asshole”.

“You are not the first one to think that for sure”.

And before you knew it you were both laughing loudly.

Enough to attract a few fellow guests of the hotel that sent you annoyed looks.

Something that made you move closer to hide yourself behind the door.

Although your exchange with Ivar was completely innocent, you knew that the press would have turned it all around.

“… I know this might be… I know that you might have better things to do than listen to an entitled prick…”.

“I said ‘asshole’ “ you shot back, as Ivar’s severe face turned into a smirk.

“… ok sorry… but would you like to come and take out a coffee? It’s on me for last Sunday’s dirty trick”.

You breathed out heavily.

Everything in you itched to reply a happy ‘yes’, but your whole body wanted for you to be attentive and to act in the best way possible.

Because what Ivar proposed might have been a dangerous trap.

But you were just exhausted from acting like you had a broom up your ass.

And you had to admit that you felt like Ivar probably felt the same.

He had clearly opened about the problematics after his father’s death.

And in case it was a coffee less to bother about.

“… I am coming but just know that my bed is very comfy, so if you are annoying… I’ll just ditch you for it”.

“Ok, you are definitely a spoiled brat”.

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Ivar The Boneless Taglist:

@guiltyfiend, @youbloodymadgenius, @flowers-in-your-hayr, @peaceisadirtyword, @a-mess-of-fandoms​, @xbellaxcarolinax​

[andsoshespins]

Wednesday’s Words

Since my trip to the New York Botanical Gardens a few weekends ago, I have been trying to find the right print of Yayoi Kusama’s “Summer Flowers” painting for my kitchen.  I am more than a bit of a new fan of her work. 

Related: Why didn’t I post pictures of that beautiful day? 

Looks like I’ll be trying to find some other National League team to cheer on during the playoffs since the Mets will be watching from home, too.

I bought Mallomars at the store today because I’s a ‘ho.

The first episode of the last season of Brothers and Sisters had me crying intensely.  What. The. Hell. 

Related: When will I stop watching shows which feature war veterans fairly prominently?

Still related: I hope you’re doing well.  Wherever you are.  Physically and metaphysically.

Maybe still related: Reading the children’s book Nasreen’s Secret School, set in Herat, Afghanistan, choked me up during a lesson with 3rd graders earlier this week.  What a difference a year makes regarding teaching that story.

I did not work out today, but I wish I slept for a longer time. 

Our current book club read is The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid, and I am enjoying it much more than I anticipated. 

Related: Having friends who are fast readers is very helpful; I was 97th on the waitlist for placing a hold at my local library.  WHAT?!  HOW?!  This book was published in 2017, so it is not brand new.  Strange.

On Monday, I was delirious at 9 PM. 

I love my students.  

The New York Times is onto me: An article about Matthew Rhys and his restored wooden boat that popped up.

Related: My friend asked me if I would “hang on his wooden boat” without realizing she designed an awful euphemism. (My answer would be, “Yes,” either way, so I am not sure why I am splitting hairs here.)

Today ended my arbitrary dress challenge I gave myself on the first day of school: Wear a dress to work every day until you run out or tire of it.  I made it 16 instructional days without a repeat.  Which is pretty impressive and pretty astounding to realize that does not account for all the dresses in my closet.

Related: I received many compliments on today’s hand-me-down pants and jacket.

One day I’ll be a writer again.

Too many apples means too many upcoming apple-inspired desserts. 

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Treat Your S(h)elf

The Places In Between by Rory Stewart

“I offered Asad money but he was horrified. It seemed a six-hour round trip through a freezing storm and chest deep snow was the least he could do for a guest. I did not want to insult him but I was keen to repay him in some way. I insisted, feeling foolish. He refused five times but finally accepted out of politeness and gave the money to his companion.Then he wished me luck and turned up the hill into the face of the snowstorm." 

- Rory Stewart

Just weeks after the fall of the Taliban in January of 2002 Scotsman Rory Stewart began a walk across central Afghanistan in the footsteps of 15th Century Moghul conqueror Emperor Babur and along parts of the legendary Silk Road, from Herat to Kabul. He'd find himself in the course of twenty-one months encountering Sunni Kurds, Shia Hazala, Punjabi Christians, Sikhs, Kedarnath Brahmins, Garhwal Dalits, and Newari Buddhists. He said he wanted to explore the "place in between the deserts and the Himalayas, between Persian, Hellenic, and Hindu culture, between Islam and Buddhism, between mystical and militant Islam." He described Afghanistan as "a society that was an unpredictable composite of etiquette, humour, and extreme brutality."

The Places in Between is Stewart's account of walking across Afghanistan from Herat to Kabul in January 2002. The book was the winner of the Royal Society of Literature Ondaatje Award and the Spirit of Scotland Award and shortlisted for the Guardian First Book Award, the John Llewellyn Rhys Memorial Prize and the Scottish Book of the Year Prize.

I first read the book as a teenager a few years after it came out when I was spending a few months doing voluntary work for an Afghan children’s charity in Peshawar, Pakistan with my older sister who was a junior doctor at the time.

I read it on the rocky bus ride from Peshawar, Pakistan and into Afghanistan from Jalalabad to Kabul with my sister and her colleagues. I avidly read the book because I already knew the author through my oldest brother but from a distance because of our respective ages. Little did I realise then that I would be back in Afghanistan a few years later but this time in uniform doing my tour in Afghanistan flying combat helicopters against the Taliban.

I had the book with me (but a newer copy) and it took on a greater prescience precisely because as soldiers, even from the most senior officers on down, we privately questioned what the hell were we really accomplishing in a country ravaged by war since the Soviet invasion in 1979 (and that’s being generous given how history has buried empires into the graveyard of Afghanistan as a testament to their hubris).

Maybe it was hubris or perhaps it was that adventurous strain that needs to be scratched that led Rory Stewart to undertake his madcap journey. Stewart did the entire journey on foot, refusing any other form of transportation (and at one point going back and redoing a section of the walk when he couldn't turn down a vehicle ride). He took an uncommon route straight through the centre of the country and the heart of the mountains, instead of the more common route through the south that bypasses the dangerous mountain passes. This choice was partly because it was shorter, partly because the south was still partially controlled by the Taliban, and partly I suspect (though he doesn't say this explicitly) because it's the less-discussed and less-known route, even today.

This is, therefore, a sort of travel book, describing places that 99.99% of readers in the Western world are very unlikely to ever go. It's also unavoidably political, since Afghanistan is unavoidably political. However, unlike many travel books and many books with political overtones, it's carefully observational, documentary, and quietly understated in a way that gives the reader room to analyse and consider. Stewart focuses on his specific journey and concise, detailed descriptions of what he encountered and lets any broader implications of what he saw emerge from the reader's evaluation. He describes how he reacts to the remarkable natural beauty and almost-forgotten ruins that he encounters, giving the reader a frame and a sense of the emotional impact, but he's not an overbearing presence in the book. The story is clearly personal, but he doesn't dominate it. This is a very difficult line to walk, and I don't recall the last time I've seen it walked as deftly.

Instead there is a real sense that the author has gotten over the novelty of travelling and is more focused on the fundamental circumstances he encounters. The book overall is a fascinating read and there is much to be learned about the epistemologies driving the Afghan people and how different interpretations of Muslim teachings (and likewise, any teachings) can create small, but significant differences between neighbours. He has a gift for vividly describing the people and the landscape without injecting himself too much into the scene.

I suspect every reader will take different things from The Places in Between.

For some readers unaccustomed to the culture of Afghanistan, they would find it distressing to read how dogs are treated in Afghanistan. It's said Prophet Muhammad once cut off part of his own garment rather than disturb a sleeping cat. Unfortunately, he didn't feel equal affection for dogs, and they're "religiously polluting." They're not pets, and they're never petted. A quarter of the way in his journey Stewart has a toothless mastiff pressed upon him by a villager and he named him Babur. The evidence of past abuse could be seen in missing ears and tail, and someone told Stewart the dog was missing teeth because they'd been knocked out by a boy with rocks. Stewart found the dog a faithful companion and said he'd call him "beautiful, wise, and friendly" but that an Afghan, though he might use such terms to describe a horse or hawk would never use it to describe a dog.

But I knew all this growing in Pakistan and India as a small girl. Friends would look perplexed that we Brits - or any Westerners - have dogs or cats as pets and even see them as part of the family.

For me though two big themes stuck out when I first read the book.

One of the things that struck me most memorably is the spider’s web of personal loyalties, personal animosities, different tribes and history, and complexity of Afghan politics that Stewart walks through. Afghanistan is not coherent or cohered in the way that those of us living in long-settled western countries assume when thinking about countries. While there are regions with different ethnicities or dominant tribes, it doesn't even break down into simple tribal areas or regions divided by religion. The central mountain areas Stewart walked through are very isolated and have a long history and a complex web of rivalries, differing reactions to various central governments, and different connections. Stewart meets people who have never traveled more than a few miles from their village, and people who can't go as far as his next day's stop because they'd be killed by the people in the next village. It becomes clear over the course of his journey why creating a cohesive western-style country with unified national rule is far less likely and more difficult than is usually portrayed in the Western news media. The reader slowly begins to realise that this may not be what the Afghans themselves want, and some of the reasons why not.

A large part of that recent history is violent, and here is where Stewart's ability to describe and characterise the people he meets along the way shines. It is a tenet of both Islam and the local culture to give hospitality to travellers, which is the only thing that makes this sort of trip possible. Stewart is generally treated exceptionally well, particularly given the poverty of the people (meat is extremely rare, and most meals are bread at best), but violence and fighting fills the minds and experiences of most people he meets. He memorably observes at one point that one of his temporary companions describes the landscape in terms of violent events. Here, he shot four soldiers. There, two people were killed. Over there is where they ambushed a squad of Russians. It's striking how, after decades of fighting either for or against first the Russians and then the Taliban shapes and marks their mental map of the world. It's likely that few of the people Stewart meets are entirely truthful with him, but even that is an intriguing angle on what they care to lie about, what they think will impress him, and how the Afghan people he encounters display status or react to the unusual.

The second big theme that stuck out for me on a personal note was how Stewart respectfully weaves the wonder of history with the sad lament of the destructive loss heritage on his travels. In the book, Stewart followed roughly the same path as Babur, the founder of the Mughal Empire, did in 1504 at roughly the same time of year. He quotes occasionally from the Baburama, Babur's autobiography, which adds a depth of history to the places Stewart passes through. The Minaret of Jam in the mountains of western Afghanistan is one of the (unfortunately rare) black and white pictures in the centre of this book, and Stewart describes the legendary Turquoise Mountain, the lost capital of a mountain kingdom destroyed by the son of Genghis Kahn in the 1220s, of which the minaret may be the last surviving recognisable remnant. He describes the former Buddhist monasteries at Bamyan in Hazarajat (the region of central Afghanistan populated by the Hazara) and the huge empty alcoves where giant statues of the Buddha had stood for sixteen centuries until destroyed by the Taliban in 2001. This book then is full of history of which  is described with a discerning eye for necessary detail.

How Afghanistan's precious historical and cultural legacy was being destroyed even back in 2002 is heart breaking to read. I think many Westerners certainly know about how the Taliban dynamited the giant Bamiyan Buddha statues over a millennium old because they considered them "idols." Just as profound a loss is discovered by Stewart in his travels. There is a legendary lost city, the "Turquoise Mountain" of the pre-Moghul Ghorid Empire. Archeologists couldn't find it - but when passing through the area, Stewart had found villagers who had, and were looting artefacts with no care for the archeological context or the damage they were doing to the site, selling the priceless wares for the equivalent of a couple of dollars on the black market. This is what he tells us about his discussion with the villagers about the lost city:

"It was destroyed twice," Bushire added, "once by hailstones and once by Genghis." "Three times," I said. You're destroying what remained." They all laughed.

Even as I write this I can’t help but think this episode eerily echoes the madness gripping us in Britain, Europe, and the US (albeit for different reasons) in defacing and pulling down historical statues in wanton in acts of extreme ideological vandalism.

Overall I enjoyed the ‘peace’ of this book as there is a constant tone of a simple purpose. There are some moments along the way that are quite confronting and even frustrating, but so many that are warm and celebratory of the Afghan belief in hospitality.

Perhaps others will differ but I didn’t find too many irritating passages that wax-poetic on the evolution of the traveller. Stewart’s writing style is clinical; completely void of sentimentality, he never allows his own initial or personal meditations on these places overtake his observations, written with much hindsight. Whether being harassed by local soldiers or struggling through snowdrifts Stewart does not bridge a gap with the reader to really get a sense of who he his, as if his own story would detract from the crucial timing of his recordings of this landscape and its people.

His own biography is something out of John Buchan. The son of Scottish colonial civil servant who was born in Hong Kong and grew up in the Far East (and subsequently the second most senior official in the British secret intelligence) before being packed off back to England to Dragon School, Eton and onto Balliol, Oxford to study PPE. A short stint with the Black Watch regiment (as his father and uncle before him) before joining the British Foreign Office and work in some hot spots of the world, including a stint as deputy governor in the Coalition Provisional Authority in Iraq after 2003. He went on to work at the Carr Center for Human Rights Policy at Harvard before returning to the UK to successfully run as a Conservative MP in his native Scotland. Served as a minister in different ministries under Prime Minister Theresa May’s government and improbably came close to upsetting the coronation of Boris Johnson as the next leader of the Conservative party. He resigned from the party rather than be purged and made an unsuccessful bid to run as an independent candidate for London Mayor. He continues to writer and author travel books and front documentaries. He has a storied background but he wears it very lightly.

Of course there is a conceit to the book which in a sense all travel books of this kind that largely goes unquestioned. I don’t think it’s wrong to question a certain kind of entitlement that pervades these kind of books, no matter how much I enjoy reading them especially about countries you have traveled to and know a little bit about. Stewart after all embarks on a journey ‘planning’ to rely on the proverbial kindness of strangers because that is an Islamic cultural and religious value. Try planning a trip anywhere in Western Europe or the USA and Canada. I cannot imagine anyone walking across America, or England and Scotland for that matter, who would believe that he was entitled to expect food, shelter and assistance because he asked for it.

And he does it - as have countless travellers before and after him. Because Stewart succeeds in his journey, he is evidence of an astonishing degree of Afghan Muslim hospitality and generosity. As a back packer who has done it rough not just in Afghanistan but also neighbouring Central Asia as well as Pakistan, India, and China I can see why it might rub some up the wrong way. But I also think it’s not cultural or some sort of colonial arrogance on Stewart’s part. It’s hard to articulate but it’s really a kind of cultured sensitivity of people and lands you already are familiar with or know well from childhood.

Certainly for Rory Stewart - and myself - didn’t exclusively grow up in England and Scotland but in the Eastern post-colonial countries of the ex-British Empire that afforded a privileged childhood (privileged as in a real cultural engagement and immersion) that left a deep appreciation and respect for those countries cultures and traditions. I believe for the vast majority of Western back packers who take adventurous treks across these lands they do so partly out of genuine respect and understanding of different cultures.

For instance, the legacy of this book has been that Rory Stewart has spear headed a long term project called Turquoise Mountain. Alongside his partners, they have been re-creating the "downtown" river district in Kabul and restoring it to it's former glory. They have opened schools for people to re-learn the ancient arts of carving, weaving, architecture, etc. They have supported efforts to restoring city blocks that have been covered in a mountain of trash, and restoring homes where families have lived for centuries. And all for free. The Afghan have never been sure why someone would be doing this out of the goodness of their hearts, but that the poignant irony is that the goodness began with them through their hospitality of the stranger.

The kindness to strangers is a real thing in this part of the world. Kindness to strangers has it roots in fear that the strangers might be gods or their messengers alongside the pragmatic need that strangers in a strange land might need assistance. I sometimes wonder how is it we cannot show the same unabashed kindness to strangers to our homes?

However you slice it, you have to admire Stewart for his mostly un-aided walk across Afghanistan. It does take a certain kind of ballsiness to do it. He carried just his clothes and a sleeping bag (and money), trusting that the villagers along the way would put him up for the night and feed him. He got very sick (diarrhoea and dysentery), was at constant risk of freezing to death in the mountains, and had some very unpleasant encounters with Afghan soldiers in the last few days, after rejecting very strong advice not to walk through this section.

Strangely though nothing about this book is breathtaking of ‘Oriental exoticism’ beloved of Western imagination. Indeed nothing in this book is romanticised and nothing is placed on a pedestal. Stewart writes openly and honestly of all the people he met, those friendly, and those that would've preferred to rob him and leave him dead in a ditch. He's truthful and humorous, and I found myself walking alongside him, a sort of ghost following his rugged trail through mountains, valleys, and Buddhist monasteries.

Re-reading this book when I was doing my tour in Afghanistan with time to kill between missions, I wished George W. Bush and Tony Blair - and all the other Western leaders since these two - could have taken that walk with Stewart and learned the lessons he did. Stewart gives you a sense of the complexity and diversity of the culture and of Islam - and just how ludicrous and ignorant were the assumptions and goals imposed on the country by the invading Westerners. Indeed at the very end of his walk, Stewart reaches Kabul, the heart of the western intervention in Afghanistan and the place where all the political theorists and idealists came to try to shape the country. He describes the impact of seeing draft plans for a national government, which look ridiculous in the light of the country that he just traveled through.

It's a rare bit of political fire in the narrative that's all the more effective since it's one of the few bits of political commentary in the book. Indeed it’s all the more rich and relevant given its emergent commentary and background for the current war being fought there. Stewart necessarily tells only part of the story of Afghanistan, but he tells far more of the story than most will know prior to reading it. It should be mandatory reading for anyone making decisions about how to proceed in that region.

I would recommend anyone take a walk with Rory Stewart.

[funeral-is-a-twink]

White night likes to cuddle the reader headcanons? Hyper protective of heratic? Maybe? Up to you. I'm just a gay heratic.

((Aren’t we all?))

You? A simple human, cuddling with him? A god?? No such thing will happen.

Wait, what are you doing?? Get back here! He’ll permit this ‘cuddling’ but only once!

That aside, White Night loves cuddles, but he refuses to do so in front of anyone, not even his apostles. Which most likely leads to you getting grumpy.

Of course, this leads to you ignoring him for the rest of the day, which his ego Does Not Like, and he’ll be forced to cuddle with you.

WN enjoys your cuddles, he just feels like his pride is more important. (He feels that way, but he knows that’s not the case.)

It’s practically a never ending cycle of cuddles, No cuddles, Hey! don't go!!!, and more cuddles. But you wouldn’t have it any other way.