#cuz everythings so formal. If you ask me to fill out a form i am killing myself. Slash j

[synthetic-sonata]

it is so fucking hard to rp when you have anxiety this shit sucks

[chubbyreaderchan]

The Twins & the Mimic | Sesshomaru x human!Reader | Yashahime AU | 1

A/n: I can’t stand sessrin. So I am fixing in this fic. Pedomaru isn’t actually Sesshomaru and reader is the real mother to Satsuna and Towa. Reader is also from modern times just to be more inclusive! Don’t @me. Also female reader. Also not super accurate cuz I stopped watching the shit show after episode 4 so.... hahahah. Complete au.

“Delicious,” a deep voice spoke. 

An image of Sesshomaru, frozen in glass mid transformation was imbedded in the walls of a cave. Nearby, was his mate. His beautiful, human mate was also frozen in place nearby. Sesshomaru was stuck in a frightening pose and it would be quite a surprise for anyone who may stumble upon the image. Fifteen years ago they were trapped here by a mimic demon. 

A mimic who now wore the face of Sesshomaru and changed the memories of anyone who was even close to either of the two before him. Sesshomaru’s loyal subjects were just a few feet outside of the cave, yet Jaken hadn’t a clue that his masters were inside, trapped. 

That this Sesshomaru was an imposter. 

He made everyone believe that Rin did not marry Kohaku but ended up in the arms of Sesshomaru. The change in memories was delicious and the taste of power, though just a quarter of Sesshomaru’s was tantalizing. He didn’t care that the young half-demon spawn of the two were left alone. It didn’t matter.

The only thing that mattered was power and hunger for the demon who only got lucky. He licked his lips after absorbing Sesshomaru’s demonic aura.

The fake Sesshomaru stepped out of the cave and joined Jaken once more. 

“What do you do in there m’lord!” Jaken shouted, concerned. It felt strange to the elderly imp, but his mind said that it was normal. It felt to him that something was off but he couldn’t decide what. 

- 

Something was different this time when he left. His power weakened this time. The weakness seemed to be just enough, as a large crack began run down the center of Sesshomaru’s glass prison. It was just enough to allow his demonic power to materialize. With a flash of golden light it shattered into dust. 

Sesshomaru was free. 

The real Sesshomaru was free from his prison, angry. Beyond angry. His memory was fuzzy, for the last thing he remembered was telling his mate to go off and hide his pups. Everything after seemed blank. 

The demon lord turned on his heel to inspect where he was only to see his the beautiful mother of his children (Y/n) suspended. His rage boiled harder in his chest at the sight of his woman in such a state, and where were his pups? They were only a few weeks old when he was under attack. He glanced down at his hips to check for a sword but it was gone. 

Sesshomaru growled, his claws tinged green with his toxic nails which he used to weaken and destroy his lover’s cage. Without grace, she fell directly into his arms. 

“(Y/n).” Sesshomaru’s voice said gently. “Wake up.” 

Time like this he wished he still had the tensaiga’s power. His worry was quickly dissipated when he locked eyes with her. “S-Sesshomaru?” 

Her eyes widened, remembering the same things he had, only she came back to try and help him foolishly. 

“Wha--?” her body shot up. “Where are my babies?!” 

“Where did you leave them?” he responded carefully. Her face turned into a frown, tears welling in her eyes. “U-Under the tree! I left them with Rin and Jaken... I--” 

“Silence,” His tone was cold but (Y/n) knew he meant well. He wasn’t one for tears or comfort, but he did care about her. He also cared about his offspring and his adopted daughter Rin just as well. 

“Hold onto this Sesshomaru,” he said coolly. Her arms wrapped around the dog demon lords neck as he rushed out of the cave. 

"Something... is wrong,” She said softly, as Sesshomaru moved to the last place they had been before the attack. He tensed slightly, he was feeling it too. “What if--?�� 

“Silence,” Sesshomaru repeated, he didn’t want to think of the worst. He couldn’t. 

He had landed them right at the last thing he remembered. Just outside of the old village where he had once left young Rin to learn and once again left her there when Kohaku had married her. They were visiting with Towa and Setsuna that day. 

“Sesshomaru! They aren’t here!” She called, she ran off into the woods when they had arrived. “Rin--... I---” Panic was settling into the young woman. Where were they? 

“Maybe Kaede?” she looked to her own husband. Hope filled her eyes, he simply nodded allowing her to take lead in the search for their young babies. “Maybe Kagome has them!” 

It was a hope. She hoped they were with them, (Y/n) just knew her friend wouldn’t allow anything to happen to her babies. 

They arrived in the village. It had changed. A lot more young adults around but yet not much had changed besides that. 

“Is Lady Kaede home?” (Y/n) asked a young man who looked oddly like Miroku. 

He looked at her in surprise. “Lady (Y/n)?” 

“Have we met?” 

“Not since I was a child... Wait...” he frowned, eyes widening, thinking over the recent events. “Come with me. Lady Kaede should be in her hut” he glanced up noticing Sesshomaru behind her. However, he stayed outside upon arrival to her hut, knowing it kept the peace this way.

A look on his face was both surprise and confusion. He lead them to Kaede who looked busy creating some form of medication. 

“Lady Kaede... please. Tell me you know where my daughters are!” there was no time for formalities in her mind. Her poor babies were probably hungry. Who knows how long it had been since they nursed. Kaede froze, dropping the bowl in her hands. 

It was as if she was frozen in time, as years of memories flooded her mind. “Please”

“... (Y/n)...” she spoke her name slowly. The old woman said it again as if she were tasting it on her tongue. “Do you know how long it has been since you were here, my child?” She turned to face them, visibly much older than the last time she had saw her. 

The look shocked (Y/n) for a moment. “H-how long? Maybe a day or--”

“Fifteen years, (Y/n).”

Her lip quivered.

“Your daughters are fine but--. Sesshomaru,”

“He was trapped with me.” 

The elder’s eyes widened. Her memories were foggy. Flashes of Rin with twin girls being birthed in her hut and Sesshomaru running off showed in her mind. She frowned once the idea shattered like glass. In her mind it was quickly replaced, she wasn’t in her hut. No, when the twins were born they were in Sesshomaru’s mother’s palace. The chosen home for (Y/n) wanted her to be apart of her children’s lives since her own family wouldn’t be able to be there. 

Kaede remembered her birth being long and difficult. Kagome and Inuyasha were even there despite Sesshomaru’s protests. 

He had only wanted Kaede, his mother and Rin at the birth. 

The birth was long and hard but in the end (Y/n) and her twin daughters were happy and healthy. 

He never took them away. He never was cold towards his wife after the birth of his children. Sesshomaru sat on the mat in their room, holding tiny Towa while (Y/n) held tiny Setsuna. Why did she remember otherwise? 

Why did she remember Rin being the mother? That would have only--. 

“Your daughters are fine... but whoever stole my memories must have been the one to abandon them... and... Rin...”

Without hesitation (Y/n) left the hut. 

“Sesshomaru... we have to find them.” 

[ningningsplushie]

New Suit

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Word count: 2316

Genre: light angst, fluff, idol Yoongi, unintentional asshole Yoongi, steamy ;)

Summary: Yoongi LOVES coming to your shop for all his fashion needs. Coming in for a new fitting due to him ripping his previous suit from his muscles, you and him get to talking. 

Warnings: coarse language, does a makeout session count as a warning??? Mean (but unintentional) Yoongi, implied smut

“No, NO, absolutely not! Min Yoongi, get your ass out of my shop right this minute.” 

This was the third time this month that Yoongi came into Y/N’s tailor shop to request a brand new suit. What this man did with his suit jackets and shirts, she didn’t know, neither did she want to, but what she did want was him out of the door. 

“That’s not how you treat a customer, now is it?” he jeered, resting his elbow on the counter. 

Yoongi was notorious in Y/N’s shop. Always requesting a new fitting, a new pair of trousers or jacket, even going as far as asking for handmade embellishments. Her shop was a humble thing before he traipsed his way inside just a year ago but had quickly turned into a successful business due to his position in BTS. 

Y/N scoffs. “You’re not even a customer at this point. You’re more of a-a-I DON’T EVEN KNOW BUT PLEASE GIVE ME A BREAK!” She bursts, pulling at both ends of the tape measure in frustration. 

He tsks, focusing on her eyes as he asks, “Why are you so bent up over me coming here? I’m bringing you money and new customers, aren’t I?”

That part was definitely true. Ever since he stepped foot in the shop, her business was better than ever. Y/N owed it to Yoongi for everything taking off. If it weren’t for him, she probably would have had to close the place down. 

She sighs, shoulders slumping in defeat. “You’re right, Yoongi. I’m really sorry. New jacket and shirt for today?” 

Yoongi hums in satisfaction, playing around with the rings on his fingers. “You know me so well.” He praised, offering her his signature gummy smile. 

“Do I need to take your measurements again?” 

He tilts his head side to side in mock consideration, mouth set in a frown of concentration. “I think it’s better if you do. I’ve been hitting the gym a lot more.” 

Y/N crosses her arms, glaring at Yoongi. “Is that supposed to impress me?” 

“Does it not?” 

“No.” Immediately shooting away his chances at flirting. 

He waves his hand around, swatting at nothing but the air. “Either way, it’s the truth. My back muscles kept ripping everything you made me.” 

“I- Jesus Christ, Yoongi. How many times have you hit the gym this month?” 

He shrugs his shoulders, absentmindedly looking around the place. “Enough.” 

“Just please, step on the podium so we can get this over with.” She spits back. 

“With pleasure.” 

He steps on the podium and Y/N begins her work of measuring everything from his shoulders, arms, chest, sleeve length, and so on. 

She has her tape measure wrapped around his waist and it’s eerily silent. Normally Yoongi would try to crack jokes or make polite conversation but for some odd reason, it wasn’t happening today. 

“Is this for another award show?” She asks, fingers cinching the tape even tighter. 

“Yeah, as always.” He uttered, gaze focused on Y/N as she doesn’t pay attention to him. 

“You think you guys are going to win?” 

“I mean...I don’t want to get cocky or anything but whatever Min Yoongi wants, Min Yoongi gets.”

Y/N chuckles. “It’s nice to know your job is keeping you humble.” 

“Hey, it was a joke. Of course I hope we win. We all put our blood, sweat, and tears into this album. We worked really hard and we don’t want it to go unnoticed.”

Y/N didn’t want to admit it to him but ever since she met Yoongi, she’s been keeping up with the band. Watching award and comeback shows, listening to their newest releases, and following any press releases. She knew the boys, especially Yoongi, busted their asses off to get them where they are now. 

“I know you did. And don’t worry, you’ll be sweeping all the awards. Especially as best producer.” 

“Is this the Y/N being sweet? To me? Who would have thought?”

“Don’t get too cozy, Yoongi. This won’t be a regular occurrence,” she retorts back, wrapping the tape measure around his biceps. 

“What a shame,” he murmurs, admiring Y/N’s delicate hands around his arm. 

An awkward silence fills the room once more, only the sound of fabrics ruffling around and Y/N scribbling the rapper’s measurements in the notepad. 

“Yoongi, can I ask you something?”

He licks his lips, head tilting to the side, and looks at Y/N through his eyelashes. “Depends. Are you asking me out?” Cuz I-” 

“It’s definitely not that,” she huffs, cutting him off. “Not when you can have any girl in the world.”

Yoongi looks down at his shoes. “Any, but apparently not you,” he utters under his breath.

He supposed Y/N’s statement was true enough. There was an onslaught of men and women trying to get close with the rapper but in his eyes, only Y/N existed. 

“Anyways,” she continues, not hearing whispered confession. “If I’m not mistaken, you’re a millionaire or whatever. Why don’t you just have your own wardrobe filled with suits and outfits for events?” 

Y/N finishes with measuring Yoongi and takes a step back, putting the tape measure over her shoulders. With this question, he smirks and inches closer to Y/N, placing one hand in his pocket. “You’re a tailor, why don’t you just have a collection of my own suits for me?”

Y/N tenses up, eyes roving over Yoongi’s face for any hint of a joke. She gently pushes him by the shoulder, wanting to create space between each other. “Listen here, Min Yoongi, and listen good. I am not your personal tailor. You can’t show up here every week for a new order because you’re too incompitent to take care of your clothing and expect me to comply with a smile. Your orders are not my main concern, not when I have so many other customers.” 

Yoongi regretted the words the second they left his mouth. He was trying so hard to be that sly and charming type but in Y/N’s presence, his words jumble up and he says the exact opposite of what he means to say. He didn’t mean to play Y/N out like his personal seamstress but there certainly was a reason why he came to her shop for every one of his fashion needs. It was odd, really, but every time he wore something she had made, she could feel the care and detail that was put into it and it made him feel like it was especially for him. Wearing clothing from another designer felt wrong. 

“Y/N, I’m so sorry, I-”

She puts her hand up, interjecting him. “Save it, Yoongi. I’m done with your business for now. Your suit will be done in a week. Have a nice day.”

Yoongi pushes his hair from his forehead back, nodding his head and walking towards the exit, not saying anything more in fear of upsetting her further. 

A week later

It’s a week after Yoongi’s idiotic slip-up in Y/N’s store and to say that he was nervous to face her, would be an understatement. He wanted to apologize and make it up to her, for all the times he thought he was being funny or slick but was a complete dick in reality. He hesitantly walks into the shop, a large box in hand, the chime of the bells sounding more like a cacophony of jeers. 

Normally, he’d find Y/N in the main room altering a few of her creations or taking the measurements of new customers, but as of now, she’s nowhere to be found. 

“Y-Y/N!” He stutters, peering through the different doorways, trying to find her. 

“Just a minute!” She yells back from her workroom. 

A few long minutes pass by and she leaves her workroom, thinking it was another customer and not Yoongi. “Hello, what can I do for y-oh. It’s you. Hi Yoongi. I’ll get your suit for you.” 

She leaves once more and Yoongi debates on just dropping the box and running out the door, afraid that he’d fuck up even more. 

“Here Yoongi, I changed it up a little bit since you’ve been wearing black for a while now. I hope it’s to your liking.” 

Not only did she make him a new button-up and jacket, but she even went the extra mile and made a new pair of trousers, a tie, and a pocket hanky. He looked at the suit through the clear bag, offering a tight-lipped smile. “I love it. Your talent never fails to amaze me. But please, don’t be so formal.”

“I’m sorry but we’re nothing more than customers and sellers. It’s strictly professional.”

With a dejected look spread across his face, he attempts to reach for Y/N’s hand but she pulls back, placing the suit on a counter. “You can’t mean that.”

“I do mean it. You’re taking me and my work for granted and you keep asking me to pump out designs. I’m exhausted, Yoongi.” 

He nods, ruffling his hair and tightening his grasp on the box. “If you really feel that way then please, hear me out first and if your choice doesn’t change, then that’s fine.”

“Alright,” she says softly, “I’m listening.”

Yoongi places the box on the counter, next to the bagged suit. “I come to your shop because I like seeing you. I like wearing the clothing you make for me, just for me and the details you put into it because I know that you pay attention to me even if you don’t want to admit it. I like the way you scold me and I like the way you get shy whenever I say something stupid. What I don’t like was overworking you and forcing you to neglect other orders. It was so selfish of me because I just can't get enough of you. I want to walk in here everyday and ask for the most stupid things like a new tie or pair of socks. But I won’t, because I know you don’t like that.”

Y/N’s eyes go wide and her mouth forms an ‘o’ shape but Yoongi proceeds with his declaration. “I’m so sorry for hurting you, that wasn’t my intention. I was...I was just trying to flirt with you but I got nervous and messed everything up.”

“Why would you want to flirt with me?” she asks, jutting her bottom lip out.

“Are you that oblivious!? Because I like you for fuck’s sakes! You make me-you make me wanna-”

Yoongi pulls Y/N both of her arms towards him and smashes his lips onto hers. Y/N at first tenses up at the contact, shocked by his response, which makes Yoongi want to pull away from her, scared that he messed things up between them even more. Just as he’s about to disconnect his lips from hers, Y/N melts into the kiss, arms no longer frigid along her sides, but now finding their way into his mint green locks. Adrenaline courses through Yoongi’s body, giving him the confidence to deepen the kiss. 

Yoongi could only focus on her. How her lips felt, how she tasted, how her hands gripped his hair and the back of the neck. He could feel her knees begin to buckle and he mumbles into her lips, “jump.” She does so and Yoongi hooks his arms under her thighs. To him, nothing and no one else existed. Time seemed to stop yet zoom past all at once, he wasn’t so certain, but what he did know was that he would stay glued to Y/N for the rest of his life if he could. Y/N begins to draw back and utters a small, “Yoongi, we can’t.”

He continues leaving sloppy kisses on her jaw and neck, mumbling into her skin, “Can’t what?”

“This. I can’t be with you. What are people going to say? They won’t like that you're with...a seamstress.” 

Yoongi’s lips disconnect from Y/N and he looks at her, both of their lips plump from making out. “They’re gonna say a whole lot. But guess what? I don’t give a shit. They’re not the ones kissing you,” A kiss to the left side of her mouth. “They’re not the ones craving you,” another kiss to the right side of her mouth. “And they’re certainly not the ones who are going to date you.” He plants another kiss on the center of her mouth.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to regret it.” Y/N counters, unsure of his confession. 

“Y/N, I’ve never been so sure about a person in my whole life. If people want to talk, we’ll let them talk because we won’t be listening. I’ll be too busy with you.” He smirks, letting go of Y/N’s thighs. “So what do you say?” He slides the box towards Y/N, opening the lid for her, revealing a gorgeous dress of tulle and silk.

“I know you love fashion more than anything so I had this dress made just for you. It doesn’t beat any of your clothing but I hope you still like it. I also hope you’ll wear this on our first date?” He draws up the tone of the last statement, closing his eyes in fear of being rejected. 

“Yoongi, I absolutely love it. Thank you so much.” He begins to loosen his shoulders, reopening his eyes. Y/N snakes her hand up to his chest, pausing when she reaches his shoulder and leans in towards his ear, whispering, “I’d love to go out with you, Min Yoongi.”

He reattaches his lips with hers yet again, causing her to gasp in surprise. “Maybe if I’m lucky, it’ll end up on the floor at the end of the night.”

[alri-xo]

Ship of Dreams (Titanic 1997 AU) | Chapter 4

Gif not mine.

A/N: Hiiiii everyooooone! So this is again, another chapter and I feel like this should marinate really well just cuz... This bitch literally took a month off because of a writer’s block or burn out as some people like to call it. So i spent time literally taking a break then BAM! My boyfriend (reconnected bih) let me barrow his laptop so I’m just taking advatage of its presence right now. BUT I WILL NOT BE PUTTING ANY READING BREAKS BECAUSE I WILL NOT BE HAVING THIS FOR LONG AND I WOULDN’T WANT ANY INCONSISTENT CONTENT. Yo girl also added in some deleted scenes for a dash of new flavor and tweaked the scenes a little bitty bit. So yeah I hope y’all like this <3 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes (Winter Soldier) x Reader

Warning: Language, Descriptive spitting, spit... Just spit. And language probably. And me remembering how Ruth (Rose’s mom in the movie) looks like a bug from bug’s life (I said it. sorry not sorry.)

Reader's Point of View

The next day, I remember thinking how the sunlight felt. As if I have never felt the sun in years.

Maybe he's right about me being an indoor girl...

I walk down the ship, passing by the other passengers of first-class, who are doing what they fancy. Chattering back and forth in their big hats and black coats in broad daylight, for the protection of their complexion.

I made my way to the metal divide that separates third-class passengers from our part of the ship. I unlock the small metal gate which had a sign against third-class, making sure no one would notice.

Otherwise, I would get an earful from Alexander and my mother. That doesn't matter now.

I need a word with him.

Third Person Point of View

The playing of a piano and the merry singing of some of the men on the ship, melodious to the people in their own little bubble or the ones playing cards holding their beers.

The women and their endless gossip, background noise in the midst of the children's babbles and screams of delight on the third-class part of the ship.

All of these a symphony for everyone on the ship. Particularly Sam who is looking at Bucky's drawings, and noticing that he draws from the life around him. Like the bearded man laughing with his friends just across where he is seated.

He puffs a cigarette and smiles impressed with his work, "These are good... Very good..."

Bucky smiles his way as he goes back to teaching a little girl named Amelia to draw in his leather sketch pad. Though all were scribbles and it looked hideous for his adult, artist eyes, he commended her for her efforts.

Steve however, found a girl to talk to. His newspaper boy hat covering his blonde hair as the girl looked like a young doe, making him blush as they spoke.

"Steve..." he greets to her shaking her hand nervously, he wasn't really one like Bucky...

"Peggy..." she greets back shaking his hand, making him blush more... Her voice like the plucking of harp strings.

The three of them having their own fun in their own little worlds, but a moment later Amelia's parents approached Bucky, "Time to go, Amelia... Say goodbye to Uncle Bucky..." her father says holding her small hand.

She stands up to walk away, waving goodbye to him, "Bye, Uncle Bucky..."

"Bye, Amelia..." he smiles as he slides his pencil in his sketchpad, keeping it safe.

Amongst the chatter and noise of the people and the piano playing, Y/N descends down the stairs. Her dress and skin aglow under the mid morning sun peeping through the stairway.

Her hair donned in an elegant updo and her dress in shining satin, her waist cinched with a belt that had a buckle of crystals.

Women and men turned their heads, some stood up to look at her. Her sophisticated facade alien to the people of the lower class, who would only look like that on special occasions.

She walked down a path clear of people, like a bride walking down the aisle. All eyes were on her, her beauty like a beacon of light as she graced everyone of her presence.

Like an angel from Heaven.

She was like royalty, smiling and giving small nods of greeting to the people around her. The women gossiped and chattered about her looks. Negative? Positive? It didn't matter.

Sam caught glimpse of her then tapped Steve's shoulder, "On your left..."

Steve and Peggy turned their attention to her as she drew closer. He then tapped Bucky's shoulder and gestured him to look forth.

His eyes lit up as she approached him. His heart beats faster and he feels all eyes were on him and Y/N.

"Hello, Mr. Barnes..."

"Hello again..." he says as he stands up with his hands behind his back, his sketch pad under his arm.

"May I have a word with you?" She asks with begging eyes. Bucky feels sweat form on his forehead like a crown.

Did he do something wrong? Is he going to face a false accusation? Is the dinner off?

"Yeah, sure..." he says, still as he gestures for her to sit near people she doesn't know.

"In private..."

💎

"I've been kinda alone ever since I left New York... Well, me and my bestfriend Steve were alone... He's like a brother to me..." Bucky says as him and Y/N walk along the ship, her listening attentively, "Since then we've been travelling like tumbleweeds in the wind... Working where ever stopped over..."

Y/N nods in response, feeling the wind gently blow cool air on her face as Bucky inhales the fresh sea breeze with the scent of nearby cigarettes.

"Y'know what, Y/N... We've talked about how great the weather is and I told you things about me..." he says breaking the silence between them, "But I reckon that's not what we came here to talk..."

Y/N's gears turned, snapping out of the seemingly normal conversation with Bucky, "Mr. Barnes-"

"James..."

"James... I would like to thank you for saving me last night... And for your discretion..." she says formally in gratitude.

"You're welcome..." Bucky grins at her as they slowed their pace in short silence.

"I know what you're thinking, 'Poor little rich girl... What does she know about misery?'" She says walking a little faster in embarrassment.

Bucky raises an eyebrow, unbeknownst to Y/N who is looking down, "No, no... That's not what I was thinking. What I was thinking was, 'What could've happened to hurt this girl so much she thought she had no way out?"

Y/N inhaled, collecting her thoughts. Thoughts fuelled by a smidge of anger, and a whole lot of hopelessness, "It was everything. It was... It was my whole world and all the people in it... And the inertia in my life, plunging ahead of me, powerless to stop it," she says, flipping to the back of her hand, a sizeable diamond on her ring finger.

Bucky's eyes grow wide as he held her smooth hand, the diamond reflecting the sunlight back to the open sparkling like how it should, "God, look at that nut... You would've gone straight to the bottom..."

"500 invitations have gone out... All of New York's society will be there..." she says hopelessly, "And all the while I feel... I feel like I'm standing in the middle of a crowded room, screaming at the top of my lungs and no one even looks up..."

Bucky looks at her expressions carefully, wondering why a girl like her feels so helpless. A girl that is going to be married off to a rich guy... She should be happy. At least it's what he thinks.

Maybe she thinks otherwise.

"Do you love him?"

Y/N looks at him puzzled, "Pardon me?"

Bucky's Point of View

"Do you love him?" I asked again, emphasizing the question more as she gawks at me like I murdered someone.

"You're being very rude..." she says with a bit of shock in her voice, "You shouldn't be asking me this..."

Well technically, yes... I shouldn't. But just to, piece it all out on why she's feeling like this it just feels appropriate to ask. Women like her should be happy because they're getting married... Let alone to a rich man like Alexander.

"Well, it's a simple question... Do you love the guy or not?" I ask one more time, just to get the answer that's right under her cute nose.

"This is not a suitable conversation, James..." she scoffs at me, dodging my question with an answer that's not what I'm looking for...

I laughed a little, "Why won't you just answer the question?"

She shakes her head and chuckles, "This is absurd! You don't know me, and I don't know you and we are not having this conversation!"

I just smiled at her and nodded, listening as she rants her frustrations, "You are rude, cocky and presumptuous and-"

"You insulted me..."

"Yes... And... I am leaving now." She then proceeds to shake my hand, "James-"

"Bucky..."

She looks at me confused, "Who the hell is Bucky?"

"My friends call me Bucky... Buchanan is my middle name..."

"Well, Bucky... I am not your friend, I am your acquaintance and I... I am about to leave... It's been nice meeting you, James..." she says stomping away and I just chuckle at her.

She then turns to face me, "You are so annoying!" She then walks nearer to me, "Wait, this is my side of the ship! You leave!"

"Oh... Well, well, well... Now that's being rude..." I chuckle and joked and she scoffs at me, eyeing me up and down, spotting my sketch pad.

"What is this stupid thing you're carrying?" She asks me, as if trying to be rude, "What are you an artist or something?"

She flips through the pages of my sketch pad, black and white sketches filling the pages, "These are good... Very good, actually..."

I wait patiently as she flipped through the pages and I feel her eyes on me for a moment, "Bucky, these are exquisite..." she praises and I just nod...

"Well, didn't think much of the ol' Paree..." I shrugged as she skimmed through the thin sheets of paper.

"Paris?" She says tracing her fingers on the dark strokes on the paper, "You do get around... For a p-... Person... with... Limited Means-"

"Yeah, you can say 'poor...'" I say chuckling and she smiles...

She flips through a page with a naked woman laying in bed, then to the next page with another woman standing up, still naked, "Well, well, well..."

She continues, "Are these drawn from life?"

I was about to answer but man passes by us and she lowers the cover of the sketch pad to shield the naked drawings from the eyes of people who are conservative.

"That's one of the good things about Paris... Lots of girls are willing to take their clothes off..."

She flips to another page, and she looks at her carefully, "You like this woman... You used her several times..."

"Well, a part of her... She had beautiful hands..." I show her a sketch of just her hands, "Y'see?"

"You must've had a love affair with her..." she says raising a brow playfully at me and I shake my head.

"No, no... Just with her hands..." I say, "She's actually a one-legged prostitute..." I show her a sketch of the same woman, her amputated state in all of her glory.

She gawks at the page and chuckles. I look at her and I see her face glow as she stiffles giggles slipping out her lips, "She had a sense of humor, though..."

She looks at me then looks back at the sketch pad, the page flipped to one of my favourite pieces, "This lady used to out to the bar every night, wearing all the jewellery she owned, waiting for her long lost love... We called her Madame Bijoux..."

She took a good look at her, and ran her fingertips on the pencil strokes once again, "You truly have a gift... Bucky..." she looked to me before she continued, "You see people..."

"I see you..."

Her face flushed slightly, and smiled nonchalantly, raising her head, "And...?"

"You would've jumped."

Natasha’s Point of View

Another new day, another time to put on that familiar mask that I abandon once I wake up from my bed. A feathery hat of a different variant seats on a small table in my quarters as I prepare to go have some tea with the others. 

Being surrounded by rich people feels like second nature, as I’m still taking time to get used to judgmental eyes looking at me or entitled individuals think that I am oblivious and uncultured. Might I say I am also playing their little games, especially the women of first class. 

I may look like one of them, but my heart is otherwise. 

I faintly hear them gossip as I draw nearer to their table.

“Oh it’s that vulgar Natasha again.” 

“Quickly before she sits with us.”

I put a smile on my face as they stood up simultaneously, pretending to be the oblivious woman they think I am, “Hello, girls. I was hoping I’d catch you at tea,” I greet, seeing their just sipped on tea cups, nearly full to the brim and still hot. 

“Oh, we were about to leave... Sorry, but we are about to take a stroll on the boat deck,” Katherine says looking at the countess with wide eyes to ride the show they were putting right in front of me.

“That sounds great! I’d like to catch up on my gossip,” I beamed at them, Katherine’s lips pursed as I could sense her gritting her teeth as I strolled away with the other two women. 

It’s foolish to fool me as I have seen it all. 

Thor’s Point of View 

“You haven’t lit the last few boilers, Odinson?” Tony asks, puffing a cigar looking at me with a raised eyebrow.

“No, but we’re making excellent time,” I grinned at him, “A perfect day in New York when we reach land and I guarantee it.”

“Captain...” he begins as he downs a sip of whiskey, “The press knows how large the Titanic is. Let them marvel at her speed too. We must give them a new story to print and make the maiden voyage of the Titanic make headlines!” he says impatiently, with a beam on his face.

“With all due respect, Mr. Stark... I wouldn’t pressure the boilers until they have been properly run in...”

He clenches his jaw as I denied his request, then a grin paints his face, “Oh, I would leave you to it, Captain Odinson. But wouldn’t it be nice to surprise them when we arrive in New York on tuesday night and surprise them all?” he then slaps the table, “It would be nice to retire with a bang, Thor...” 

I just nodded stiffly as he downed his remaining whiskey.

💎

Third Person’s Point of View

Bucky and Y/N walked down the deck, the afternoon sun lighting it up the ship’s boards as the people cast shadows on the white exterior walls on the deck. Bucky listened to Y/N’s musings as she said her hands were made for work, to be an artist or a sculptor and her own exhibit. She also dished on why she hates caviar, as he remarked that she couldn’t live a day without it. 

“Poor but free,” she said as he smiled. Y/N truly was a free bird around him, and she loved it. To be as silly as she wants and to be as expressive as she wants. 

A man that carried a tray of tea and caviar passed by, “Would you like some tea or caviar, miss?”

“NO!” Y/N exclaimed sternly looking at the poor steward, making Bucky laugh heartily to see her loud. 

She then spotted a man with a vintage camera and proceeds to go in front of it and act like a picture actress, as being one was also one of her musings. She put acted like a damsel in distress and closed her eyes as the camera rolled, she opened one to look at Bucky, who’s steel blues twinkled despite being shadowed by his hooded eyes, the warm sunlight illuminating his face. 

They then proceeded to go to a higher part of the deck to admire the people walking around on the lower part of the ship, looking quite small. To Y/N this was a thing that she needed to get used to, as all her life she was indoors for the most part. She never basked out under the afternoon sun as it sets. To Bucky, it’s a chance to see the sun at its golden hour, the ship’s lights starting to light up in the incoming sunset. 

However, she seems lit from within. A thing that Bucky never noticed. In Y/N’s heart she felt a sliver of hope when she went to see him in third class. Now that she’s with him, it feels like an escape. A safe haven away from the pressuring eyes of first class. 

Bucky told her stories about how he made only ten whole cents per sketch when he was in Santa Monica and Los Angeles. And how he went to Paris when the weather gets cold to see what the real artists were doing.

“Why can’t I be like you, Bucky? Just head out for the horizon when I feel like it?” she asks as she looks at the warm dusk sky, “Say we’ll go there, to the pier... Even if we just talk about it... And just that...”

“Alright, we’re going...” Bucky grins at her as Y/N smile grows on her face, “We can have a couple of cheap beers, ride on a roller coaster until we throw up and ride horses right on the surf. But ride them cowboy style and none of that side-saddle stuff...”

Her eyes spark interest when he spoke of the side-saddle, in all her life she was taught that was the proper way of riding a horse for a lady, “You mean one leg on each side?! How scandalous... You can show me how to do that?”

“Sure... ‘S not a big deal...” He says making her smile even more and she looked out for a moment in thought. 

“Teach me how to ride like a man...” she says, then her eyes spark happily, “Then spit like a man!” she says in a goofy southern accent.

“They didn’t teach you that in finishing school?” 

“No!”

He paused a little then smiled, “C’mon I’ll show you..”

He proceeds grab her wrist and she pulls her, but she resists “No! Bucky this is ridiculous I was just joking!” 

“C’mon!”

“I couldn’t possibly do it!”

💎

Reader’s Point of View

We went back to the lower part of the deck, nothing in front of us but the tide.

“Watch closely,” Bucky leans backward to collect enough spit than arc forward, launching it like a cannon as it plops in the sea below us, “Your turn...”

“What?! That’s disgusting!” I exclaim as I see it floating farther away.

“You wanna spit like a man, right?” He asks me, “Do it...”

I looked around apprehensively to see if anyone was looking as I collected enough spit that my mouth can produce and spat it out the water. 

It looked pathetic.

“That was pitiful... Just pitiful... Here.. Like this..” he says as he collects more in his mouth and maybe some phlegm along with it, “Hawk it down... HNNNNNK... Then roll it up to your tongue like this...”

Oh is it easier to learn it then to watch? Yes. 

“Big breathe then,” he spat it farther away than the first one, “You see the range on that thing!”

I started to collect spit as I applied what he just said, and spat it out, a LOT farther away than my first attempt. 

“That was great... But you could do better..” He says as he leans back and tries to repeat the same action. I hear my mother’s familiar voice chatting away with some other women which made me turn.

I’m going to be crushed. 

I felt my body grow cold in embarrassment as I tap Bucky on his side making him turn to my mother and her companions, spit running down his chin and a big gulp going down his throat.  

She looks so displeased. 

“Mother, may I introduce to you James Barnes...” 

She eyes him up and down, looking at his probably day old clothes and the dribble down his chin, “Charmed I’m sure.”

Natasha looked at him and pointed at her chin, gesturing that there was something on his face. He wipes it quickly with his hand and on to his pants as he smiled awkwardly afterwards.

Others were gracious and curious about the man who saved my life. But my mother looked at him like an insect, a dangerous insect that must be squashed quickly.

“Well, James... Seems like you’re a good man to have around in a sticky situation...” Natasha grins as he does the same right back at her.

The brass sounds its tune to let everybody know it’s nearly time for supper. 

“Why do they insist on always announcing dinner like a damn cavalry charge?” Nat jokes as we laugh with her for a short moment. 

Perfect timing.

“Shall we go get dressed, mother?” I ask as I lead her away from Bucky and the scene that we were in, “See you in dinner, James...” 

Natasha’s Point of View 

Katherine and Y/N leave as this young man toodles at them as they disappear in the crowd.

This kid is out of his mind. 

“Uh.. Son...” I begin to call out to him to snap him out of his head as he continues to look for her in plain sight, “Son!”

“Hmm?”

Thank goodness. However, like a drunk, looking love struck as he was when she said goodbye.

I look at him attentively and sternly, “Do you have the slightest comprehension of what you’re doing?”

He shrugs nonchalantly and grins the same way, “No, not really...”

“Well, you’re about to go into the snake pit...” I say almost sarcastically. 

If only it was really just sarcastic. 

“And what are you planning to wear?” I ask him.

He gestures to his current attire and shrugs. He didn’t think this through enough.

“I figured... C’mon...”

<- Previous | Next ->

A/N: DID YOU SEE WHAT I DID HERE?! I made it longer because when I published it i though I dun fucked up because it was like so short and just... You know... Meh... So I took it down, and added a second floor to like add a bit more richness y’knowhat’msaying... So yeah... And with the addition of the newer parts the story is all going according to how I initially planned it! YAY. So... I hope you liked reading this chapter.. And I’m sorry it took so long for me to update. Stand up to what’s right and STAY SAFE BABIES 

-Alri

Taggies ♥ (DROP ME AN ASK IF YOU WANT IN!)

@witchymegg​ @amisutcliff​ @theaussiedragon​ @likeit-or-leaveit​ @uglipotata72829​ @vhsbarnes​ @luna4501​ @kaithezaftig​ @underworldqueen13​ @moshymosh​

[air-bison-yip-yip]

@ritareigns suggested the following prompt: I hope this isn’t too boring but Edo teaching Ele how to slow dance - she’s never slow danced with anyone and Edo teaches her in the kitchen (or wherever u want I just thought kitchen would be cute cuz they bonded in Edo’s kitchen in the sleepover) I thought it’d be an intimate/cute moment for them :)

thanks for this prompt! it was so much fun and thank you to my lovely @nnegan13 for her words of encouragement + proofreading (also on ao3)

------

“You’re hopeless,” Filo announced dropping Ele’s hands and stepping away from her.

“Filooo,” Eleonora whined. “Help me! You promised.” Ele followed Filo out of the kitchen.

“No, Ele, you have no talent. I thought I could teach you, but you need professional help.” Filo told her. Filo walked back to the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it with a chilled white wine of some sort.

“I do not!” Ele stomped her foot in denial.

“You do, spider. You need to learn to follow. I swear,” Filo told her truthfully. “You just fight for dominance the whole time. You have to trust your partner.”

Ele stood looking at Filo with narrowed eyes. “I trust you fine,” Ele ground out. Filo scoffed immediately at Ele.

“I’m out, Ele,” Filo told her taking his wine into the room and shutting the door. Eleonora was left standing in the kitchen trying hard not to feel exceptionally annoyed at her situation.

Why did she even need to know how to slow dance ‘properly’? She was truly going to kill Silvia for having a theme that required such hardship. Eleonora knew that she didn’t have to dance. She could’ve sat it out, but then Silvia had looked at her with her big puppy eyes and talked about her birthday wish to have a formal dance with proper slow dancing and Eleonora was loathed to deny her anything.

Except apparently, she’s unfucking teachable, according to Filo. It’s not that Eleonora didn’t know how to dance. Of course, she did. But, uh, actual slow dancing rather than swaying just wasn’t her strong suit. She felt stiff and uncomfortable, and she didn’t understand why she needed to learn a box step anyways.

She had other skills. Other goddamn relevant skills to everyday life. Eleonora huffed into her room and sat on her bed, thinking of her options.

It wouldn’t actually matter if she couldn’t dance, but Eleonora didn’t like failing at things. And now she felt like a failure.

Ele groaned aloud and flopped back on her bed.

Nope, not happening. She was not going to pity her apparent lack of coordination. She reached out for her phone noticed it was well past midnight but decided she didn’t care. The party was tomorrow, well, today technically and she was going to learn how to slow dance.

She pulled up her favorites and pressed three holding the phone up to her ear, still lying on her bed.

“Ele?” Edo’s voice was muffled and scratchy, and she knew she had woken him up. She winced, even though he couldn’t see her.

“Hi, sorry, I didn’t think this through,” Ele told him, her voice a low whisper in return.

“Are you okay?” He asked a bit more urgency in his voice.

“I am absolutely fine. This is going to seem ridiculous now that I have woken you up.” Ele sighed. She heard movement through the phone and Edoardo cleared his throat.

“What’s going on?” He inquired.

“I need your help,” Ele told him hesitantly.

“Okay, of course. With what?”

“Well…” Ele started before rolling her eyes at herself. This is ridiculous.

“Ele?” He asked.

“Slow dancing.” Eleonora finally admitted. The phrase came out petulant, and she could hear the amusement lacing Edoardo’s tone in his reply.

“You need me to help you slow dance?” Edo asked. Eleonora decided she might just hurt everyone involved. She hated feeling dumb, she hated giving up control, and she felt stupid for making this phone call.

“Can you help me or not?” She ground out.

“Well, you’re in luck. I attended many formal dance lessons because of my nonna.”

“Really?” Ele asked and felt relief for the first time that day.

“Yes.”

“Great. Come over.” Eleonora demanded. She heard Edoardo chuckle on the other end of the phone, but she could tell he was getting out of bed.

“The lengths I go to for you, Eleonora Francesca Sava,” He teased her.

Ele laughed. “I’ll see you soon.” And hung up her phone. She glanced down at her pajamas, short shorts that barely peeked out over the oversized long sleeved shirt. Ele decided she didn’t want to change. She was comfortable, and it’s not like within the last month of dating Edoardo hadn’t seen her in various types of clothes...and states of undress.

She did go to the bathroom and brush her teeth, just for good measure, though. She was padding around in the living room when Filo re-emerged from his room, the wine glass from earlier empty.

“Why are you just lurking in our living room, Ele?” He asked, his eyes narrowing.

“I’m not lurking. I’m standing. You know, casually. In our living room. Like a normal day.” Eleonora winced at the awkwardness, and she knew that Filo was about to pounce for information.

Luckily, or perhaps, regretfully, their apartment bell buzzed before he could say anything.

“Well, well, well, who do we have calling at this hour?” He asked. Filo turned to the door, but Eleonora was quicker. She buzzed the door open and turned to face Filo, her back against the door.

“Go to bed, Filo!” She scolded. Filo just wagged his finger at her and Eleonora knew this situation was going to get exceedingly more embarrassing before it got better. There was a knock at the door, and Eleonora gave Filo a cold look. Filo, for his part, held up his hands as if surrendering, but the smirk was firmly in place.

Ele turned around and opened the door to see a sleep mussed Edoardo (one of her absolute favorite looks), and she shuffled back, pushing Filo with her butt to get out of the way to let Edo in.

Edo gave Ele a soft smile before turning to look at Filo with wide eyes at the pure Cheshire grin on Filo’s face.

“What can we do for you, Edoardo?” Filo purred. Eleonora wanted this to end immediately.

“Okay, Filo, out. Go to bed. Get your nightly wine bottle and go to your room.”

“Now, Ele, you are being so rude in front of our guest,” Filo replied.

“Filo.” She reprimanded. Filo stood waiting in the hallway, refusing to leave without having more information.

“You are so annoying. He’s teaching me to slow dance! Okay?!?” Ele kept from shouting, but just barely.

Filo began laughing, and Eleonora wondered how childish it would be to elbow him in the ribs. Edoardo stayed silent, but she felt his hand clasped hers, and his thumb ran soothing circles near her thumb. Ele leaned into his warmth.

“She’s fucking awful!” Filo told Edo, ignoring Eleonora completely.

“I’m sure she’s not that bad--” Edo started, but Filo talked over him.

“She’s bad. She can’t relax, and she steps on all your toes. I gave up like an hour ago.” Edoardo tried very hard not to smile, but Eleonora could see the twitch of his lips. She squeezed his hand once in complaint.

“Well we will give it a go and see what we can do,” Edo told him diplomatically.

Filo looked between both of them before deciding that the situation no longer amused him. He turned on his heel and walked back to his room, shouting “good luck,” before shutting his door. Eleonora slumped back against the wall of the hallway.

Edoardo shifted, his body caging her in.

“Hi,” he whispered, leaning down.

“Hi,” Eleonora told him before closing the distance and kissing him firmly. Her kiss was messy and demanding, and she tried to get out some of her earlier frustration out now. Her teeth pulled on Edoardo’s lower lip, and she felt him shiver.

See? She thought to herself. She’s great at many other useful everyday skills.

Edoardo pulled away, panting slightly. “We should dance, maybe?” He asked although she got the impression that he would consider the night productive if she hauled him into her bedroom and did other things besides dancing.

“Yes,” She grumbled. She grabbed Edoardo’s hand and led him to the kitchen, where she had her speaker. She played a mid-tempo classical piece and stood rigidly in the kitchen. Edoardo came to stand in front of her.

“Relax,” Edoardo told her, his hands coming to grab her waist. “This should be fun.” Ele’s pout grew, and Edoardo chastely kissed it away.

“Close your eyes, Ele,” Edo whispered in her ear. He pulled her waist closer to him. One hand gently wrapped around her hip while the other held her hand up. At the very least, she could stand like she knew how to slow dance. “All I need you to do is trust me,” Edo said.

Eleonora’s eyes snapped open at his tone. The teasing affection was still there, but a current of vulnerability ran through his statement. She swallowed, remembering their fight before their reunion that he was leaving her because she didn’t trust him.

She hadn’t then. She did now. But looking at Edoardo now somewhat off-kilter, standing in her kitchen past one in the morning, hair wild, and looking timid at his statement, she knew that maybe Edoardo didn’t totally know that she trusted him with everything. Her body, her heart, her soul.

She nodded gently and leaned into his body. “I trust you completely, Edo.” Edo smiled slightly, his eyes twinkled in the dim light of the kitchen, the soft music playing felt romantic and happy, and Eleonora thought that this might be one of her happiest moments.

It was a mundane one. It wasn’t a grand romantic gesture. It wasn’t anything particularly special. Perhaps, though, this is what made Ele appreciate it so much more. She knew, without a single doubt, that Edoardo would come over any time she asked it of him if he was able. That he would go to extreme lengths for her, with or without her asking. He was solid and warm beneath her fingers, and she felt cherished, always, but especially now.

She leaned her head against his shoulder. It wasn’t a proper slow dance form, at least she didn’t think so, but just this moment she didn’t care. She just wanted to be in Edoardo’s arms.

He kissed the top of her head and took a small step backwards. Before Ele could move her head, look down at her feet, ask a question, Edo gave her instructions.

“All you have to do is follow me.” She nodded against his shoulder and took a small step forward, mirroring his own actions. He continued this. He would take a step, and Eleonora followed. They continued for a few songs. She felt more comfortable. Edoardo would murmur whispers of encouragement. When the fourth song finally ended, Ele grasped Edoardo’s head in her hands, cradling his face. She gave him a soft kiss on the lips and leaned back to look at him.

Her Edo.

One day she would make sure that Edoardo knew with absolute certainty that she would follow him anywhere, to any place, for anything without a single hesitation.

But for now, she was content with wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him in for a hug.

“Let’s go to bed.” She told him, pulling away and taking his hand, leading him to her room, watching him follow immediately and feeling joy at the realization that, he too, might just follow her anywhere.

[alwaysamusedao3]

Born of Ice, Raised with Fire: Memories

Hey. Uh.

It’s been about five years since I’ve touched this series, and I’ll be honest, I don’t remember a lot of the structure I built up for it. I probably couldn’t get back into writing this series if I tried. The synopsis of Memories is here.

Regardless.

About five years ago, I did start writing the last installment. It is incomplete, and the synopsis of the rest is in another post. But, because my readers are awesome, here are chapters 1 & 2 of Part Three: Memories.

1.

In a frozen wasteland, a vertical line of light appeared in the air. Green light, to be exact. After a few moment, it extended horizontally, and became an oval instead, growing larger. A black-haired man stepped through, his foot sinking into the snow. Having not expected this, he yelped and fell forwards, hitting the ground with an “Oof!”

A woman stepped through next, and promptly yelped, falling on top of him. “Sorry, Loki! I'm sorry!” She said and scrambled off of him as he moaned, sitting up and wiping the snow off of his face, looking around.

“So,” the woman said. “Where are we?”

“Jotunheim,” Loki replied, standing up and brushing the fluffy snow off his clothes. He then helped her up and looked around, shivering.

“I thought we were going to Nidavellir,” she said, looking around as she tried to warm herself up.

“I changed my mind,” he shrugged, but he wore a wicked grin. “You were complaining of the cold too much.”

“Oh, ha ha,” she said, teeth chattering. “Is there a w-warming spell or someth-thing?”

“Wha- Oh! My apologies, Darcy,” he waved a hand at her and she sighed, warming up a bit. She tugged her hat over her ears and rearranged her scarf as Loki continued to look around. “This way, I think.,” he said, pointing.

“You think?” She said, raising an eyebrow, shouldering her backpack.

“I've only been here once before,” Loki said indignantly, beginning to trudge through the snow. Darcy followed, glad that he was in front of her.

“Shouldn't you, like, turn blue?” She asked. “They don't exactly like Asgardians, from what you've told me.”

“True,” Loki mused. “But... well...”

“Still don't like being blue?” She grinned. “Oh, c'mon, it's not bad, Smurf-face.”

“I resent that nickname,” Loki sighed and she laughed.

“Maybe you'll be less cold?” She offered. “Besides, it's a bit disrespectful.”

Loki huffed and finally shifted into his Jotnar form. “Happy?”

“Delighted,” she grinned, linking arms with him. “So where're we going?”

“The Temple,” Loki replied. “I'm not exactly sure where everything is, but it shouldn't be too hard to figure out. And Helbindi said I'd be welcome here any time, so I suppose I just have to find him.”

“Helbindi is you're brother?” Darcy asked.

“Sibling,” Loki corrected. “Or sosken.”

“Oh, right, duh,” she said. “Thanks.”

“That's okay,” Loki smiled. Darcy looked up at him.

“So do you like the whole gender-neutral stuff too?”

“What's it to you?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at her. She shrugged.

“I was just wondering, since you’re genderfluid,” she said, then yelped as she nearly tripped. Loki stopped dead.

“What?”

“Genderfluid,” Darcy repeated, also stopping. “You know, sometimes a guy, sometimes a girl, sometimes kinda meh on the whole gender thing.” She shrugged. “It's a new-ish term, but it's getting to be considered pretty normal. At least, at home. I'm not sure about on Asgard.”

“I-” Loki blinked. “Genderfluid?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “Fluid about your gender.”

Loki frowned and continued walking. Darcy walked behind him again, deciding that trudging through snow next to him wasn't worth it, especially since Loki was already creating a clear path.

“The snow glows white on the mountain tonight, not a footprint to be seen...” Darcy sand under her breath and Loki groaned.

“Can you please stop singing that infernal song?” He asked.

“Wha-at?” She said, pretending to look offended. “It's a good song! And Idina Menzel is the best! I should totally make you listen to her as Elphaba in Wicked.”

Loki rolled his eyes and Darcy poked his shoulder. “So, are you genderfluid? 'Cuz you never answered the question.”

“It's none of your business, Darcy,” Loki said, not looking back at her.

“It's fine! Really, I don't care, I'm just curious,” Darcy huffed and said “Can you walk a little slower, please? I'm not really in shape!”

“Maybe,” Loki drawled. “If you answer a riddle.”

“Fine, fine,” Darcy grumbled.

“It cannot be seen, cannot be felt,/Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt./It lies behind stars and under hills,/And empty holes it fills./It comes out first and follows after,/Ends life, kills laughter,” Loki said menacingly. Darcy huffed out a laugh.

“It's the dark,” she replied. “It's, like, the second riddle in The Hobbit.”

“The what?” Loki looked back at her, frowning, and she sighed.

“Never mind. Now slow down!”

They continued along in silence. Well, mostly silence. Darcy was humming to herself, some tune that Loki didn't recognize, but was sure to be irritating with lyrics, so he didn't ask. Instead, he tuned her out and listened to the wind. It was almost silent around them, and the land wasn't as gray as it had been when he had first come with Thor. It seemed like so long ago, but in reality, he'd only been banished from Asgard three months ago. Since then, he'd gotten himself an apartment in New York, but still hung around Darcy and Jane's house. He hadn't seen Thor since turning his hair blue before leaving, which was on purpose.

It was nice to not have any responsibilities, Loki thought. It was also nice to have some time away from an idiot of an elder brother, and an overprotective mother. Odin was... Well, Loki had mostly made his peace with Odin.

Mostly.

He couldn't help but feel there was just a a little part of him that didn't trust Odin anymore. Just one little sliver of hurt that whispered, You betrayed me. Loki had tried to shake it off, however it kept coming back. He'd told Darcy about it one day, when he'd brought her to his apartment for tea and cookies. She had been sympathetic, and had told him it would go away with time, so Loki had mostly ignored it. After all, he wouldn't have any need to see Odin for ten years.

“Do you want a granola bar?” Darcy pulled Loki out of his sulking and he looked at her. She held one out while munching on the other.

“What is it?”

“Umm...” She looked at the wrapper. “Oats and choco-chip. It's good.”

Loki shrugged and accepted it. The texture was weird, but he could live with it. When he finished, she took the wrapper and shoved it into her backpack, taking out a water bottle instead.

“Is there another one?” Loki asked, nodding at the bottle.

“No, but you can share mine,” she said, offering it. Loki politely declined and she grinned. “What, afraid you'll catch girl cooties?”

“Catch- Sorry, what?” Loki frowned at her and she grinned.

“Oh, nothing. Flashback to elementary school here,” she said. She offered it again and said “You sure, Green eyes?”

Loki reluctantly took the water bottle, then handed it back, ignoring the smug look on her face. She put it back into her pack and shouldered it again.

After a few more minutes of waking, Loki suddenly stopped walking. Darcy walked into him and said “Hey! Loki!”

“We're being watched,” he murmured, just loud enough for her to hear. Darcy stopped and looked around, then slung her pack off and pulled out her taser. Loki looked around and called “Who goes there?” There was silence.

Darcy suddenly let out a startled yelp as someone tanked her back. Loki whipped around, pulling out a knife, but stopped when he saw a small, pure white Jotun standing there, eyes a light violet. There was a light blue scarf wrapped around zir head, and ze pressed a knife to Darcy's throat.

“State your name and business,” the Jotun hissed. “Strangers are unwelcome here.”

Loki straightened and put his knife away, raising his hands. “I am Loki,” he said, slowly. “Formerly of Asgard. I've come to find my blood brother, Helbindi.”

“Farbauti's kin?” Ze narrowed zir eyes.

“Yes,” Loki said. Zir eyes looked over his face for a moment. Then, ze released Darcy, putting away the knife and taking a step back, bowing formally.

“My apologies, your Highness,” ze said. “I had to make sure. Who is this?” Ze looked at Darcy.

“Darcy. Lewis,” Darcy replied. “Of, uh, Midgard.”

The Jotun looked surprised. “A human?”

“My friend,” Loki said. “Who are you?”

“Of course, of course, my apologies,” the Jotun repeated, bowing again. Ze then straightened and smiled. “Zet Agnoda Svithakith, at your service.”

Agnoda. The name jiggled something in Loki's memory. He frowned and said “Thrym's child?”

Agnoda looked surprised, then smiled. “Yes, Thrym is my far.” Ze reached down and picked up the taser where Darcy had dropped it, handing it back to her. “I apologize for the fright, Zet Darcy.”

“Zet?” Darcy frowned.

“A formal term,” Loki explained. “Like, 'miss,' or 'mister.'”

“Ooh, I get it,” Darcy nodded. “Okay. I'll try not to mess up.”

Agnoda smiled at the exchange and said “The palace is not far from here. I will guide you.”

“Thank you,” Loki said, smiling. “We've been walking for some time.”

“I can imagine,” Agnoda replied, taking lead. Loki watched zir; ze had a quiver of arrows on zir back, and a bow on her shoulder, as well as several knives. Loki blinked.

“Why didn't you just shoot us?” He asked. Agnoda looked around and walked backwards.

“Because you're Jotnar,” ze replied. “And ze is not,” ze indicated Darcy.

“I'd prefer she and her pronouns, if you don't mind,” Darcy piped up.

“My apologies, ma'am,” Agnoda said, accepting it graciously. “To answer your question, I was curious. You are also ygmi, like I am, so you're bound to have magic of some sort.”

Loki nodded. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome.” Agnoda turned and walked straight again, silent. Before long, they reached what appeared to be a fortress. Darcy gave a low, impressed whistle, and Loki couldn't help but agree; it was made of gray stone and ice, and the walls were at least as tall as the ones in Asgard, if not taller. Darcy moved a bit closer towards Loki. It was an intimidating sight.

“Halt! Who goes there?” A voice called.

“Zet Agnoda,” Agnoda called.

“And those two?” The Jotun called.

“Prin Loki Farbautikith, and Miss Darcy Lewiskith,” Agnoda called back. “Will you allow is passage into the city?”

“Depends,” the voice came back. “What's the password?”

“You're a drittsekk, Yrgol,” Agnoda replied with a smirk and Yrgol began to laugh, opening the gates.

“Better watch your language, Ag,” ze said as they walked in. Agnoda ignored zim and ze bowed at Loki as he and Darcy passed.

Loki looked around as Agnoda led them through the passage, and Loki realized just how thick the wall was. They reached the other side and Darcy stopped in her tracks, eyes wide.

“Fucking hell,” she breathed and Agnoda gave her a grin, lowering the scarf from her head. The city was huge, Jotnar rushing around through the market. But what Loki hadn't anticipated were the colors.

They were everywhere. Yellows, and reds, and greens, and purples, and every color imaginable filled his vision and Darcy took off her glasses, wiping them on her shirt before putting them back on. Agnoda smiled and said “Welcome, your Highness, to the City of Edelstenr.”

 2.

Agnoda led them through the city, Loki taking hold of Darcy's hand so she wouldn't get lost. Jotnar were dressed in robes and shawls, and most wore jewelry somewhere on them, be it rings, or bracelets, or earrings. Some, like Agnoda had done before, had wrapped scarves around their heads. Children ran about in little more than loincloths sometimes, and Darcy “oooh'd” at some jewelry.

“Jane would love to analyze that stuff,” she whispered and Loki grinned. At least it was easier to spot Agnoda here; zir albinism made zim stand out in the crowd, unlike in the snow. People stopped to say hello to zim, and ze paused here and there to say hello back, then continued to lead Loki. Loki noticed, however, that Darcy and he attracted more than a fair amount of attention.

“They must think you two odd,” Agnoda explained when Darcy asked. “Prin Loki is clearly Jotnar, so they are confused as to why ze wears Asgardian clothes. With you, well...” She smiled. “Most would mistake you for Aesir, or Vanir, if not for your... unusual style of clothing.”

Darcy frowned and pushed her glasses up her nose. “How much farther?”

“Not far now,” Agnoda said. “We're almost- Ah! Hei! Hei! Thrym-far!”

Loki looked around to see Thrym standing by a vender, purchasing something. Ze looked around at his child's calls and grinned.

“Hei, kin.” Ze finished buying and put zir wares into a cloth bag around zir wrist. Ze them walked over and spotted Loki.

“And if it isn't Prince Loki,” ze said, looking him up and down. “You look well. Who's your friend?” Ze nodded at Darcy.

“This is Miss Darcy,” Loki said. “She's of Midgard.”

“Midgard?” Thrym's eyebrows raised. “Truly?” Ze bent slightly sp as to get a better look at her. Darcy grinned and waved a little.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hallo,” Thrym said, smiling and waving. His hands were massive compared to hers, but she didn't seem daunted by this. Thrym straightened and said “Would you mind if I walked with you for a short while?”

“Not at all,” Loki said, smiling.

“Far, I can take that, if you'd like to take Prin Loki the rest of the way,” Agnoda said, pointing to the bag.

“Thank you, Agga,” Thrym replied and handed it to zir. Ze smiled and ran off.

“So, you've met my Agnoda,” Thrym said as Loki, Darcy, and ze walked off again. “How do you like zim?”

“Ze's nice,” Loki replied. “Kind. Scared us a bit outside. We were lost, and ze helped us.”

“Ah,” Thrym nodded. “I assume ze held Miss Darcy hostage until you gave zir answered?”

Loki only nodded and smiled. Thrym laughed a little. “Good ung.”

Darcy only sighed a bit. “Are you guys talking about me?”

“Yes, why?” Loki frowned at her.

“Well, I can't understand a damn think any of you are saying, except the fact that I distinctly heard 'Miss Darcy' go by.”

Loki blinked at her for a moment before realizing that he and Thrym had started speaking Jotniri, and he had slipped out of Allspeak.

“Sorry, Darcy,” Loki said, smiling. “I forgot you don't have Allspeak. We're talking about Agnoda and how she captured you.”

“Oh,” Darcy nodded. “Okay. At least I didn't lose my taser.”

“Taser?” Thrym frowned and Darcy grinned.

“Yeah! It's... hold on...” She reached into her pack and pulled out the black box. “It shoots, um, lightning at people. And shocks them. Usually knocks 'em out. Put Thor into the hospital once, but he didn't have any godly powers at the time.” Darcy looked proud of herself.

“You rendered Thor unconscious?” Thrym looked amused. “I've fought Thor before. Are you sure it was him?”

“Yup,” Darcy said, nodding as she put the black box of doom into her coat pocket. “My dad gave it to me when I turned eighteen.”

Thrym nodded, but looked amused. “You're only eighteen?”

“What?” Darcy frowned. “Humans only live for, like, a century! At most! I think the oldest woman is, like, a hundred and fifteen.”

“Really? So short?”

“Well, how long do you guys live for?” Darcy asked, crossing her arms. Thrym smiled.

“Longer than Aesir do, but not by very long. They only live to about five-thousand years, or so. Jotnar live for about six-thousand, however the eldest is reaching their eleven-thousandth in a few centuries.”

“Cool,” Darcy said, grinning. “Hey, Loki, say hi to my great-great-great-grandkids, 'kay?”

Loki snorted. “We'll see.”

Darcy stuck her tongue out at him, then paused. “But wait, if Jotnar live until they're six-thousand, then... How old are you again?”

Loki sighed. “Darcy, does it really-”

“Yes,” she said, pulling out her phone and flipping to a calculator. “You said you were about a thousand-five-hundred, right?”

“He's one-thousand-four-hundred and eighty... three?” Thrym said, then frowned. “The war ended... Yes, eighty-three.”

Darcy looked at Loki, who sighed and said “Eighty-four. I just had a name-day.”

“Wait, what?” Darcy frowned at him. “It was your birthday and you didn't tell me?”

“Oh, yes,” Thrym said, nodding.

Darcy frowned, then put the numbers into a calculator. She then shrugged. “Eh,” she said. “What do you know? It only took about four years off. You're twenty now.” She grinned. “Thor's seven years older.”

“Can we just go by Aesir terms?” Loki sighed, rubbing his eyes.

“You're younger than I am,” she pointed out, giggling.

“On the contrary, my dear; I'm more than a thousand years older,” Loki said, grinning.

“You know what I mean, doofus,” she said, playfully thwacking his shoulder. A few minutes later, they reached the gates of the palace. Thrym got them in without too much trouble, and sent a guard to go tell Helbindi that they'd arrived.

The palace seemed to be made of ice, except precious stones and metals were placed into it, and there were carvings in the walls that had been colored. Loki and Darcy hung back, and Thrym slowed down once ze realized that they wanted to look around. It wasn't long before Loki realized they were being followed. He whipped around and caught two red eyes peeking out at him from behind a tapestry. The eyes widened, and their owner ducked back. Loki blinked and frowned.

“Thrym?” He asked.

“Yes, Loki?” Thrym replied, looking back.

“Who's that behind the tapestry there?” Loki nodded his head to indicate and Thrym looked over.

“Prin Byleist,” ze said after a moment. “Ze's young, and very curious, if not shy.”

Loki looked around and saw the eyes looking again. Thrym smiled a little and murmured “Ze is probably fascinated by you and your friend.”

Darcy heard and glanced over at the Jotnar Prince, grinning. “Hi, there! I'm Darcy,” she called and Loki could have groaned for her tactlessness.

Byleist hid back behind the tapestry and Darcy sat on the floor. “Well, don't be afraid,” she said. “I'm not very threatening.”

“She's right,” Loki called. “Unless, of course, you insult her taste in music.”

“My taste in music isn't that bad!” Darcy said, and went off to go follow Thrym again. Loki soon straightened as well and followed, glancing back to see Byleist peering out again. As soon as the child realized Loki saw zim, ze raised a hand and gave a cautious wave. Loki returned the wave, and the child gave him a tentative smile before running off. Grinning to himself, Loki turned to follow the sound of Darcy’s voice and Thrym’s deep laughter.