#also it’s best when fresh made but you also can’t do that at a festival rly. you make it and that’s what there is even a few hrs later

[rowanhoney]

Whenever I feel strange and distant from myself I like to go on google maps street view and explore the villages where my family are

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Spending Halloween with Chad Corey Dylan would include~

(My gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- Halloween? Halloween! He’s never celebrated Halloween before! This is like totally awesome! He’s so excited that you invited him to hang out! You have such great ideas! This is gonna be so much fun!

- Chad was literally born yesterday; or maybe just this year, so he’s obviously never had the chance to do any of the stereotypical Halloween/October related festivities that almost everyone else has done at least once. Because of this, everything that you can think to do during your time together is the best idea that he’s ever heard. He was made with as many good qualities that Zelda and Hilda could think of, but his most obvious quality is his enthusiasm. So get ready for him to get really excited about anything and everything.

- Literally anything you want to do is fine by him. He’s never done any of it so just say the words and he’ll agree.

- Baking or cooking things? That’s fun! Kind of ironic to do with him; for obvious reasons, but he’s definitely down for it anyway. Remind him not to eat raw flour and keep him away from the oven and you’ll be fine. You can expect his cookies to either be absolutely perfect or adorably messy; depending on what qualities you put into his man-dough.

- Rest assured that he’s very happy and helpful when putting up different decorations; though there might not be much left for him to do since there’s only so long that you can keep him fresh out of the oven (And one can assume that you started getting your house ready for the holiday in the beginning of October like a normal person).

- I love this song! Regardless of what the two of you are doing, he can’t help but bop along to the seasonal sounds and spooky music that you’re playing in the background. You’ll constantly catch him shimmying absentmindedly while you’re going about your different activities.

- He watches horror movies really intently so just know that he’ll be really distracted by them if you put them on. I’m talking wide-eyed staring and almost falling out of his seat because of how far he’s leaning forward. Did you see that! Wow! Don’t worry though, he forgets about what you were watching the minute you lock eyes with him and ask him to do something else.

- He’s a daredevil so he’d love to go to all of the thrill seeking establishments that pop up during the holiday season. Haunted houses, horror themed amusement parks, creepy carnivals, scary rollercoasters: he does them all with a smile on his face; or with reactions that mirror your own.

- Chad’s adorably attentive: he’d immediately notice if you were scared and he’d do his best to reassure you however he could. It’s his job to be a good date and he takes it pretty seriously. He’d offer you his hand or his arm to hold, remind you that “nothing is real” and that “nothing bad is gonna happen”, offer to leave or do something else, etc. Being a daredevil, athlete, rocker ensures that he isn’t scared of much; it also means that he finds your reactions kind of cute.

- Why don’t we do that thing you were talking about? What’s it called? Oh right, I’ll have to remember that! Like I said before: he was literally born yesterday. You’ll have to be patient with and help him out. He’d love hearing you explain things, smiling at you dreamily and intently while you talk about and show things off.

- Carving Jack-o-lanterns are fun and all, and he was baked with all of the qualities that make him into a dream date, but like …does that include handling a knife?? He’ll be like “yeah sure, I know how” and then he’ll start using the wrong end of it before you can even stop him. When you quickly fix the weapon in his grasp, he’ll just giggle and go “Ohhh. Haha, you’re so smart!” before continuing on like normal, not noticing you breathe a sigh of relief and will your heart rate to go down.

- Riding with him on his motorcycle in the crisp Autumn air.

- He’s a sweetheart, but the concept of pranking people does appeal to him: so long as they’re harmless pranks. He’ll be a little timid at first but you can definitely convince him that it’s fine and spend the rest of the night causing some mischief.

- Doesn’t know that there’s supposed to be an age limit to trick or treating so he’d definitely go with you.

- Matching outfits? Wow, the two of you look great together! Wanna put makeup on him? Go for it! Have a mask for him to wear? Yippee, how festive! Cheap party city costume? He’s as happy as a clam. He’s honestly just excited about the opportunity to dress up so try not to overthink things.

- He’ll sometimes stop and stare at falling leaves or the neighborhood decorations: watching them in silent wonder or gushing to you over how cool they are. You have to keep an eye on him and make sure that he’s still following you because he’ll occasionally get distracted and you’ll end up halfway down the block before you realize he’s stopped in his tracks to observe something.

- Not that you leave his side very often, but whenever you do, you can’t help but find the way that he patiently waits for you kind of cute. He looks like a golden retriever. You feel like if you focus in on him enough, you’ll start to see a wagging tail.

- Make sure that he doesn’t eat too much candy. He’s kind of like a kid in the sense that he doesn’t know that too many sweets or too much food can actually make you sick. One minute he’ll be scarfing down as much sugar as he can get his hands on, and the next you’ll be making him tea to soothe his stomach because he's sporting a terrible tummy ache.

- Would give you piggyback rides if your feet started hurting or if you were tired of walking.

- He’s very respectful and has very good manners. He’ll give you his jacket when you’re cold, get drinks for you when you’re thirsty, open doors for you, etc. He also makes you feel liked and pretty without demeaning you, or having expectations for how your night together should end.

- Overall, he’s a dream date. Did you expect anything else?

[corcracrow]

Somewhere, Across the Sea

Prologue:

A Party and a Privateer

taglist: @dreamlandreader @kingofsummer93 @leatherandtea @popjunkie42-blog @sanfangirl @shadowriel @sunbrightheart @sunshinebingo @tuzna-pesma-snova @visd3stele

(let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!)

(title from Across the Sea by Cody Simpson)

Elain woke to the canvas she'd been using as a blanket being pulled away. Blearily, she snatched at it. Then she froze. She'd clearly been discovered, and it seemed the best thing for it now was to attempt to regain her composure and think of some sort of explanation.

She lifted her mussed head from the deck, just in time to see a beautiful pair of leather boots come to a halt right before her nose.

"Well, well, well," a lilting, male voice said. "What have we here? A stowaway?"

~3 days prior~

Elain:

Elain Archeron was a proper lady, thank you very much. And not a proper lady as in the merchant’s wife, who dressed in garish clothing and liked to jingle her jewellery, but a proper lady as in a literal lady; daughter of the captain of the island’s fleet.

And she was certainly a proper lady, as in, beautiful and poised, unlikely to lose her head or her heart in the unsteady business of falling in love— and certainly not with a sailor, only to have him sail off and drown.

No, Elain was a dutiful, diligent, and dignified young woman, of high status and higher standards; calm, cool, and collected.

Or so she thought.

“Marianne,” Elain huffed, “is there any possible way you could starch the white muslin before we go? I can’t wear the pink again, it’s far too flirtatious.”

“I’ll do my best, my lady,” Marianne flounced a curtsy and bounced out of the room, Elain’s white muslin dress in her arms.

Elain heaved a sigh of relief and slumped back against her vanity chair. She didn’t really need the white muslin; it was too innocent and prim for its intended purpose. But she could do with a little peace and quiet.

All morning, she had been surrounded by maids and friends, fussing and preening over her in anticipation of tonight’s festivities.

It was to be a party, thrown by Elain’s father, Lord Archeron, in honour of the start of the summer season.

It was also meant to be the setting for Elain’s engagement.

The Lady Elain Archeron and Lord Graysen Nolan had been courting for a year now, and it was high time they made their engagement official. They were such a lovely and intelligent couple, and such a smart match. Elain, destined to be a wealthy heiress, was in need of a husband, and the Lord Graysen, about to take over his father’s shipping company, was in need of a wife. He had quickly decided that the lovely, warm Elain Archeron was the best candidate for such a position.

“And I’m sure her fortune doesn’t hurt, either!” Elain had heard the maids whisper.

She hadn’t concerned herself with that, however. Graysen was handsome, polite, and of good standing. Elain had been quite taken with him at the start, and she wasn’t about to let some whispered criticisms disrupt her carefully laid plans. She would gain a good position as a businessman’s wife, and he would gain her. It seemed quite a fair trade, by Elain’s reckoning.

But Elain was doing her best to savour her final day of freedom. Not that marrying Graysen would be stifling, of course, but– she felt a need for fresh air.

Elain opened her balcony doors and stepped into the cool sea breeze. The heat of the day hadn’t yet hit, and the air grazed her flushed cheeks as she gazed down at the tiny sailors, crawling about on the ships at port. Elain longed to see the sea. Perhaps one day, when Graysen’s business took him off to neighbouring countries, she could join him, dazzling foreign dignitaries and visiting the fabled Crysthall Gardens. The fact that Graysen’s mother never travelled didn’t bother her. After all, her frail nature was known throughout the island, and–

“My lady!”

Elain’s thoughts were rudely interrupted as Marianne burst through her door, cheeks flushed from running. Damn. Elain was hoping the starching would take her a bit longer than this.

“My lady!” Marianne repeated, tearing through Elain’s room to her balcony, the clearly forgotten muslin flying from her arms. “You’ll never guess who appeared in port!”

“Do calm down, Marianne,” Elain said in frustration. “You’ll wrinkle that muslin further.”

“Sorry, my lady. But look, down in berth 15.”

Elain leaned forward over the railing, and scanned down the harbour past her father’s ships to berth 15. She sighed as she made out the familiar flag of an empty eyed fox mask.

“Hm.” Elain tried to sound unaffected. “So, that Pirate is back.”

Marianne gave a half sigh, half squeal, before straightening, eyes bright. “Do you think he’ll be at your engagement party tonight, milady?”

“Oh, Mother, I hope not. If I know anything about that man, he’ll find a way to ruin everything.”

In truth, Elain did not know much about the man at all. She’d seen the maids crowding about the windows when he passed and had once or twice peered through her own curtains, hoping to catch a glimpse of the flaming red hair of the reputed flirt. She’d heard other captains mention him, some with jealousy, some with respect, and a few with open disgust. And she’d certainly heard his name mixed up in quite a few scandals, though it was difficult to get anything resembling sense out of Marianne when it came to such things.

It was always difficult to get a solid sense of knowledge when it came to a captain’s reputation.

Yet Elain certainly got the sense (in the one or two times a year his ship stopped at the Island) that he was every bit the swashbuckling, cunning, and rakish rogue she’d heard of. Exactly the kind of person she loathed.

They were quite alright for romance books, or princess stories, but Elain knew not to get mixed up with that sort of person. Privateers in particular were, as her father put it, “licensed pirates.” They had a bit of allure, perhaps, or a breath of the sea about them, but they were a shortcut to trouble. No, much better were high-ranking merchants, or even foreign princes. Sweet and sincere, with little drama and plenty of romance. Someone like Graysen.

“Come away from there, Marianne.” Elain knew she sounded curt. A girl had a right to be a bit curt on the day of her engagement. “If we don’t get my hair finished now, it will never be done.”

Marianne cast a regretful glance down to the ships, and went to fetch the diamond pins.

[pangtasias-atelier]

A Portly Knight Lord

Warning: This is a fetish story!

I am so incredibly upset over the lack of any news about new game that I needed to write something quick. And like, god I love Deirdre and Sigurd so much abshsbhdsb. Also, realized how much I need to do more quick drabbles even though them being short kind of means you can't put much in the story like I love to do.

"Did you enjoy the meal, lord Sigurd?" Now standing when she was seated only moments ago, Deirdre picks up the table. She reaches for the porcelain dishes, stacking her and Sigurd's salad plates on top of her own dinner plate. Her own portion had been small yet sufficiently filling for her usual appetite. A rich, spicy pork and rice paired with a creamy salad.

Sigurd still eating, the portion Deirdre served him had been twice the amount of his wife's. The surplus of food is clearly a usual occurrence for him with the state of his body. No longer able to blame his figure on a lapse of discipline, Sigurd's plump figure is past being just pudgy; the small ounce of flab that presses against his outfit is no more, his stomach replaced by a noticeable stomach that is always outlined by the fabric of whatever outfit he wears—even after visiting Chalphy's seamstress to obtain larger clothes that can properly cover up his bulk. His pristine white clothes show off the soft curved flab that makes up Sigurd's belly. His stomach goes slightly past his waistband, the squishy, hefty underside roll of flab pressing against his pants that ever so slightly dig into him. His stomach now has motion to it, the small mound for a gut jiggling with each step he takes. Sigurd rather top heavy, his chest has also received an ample amount of adipose. Now, the once defined pecs are a pair of breasts that are just large enough to be cupped by a hand. The bottom most curve of his breasts currently graze against his stomach with him still seated. 

Sgurd still has his refined etiquette despite his increased size and hunger, yet he eats his food with an increased sense of urgency, the still juicy pork from Verdane seasoned perfectly to Sigurd’s preferences. His fork is close to being overfilled with food as he not quite crams the meat and rice into his mouth. “Of course Deirdre,” He responds after wiping the nonexistent errant drips of sauce on his face. “Anything made by you is something I will always cherish, dearest. And your culinary prowess is already outstanding. I am lucky to have you by my side,” 

“Then I am blessed to hear your praise,” The table is now organized, the used dishes stacked to the side. “I am glad that Ethlyn’s advice worked out well,” Deirdre smiles to herself, the fresh memories of Ethlyn’s tips and advice on her brother’s preferences all merrily dancing around in her mind like all the Spirit Forest festivals she was unable to partake in.

Sigurd’s brows raise at the mention of Ethlyn. He can’t help but allow the small burst of subdued laughter to escape him as he understands and recognises the familiarity of all the cooking. He keeps the note of oversized portions and abundant use of oil and butter to himself. Well aware of his sister’s preferences, Sigurd had congratulated his best friend and wished the initially confused Quan the best for the two along with his waistline. And it didn’t take long for him to blimp out, the shorter man clearly taking well to Ethlyn’s cooking and preference in men to eventually become a rather obese man weighing more than twice his original weight. And that had been when he had last seen Quan; so much of Quan’s weight went to his rear, his enormous thighs and ass requiring another chair simply to hold his bulk without destroying the seat. And yet, neither of the loving couple clearly seemed to take any issue with his size, the two even seeming to relish Quan’s immense size that dwarfs his slimmer self back when he and Sigurd were nothing more than fresh teens back when they were in Belhalla’s royal academy. 

And as Sigurd thinks about Quan’s hefty size—his friend apparently close to pushing the quarter ton boundary last he saw of him—he takes no umbrage regarding his size; he also doesn’t dismiss the idea of perhaps gaining some more weight himself, the small pebble of an idea starting off with ambivalent reluctance regarding his current weight before growing into a boulder of a thought about being as fat as Quan. Especially with how well his friend holds the weight with such large thighs that are wider than Ethlyn’s waistline along with an ass that smothers chairs, the lower half of Quan’s obese figure paired with a smaller upper half that still has a rather sizable gut that sags past the stretchy waistband of his pants to reach his groin along with a pair of breasts that surpass Ethlyn’s own modest set. Sigurd’s thoughts shift over to his own ample figure, the fascination of the idea taking hold as he imagines himself—a massive gut that juts in front of him, the enormous stomach a result of his gorging combined with Deirdre’s expertise, a shelf of a chest with breasts that always splay down the side of his dome of a gut, each swollen tit larger than his wife’s impressive chest,  and a hefty set of arms ready to hug and caress his wonderful wife. Lost in the temptations of his own thoughts, it takes several moments for Sigurd to break out of his wondrous daze, the ideas dissipating from feeling a hand on his stomach. 

“Deirdre,” Sigurd’s voice comes out in a near whisper. His own face red, he holds back the bubbling wince as he moves around and disturbs his stuffed stomach.

Broken out of her own trance, Deirdre’s lilac eyes stare wide eyed at Sigurd before narrowing them; a blush tints her face along with the onset of a gentle smile. “Forgive me, Lord Sigurd. You seemed full after such a meal-”

“You never need to apologize to me, dearest,” Sigurd pushes himself off his seat and embraces her. His churning stomach presses up against her flat stomach as he holds her tightly, as though Naga were to take such a wondrous human away from him. He lowers his head, burying his face into the crook of her neck. "You are enjoying yourself. That is all I ask of you," He pulls back and, caressing Deirdre's hand, he places the palm of her right hand on his grumbling belly. "And I must admit, I find this rather enjoyable myself,"

Deirdre smiles. She relaxes into the embrace even further and rubs Sigurd's belly. "I am so very happy," Her slim figure rests against her husband's soft, doughy body, her back slightly arched from his gut. Her cheek rests on his pillowy breasts. 

The two's moment ends up interrupted by Sigurd's grumbling stomach, the pile of flab suddenly hungry and demanding for food. 

"Perhaps we should go to the kitchen and see what else you might eat," Deirdre whisks her husband away, to feed him some more, the merry couple hand in hand as always.

[sonyadance]

Travels and Dancing 22

At Christmas 2023, I asked my partner if he wanted to come on a dance cruise with me in May.  He said yes.  The next day, I was a bit worried that it wasn’t a full yes and I didn’t want to bother the event organizer with adding someone if it wasn’t going to happen.  After all, we’d been seeing each other for about a month and a half.  I asked and he said he was afraid that it was the alcohol speaking.  It wasn’t.  So after barely meeting, we committed to a week on a cruise ship 5 months away.  Time passed in a blink and I was so excited to be heading south… although I was also stressed because I had been waiting for surgery for a while at that point and wasn’t sure if it was a safe idea to go.  Well, you know me, I went anyway and it was a blast as always!  Somewhat different than other years: I ended up hanging out with a way different group of people than I normally do.  My favorite thing on the cruises is always the comedy show: they do hire some of the best of the country.  This time around, Jailyn was absolutely hilarious.  We got time to relax, enjoy the pools, sunbathe, go to the gym, dance with the people at the different bars and venues (the best being the live band at the Pig and anchor!), the workshops were packed, the atmosphere was great, hot tub was hot tubbing, the food was delicious (and actually had some healthy option like a delicious fresh salad bar on the serenity deck)… all and all, the entire week was a success.  We had the chance to explore Jamaica on ATVs, kayak in a mangrove in Mexico, and enjoy an all-inclusive beach in Cozumel.  Galveston port is a bit awkward to get to if you’re not driving in, so we decided to take advantage of the stop in Houston and have a little visit.  We rented bicycles and visited Memorial Park, walked through downtown, found great food, stumbled upon a jazz festival at Discovery park, made new friends there, and went back to the hotel to enjoy and chill.  The return to “normal life” was hard and felt good at the same time.  Bittersweet, but now that I actually have a place to go back to, it helps the sweetness of it. ;-)

I was then supposed to fly to Victoria to teach, then get to our newest Canadian wcs event Nanaimo Dance Fusion, and then meet with my best friend for a week’s road trip in the Rockies.  That plan was bulldozed by finally getting a date for surgery.  I mean great, we can get it over with, but shit, also have to cancel everything and plane ticket, let the event know and feel horrendous that I can’t fulfill my contract and that they need to hire new people last minute, can not work for a month so no $$$ and God knows it’s been a rough year between an abusive relationship, a problematic wisdom teeth removal with infection and three antibiotics that kept me out for two weeks, the surgery I was supposed to have last year and cancelled gigs to then have them cancel on me last minute…  So I cancelled everything, got the surgery, was in pain for not too long, everything went well, started walking again, eating, taught maybe 6h on the third week as my energy was coming back up, and I had the go from the doctor at the end of the fourth week.  A few of those hours were at a high school that has a dance program where students have one to two hours of dance every day for five years!!!  And when they looked for a teacher, many people recommend me.  I was so excited about that gig.  I researched what young people listened to so I could play songs that made them want to dance, prepared my classes differently than a normal “intro class”, and we had a blast!  They were attentive, interested, asking great questions.  I definitely want to go back whenever they’ll have me.  Then we had the Chalet WCS, I organize each year with Philippe and Flore.  I absolutely love these two and admire them so much for what they are accomplishing in their personal life alongside their professional life.  We rent this beautiful ancestral home, north of Montreal, with about 15 bedrooms that can sleep up to 40 people in different assortment of beds.   We have a couple bathrooms, do all our meals together, we learn, we dance, and we laugh.  It is one of the most relaxing “work” weekend of the year.

Pandora Retreat and Colorado Classic were next, the first one we had to cancel because we pushed it out too late, the second cancelled on me, which made me feel horrendous.  I had already been out for a month, had to cancel everything, felt out of shape, and for the first time in my life, I get an event cancelled on me.  Oh well, life being what it is, two other amazing opportunity came up.  First, Glenn asked me if I had time (which I now had) to come choreograph three routines in Austin with him.  It felt so good to move again and create with someone new.  I haven’t had a partner in year so I mostly teach, choreograph and do everything dance wise by myself.  Don’t get me wrong: I love it!  I can pace the class as I want, I have great feedback from my classes, but having someone at your level with whom you can share ideas, discuss all dance related things and create?  It feels like candy.  So the Austin week was a success with that and me exploring a swimming hole, seeing good friends, teaching, and getting back into pole.  The second was a free dance festival that was supposed to have an African artist come over and teach, they had last minute issues with the visa, and the organizer thought of WCS.  He looked for teachers in Montreal, stumbled upon my profile and felt like it was a perfect match.  When he contacted me telling what had happened on his side, I told him that I am normally booked months in advance, but that for the first time in my life I had had a cancellation and we found it quite serendipitous.  I landed from Austin, taught privates in Montreal and drove up north to get there and have the privilege to watch a percussion band play for our small group in the middle of a forest.  Magical is one of the best word I can think for that.  I slept in my car, in my favorite car camping set up (that I have not used  barely enough this summer).  The next morning, I participated in the dance workshop and for lunch we had a sharing.  I started to feel a bit off.  Like I soak the energy around me so much to fit it, but it’s not my energy, so I said no.  I will be myself and stay myself and that is who I’ll be for the class.  We had three hours together and I taught a sugar push and a left side pass.  You must be thinking: that’s it?  Well yes, and it was more than enough so we had time to explore connection concepts, musicality, togetherness and stay in line with the philosophies they were playing with for the week.  I had so many comments afterwards of people saying they had tried a form of swing or partner dance before and got put off by it.  That they thought to themselves that they would never try it again, that the approach was sterile, and that when they saw the title on the workshop list, most didn’t want to come or thought that it’d be a good time for a nap, but knowing the event organizer, they decided to trust him and try it anyway.  They loved it so much, that they want me to come up there regularly.  We’ll see what we can do…

The next adventure was a guy’s weekend.  We’ll call it a friend’s weekend because I was there, but really… since I am back in Montreal (and since before if we’re being honest), the two persons that have been there, consistently showing up, are my two friends Dom and Nico.  I’m pretty slow at catching up that people want to be friends, and I’m still in the habit of thinking I’m always alone in the world (even if I came back to Montreal to build relationships – old habits die hard), but these two never gave up.  I don’t think I understood for a long time what they wanted from me, like what do they get from keeping in contact with me?  Until, I found out that that’s what people do when they like you and they want to be friends… oh well, it’s never too late to learn something!  So we left with another good friend of us, PO, rented this beautiful ride and drove to a region of Ontario with the best vineyards.  We did some great wine tasting, we went to one of the best beach in Ontario, we slept in a nice hotel, we ate good food, but above all, we laughed!  What a freaking blast to just do stupid shit and laugh with friends.  I’m saying harmless stupid shit: worse jokes ever, learning a line dance at 2am, discussing about life, dissing on each other.  It certainly was one of the best weekend of the year.

I came back to Montreal to teach for two days and then drove to Toronto.  The idea was to leave early so I could enjoy a beach on the way, but I ended up stuck in the tail of whichever hurricane was passing by at the time.  So no beach, but also plenty of time to drive at 60km/h (so 35mph for the thousands of American readers) with everybody on high alert and still get in on time.  First stop was a shopping mall because I had a small crisis the week before when the entire Mtl WCS community recognized my shadowed out picture because of my ripped jeans: they had a good life.  So standing in front of Urban Planet and Hudson Bay, between being a teen or a grown up, I thought: I can’t possibly go to Urban Planet.  But mid-life wasn’t so appealing either, so I went for the mid-life crisis: Urban Planet.  It ended it being the best shopping spree of all times.  I bought two pairs of pants, four tank tops, two t-shirts, two shirts, two hair clips, a hat, a water bottle, and three pairs of socks for 144$CA taxes included (for Americans, about 2$US).  With my newfound personality, I headed to pole coaching.  A student of mine, had invited me to come over and choreograph a pole routine for his upcoming PSO competition.  We worked a lot, had a lot of fun, and managed to get the whole routine choreographed in two days!  It was then time to head to the one and only Toronto Swing and Hustle Championship.  It always feels great to be at an event that feels like home.  The community there is so welcoming, and was also my home for a year after pandemic.  Seeing all my students, all my friends, hanging out, having the Montreal community there supporting the event also, was really nice.  I had two intermediate-advanced workshops that went really well, a bunch of privates, some judging, pro intro, the usual… but one of the best part is the Anything-Goes-Invitational-Crossover!  So, if you have seen a crossover JnJ before, you know how it’s mostly for fun and show that we are humans also, not some untouchable professionals that are good at everything (even if some would like to believe), but this one makes sure we understand it’s an anything goes… everything is permitted… the funnier it is, the better.  I drew Markus.  Last time, we drew each other was forever ago and didn’t amount to much, so I said: let’s go!!!  You know when you stay in the ballroom to encourage your friends for awards, but you end up hearing your name for 1st place?  Yeah, that’s it.  Loolll.  Either way, it was a blast.  The whole weekend was.

Quick 5h drive home to work a day, do laundry, pack, attend not fun medical appointments and fly out for Sweden.  For how many years have I been writing this blog now?  9?  Anyway, you’ve heard me say it every year, so it’s getting kind of boring by now, but… best event ever: Rock The Barn.  Why?  Well, it’s so far north that the sun never sets (although if you ask them, they say by that time it sets a bit, but I don’t see it, I just see magic), we dance in barns, we are outside all day, people are camping or glamping, the cafeteria cooks delicious meals with actual vegan protein if you are vegan instead of you-eat-everything-that-the other-have-less-the-meat, the workshops are full and people are intent on learning, you don’t want to stop dancing cause you think it’s still 9pm, the crew is really nice, they always hire a group of teachers that play well together, the demos are fun, they have a welcome barbecue when we get there… I love it!  For the second year in a row I have been teaching with Nelson whom I adore.  It is also another event that has literally seen me grow in my dance and in my life into the woman that I am today; they hired me for the first time in 2013 and every year after.  So they have known me and I have known them for 11 years now.  Since they didn’t have the event during CoCo (that’s my love name for it so it’s less traumatizing), next year will be the tenth year celebrations: I can’t wait to see what they pull out of the hat for this one; the yearly tent crawl is already epic!

... part 22.5 coming up!

[h-r-setalla]

Tales of the Rising Son: Part 2 - Snippet

From Chapter 9

“Eat up! The food from this shop is delicious, and I wanted to see if they were making anything special today. Turns out, they are!”

Ryomé sat and opened his bag, pulling out a small, cloth-wrapped loaf of warm bread, a small, polished wooden box of sweet-smelling butter, and a bundle of parchment paper. Inside the parchment paper were fresh cooked deer strips - still warm - and folded into the opposite side were three different slices of cheese. It was strange that everything was packaged separately, but Irie was already tearing her bread into sections before halfing them again and spreading the sweet smelling butter across it. He followed her lead, taking a few bites of bread, butter, meat and cheese before saying anything.

“Speaking of special,” Ryome starts. “Astor mentioned that this is all for the Moon Festival and that you were supposed to bring it up to me?”

She paused mid-chew before sitting back into her chair and swallowing. With a wave and sign gesture to a waitress for two waters, she leaned back toward him. “Howland wanted to leave this morning, but Astor and I thought it might be best for us to stay another day since you just woke up and are still recovering. Also… I guess, I thought it would be cool to experience a small-scale, local festival.”

He tipped his head to the side, preparing another piece of bread for meat and cheese. “Do you not have any back home?”

“Only the really big ones, like when our Kingdom was founded. Because we are a new Kingdom, we are still trying to find our own way to do things. We still celebrate the Sun Festival, but not on the scale Pharos does. My father wanted us to start our own traditions, but I think he forgets to put things together due to how busy he is.”

“So, you want to see what Pharos festivals are like?” He smiled slowly, leaning his cheek onto one propped hand. “Why didn’t you just say so earlier?”

She seemed taken aback. “I thought you would think it silly and childish. I didn’t want to impose on you if you wanted to leave right away by being selfish. I also… didn’t want you to think I was putting off the search for Tallon. I know how important he is to you, and of course he’s incredibly important to me, too.”

“Irie,” he started, turning his words over in his mind for a moment before continuing. “I know you. I know you wouldn’t ever forget Tallon, especially when he’s missing. Staying one more night isn’t a bad thing. And, you and Astor are correct in saying I need another day to recuperate. I’m still getting used to walking again. If we continue to walk around this evening, I’ll just be in better shape for tomorrow. Besides, if we had left today, I would’ve made sure to make it up to you by bringing you to the next small, traditional festival.”

Her eyes began to water and, with an embarrassed chuckle, she quickly wiped at them before taking more bites of her lunch. The iced waters arrived and Ryomé gave the waitress a friendly smile and a thank you as she left. Turning his attention back to his friend, he saw her already watching him. “Then, it’s okay with you if we leave in the morning?”

“Yes,” he sipped his water and let his eyes wander along the busy streets. “Besides… I can’t remember the last time I was able to partake in the Moon Festival. Something about it feels right after… everything.”

Irie finished her food and leaned onto the table with her elbows, setting her chin on the back of her hand. It was a small thing, but suddenly, Ryomé could hear Tallon’s voice in his head again. That isn’t ladylike, Irie. You aren’t supposed to have your elbows on the table. I swear to Pharah, you and Ryomé are too alike sometimes.

He was shaken from his thoughts a moment later when Irie asked, “What happened to you? What did you see when you were… you know?”

The Prince looked down into his glass, watching as the ice cubes shifted his reflection across the surface. He wanted to tell her, but he also didn’t feel ready to disclose anything. His memory of that place was still fragmented except for the touch and voice of that woman. 

Instead he settled for, “A lot. But, that’s a story for another day. What matters is that I’m alive, and we can look for Tallon now.”

She set a hand on his shoulder and nodded in understanding. “Okay. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll listen. Just remember that.”

He smiled. “I will.”

[crispyfryenperu]

I forgot I had a blog

Guao have things changed since I left site. This second round feels much different. One big difference is that the old municipality personnel was in their fourth year when we arrived, so they were already good friends, and a somewhat-oiled machine. The new municipality personnel is just becoming friends and learning their roles. For this fresh group, two foreign volunteers aren’t as exciting as they are one more thing to deal with. 

One of my kindest and most consistent socios that I still get to work with - Señor Medina - President of the Japss Calango!

Getting to know the new landscape and it’s inhabitants has been a lot of work that I didn’t expect to do twice. (Although, whether I had left the country or not, a lot of my socios would have changed. The professors are rotated from school to school every year, and the municipality personnel almost all changed along with the new mayor.) Consequently, for my first month being back I was just coordinating and meeting people, only this week was I really able to get any projects started. Because I felt so unproductive, I also procrastinated on writing a blog post. I didn’t have anything to write about, and my panic about being unproductive just pushed me to procrastinate and be even LESS productive. 

Being unproductive but happy, hanging with the volunteers

Some of my Calanguine friends!

In addition to all of the new socios, it’s been hard getting used to Peru the second time around. Visiting the US was so fun, going out with a few of my best friends, spending some time with my siblings, parents and pets in the California sun, eating vegan paella, taking hot showers, staying in nice airbnbs and sleeping in my comfortable childhood bedroom. There’s a lot to look back on and miss! Even though I have pretty much the best host family I could have asked for, it’s still difficult to live in someone else’s home, and accept how things are done in that home. Everything from the food, the schedules, the cleaning, the common spaces, is something to get used to, because I don’t own a thing here, just my clothes and books. I think one of the biggest things I can’t stand, is when I am served carbs with carbs. Normal Peruvian meals include mashed potatoes and rice, quinoa stew plus rice, or french fries on rice. Also milk and pasta soup. Okay, Peruvians will often put a chicken leg on top of these meals, but I don’t eat chicken.  On these days I just need to take some deep breathes and do some meditation. But i am really lucky to have a host family that embraces me as a daughter and sister. AND that often cooks me a separate version of their meals but with soy meat.  (speaking of which, they made yuca en la olla for my brothers birthday, and I had the yuca from the normal version, plus my soy version, and both were DELICIOUS!!)

Exhausting hand washing my clothes. And my cats going crazy like always.

On Saturday I went with Nathy to a flower festival. The municipality organized combis/buses to take tourists from the plaza up into the hills. The dirt road was uneven with constant potholes, and we rode along with locals taking their pots of arroz con pato, chicharron, and camote to sell at the festival. But through the window all you saw were the usual dusty, sandy hills that expand all along Peru’s coast. We finally pulled into a parking lot with other cars, and there were a few people walking along another dirt trail, into some hills. These hills were mostly brown - but you could see that they had a few trees on them. Honestly, at no point had I really thought there could be a hill covered in beautiful flowers in this part of Peru, so I wasn’t disappointed, nor surprised. We walked along the flat road leading up to the festival area, and you could see that the hills had more than a couple of trees, they had a bit of greenery and bushes over there. The festival area was nice, they were selling choclo con queso (corn with cheese), masamora, flan, alfajores, and art. On the other side they were sold arroz con pollo, chicharron, carapulcra, and other meals. We ended up buying the chicharron, which comes with fried camote (sweet potato), an onion salad, and yuca. It was 18 soles - super expensive!!! In the middle they sold bottles of wine for 25 soles, and they had bathrooms for men and women. Incredible, the bathrooms had running water, soap, AND toilet paper. Instead of doors, there were curtains, but still, what an incredible bathroom experience. At this center of the festival there were several trailheads, and you could continue hiking up into the mountains. At this point, yellow tulip-like flowers dotted the immediate area. We started hiking up, and it was truly beautiful. The yellow tulips were everywhere, and there were also tons of orange and yellow butterflies. They looked like monarch butterflies. There were also large grasshoppers burrowing in small holes all along the trail- many peaked their heads out as we passed. We also passed many tourists. Many people from Lima took tours for the day and stayed a few hours at the festival, and other locals from around Mala attended on the municipality bus, or with their own cars. I was pleasantly surprised by everything that day. 

The flower we saw is called a flor de amancaes. The yellow bulbs have been a symbol of Lima since the 17th century, and appear on the 10 sol bill. Amancaes only flower once a year though, and are endemic to the Peruvian coast, so they re in danger of extinction. 

When I started writing this post I was convinced I had nothing to write about. But a week of editing later and I have plenty more to say - especially everything I’ve been doing during evacuation. 

[rogesims]

Vacation

Two weeks after Flower Day, just a week before graduation, Willow got her scholarship letters. She was accepted in two! She's now considering leaving the Harris' garage and using the money to help her pay a small apartment for herself. 

Leo and Marcos were about to have their final exams, so they could barely see each other except in between classes.

"My family will make a trip together this weekend. Wanna come?", asked Leo.

 "Can't. My mom has some family stuff to sort out in another town and wants me along."

"I had an idea, but I need to wait for the pack release first. Did you know Summer 14th is Pride Day?"

Marcos was curious.

"Course I do! What's on your mind?"

"I heard San Sequoia has a great Pride Festival. My dad told me I can work with him and save money for the loading screens!"

"YES! I'm sure Dani will also love the idea. And Sid! And Ash! And Van! Let's invite everyone!"

Leo could barely listen to a word Mr. Morlind was saying... Soon classes would be over and he'd have a WHOLE week on vacation! He knew about someone else who would probably also love to hear about their Pride excursion.

Mols said she'd love it. Her mom wanted to go skiing but she'd rather die by Vlad.

"She made me organize Career Day for extra credit and I need some fresh air. Just so you know, I signed you up."

"Well", replied Leo, "if that means you're coming, I can find some fun in that!"

When they got home, both Moe and Leo had great news! Leo has been promoted to Speedrunner and Moe got to her branch selection. She got a unique opportunity and ended up on her path to stardom again! It seems like it doesn't matter the universe, Moe is destined to fame. 

The Harrises landed in Lani St. Taz! They're staying the weekend at the Saphire Shores Resort.

"Won't this be too expensive, mom?"

"Baby, don't be silly...This isn't a real hotel, they don't exist in the game! We won't pay a thing, this is just a spa."

A well-deserved vacation... Being a legacy family ain't easy! Since they didn't pay for the stay, the family enjoyed the premises before having dinner. 

It's dinner time, and the Harrises went to the best (the only) restaurant in Sulani!

"Thank you so much for this trip, guys! It's a great close to my High School Years!", said Willow.

"We're also celebrating Moe's promotion. She's famous now!" "

And Leo is ending his junior year!", Moe replied. "It's time you start thinking about your future, baby."

"To be honest, I don't know, mom. I've been working at the drama club, but Copperdale is too far away from Honeywood."

"We're not gonna live there forever, you know? Legacies are known for moving all around the SimNation."

"You should trust your gut, Leo. I'm sure the Watcher will find a way of helping your dreams come true." Leo didn't have all this blind faith.

"How can the Watcher know what to do, when I can't?"

"They made us cross universes to save the legacy. You'll be good!"

"I hope you're right, mom. I have just a few weeks left before my gen takes over."

"Watcher surely have something in store for you. Just keep on going through Live Mode and soon I know things will become clearer!"

After dinner, Leo vanished. Moe found him at a fishing spot nearby. "Can I sit here?" 

"What if I'm not a good heir as you both? You had a Starlight Boulevard star, for woohoock sake! I don't think I can top that."

"Leo... You don't have to be like us. You're good just the way you are and doing the things you want to do. Legacy gens are different."

"I acted, and I now work with social causes because that's what makes me happy; same with your dad and cooking", Moe reassured him.

"And what about the drama, and the interesting plots?"

"Oooh, 'The Drama'! Not every legacy will be as messy as a Swan or a Lacey. And that's ok."

Moe gave her big baby a loving hug.

"Whatever your story is, you'll be loved and there will always be someone who enjoys your path. I promise."

Next morning, after an... um... eventful night, Moe had news for the family. 

Breakfast by the sea, the perfect moment to break the news!

"Family, we're having a spare Harris! The first legacy infant is due to fall!"

"Another one, thank you!"

[thesolferino]

Power(less)

⤷ smp!dream x gn!reader.

⤷ genre: angst, soulmate au

⤷ word count: 3.7k

⤷ requested: yes, by this lovely anon!

— summary: you pay a visit to the man you hate most when he exiles your brother/best friend, tommy

If there’s one thing you were sure of in this pathetic, despicable life of yours, it was that you hated Dream.

Honestly, how couldn’t you? He ruined everything you stood for, stomped over all of your plans for a hopeful future before you even started, never let you and your brothers build your life the way you wanted, because he had always been, and always will be, a selfish, narcissistic bastard. No matter how much you tried to negotiate, how many times you cried behind those walls because you knew you’d never be left alone, how many times you begged and pleaded Wilbur to let it go, let it all go, let Dream win because he’ll win every single time, no matter how many times the three of you try to stop him, he never gave up on making your life a living hell.

Despite the fact that you’d spent countless nights up, tossing and turning in your bed, wondering if life like this was really worth it if you’ll forever live in fear, if you can’t leave your window open at night without fear crawling up your spine that maybe, just maybe, he’d throw a bomb inside and kill you in your sleep - despite the fact that you always wondered if maybe you should flee, and never look back - you were one of L’Manburg’s proudest and strongest soldiers, at least for the time when the country was exactly what you built it to be. 

You waved your country’s flag and sung the anthem with equal pride, and you always stood right by Wilbur and Tommy’s side, chin high in the air, stance unwavering in the presence of Dream and those who stood by his side, always ready to show him what L’Manburg citizens were really made of. You shot best with your special crossbow - Wilbur had always complimented you on your eagle’s eye, and while you were built for a battle like the one Dream and Tommy fought for the prize of L’Manburg’s independence, Tommy was far too loud, confident, and forever blinded by his own vanity to have you fight it instead. 

Of course you’d let Tommy have it, despite being aware that he’s far too cocky, beyond his abilities, and that you’d handle it much more swiftly, because he felt the obligation to; because he wouldn’t give in and let you do it. Two sides of you chewed you away to insanity, because Tommy was your favorite - both you, and Wilbur’s - and while you wanted to let him have it, wanted to let him have the title of #1 soldier and have it his way, you also didn’t want him to get beaten by Dream, because you were sure it was going to happen. As much as you despised the man and everything he stood for, you had to admit that he was one hell of a warrior, and quite good with a crossbow.

That’s why, when Tommy got impaled by the arrow, you were the first to run up to him amidst all of Dream Team’s cheers, nursing supplies already out, (Dream had asked if you were so insecure in Tommy’s skills that you brought those along in preparation or if you were so confident that you had brought them to nurse him, instead; Wilbur had to physically hold you back from pouncing on him with the sword strapped to your back) slowly plunging the arrow out of his stomach and assuring him he’d be fine, that his well being meant more than a thousand L’Manburgs did. Dream missed none of your soothing murmurs and the worrying glances you shot to a boy no less than your brother, whether by blood or not, and he chose to turn his back, celebrating another victory. 

He couldn’t look away, though. No matter how hard he tried, his gaze always flew to the two of you.

What did it feel like - to be cared for? He’d have to ask Tommy, or Wilbur - what does it feel like, to have a chunk of your heart? What does it feel like to have you stare at him with flames in your eyes, but flames lit by adoration, and not by resentment? What does it feel like, to have you on his side?

Truth be told - he tried. He tried, he really did. When you first walked into his land, a traveller, somebody from beyond his sight, a fresh pair of eyes with a fresh perspective, he tried to befriend you, because even if he didn’t want to, it seemed like everything in this world brought the two of you together. He always ended up close to you, next to you, observing how you laughed, how your eyes crinkled, how your brows furrowed, how you tapped your fingers when you were bored and swung your legs back and forth when you sat on a wall too high for you. 

One thing you didn’t seem to care for, however, was Dream’s best attribute, and that was power. You didn’t care that he held all land on the palm of his hand, you didn’t care that he appointed and laid off whoever and whenever he pleased, you didn’t care that all looked up to him - you didn’t care that he was most powerful. 

He wasn’t the only one with the power, though. Power comes in different shapes and sizes, and a bold man is a powerful man. A man who stands out holds power, and the two who always stuck out like a sore thumb were Wilbur and Tommy. Because physical strength or resources aren’t always what make a man powerful - an entertainer is a powerful man, an intelligent man is a powerful man, a witty man is a powerful man, but above all, a courageous man is a powerful man. And Wilbur and Tommy were all of the above.

He envied Tommy, because Tommy knew how to get the attention on himself without the use of power. He envied Wilbur, because he had somebody to fight, he had something to stand for, he had a purpose, something in which he could put equal part bravery and intelligence in, both of which he had plenty. He envied the two, because they could be heroes, because he was there to witness their story getting built, while Dream was there from the beginning, and the only witness he had was himself. 

You grew close to the two of them before he even had the chance to try - his chance got wasted before he could even try, because the more Wilbur whispered into your ear and crafted plans, and the more Tommy encouraged you to go with the two of them, the less he saw of you and your shiny smiles. At first, it bothered him to no end, because he saw so much potential in you, both as a friend and as a warrior, and Wilbur just kept on stealing you away from him, over and over again. But then, when he saw you helping build those giant walls, and heard Tommy proudly announce that: “We’ve got Tubbo, Eret and Y/N on our side, too!” shiny smiles became dull, menacing even, to the point he didn’t want to look at them anymore.

And when the war had started and you proudly defended Tommy, no matter what, with an insane glint in your eye that he only recognised from reflections, he realised that the chance had fully, entirely slipped out of his fingers, and you’re nothing more than an enemy anymore. The opportunity to get you on his side was long gone, if it ever existed in the first place.

You were with them through everything, thick and thin - you were there when Tommy turned over the discs, cheering on Wilbur during the election, even retaliating against Schlatt once he revoked the citizenship of your two best friends, nothing short of brothers, and leaving with them, spitting on his shoes before running amongst a sea of arrows that were being thrown your way, escaping out of the country you built of your own blood, sweat and tears like a criminal, like a foreigner, like an outsider and not the very founder of the land they stood on.

You were always by their side, but that doesn’t necessarily mean you always agreed - you had gotten into way too many passive aggressive fights with Technoblade, told Tommy and Wilbur far too many times that he was nothing but trouble, told them that there is no more dangerous man than a man with power, and you thought they’d learned that lesson with Dream, long, long ago. But nonetheless, you stayed through it all - you stayed through the makings of Pogtopia, Henry’s unfortunate death, and the festival, at which you didn’t fail to shout “I TOLD YOU SO”s at Wilbur and Tommy despite being in a near-death situation. Technoblade suffered a kick in the groin, because you just couldn’t help yourself, which led you into a sword fight that was way more than you bargained for, and was ultimately stopped by Tommy who forgave Techno just to stop the two of you fighting, not looking forward to having your head cut off in front of him. 

You were there to see Wilbur spiral, breaking apart in the prison of his own mind, you were there to see the glint of heroism in his eye get bent into one of a villain, you saw him become the man he had once swore to you he’d never become. And perhaps, when you fought for L’Manburg again, deep down, you knew what would happen; but you still fought tooth and nail, desperate to get back what you once had. You fought next to Technoblade, even though both of you knew you hadn’t forgiven him, and you never will - you fought next to Wilbur, even though you knew he’s not the same Wilbur you once knew, even though you knew L’Manburg would never truly be L’Manburg again, because its founders aren’t the same as they once were, when their heart was full of foolish hope and love. 

You were there to see Wilbur mouth an apology to you, and even though you didn’t know what he would do, you knew that the apology wasn’t an apology, but a goodbye; at least a late goodbye to the Wilbur you once knew. You were there to see the betrayal in Tommy’s eyes when Technoblade turned against you, summoning monsters with his own hands, forcing the rest of you to kill them while he watched. You were close, so close, too close to putting an arrow through his heart, ready to get rid of him, tired of the tears and the blood you shed over getting back what was always rightfully yours; but you didn’t, because Tommy’s hand laid on top of yours, telling you not to do it. So you didn’t, and instead you aimed for the porcelain mask that haunted you in your dreams, the cause of all destruction. Unfortunately, you missed, with his foot jumping back right before the arrow was supposed to plunge straight through his chest, and you fell to the floor, defeated.

You were there when L’Manburg’s government formed again - you were there when Tommy burnt down George’s house on accident, and, unfortunately for you, you were there when your younger brother got exiled. You were there, watching him get escorted. You watched him leave. You watched that monster of a man escort him out, kick him out, away from you, from everyone he loved. You watched him, and gripped your crossbow with tears in your eyes, swearing to yourself that you’d never let him get away with this. 

That’s why you stomped into the Community House the next day, knife strapped to the inside of your thigh, sword fastened on your back, crossbow slinged over your shoulder, fire in your eyes, demanding to see him. And sure enough, as soon as you spoke his name, he was in front of you, cracked mask covering his face, dirty blonde hair combed, as if nothing had happened in the first place, as if he hadn’t made life a living hell for all of you.

“Hel-”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you cut him off, speaking through gritted teeth as you took a step towards him, heavy boots creating even heavier footsteps on the wooden floor. The mask remained expressionless as always, and his body language gave away nothing. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Dream? Is this funny to you? Are we some kind of sick joke to you? Is that what this is? Are you having fun, Dream?” you continued, almost spitting at him. “Take off that mask, talk to me like a fucking man.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” he said, hand shooting to grip the porcelain at the mention of his mask, although he simply adjusted it slightly, still leaving it on.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. How could you kick him out?! He’s a fucking child, Dream! A child!” you yelled, hand clenching into a fist.

“Is this about Tommy? I’m sorry, Y/N, but it was not my decision. The people, and Tubbo, decided that he should be exiled- I just did my job.” he claimed, still stiff, expressionless, and you fired back almost before he even finished the sentence, rage lighting your whole body ablaze.

“Right, because you only have power over other people when it fucking fits you! You only have power when you want to! You’re only the most powerful person in this whole fucking land when you want to terrorise other people! What are you, Technoblade? Poor baby got succumbed by peer pressure? Miss me with that bullshit, Dream. You and I both know that if you stood up for Tommy, and refused to exile him, nobody would’ve done shit! But no, you chose to exile him, and you know that. So at least admit to your actions and don’t shift blame, asshole.” you spat, fury getting the best of you, and apparently him, too, because he pulled his mask off so quickly that the strings almost broke, menacing green eyes boring into yours.

“He shouldn’t have burned down George’s house, he shouldn’t have tried robbing George, he shouldn’t have been a criminal when he’s vice president of a country! All actions have consequences, and he has to suffer those consequences to learn!” he borderline shouted, defending himself.

“He’s supposed to learn by being exiled and ripped away from everyone he loves? That’s how he’s supposed to learn not to fucking rob people? He’s sixteen, Dream! Sixteen! He’s a fucking kid- yes, he makes mistakes, but so do we! And we’re adults! Full, grown, fucking adults. What has he done to you to deserve this, you fucking psycho?!” you yelled, and you briefly saw him grit his teeth, jaw clenching.

“I’m not a psycho and you won’t be calling me that. He can’t go unpunished for the crimes he committed. Tommy is not as innocent as you make him out to be. And, once again, this was not my decision, it was made by Tubbo. If you have any issues, take it up with him, not me.” his eyes go darker than they were before, mirroring a brewing storm with no glints of the sun anymore.

“Right, because you’re so innocent. You never committed any crimes! You’ve never done anything bad! Our favorite good guy, Dream. Never tried to kill any minors. Bless his heart.” you mocked.

“I don’t fight anybody unless they provoke me first. Every time I fought Tommy, I wished I didn’t have to.” 

“I really expected more from you, Dream, I really did. I expected you to at least fucking admit to your actions, at least give me a proper excuse as to why you haven’t left me and my brothers alone from the start even though we wanted nothing but to live in peace and independence, why you do so much of the fucked up shit you do, but I guess I expected too much from you. You’re nothing - even Technoblade is more of a man than you, you know that?” you asked, leaning on one foot lazily. You see his hand clench - someone’s getting mad. “Technoblade admits to his fucking actions. Technoblade has had his goals set from the start, he’s always made them clear, and even though he’s a dirty traitor, at the end of the day, it’s still your fault for siding with him. But you - you’re a liar. You’re a liar, and a manipulator, and you never play fair - you always play dirty and play with people’s emotions and that’s how you win.”

You continue: “That’s because you can’t win fairly. That’s because you lose when you play fair. You think you have power, but you don’t. You just play by a different set of rules than everybody else, and we let you. Power will turn a man evil, Dream, but you’ve been evil from the start. People will always fear you because you trick everyone into believing you’re far more powerful than you really are - but you know what people will do with me, Wilbur, and Tommy, that they’ll never do with you?”

Silence.

“They’ll respect us. And you are a man worthy of no respect.”

You unleash your sword, pressing the blade to his throat in a matter of seconds, ready to push it through with no preparation but he grips your hand before you can do it, and he’s about to speak, when your eyes dart to his, and suddenly, your vision blurs, a movie playing behind your eyelids without you closing your eyes at all. 

It’s almost like you see the events play out in the depths of his gaze - you see him, the real him, who stands before you, and you see his face mirrored in the scenes that play out, you see him staring right at you through some kind of screen, a smile plastered on his face. His features look softer, and his eyes don’t glint the same way they do now, but it’s not a bad thing; they look warm, homely. Something bursts in your chest the more you look at him, and it all goes by so fast, but you manage to somehow catch all of it. 

You manage to catch his warm smile just as the days pass in flying colors right before your eyes, you manage to feel heat spread through your chest when you look at the man before you, you manage to see him cooking, and laughing, and running, and driving, and crying, and sleeping, and kissing you and it all feels so odd but so perfect at the same time. You’re looking at Dream, but it’s not him - you call him a different name. You can make out the silhouette of the actual Dream, who still grips your wrist, behind the scenes of you and the man with a striking resemblance to him, and you wonder if this is happening to him, too.

You see him on one knee, at a beach, and you feel yourself crying even though you don’t know what’s going on. You see him in a field, and you can make out a man who looks awfully like Sapnap sitting on a plastic chair in the front row among many, wiping tears before your gaze turns back to Dream, who grins at you, dressed in a tuxedo. You see a young boy with blonde hair running around the house, laughing, while you try to catch him, and then Dream appears in front of you, picking the boy up before you could. You see his face wrinkle as the days pass, and you finally see him close his eyes one last time while tears run down your face uncontrollably, and the whole thing stops. The scenes disappear and you’re snapped back into reality, Dream’s teary eyes boring into yours. 

And that’s when you realise.

You harshly pull away from his grip, eyes wide in shock, putting your sword back in place as you shake your head in disbelief. The tears don’t stop flowing, and you can’t tell if it’s shock, horror, disappointment or betrayal - betrayal in who? Fate, you suppose. 

“N-No way. No way. No.” You keep shaking your head, voice trembling as you back away from him. He can barely collect himself, too, staring at you as if you’re not real, as if he’s seeing a ghost.

“We’re- no. Fuck no. Fuck this shit, dude.” You laugh dryly, no humor in it whatsoever, a mix of disbelief and fear still weighing down on your voice as he tries to step towards you, wiping the tears off his face.

“We’re- we’re soulmates.” He stutters, but manages to ground himself way before you do, gripping your wrist again, and you feel almost electrocuted when a spark shoots through your whole body at his touch. You pull away, again, stepping backwards, praying there’s no wall behind you.

“No.” you repeat like a broken record, not even bothering to wipe the tears. “No- I- there must be a m-mistake, this can’t be-”

“There’s no mistake, Y/N. You’re my soulmate.” He takes both of your hands into his, holding your fingers gently, and it takes all the power in your body not to burst out crying again. 

“Y-You’re no soulmate of mine.” you gulp, pulling your hands away once again, finally managing to somehow collect your thoughts. “Fuck you. I don’t care what- what we fucking are. I’ll never love you.” 

You see him visibly stiffen at your words, mouth parting, and you almost feel bad. Almost.

“You can’t- you can’t go against fate like that. We’re soulmates, Y/N.” He sounds hurt. You manage to convince yourself that you don’t care.

“Watch me do it.” You spit, anger recollecting in your gut once again. “Fucking watch me. Find yourself somebody else. I’ll never forgive you.” 

“Listen, I’ll bring Tommy back, just listen-”

“So now you can suddenly go against Tubbo’s orders? When it fits you? Fuck you. You don’t need to bring Tommy back, because I’m leaving with him. Him and Wilbur were more soulmates to me than you ever, ever will be.” 

And with one last glare in his direction, you turn on your heel, stomping out of the Community House, rage burning your whole body as he watches you leave. 

A powerful man needs those who will give him power. Watching you walk away, Dream realised that one day, he’ll have no one.

[asweetprologue]

Nili’s Benchmark Geraskier Fic Rec List

hey yall! I officially hit 750 followers (a few days ago, I blew past the benchmark without even realizing!), which is... insane. I truly can’t believe that so many people over the last year have enjoyed my presence in this fandom enough to continue to follow my work. you guys are so great and I love you all so much, so I decided to put together a gift for you!

this is a list of my favorite geraskier fics from the fandom, which I have been putting together over the last year or so. a few of these are big in the fandom, but a lot of them are smaller pieces that I feel deserve more attention! I have provided ao3 and tumblr links where I could find them, as well as ratings and summaries. Most of these are canon!verse because I’m not personally a big fan of modern au’s, but there will be a few of those scattered throughout as well. I’ve divided the fics into two sections: oneshots and multichapter. See the list below the cut!

Being in this fandom truly has gotten me through the pandemic in a big way and I have made so many good friends while here. thank you all for validating my weird obsession with these characters and enabling me in these trying times <3

Oneshots

all that was good, all that was fair (all that was me is gone) | M | 7517 | WARNING: Graphic Depictions Of Violence | @xdandelionxbloomx

Somewhere, deep in a forest, a man drags himself from his grave by sheer power of will. He lies gasping on the forest floor and does not know who or what he is. The world is wide and wonderful, though, and there is so much to see.

Or, Jaskier is so stubborn that he literally comes back from the dead.

Another fascinating addition to the mythology of the Witcher. Jaskier’s slow rediscovery of himself is so well done here. One I’ve come back to again and again. 

As Fast As Love Can Go | T | 9628 | @bygodstillam

There are Faeries in the Wood.

That's what everyone said, at least, not that there was any solid proof. Jaskier had tried, more than once, to find some. Just a hint somewhere, of a real story, of real magic. But all anyone seemed to have was stories.

Jaskier was determined to find proof. He wasn't expecting to find a witcher in the process.

Fascinating fic with some really interesting worldbuilding, and a fresh new take on True Love’s Kiss. Also with some great art by @hehearse!

beautiful, he stirs up still things | T | 2575 | @alittlebitmaybe

“You’re not asking me to dance,” says Geralt.

Jaskier turns his palm up on his knee, offering it. “I think you’ll find I am.”

Just them dancing. This is a lovely sort of pre-relationship dynamic. So soft.

Dialogue Prompt | NR | 2932 | @reinvent-and-believe

Dialogue Prompt 48: “You make me want things I can’t have.” Wordless I-love-you 50: buying them a special treat when you go out shopping

Geralt gets Jaskier a gift, which prompts some confessions.

Even a small love | E | 22,272 | WARNING: Rape/Non-Con 

“Well,” Jaskier replies distractedly. “Lots of things want to strangle you.”

“You don’t.”

It isn’t a particularly troublesome accusation, or even necessarily an accusation at all.

This is one I read early on in the fandom, and it really stuck with me. The dynamic between Jaskier and Geralt is perfect, and the misunderstandings between them feel so realistic. The non-con is not extreme, but do mind the warnings. 

For the Space of a Heartbeat | T | 2021 | @drowningbydegrees

As it turns out, falling into bed with your very best friend who you are privately very much in love with isn't nearly so nerve wracking as waking up with them the morning after.

Just sweet, morning after discussions. I love to see them talking for once.

Greensleeves | T | 10,414 | @rebrandedbard

When Geralt crosses paths with Jaskier in the spring, the world is dressed in green. Quite literally. Everyone everywhere is wearing green, and it all comes down to a song Jaskier has written that, to his mortification, has become popular throughout the Continent. It's torment, being forced to preform the song over and over again and have his heart broken anew. But who is this Lady Greensleeves the people say Jaskier is so maddeningly, heartbrokenly in love with? At the baron's wedding party, Geralt is determined to find out.

This is one of my personal faves - there’s just something about Jaskier’s feelings being put on blast while Geralt remains totally oblivious that I think is so very them. And the resolution at the end is delightful.

I Don’t Wanna Fall (If It’s Not In Love) | E | 13,902 | @writinglizards

The first time it's out of desperation. Things get rapidly out of hand from there.

OR the building of a relationship through mutual wank sessions.

I love everything Ashley writes, but this one was the first fic I read by her and it still has a warm place in my heart. I also highly recommend It’s Been A While (makes me cry every time) and Tell Me Honestly

Like a Storm, Like a Flood | T | 1065 | @valdomarx

Jaskier is leaving for the winter, and Geralt can't bear the thought of not seeing him for months.

It was soooo hard to pick only one fic by George, but this one is so soft and sweet and yearning I just had to go with it. This is really just about Geralt finally hitting a breaking point and saying enough is enough.

one flesh | E | 10,763 | WARNING: MCD 

“Well, then. I’m a ghost.” Jaskier spread his arms grandly. Geralt held his gaze for a moment, then dropped his head and laughed. Jaskier put his hands on his hips. “Do fill me in on what’s so funny.” It wasn’t funny. It was just so - ridiculous, the things Geralt’s fucked up brain would invent. This had to be the last nail in the sanity coffin, it just had to be.

Or: Jaskier is a ghost, and Geralt is a mess.

Jaskier dies and comes back as a ghost to haunt Geralt into taking care of himself. Geralt does not handle this gracefully. This fic is so sad and heartbreaking, but the ending is so sweet.

to render it transparent | E | 23,901

Geralt wakes up warm, peaceful, and utterly content, which is how he knows that something is severely wrong.

Sigh. This fic. This is a time travel fic - Geralt ends up in the future living with Jaskier on the coast, just after the mountain. It’s slow and beautiful and extremely bittersweet, all about how we choose to love people despite how much it can hurt us.

With All the Continent A Stage | M | 4745 | @greyduckgreygoose

Later, Geralt learned that the play was four hours long. Four hours long. It didn’t feel like it. Most of it passed by in a fever dream of ominous music, dance-fighting and dryads in gossamer leaves, swinging from hoops attached to the ceiling. Yennefer made an appearance, played by Priscilla in a glittering negligee. She sang a song to Geralt about putting him “Under Her Spell”, and they had a sensual dance number which was made a little strange by a sickened Jaskier (played by Jaskier) coughing loudly in the background.

(Jaskier invites Geralt to a musical production inspired by his own life.)

Jaskier basically writes Geralt a love letter in the form of a four hour long play. Geralt is an idiot about it.

Multi-Chapter Fics

A Lover’s Lament | M | 25,364 | @somedrunkpirate

So,” Jaskier begins, as casually as he can, “you are telling me, that in theory, if I were to be in love with someone — anyone — that person could well be in terrible danger?”

Of all terrible and ridiculous things that have threatened Geralt’s safety, Jaskier’d never thought that loving him might be what will get him killed.

I honestly can’t count the number of times I’ve read this fic. The monster is so interesting, and the mythos of it fits seamlessly into the world of the Witcher in my mind. Jaskier being so afraid that his feelings are going to put Geralt at risk, clearly unable to see that Geralt is going through the exact same thing. I think about the scene with them looking at each other almost daily. 

A Pair of Gloves, the Scent of Roses | M | 24,134 | WARNING: Graphic Depictions of Violence

In the bustling days before the Midsummer festival, Geralt is sent into the countryside to deal with a monster - with Jaskier once again by his side. But the bard has not forgiven him, and while he's not hiding his contempt for the Witcher, he is recalcitrant about revealing his true motives for joining him. As the hunt turns into a desperate mission to save an innocent man and the monster is not what is seems to be, Geralt learns a few new things about his old friend and decides to finally attempt to mend the rift between them...

This is one of my favorite’s in the fandom - it feels so believable, the world is so rich and the oc’s are convincing and charming. Geralt and Jaskier feel so honest here, stumbling around each other but still drawn together. Beautiful beautiful beautiful

Bearing the will of the flower | NR | 11,449 

The way Jaskier sees it, his hobby of following a witcher around was always pretty likely to get him killed.

The fact that it's happening now because the witcher in question doesn't love him, he thinks as he coughs up crumpled flowers, hardly makes a difference.

My favorite hanahaki fic in the fandom. I’m such a sucker for these, and these two idiots being so incapable of talking about their feelings really makes them prime candidates. 

Food of Love | T | 22,488 | @wallatile-qvibbler

I brought a dead princess back to life through the power of song is the kind of thing that would have got an eyebrow raise even from the stone-faced Geralt of Rivia, so it's a good thing he and Geralt will probably never see each other again.

(or: the one where Jaskier channels magic through his songs, and it almost never goes as expected.)

This is a Jaskier and Renfri centric fic, which wasn’t something I knew I wanted until I read this. Jaskier is a bard which in this AU comes with magical powers, but it feels so well integrated into the universe that I wish it was just... how the Witcher is. Renfri is so good here, and even though Jaskier and Geralt barely even interact you can feel the tension and love between them. Cannot recommend highly enough.

friends and allies of the witcher | T | 10,312 | @theamazingbard

Yennefer crawls over to her newest cellmate. They’re curled up on their side. Breathing, but only just. She’s not sure what she’s hoping for when she turns them over. Still isn’t when she sees that it is indeed Jaskier.

“Shit."

Yennefer and Jaskier each suffer in more ways than one at the hands of Nilfgaard.

Yennefer and Jaskier get capture by Nilfgaard and tossed into a cell together. Exactly what I want out of season 2 honestly. Their interactions are gold.

I’d Be the Choiceless Hope | E | 45,188 | WARNING: Rape/Non-Con | @lesdemonium

As a baby, Jaskier was visited by a fae, who gifted Jaskier's mother with Jaskier's obedience. As Jaskier grew older, the "gift" became more of a curse.

You know I’m not gonna make a rec list without listing Zoe’s Ella Enchanted au. Need I say more?

Silver and Copper | M | 56,139 | WARNING: Graphic Depictions of Violence | @kaer-cuan

Geralt is just supposed to pass through the quiet Lettenhove area. He's not anticipating being begged by its people to help save their viscount from a curse that keeps him from daylight. Lord Jaskier, they call him, and he's likely dying.

As Geralt struggles to untangle the ugly web of history that has lead to the increasingly complicated curse, he finds himself spending more and more time with the strange young viscount and wondering just what he might have been before the curse, and who he might be after. But things are not always as they seem, and as the curse tightens its grip on Jaskier, Geralt is forced to face the fear of failing yet another person whose choices were stolen from them.

Or-

Jaskier is kept from becoming a bard. Geralt finds him anyway.

This is a fic that haunts me. It’s very scary in parts, and mind the tags - there are some very heavy themes here. But it’s beautiful and touching, and Jaskier feels very true to himself even though his origin is so different.

we could be married (and then we'd be happy) | E | 50,222 | @a-kind-of-merry-war

Jaskier reached into his pocket, fingers grasping around the little box. He pulled it out with what he hoped was a romantic flourish, flipping it open to reveal the simple gold band inside. “Geralt,” he said, confidently, cooly, like this wasn’t terrifying, “Will you marry me?”

Geralt and Jaskier fake marriage proposals to get free deserts and shit but it goes tits up when Vesemir catches them in the act. Not knowing how to fess up, they go along with it for a while, which is hell because they’re both pining like mad. As I said, I don’t love modern au’s, but it’s merry so of course this one had to end up on my list.

~

And that’s it! 20 fics for you, and hopefully you can all find one or two you haven’t read before. There are a lot of people and fics that I didn’t include in this list only because I was trying to not put a million down (which I could). I highly recommend anything by @wherethewordsare, @julek, @contemplativepancakes, @witcher-and-his-bard, and @inber, as well as those linked to fics above, and I’m sure there are others I forgot to mention. Yall have truly made being in this fandom worthwhile <3

[interlunium-opus]

No Place I’d Rather Be. [ Jay ]

[ Jay | fluff ]

Abstract: when you went to the library on the night when the Triennial Winter Ball was held, you expected to be all alone. But Jay, your best friend and the  campus heartthrob is somehow already there waiting for you.

You stared out of the corridors of windows as you ascended up the staircase of the desolated library, your eyes fixated on the bustling crowd outside. It was the night the Triennial Winter Ball was held: basically the night everyone looked forward to the moment they started university. Unlike how dark, drab and quiet winter nights in campus usually are — tonight, the campus was alight with festive lights lining up the path leading up to the grand hall and students filtering in, decked in their “Sunday best”, filling the otherwise quiet night with cacophony of laughters, chatters, and whispers.

Standing in contrast with the crowd outside was you, all alone in the dimly-lit library, decked in monochrome with books in hand instead clinking glasses and waltzing with others in an elegant dress. You sighed as you thought to yourself, who am I kidding, my introverted soul wouldn’t last a minute in there.

“You’re late today.”

You jumped, startled, dropping some of the books you were carrying. Given the context of tonight, no one should have been in the library right now. Especially not the campus heartthrob and the social butterfly, Jay Park.

“Jay?” You called out, squinting your eyes to get a clearer view of the tall figure at the end of the aisle. The dim-lighting were of no help at all but the blonde locks and the deep voice were a massive giveaway, “wait..what are you doing here?!”

“You look petrified to see your own best friend, it’s almost heartbreaking,” Jay muttered sarcastically as he made his way towards you before reaching down to pick up the books you had dropped.

“Well, duh, no one should be here tonight especially not you,” you retorted as you walked towards your usual seat at the corner, the one with the large windows and dimmest lighting, “people are going to think that you got kidnapped or something and oh God, the amount of hearts you’re breaking tonight with your no-show.”

“Well, what’s your excuse?” Jay raised an eyebrow at you.

“Jay, we have been best friends for almost 2 years now, you know why I am not there — I would just combust,” you said as a matter-of-factly as you took a seat.

“But it’s our final year, you’ve got to make it count — socially I mean. And come on, it’s the Triennial Winter Ball not some frat party,” he grumbled as he sat on the armrest of the chair next to you with his body facing you and arms folded. Being a massive extrovert with a lifestyle that tends toward opulence — tonight’s extravagance was right up his alley and all month long he had been endlessly badgering you to attend it. Being the massive introvert you are though, the ball is basically the last thing you would want to attend.

That said, as incredulous as the friendship between the two of you are to many people, you two are polar opposites that complement one another in a way that two differently-shaped puzzle pieces can only fit one another. Being a social butterfly, your individualism, rationality and brilliant intellect really stood in stark contrast with the homogenous crowd and superficial conversations that he constantly surround himself with. With an equally subtle sarcastic dark humor to match, a tenacity like no others and a brilliant intellect that constantly challenge and stimulates his mind — you’re like an oasis in the desert.

Likewise, Jay, too, was like a breath of fresh air to you. You have had some initial reservations about him though. After all, he was more known for his lavish lifestyle and the parties he throw. But beyond those such fronts, Jay was highly knowledgable with strong passion for what he believes in — qualities of which really matched yours. Not to mention, being pragmatic and rational himself, he was one of the rare few people in your life that you don’t need to put up a social filter for as he is always able to objectively understand your views and opinions.

That is how you two end up going from being touted as the “cursed” pairing that was doomed to fail when you two were first paired for a project in “Modern Political Thought” module, to the Dream Team that ended up trouncing everyone else’s project, attaining the highest score out of everyone in class. In fact, you two just keep on surprising everyone by becoming almost inseparable even after the module ended.

“Who’s to say a couple of drinks isn’t going to turn a ball into a frat party?” You shot him an incredulous look before turning your attention to the books you were flipping, “… exam is around the corner anyway.”

“1.5 months away,” he emphasized as he lowered his head down to your level, peeking over your shoulders to take a closer look at your notes, “Seriously? you’re skipping tonight’s extravagance and festivities for Multivariate Functions and Lagrangian? I’d have let it slide if you were working on a prose instead.”

“Well what’s your excuse for being here then? I’m pretty sur-“ you stopped mid-sentence, caught off guard by how close his face actually was to yours when you looked up to face him. Jay’s face as usual was unperturbed, his blonde locks softly framed his chiseled face and his lips was pouty in concentration as his eyes travelled from one end of your notebook to the other before he turned his face slightly and met your gaze. You swore for a moment you felt your heart skip a beat but the moment one corner of his lips lifted into his signature lopsided grin, that thought immediately disappeared as you knew he was going to say something sarcastic or dramatic.

“How can I be so selfish and party away when my best friend is all sad and depressed alone in this library?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, “Jay, as if-”

“Also,” he suddenly interjected, “the girl that I asked out for tonight rejected me so….”

“Wait, what?!” You gasped, “The Jay Park got rejected?”

“I know right. She rejected an offer that millions would have killed for,” he shrugged as he straightened back up.

“Exactly! who in their right mind would- anyway, at the risk of sounding insensitive, couldn’t you have substituted her with other girls? Like you said, millions would have killed to be your date — you can just pick and choose.”

“Wow, ____, you really have ice in your veins don’t you?” he smirked.

“Whatever, just being rational.”

“I know. I definitely could. I mean the head cheerleader asked me out too so I could have just accepted it,” he murmured, “but...” he paused, “as cringeworthy as this sounds, 80% of the reason why I really looked forward to the ball was because I was looking forward to spending it with the girl who rejected me. So without her in the picture, the whole vision just suddenly lost its spark. Like… I’d rather just spend time with her then whether it is at a ball or library or wherever.”

“Oh…” you managed, unsure how to react, “that’s kind of… deep I guess. Well yeah, I mean if you still don’t feel bitter over her rejecting you then sure, you do you, go after her. Unless of course she’s at the ball with someone else then maybe not…”

Instead of responding promptly as he usually does, Jay just heaved a huge sigh as if he was disappointed or something. His eyes glued onto yours as if trying to pry some information out of your mind, “You know you’re awfully dense. Have you ever thought that maybe you’re too studious that it’s beginning to cost you your social skills or something?”

Jay has always been blunt but tonight, it was just on a different level. It was almost like he was here to intentionally grate you as if someone was actually keeping score. You retorted, “Excuse me. Did you just come all the way here to push my buttons? Because yo-“

You stopped mid-sentence again when he suddenly leaned closer towards you, his hands on either side of you, one on the edge of your table and the other, gripping your headrest, “I am already with her right now.”

You furrowed your brows in confusion, your mind working on overdrive.

“Fine,” he uttered, ”let me spell it out for you — you’re the girl. You’re the one who rejected me. Twice.”

You opened your mouth to tell him to stop joking but his unperturbed facial expressions told you otherwise. Still in disbelief, you stammered, “No way — Me? When?! I mean we talked about the ball a couple of times but you’ve never… unless - wait… you were serious?”

You remembered it was a Saturday night, about 2 weeks ago at almost 4 AM when you and Jay was at the library burning the midnight oil. You were busy trying to finish up your Econometrics assignment while Jay, who had long given up with his Philosophy assignment, was engrossed in a movie marathon next to you.

“Ugh,” you groaned when your regression results turned ‘insignificant’. You turned your attention to the papers and books strewn across your desk, frantically flipping through the pages to see where the error could have been and how else can you rectify this.

“You need to sleep on it,” Jay murmured, casting worried glances at you, “You’ve been on it for hours.”

“I can’t,” you shook your head, your eyes scanning over your messy handwriting, “I’ll end up obsessing about it again at home so I definitely need to get to the bottom of this today, that’s the only way I can sleep.”

Jay sighed, pausing his movie and turning his attention fully towards you, “Fine. But you really need to reward yourself for working so hard this semester because otherwise, you’ll just burn out. Also, by reward, I did not mean hibernating.”

“Hmm,” you nodded absentmindedly when suddenly Jay snatched the pen you were using, “Hey ___ eyes on the person talking please. What did I just say?”

You rolled you eyes, relenting, “Something about rewarding myself and not hibernating — there, happy? Can I get my pen back?”

“Good,” Jay beamed, quickly pulling his hand away when you were about to snatch your pen back from his grasp, “The Triennial Winter Ball would be a good idea of a reward by the way.”

You scoffed, “Jay, that is probably your idea of a reward but it definitely won’t be mine. First, I’ve got to look all made up from top to bottom — that takes up too much resources for something an introvert like me possibly won’t even enjoy — that’s the equivalent of some floppy investment prospects right there.

“Secondly, I avoid crowds like the plague whenever I could help it and the ball has all the variables that could make me combust on spot: there are a lot people; a lot of emotions; a lot of expectations and — well, you get the picture.

“And finally, I would need to find someone to go with — again, too much trouble.“

“You have me, where’s the trouble in that?” he asserted, snatching your pencil case away this time when you were about to reach for it, “Just go with me then.”

“Yeah no that’s ridiculous,” you shook your head, stretching your hand out to him, beckoning him to give your stationaries back, “Stop playing, give me my stationaries back.”

Ignoring your demand, he pressed on, “Why is that so ridiculous?”

You sighed, “Because A) everyone wants a piece of you so B) I’d be burnt at stake if we do go together. And also C) You should spend that special night with a special someone, not your best friend — come on, Jay, you need to work on your prioritization skill.”

“Wait — that was meant to be it?” You shrieked as you recalled the memory, “I mean, it just rolls so casually in our conversation — I couldn’t have possibly picked it up as serious. Anyway, fine — when was the other time?”

“Just a few days ago when I was sending you home,” Jay replied as-a-matter-of-factly. Jay remembered skipping dance practice that night, earning an earful from the instructor the next day, just so that he can walk you home after your Students’ Union meeting with the president, Yang Jungwon.

“You’re really set on not going to the ball?” Jay asked for the umpteenth time and you nodded.

“What if I tell you that I know someone who is thinking of asking you out for the ball?” Jay prodded, stopping you in your tracks, “I’m serious.”

“Still no.”

“I have not even told you who he was,” Jay grumbled.

“Fine, entertain me,” you relented.

“Jungwon.”

“Jay stop messing around.”

“I told you I’m serious, geez,” Jay said exasperatedly.

“But why — what is that kid thinking…”

“I don’t know — maybe you should stop having some night meetings with him alone before it grows into a full-blown crush or something,” Jay shrugged before you smack him lightly on the arm. “Ouch!” he whined, “Anyway so? Will that be a yes or a no?”

“Of course no, Jungwon’s a definite no.”

“Well, I saved him from a heartbreak then,” Jay mumbled.

“Huh?” You stared at him.

“Nothing,” Jay quipped, smiling sheepishly. The truth was, one of the reason why he insisted to walk you home tonight was because he overheard Jungwon telling Heeseung this morning that he definitely would ask you out to the ball after the meeting, perhaps right after, perhaps while walking you home. Knowing that someone as upright as Jungwon was going to ask you out, Jay thought he should have been elated for this might mean that you will actually come to the ball. But somehow, like a broken record, the conversation kept on playing in his mind all day during his classes, accompanied with the 1001 likely scenarios of how you’d likely respond to him. By the time night has set in, all he knew was that he was dead set on not letting Jungwon ask you out to the ball, by hook or by crook. He did not fully comprehend why, perhaps he just did not like Jungwon, he thought. Or maybe, he didn’t like you with Jungwon together — or perhaps, he actually didn’t like you with any other guys. Fortunately by the time he had reached the Student Centre of the Campus, completely out of breath that is, he can see that you and Jungwon were still discussing the union project. Once the meeting ended, as indicated by Jungwon switching the projector off, Jay just barged in, announcing that he’ll take you home much to your suprise and to Jungwon’s dismay.

“Why not though?” Jay suddenly asked, “I mean accepting Jungwon? He’s like the textbook example of an ideal guy: cute, smart, upright, overachiever and whatnot”

“Well, my good friend has a crush on him for the longest time so that’s one big reason,” you explained, “also, we don’t even know each other that well on a personal level for me to say yes to.”

“Then would you go with me instead?” Jay suddenly grabbed onto your hand, stopping you in your tracks, “I mean, if you’re worried about having a good time, wouldn’t I be ideal then?”

For a moment, silence engulfed the two of you as you two stared into one another’s eyes. You opened your mouth to say something but immediately closed it, remembering how just this morning you overheard that the head cheerleader had asked Jay out, “Jay, just go with someone else more fitting okay? You don’t have to pity invite me or something, I’m fine. I heard the head cheerleader asked you out — isn’t that perfect? two campus heartthrobs together? You guys would be the talk of campus and the envy of many.”

Despite the praises, he could feel his heart sank. While it was not an explicit rejection, your nonchalance, for the second time, pricked him. Not one to be emotional, he plastered a smile as he slowly let your hand go, “Yeah, I guess.”

“Oh no, crap, I’m sorry Jay,” you sank in your seat as you stared at him in disbelief. No wonder, he looked so taken aback that night, you thought, and how cold he was the next day. “You know what, yeah I’m definitely dense — I think I traded my social skills for good grades. You can tease me with that all you want, I won’t even try to defend myself anymore.”

“Well, on the bright side, flirtations from others can’t get through to you — you’re like a fortress or something,” Jay chuckled, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry though really,” you bit your lip, apologetic, “What can I do to make it up to you? Oh you know what — that Michelin-starred restaurant that just opened up in the corner? How about I’ll treat you there for tomorrow? It’ll break my wallet but if it will unbreak what I’ve done to you -- I’d gladly commit to the splurge.”

“Oh come on, I’m not that materialistic,” Jay scoffed, “Do you mean it though, that you’ll do anything?”

“Absolutely,” you nodded, “Within moral and ethical bounds, that is.”

Suddenly Jay extended his hand towards you, beckoning you to take it. 

“You’re not dragging me to the ball right now right?” you took his hand and he pulled you up to your feet, leading you towards a more spacious area, “We’re underdressed for it Jay. I mean look at me, I’m decked in monochrome -- I basically look like I’m mourning.”

He chuckled as he pulled out his AirPods case, taking out one and gently inserting it into your ear before inserting the other pair into his, “Don’t worry, there are no dress codes for our own private ball.”

Soft music started to play through the AirPods, it was “Best Part” by Daniel Caesar ft. H.E.R. “Just dance along with me alright? I don’t need to be splurged on,” Jay’s hand slowly snaked over your back, pulling you close to him as he carefully yet smoothly guide you to the melody of the music.

“Well, gotta warn you though,” you smiled sheepishly, “I’m bad at this so don’t sue me if I step on your Pradas.”

“Fine, exclusively for tonight, I’ll put my Pradas at risk,” he quipped, his eyes glued onto yours, “Say, if you had known that I was serious — would you have said ’yes’ to me?”

You looked up, meeting his warm gaze which somehow, perhaps due to the proximity, was making your heart skip a beat, “I think so? I mean, I hate crowds but you would usually make me forget that I was in one. Also, you’ve always said yes to all of my weird adventures so I always feel like I need to repay you back in-kind if the opportunity arises.”

Despite always trying to keep his composure in the face of any nerve-wrecking  moment, Jay failed this time as he feel his smile widened while his heart raced uncontrollably. He couldn’t exactly pinpointed why: was it your sudden heart-fluttering words; was it the proximity; was it the the warmth that he could feel on both hands; was it the atmosphere; was it the fireworks that was starting to set off outside; or was it just you?

Suddenly, he thought in retrospect, he was glad that you had said “no” to him. He wouldn’t have traded the moment tonight, just you and him away from all the external noises, for a waltz in a crowded and noisy ballroom, even with all the glitz and glamour that it offers. In fact, tonight best represented what you meant to him, like that of an oasis in a desert, your presence alone is enough for him even if he has to search through the highs and lows for you -- it is just you who he’ll gravitate to eventually. 

_______

Author’s note: first imagine wheee! Hope you guys like this one :3

[asexualbookbird]

ITS BEEN A HELL OF A TWO MONTHS, YALL. Family problems, health problems, disabled problems, this summer sucks lol I read a lot this month thanks to the readathon, so I get some of the good brain juices from that little accomplishment. One month closer to my best friends wedding which I am so excited for,  discovered I like mango so long as it’s not fresh (so candied, dried, jellied), figured out the right card combo to get high scores in SIF, there were good things peppered throughout the bad. Still wish life didn’t happen so fast.

BOOKS

Year of the Reaper ⭐⭐ (May)

Salt Fat Acid Heat (May)

Summer Sons⭐⭐⭐⭐(May)

Of A Feather (May)

Beasts of Prey ⭐(June)

The Library At Mount Char  ⭐⭐ (June)

Across A Field Of Starlight ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ (June)

The Deep & Dark Blue ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ (June)

The Ikkesar Falcon ⭐⭐⭐ (June)

This Is How You Lose The Time War ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ (June)

OTHER MEDIA

The Magnus Archives

Ringfit

Love Life School Idol Festival

Project Diva

The Adventure Zone: Ethersea

The Penumbra Podcast

Pokemon Alpha Sapphire

FOOD

grilled lamb chops (birthday dinner!)

cinnamon challah

overnight french toast (made from cinnamon challah)

chocolate chips cookies (twice, both Bad for some reason??)

chicken roast

banana bread

banana pudding

poached fish

BERRY PIE

buffalo wings

teriyaki chicken

sausage rolles

fig squares

PEACH PIE

I left non fiction books unrated because it feels weird to rate Real Things. SFAH is a very good resource, especially if you’re new to cooking. A lot of it was stuff I already new, but it had me thinking about it in different ways, which is always good. The recipes are also easy to follow and I love the pull out flavor charts.

I finished The Magnus Archives in May and I loved it so much it took everything I had not to immediately start it again. I still might though. I miss Jon and Martin and Basira and Melanie and

I listened to an entire season and then some of The Penumbra Podcast and decided it was Not For Me. It’s Fine and I see what they were going for, but I wasn’t enjoying it. Walks were no longer fun. I thought it was because I enjoyed TMA so much, I was comparing it, like when I was reading Project Hail Mary all I could think was “I’d rather be reading Murderbot”, but sometimes! That’s because the thing you’re consuming isn’t fun! And that’s okay! Also hated that it was a mostly funny and slapstick show and then they blew up a cat.

Started Alpha Sapphire, but I’m taking my time with it. Sapphire was my favorite game growing up, my best friend (WHO IS GETTING MARRIED I LOVE HER) gave it to me in sixth grade and I swear I put a good 900 hours into it AT LEAST. And then another, different also besty friend got me Alpha Sapphire for my birthday this year and I get to repeat the process. It means so much to me, my friends as always are a shining light in my life, I love yall so much.

I have stomach issues again and my mom is dealing with Gross Smells (don’t know if it’s covid related, neither of us ever tested positive), so food hasn’t been a big thing recently. The peach pie was less a pie and more a bowl of peaches with pie crust on top (can’t have a soggy bottom if you don’t have a bottom). It was still good and I still ate it all, don’t get me wrong, but it’s less fun when others can’t enjoy it with you.

July goals? I don’t know lol SIF finally closed up their anniversary events so I look forward to not playing that as often. I’d like to do some art this month since crocheting is still painful and cooking isn’t the same when it’s just me. I need a creative outlet. I need to send off a gift box and get wedding shoes (why is shoe shopping so hard), I want to read the stack of books on my desk (leftovers from the Readathon and library books and books I’m Maybe Feeling Like Reading), I’d like to do another puzzle, and since I’ve finally discovered a way that audibooks work for me, I can read AND puzzle at the same time! Life hacked!

Here’s to July, may you get your shit together.

[lonely-lost-soul]

First Lady of the Court Pt. II

(Wilbur Soot x Reader) Part I, Part II, Part III

Part 2: Moments

      The first time Tubbo snuck you out of the city it was like a breath of fresh air. Schlatt was on your last nerve while you tried to keep everything else together. Your duties included collecting unfair taxes, answering questions from concerned citizens, getting Schlatt cigars and booze but you tried to keep your main focus on watching over Fundy. While Fundy was on Schlatt’s side now you still wanted to keep an eye on him for Wilbur, trying to sow the seed that this wasn’t the best decision in the world. Plus Fundy always saw you as a mother figure so you hoped you had a little bit of influence over him and his actions. Although you never wanted to replace Sally, his actual mom, he still looked up to you like one and you treated him as a son. You let the breeze tickle your cheeks as Tubbo led you towards Pogtopia, you were disappointed seeing you were now headed inside of a cave and couldn’t stay in the fresh air. Did they need to make their base an underground bunker? You supposed that logically, it did make the most sense, considering they were in hiding from the government. 

      “Be careful okay?” Tubbo smiled over at you, “There are no railings or anything I don’t want you to fall. I think Wilbur would kill me!” You nodded as he led you down the steps of the cavern, you were in awe at the lights that were set up all around you. It was amazing what they managed to do in such a short amount of time. While you were away from the boys Tubbo managed to fill you in on who Technoblade was and would constantly update you on what Tommy and Wilbur were up to. You couldn’t wait to experience everything they created in person. “Hey, guys it’s me!” Tubbo shouted his voice echoing off the walls of the cave, “I brought a surprise.” He flashed a big smile in your direction, his eyebrows wiggling at you suggestively. 

       “A surprise?” Tommy raised an eyebrow stepping out into the open and once he caught sight of you he let out a loud shrieking laugh. He ran over and tossed his arms around your neck, you were much shorter than him so the hug was a little awkward but you appreciated it nonetheless. 

      “Hi, Tommy. I missed you too.” You hugged him back with a squeeze and a soft giggle of your own, “You holding up okay?”

      “I’m gonna be much better when we get Manburg back from Schlatt’s clutches. God, it’s so good to see you, women, I can’t believe I’m saying that! Wilbur’s gonna lose his shit! WILBUR GET IN HERE!” 

      “Shut up Tommy I’m coming, I’m coming.” Wilbur groaned walking into the room, his trenchcoat floating behind him. “What exactly is so important. I was in the middle of something rather importannnnnnn- (Y/N),” He sputtered jaw-dropping as he saw you. You looked just as beautiful as he last remembered you, the bags under your eyes were new, as was the suit, but other than that you were the epitome of a goddess in his eyes. Meanwhile, he looked like a homeless mess covered in dirt and grime, hair a greasy mess, clothes tattered. Wilbur never wanted to die more than he did at this moment. 

You didn’t care about any of that though he was still your Wilbur, you could tell by the look in his eyes that he was. “Hey, Wilby long time no see.”  You walked up to him and wrapped him in a hug, you pressed your head to his chest, “I missed you so much.” Your voice was soft, as you squeezed your eyes shut, you felt the ex-president tense up in your hold. 

Oh god did he smell? He totally smelled. Wilbur prayed that he didn’t smell, could you tell how fast his heart was beating? He hesitantly ran a hand through your hair and caressed it softly, it was just as soft as he remembered. He missed it more than he ever would’ve imagined.

      “I missed you too my darling,” He whispered, “so much. You have no idea.” Wilbur looked up to see the smirking faces of Tommy and Tubbo and his face turned bright red. They both were mouthing ‘simp’ at him, well it was more Tommy than Tubbo but still. He glared at his companions and pulled away from you, “Let’s go talk in private okay?” You tried to turn around to glance behind you but Wilbur only dragged you away so you couldn’t get a good look at the teenagers. As soon as the two of you were alone Wilbur cupped your cheeks and pressed an almost desperate kiss against your lips. You sighed happily into it, grabbing the collar of his trench coat to hold him close to you. Wilbur rested his head against your own and after a few minutes of silence he finally spoke up, “How’re you doing?” 

      “Usually that’s asked before you kiss.” A smirk was planted on your lips as you reached up and twirled his curls between your fingers. He burned red up to the tips of his ears and he nudged you while scoffing, “I’m hanging in there Wilbur. I’m stronger than I look, remember that.” 

      “And Fundy?” Wilbur asked a bit hesitantly, “I’m sure he has no desire to know about me and I guess I don’t deserve to know about him but even so…”

      “He’s doing good...he’s very… I guess confused is the right word. He’s desperately trying to gain Schlatt’s approval, I think he just to make someone proud-”

      “I’m proud of him!” Wilbur tried to argue and you shushed him softly, 

      “I know Will, I know. But does he know that?” You raised an eyebrow as he shrunk in on himself. “I’m looking out for him though so try not to worry, he still seems to tolerate me.” Wilbur looked relieved at the fact that you were still in Fundy’s good graces and were keeping an eye on him. 

      “You’re an angel, (Y/N). When this is over I’m gonna marry the shit out of you.” 

      “Oh stop.” You tossed your head back with a laugh, your (h/c) hair falling in front of your eyes shyly. Wilbur could only smile at you as he pushed your hair out of your face to kiss your nose. 

      “Now tell me everything you know about Schlatt and his band of misfits.” 

---

The second time you snuck out with Tubbo was the day before Schlatt’s festival. Tubbo spent the entire day decorating for it and with your help, the both of you managed to get the decorations up in a timely manner. Sometime after the preparations were complete Tommy requested to meet up with Tubbo. Immediately you pleaded with Tubbo to let you go with him but he seemed very hesitant to let you join. He told you that the last time he visited Pogtopia Wilbur was acting very strange and he didn’t want you to get hurt by him in any form. You were flattered that you had him looking out for you but you assured him that Wilbur would never hurt you and that talking to you might be positive for his mental health. Tubbo gave you a tense smile and interlocked his hand with yours, 

      “I just don’t want you to get hurt.” 

      “I won't, I promise. Plus I’ll have you to protect me if anything goes wrong.” 

      “I appreciate that but I am very weak,” Tubbo sheepishly smiled scratching at his chin, his face turning slightly pink. You tossed your head back and laughed, as you squeezed his hand tightly, 

      “Okay, I’ll look out for both of us then.” 

You both had to sneak past an overzealous Fundy who wanted mother-son bonding time but eventually, you shook him off your scent and made your way into Pogtopia. Tubbo called out your arrival and once again Tommy beat Wilbur in greeting you at the entrance. You frowned seeing that he looked a little worse for wear, the bags under his eyes were darker and a clear indicator that he wasn’t sleeping very well. Your motherly instincts kicked in automatically at that moment as you cupped his cheeks in your hands. He made a groan of protest but didn’t pull away from the warm embrace of your hands. 

      “You look like you haven’t been sleeping, what’s been going on?” You asked and Tommy looked hesitant to tell you which worried you, even more, no one was giving you a straight answer but it all revolved around Wilbur. 

      “(Y/n)!” Wilbur called as Tommy opened his mouth to answer your question, “It’s so good to see you!” He grabbed you by the waist and drew you into a deep kiss, you couldn’t help but smile into it, you loved this man. “So much has happened, I can’t wait to catch you up. Come, come, let’s talk.” Wilbur led you down the long corridors of Pogtopia, from behind you both Tommy and Tubbo frowned in worry. 

      “Will she be alright?” Tubbo looked up at his tall friend, 

      “Obviously she's a badass.” Tommy scoffed but Tubbo knew him long enough to tell that he was just as worried about the girl as he was. 

      “I missed you, Wilby.” The soft tone in your voice seemed to make Wilbur melt into you, but there was something in his eyes that made you pause. You bit your lip as he placed his hand on your cheek, they were rougher than you remembered but then again it was to be expected. He also smelled like cigarette smoke and wood, the smoke was new and wasn’t necessarily too terrible. After all, you’ve dealt with Schlatt’s smell of alcohol and cigars for months at this point. 

      “I missed you too my darling, but things have been finally coming up Wilbur. It’s amazing and I know we didn’t get invited to the festival tomorrow but it doesn’t even matter.” Wilbur hummed stroking your cheek with his thumb, “Cause something is going to happen that’s going to change everything.” You tilted your head to the side in confusion, 

       “What do you mean? I mean shit Will I’m happy for you, I want the bastard out of power as soon as possible. He’s an absolute mess.” You gave an awkward laugh, “at this point Tubbo, Quackity and I are running things.” 

Wilbur didn’t seem to find that as funny as you did considering that his smile turned into a bitter frown, “He’s ruined everything I built, it’s disgusting.”

      “Shit.” You gave another uncomfortable laugh and crossed your arms, “I wouldn’t say he’s ruined everything. After all the country you built is still standing, right now it may have a different name but it’s still there, the people who love it are still there-”

      “Tommy and I aren’t.” He snarled at you and you flinched backward in response, you waited for an apology but you didn’t get one. “The people who loved it, who made it what it was aren’t there anymore. They didn’t care about it as I did. It’s MY country,” You glared at him and crossed your arms, your jaw was set in place. 

      “Excuse me?” 

      “You heard me.” 

       “Okay just making sure.” You wound your hand back and punched him in the stomach, not hard but just enough to stun him, “you son of a bitch! How DARE you insinuate that Tubbo and I don’t care about L’manberg as you and Tommy did. We all lost a life in the control room to Eret! We fought beside you against Dream for the revolution so the country you dreamed of could even come to fruition! We’ve done our best to keep everyone happy when everyone under Schlatt is fucking miserable and you know what we’ve done a damn good job of it! You’re insinuating that Niki and Fundy’s struggles have met nothing to you either, we’ve fought just as much as you have. This isn’t a competition.”

       “You’re wrong. It is a competition because it’s MY country!” He grabbed your shoulders, nails digging into the skin, you kissed your teeth in pain. You supposed the pain was justifiable considering you had just knocked him in the stomach. “MY country that isn’t MINE anymore, what’s the point in it even standing!” 

       “What…?” 

       “What’s the point in it even standing.” He smiled wickedly moving your hand to brush your hair out of your eyes, suddenly scarily gentle with you, “(Y/N) don’t you get it? The solution was right there the entire time. We blow it up!” 

       “WE WHAT?! Wilbur are you nuts! People live there, I live there! So does your son? If you blow it up Schlatt’s won!”

      “No, I win. We win.” He purred leaning close to rest his head against your own, “We can start a family afterward. You know my love like we always wanted...after everything after the smoke clears. We can be together-”

      “Wilbur.” 

      “We can kiss in the remnants of what once was. Then we rebuild something new, something grand-” 

      “No.” Your voice quivered in fear, “Wilbur that’s not what I want.” The smile was wiped off his face and his brows furrowed. 

      “Sorry? Come again?” 

      “I don’t want it to be gone. I want it as it was-”       “IT CAN NEVER BE WHAT IT WAS! CAN’T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT!” He slammed you up against the walls of the ravine, you let out a choking gasp as pain shot down the back of your skull and your spine. A brief glance of old Wilbur flitted across his face, he pulled away from you watching you sink down onto the floor. “I...darling I’m so sorry.” He whispered softly, his hands shaking at his sides, “I never meant to hurt you. Please know that. I’d never hurt you.” Wilbur reached his arm out and you flinched, a heartbroken look spread across his face. “Please...I can’t lose you-” He paused as you raised your hand in a stopping motion, 

      “Wilbur. You blow up that country, and we’re done.”

      “That’s not fair-”

      “Me or the country. Your choice.” You snarled, baring your teeth as you rose to your feet, “I love you. So fucking much but I won’t STAND being treated like I’m garbage.”

      “You’re not garbage. You’re not you’re my entire world. I-I’m doing this for you and for Fundy and for everyone-”

      “You’re doing this for yourself you prick!”

      “Am I interrupting something?” Tubbo murmured finally coming into the room, 

      “Yes-NO.” Both you and Wilbur said simultaneously, you both glared at one another as Tubbo’s ears flattened against his skull.

      “We have to go.” Tubbo spoke up, “Schlatt will get worried. Let’s go (Y/N).” 

      “We aren’t done- (Y/N) please.” Wilbur reached out to you and you shook his arm free from it. You glared back at him and walked past Tubbo, 

      “Let’s go. See you soon Wilbur.” With one last glance at Wilbur, Tubbo followed you out of Pogtopia. 

---

The third time you saw Wilbur was the day of the festival. Schlatt had tricked you all, Tubbo’s head was pressed against your chest as you both were trapped inside his execution box. He had found the both of you out and decided it was the perfect time to get his revenge for your treasonous acts. You were staring death straight in the eyes, and the almost hesitant eyes of Technoblade stared right back at you. 

      “I’m sorry. I’ll try to make it as painless as possible.” His smooth voice echoed through the chamber, Tubbo only clutched onto you harder. 

      “Technoblade please.” He tried to plead with the pigman, and Schlatt only cackled loudly in response. Technoblade closed his eyes and shot, you heard a loud snap of the crossbow and saw colors beyond your wildest imagination; in between the chaos you swore you saw a flash of Tommy and hear a cry from Wilbur. You woke up in bed, one single heart levitating above your chest, two cannon lives down, your ears were still ringing from the fireworks moments prior. ‘Tubbo…’ You thought squeezing your eyes tightly, ‘I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you…’ You tossed your legs over the side of the bed quickly tumbling out of it, Tubbo burst through your door moments later. Anxiety was written all over his face but even he knew now wasn’t the time to talk about your interconnected trauma. “We have to go. NOW.” Tubbo motioned to the door with his head, you stood up grabbing what you could momentarily, and ran. The both of you sprinted past a devastated looking Fundy, you made the mistake of looking behind you as he let out a soft, 

      “Mom?” 

You closed your eyes and turned away from the fox hybrid, not before mouthing an ‘I’m sorry,’ in his direction. Tubbo dragged you behind him all the way back to Pogtopia both of you eerily quiet the entire way. Entering the ravine the first thing you heard was Tommy’s ferocious yelling, Tubbo flinched a little and rushed away to comfort his friend the best he could. You noticed Wilbur was scarily silent, as you approached you saw how small his pupils were, the smile on his face was nothing less than mad. It turned your stomach but even so, you wanted comfort from someone you loved, you took his hand and squeezed. Still smiling he looked down at you and kissed the top of your head. It didn’t take a genius to understand he was oddly enthused with what went down between Schlatt, Tubbo and you, the man you once loved was gone.

      “My darling, I’m glad to see you’re alright.” 

      “Do whatever you want. Blow it up.” Your voice was icy and soft so only he could hear you, “Fuck it.” 

Wilbur’s smile widened and he kissed you passionately, he tasted like smoke and it was so overwhelming it burned your eyes and almost choked you. He pulled away to rest his forehead against yours,

      “You don’t know how happy I am to hear you say those words. You won’t regret this I promise.” He turned towards Tommy and the Blade with the damned smile still on his cheeks, you didn’t respond to him. You felt gross, this isn’t what you wanted, you only hoped when the time came you would convince him otherwise. He began to go on and on about a pit, and a fight between Technoblade and Tommy; supposedly in you and Tubbo’s honor. You watch the two climb into it, even though you knew Tommy was going to get his ass kicked you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Even when The Blade won and Tommy was getting patched up by Niki you could only stare at the flickering torches on the wall, the only person to be able to pull you out of your stupor was in fact, Tubbo. 

      “(Y/N) it’s gonna be alright. I promise.” You gave a tired nod, stroking his hair fondly he let out a soft whine. “You’re scaring me a little, I don’t like that you’re so silent.”

      “I know Tubbo. I know. Everything will work out one way or another. We just have to have hope.” You spoke, but your tone was anything but comforting, it was flat and it chilled Tubbo’s core. He wouldn’t let you turn out like Wilbur not if he had anything to say in the matter. 

---

It was finally the day of the Manburg vs Pogtopia war, surprisingly the rebellion had earned a lot more members than you had originally expected. Obviously, you had your core members, Technoblade, Tommy, Tubbo, Niki, and obviously Wilbur and you. However, it seemed Quackity was done with Schlatt’s bullshit just like everyone else, Fundy saw the error of his ways and fought by your and Wilbur’s side as did Eret. As everyone gathered around to discuss the plan, Fundy got your attention with a snap of his fingers, you blinked turning towards him. 

      “Hi, little champion...how’re you doing?” You smiled towards him ruffling his bright orange hair. He frowned swatting your hands away with a disgruntled huff, 

      “I’m alright. How’re you doing?” It seemed Tubbo wasn’t the only one worried about your mental health, Fundy’s frown only worsened. “My dad’s a dick.” 

      “Fundy-”

      “No. No, he is and you know it. He’s changed (Y/N), don’t follow him down that path...please. I need you. I can’t lose you too...” Your eyebrows furrowed and you smiled sadly, his words touched your heart and you felt nothing but fondness for the young man. You reached out and cupped his cheek with your hand, his eyes lit up and he nuzzled into it almost desperately. 

       “You haven’t lost me yet and you won't lose me today.” You assured and he let out a soft breath of relief, “I’m going to do all I can to save your father. I know he can bounce back from this, but if I can’t.” A watery look came across your face and Fundy kissed your forehead quickly,

      “I’ll be there to help pick you back up. So will Tubbo we all love you.” 

      “Thank you little champion.” You spoke, a smile spreading across your lips, his tail began to wag insanely fast. “You stay safe today too, I don’t want to see you hurt or worse.”

      “I will. Now come on Technoblade apparently has something to show us.” Fundy hummed holding out his arm for you to take, you did so joining the others. Once you all were gathered Technoblade led everyone to what he called ‘the vault,’ and the vault it certainly was. Everyone was equally as shocked at the sheer amount of gear The Blade managed to gather in such a short amount of time. There were Netherite weapons and armor and in almost every chest were potions and bows for the entire milita. Everyone made a mad dash towards the chests gathering whatever artillery they could find, and taking it for themselves. You made sure all the kids and Fundy were suited up and geared properly before taking what you could for yourself, there was some Netherite left which you applied to your body, you also grabbed an ax and a crossbow of your own. You glanced over at Wilbur and saw him bare, no weapon or armor insight, you furrowed your brow in concern and shook his arm gently. He glanced over you with a hint of the tender expression he used to always look at you with, it made your heartbreak. 

      “Wilby?” 

      “Hm?” 

      “No armor?” You questioned and he brushed a stray piece of hair out of your face. 

      “No. I won’t need it,” Wilbur hummed as you gave a disbelieving scoff. He chuckled a little at your disbelief and nudged your shoulder, “Trust me. Everything’s going to work out.”

You could only nod your head in understanding even if you truly did not understand his reasoning. The battle was long and bloody, tearing apart Schlatt’s allies was no easy task but Pogtopia managed to get them to surrender. You couldn’t help but be hesitant and suspicious, it wasn’t like Dream to just call off his forces and surrender so easily. You’ve fought against him enough times now to know that, yet Wilbur seemed unperturbed. Even when you all had Schlatt cornered Wilbur only seemed to get a little bit of glee from it, only seeming to feel more when the old ram had a heart attack and keeled over. You all had won but you didn’t feel good. You didn’t feel like it was over, not even when Wilbur took your hands and kissed them lightly on top of the podium beside Tommy and him. It did come as a surprise to you when Wilbur gave up power in favor of handing it off to Tommy, then Tommy gave it up for Tubbo, Tubbo began to give a nervous speech and you couldn’t help but be proud of him. Tubbo would make a great president much better than Schlatt ever was and maybe even better than Wilbur. Tubbo was warm and compassionate he might not even need your assistance as the first lady, honestly, you didn’t even know if you wanted the title again. Although any thoughts of happiness were wiped away as your stomach churned seeing Wilbur sneak away from the crowd, that wasn’t good. 

You followed behind your boyfriend on high alert, it’s not that you didn’t trust him, it was just that he was clinically insane. Eventually, Wilbur entered a small room that was cold and dark, you took a deep breath before stepping inside behind him. Your eyes widened in absolute horror, nonsensical scribbles were all over the walls and in the middle of the room sat a familiar button, chills rocketed down your spine. The setup of the room was an all too familiar sight, Eret’s words echoed through your mind and you felt the burn of betrayal run hot. Wilbur’s hands hovered over the button with a longing smile, caressing it like it was the face of his lover. You reached your arm out to call to him but felt a tight hand come around your waist, 

      “What’re you doing?” 

Shock flooded through your system as you looked up at the man touching you. It was Phil, Wilbur’s father, you had only met the man briefly a few times so you both had knowledge of one another's existence. 

      “Phil?” Wilbur turned around his jaw clenching, “(Y/N)? Shit,” He let out a disbelieving laugh. “You're both trying to gang up on me, that’s just unfair.” He leaned his head back, his beautiful curls falling around his face as he stared at the ceiling. “Do you know what this button is?”

      “Uh-huh. I do.” Phil gruffly stated his big grey wings curling around you protectively. 

      “Have you heard... the song? On the walls? Before? Have you heard the song? I was just saying, I made this big point, it was poignant, and it's um... There was a special place where men could go, but it's not there anymore y'know, it's not-” Wilbur let out a frustrated sigh punching the wall right next to the button. You jumped a little as Phil cut in, 

      “It is there. You've just- You've just won it back, Wil!” 

      “Phil’s right! Wilbur, we did it together, we don’t need to blow it up anymore! We can be happy!” 

      “(Y/N), PHIL, I'M ALWAYS SO CLOSE to pressing this button, Phil! I've BEEN HERE like seven or eight times, I've been here seven or eight times...Phil, I've been here so many times…” All of you jumped a little at the sound of crackling fireworks outside, your body went numb as you remembered the execution, “They're fighting. They're fighting!” Phil and you glanced at one another, there was a beat of silence. 

      “And you want to just blow it all up.”

       “I do,-” Wilbur started before letting out a frustrated sigh, “I think, I-”

       “You fought so hard to get this land back... So hard.”

       “We all did Wilby. Please listen to us.” You pleaded and he flinched at your tone, it was so tender and loving. He didn’t deserve it, he didn’t deserve your forgiveness. 

        “I don't even know if it works anymore, Phil, I don't even know if the button works, I could, I could... press it.” 

       “Do you really wanna take that risk?” Phil laughed, “There is a lot of TNT potentially connected to that button.” 

       “Phil... There was a saying, Phil. By a traitor. Once part of L'Manburg. A traitor- I don't know if you've heard of Eret? He had a saying...” 

        “Yeah.”

       “Wilbur. Don’t please.” You let out a frustrated cry stepping forward in front of Phil, “I know what you’re about to do. This isn’t you.” He looked at you with such pity he cupped your cheek with your hand, staring dead in your eyes, 

       “It was never meant to be!” He tossed his hand back and slammed it against the button, you let out a loud cry as explosions fired all around you. Wilbur pulled you close to protect you from any stray debris, he let out a roaring cry “MY L'MANBURG, PHIL! MY UNFINISHED SYMPHONY, FOREVER UNFINISHED! IF I CAN'T HAVE THIS, NO-ONE CAN, PHIL!”

      “Oh, my god…” Phil spoke, his voice quivering with horror, Wilbur looked down at you and he captured your lips with his own. Once again he tasted like cigarettes, but there was a hint of warm honey and coffee...a hint of old Wilbur. He murmured a gentle, ‘I love you’ before pushing you away from him and onto the floor. He turned to Phil letting out a loud declaration, 

      “Kill me, Phil. Phil, kill me, Phil kill me! (Wilbur throws Phil his sword) Phil, stab me with the sword, murder me now, kill me! Killza, Killza, do it! Kill me, Phil! Murder me! Look, they all want you to! Do it, Phil! Kill me! Phil, kill me!”

      “I- You're my SON!”

      “Wilbur NO! PHIL DON’T!”

     “Shut up (Y/N). PHIL, KILL ME!”

      “No matter what you- dude, no matter what you've done, I can't-”

 Wilbur slammed his fist against the wall, “Phil, it's- LOOK! LOOK! HOW MUCH WORK WENT INTO THIS, and it's GONE!” A loud pause echoed as Wilbur shoved his sword into Phil’s hand holding it to his chest. “Do it. Do it.”

       “PHIL DON’T.” 

The man ignored you running his sword through his son's chest. Wilbur choked blood staining the front of his shirt before spilling out of his mouth and down his chin. He looked over at you and reached his arm out in your direction. ‘Watch out for Fundy,’ He mouthed before smiling at you, the look would always be ingrained in your memory, the smiling face of Wilbur Soot the love of your life, as the light left his eyes. 

      “God! You couldn't just let- You couldn't just win! You couldn't- You had to just throw your toys out the pram!” He snarled through tears of his own cradling his son's lifeless body. You crawled over and gently put your hand on Phil’s shoulder, he turned and pressed his head into your chest. The father of the man you loved mourned beside you, not sure what was next for you but both were in agreement that this country changed Wilbur for the worst. It caused him to blow up a nation, hurt his loved ones, something he never would’ve dreamed of doing when he was young. It twisted his mind making him forget what was important to him, you’d never step foot in this crater again. 

---

We’re back BITCHES! This is the second part out of I think I’ve decided 3 parts, thank you so much for waiting and being patient. I hope it was worth it! Stay healthy and safe little spirits! @blossom-702 and @mayempress

[wiypt-writes]

Murder, He Wrote

Part 6.

Summary: Ransom and you attend a wake for his great-nanna Wanetta, with the rest of his family. The knives are out, and they’re sharp…

Warnings: Bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N:  So here it is, the penultimate chapter to this series! One more to go post this, plus an epilogue. I can’t believe it’s almost over…

Word Count: 9.5k (oops)

READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and by writing it does NOT mean I agree with or condone the acts contained within. This fiction is classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Murder, He Wrote Masterlist // Main Masterlist.

Part 5

 You'd managed to get through Christmas fairly well. The days leading up, Ransom had been a little suspiciously sneaky but you didn't give it a second thought, really. Things between you and your captor were more than amicable, they were pleasant. But, despite the cohabitation and this new found demeanour in him, Ransom wasn't above reminding you that you were still under his eye. And under his eye you were indeed, all day long. He watched you as you read, as you cooked, as you wrote in your journal. Oddly, not once showing interest in your musings but working away on his own. 

Christmas morning, the two of you had spent a few lazy hours in bed, Ransom waking you with kisses over your bare skin, stripped down and tired from the evening before where he worked you over until you couldn't move, crying out his name near midnight, his breathless, tired voice telling you 'Merry Christmas' before he slept. After an easy egg and toast breakfast, the two of you were sitting around the lounge, the fire burning, the tree lit, soft music played in the background, watching a fresh layer of snow falling outside. You were reading Dickens' holiday classic, aloud while Ransom sat next to you, idling running a long index finger over your neck in slow and soft, up and down strokes, listening to you. Suddenly he'd stopped and removed the book from your hands. 

"I have something for you," he said, a slight eagerness to his tone. He slipped away for a brief moment, pulling a box, intricately wrapped, clearly not by himself, from under the tree. You'd never noticed it there, not once and you wondered when he'd put it there or if he'd hidden it in the very spot this whole time. 

The red leather box sat heavy in your hand as you read the gold inscription on the top. With an unsteady breath, you lifted the hinged lid and hitched your breath at what sat inside. A white gold necklace, with two interlocking rings in a signature Cartier design glistened back at you. The screw motifs which were set in ideal oval shaped rings studded with diamonds that twinkled in the light sat snuggly inside against black velvet.

You were stunned. The gesture far too expensive and in your mind inappropriate. But you also thought it was absolutely gorgeous, and you wondered how he'd come up with such an expensive idea. You'd not mentioned anything of the sort in your time together, in fact, you hadn't had jewellery on bar your ball studs in your ears now.

You looked up from the delicate piece and your eyes met expectant ones. "It's beautiful," you spoke softly. "Thank you."

"Let me put it on you," he sat next you whilst taking the box from your hands. He gently pulled it away from the box and unclasped it, settling it around your neck as you moved your hair out of the way, thin tendrils framing your face. Your robe slipped off your shoulder and you felt his soft lips against your skin, down your neck and along your shoulder. "Let me see you," he spoke softly.

You turned in his direction and you saw the way he admired the way the piece sat across your chest, the silk robe you were wearing over your barely-there nightgown gaping open. As his eyes blatantly roved down between the valley of your breasts your own flicked across his casual, lazy-Christmas morning form, his broad chest and shoulders clad in a white thermal, sweats hung low on his hips.

"Perfect," he whispered, leaning towards you.

You were not a bought woman, no; you were his victim, his roommate, his co-habitant, his lover, his partner, his... Oh for Christ's sake you could go on with the labels that did or didn't make sense, were mutual or not, had or didn't carry the weight of a proper explanation. Right now, you were going through the motions and emotions.

"I like it, a lot, thank you again," you replied as his lips grew closer to yours. "I've never had such an expensive gift before."

His lips ghosted over yours, "There's plenty more where that came from, Sweetheart."

The implication of his words had hit you like a freight train as you realised just how many more ‘occasions’ he was planning on the pair of you spending together. New Year, Easter, Spring Break, your birthday, his birthday, summer, Memorial Day. It sparked so many conflicting opinions within you that you were glad of the distraction when he moved, his fingers delicate as he undid the ties of your robe and led you down on the rug before his lips had traced a path down your body and soon he’d had you crying his name, sheer bliss coursing through your veins.

Later that day, you'd made dinner for him, a reminder of how Christmas used to be when Wanetta and his Grandmother shared the festivities. After the quiet meal, he had expected you to join him for a shower, no doubt as pay back for him going down on you earlier. When you'd respectfully declined stating you needed to wash the dishes, he sneered and sulked off. You'd made sure that when he was gone long enough, you were able to get things set up for your gift. Now was the time to show Ransom how gifts of meaning and purpose were to be given and hopefully received. Not that it was going to make a blind bit of difference to your situation, not in the grand scheme of things anyway. You'd finished cleaning and putting everything away and headed into the lounge where you stoked the fire and then made your way back into the kitchen for your supplies. The hot cocoa burning hot, the slices of bread, tongs and a small serving of butter, complete with freshly blended cinnamon sugar. You knew he would come find you when you were not waiting in the bedroom for him. If Ransom Drysdale was anything, it was a creature of expectation and habit. You'd heard him coming down the stairs, that one spot with a creak carrying his footfall. You straightened up your things, setting up the tongs and tray of treats nicely before covering them with a cloth napkin, standing between the coffee table and the fireplace, and waited on baited breath for the tirade you thought was coming. He had turned the corner, his face stern with evident hard lines, his bare chest on display, hair still wet from the shower. You could smell him as he entered the doorway, that scent that you'd soon come to realize made you heady and needy. You waved him over, a hunt of excitement to your tone, "come on, come sit." “I don’t want to sit, Sweetheart, I want you like I had you before dinner. Crying my name with you under me.” He stood just inside the doorway, with his arms folded across his chest, sweats hung low on his hips. He wore no shirt just to entice you, but you weren't giving in so easily.  "I'll say your name as many times as you want, but first, I need to give you my gift." You chose then to look at him with big eyes, sincere yet seductive. 

It was a stare off between the two of you, he not budging and you popping your hip out to one side as you folded your arms over your chest. He had his fun, now you wanted to enjoy something and gift giving brought you joy. 

Like a child told to apologize for hitting another, he hung his head and sulked over. You could tell it pained him to obey your request. But you again saw through his facade. You knew this meant far more to him than anything he'd ever received.

But he'd never tell you that. Not that you thought anyway. “Oh stop being so you, Ransom, for just five minutes.” You snorted exasperatedly at his petulant nature. “It’s Christmas.” With a roll of his eyes that would make any toddler jealous, he took to his knees sitting on his heels. With a smirk, you joined him, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek, "Merry Christmas, Ransom." You pulled the napkin off the tray revealing the contents of your gift. His eyes moved over the tray, first seeing the mugs of cocoa, topped with whipped cream that was beginning to melt into the warm liquid. The tongs, the bread, the small pinch bowls of cinnamon sugar and the soft butter. With his mind occupied, you managed to grab a throw and wrap it around the two of you. He blinked, and you could see that he was fighting the smirk that was threatening to cross his handsome face. “Toast?” He finally asked and you nodded, smiling. "I couldn't go get you something, not that it mattered, so this was the next best thing." A flicker of something darkened his face, and for a moment you thought you saw regret flash in his eyes, just like the day he had marked your face but as soon as it had appeared it was gone. "Just enjoy it, even if you can't say anything about it, just...." you shrugged, "remember." That night, after the toast with cinnamon butter and cocoa from scratch were shared, he had his way with you, delightfully slow, once more by the fire, you again crying out his name and he yours, over and over again. By the time he finished, you were both boneless and breathless, his body covering yours until he rolled over and the two of you slept by the fire, wrapped up in each other's arms, the heavy throw around your naked bodies.

Christmas had been nice. Maybe, somewhat enjoyable, you'd admitted to yourself. Of course, the wrench of not seeing your family had weighed like a stone in your gut, compounded by the fact that thanks to the lie you’d been forced to tell Blanc, they thought this was your choice. That you were staying away from them because you wanted to, when nothing could be further from the truth. You missed your mom and dad goofing around over presents, still trying to tell your now well grown-up sister and you Santa had been. You ached for the usual family politics that manifested when your uncles and aunts descended for dinner. You longed for your sister to be complaining about how fat she was going to get…

"We have to go," Ransom’s deep baritone caught you completely off guard, making you jump as you stood staring out of the large French windows over the garden from the master suite.

“Oh, okay,” you nodded, taking a deep breath to centre yourself, your heart racing at the speed of light from your fright. You took a glance at yourself in the mirror above the fireplace and found yourself wishing you’d done a better job at covering up the ugly scab and green bruising on your face.

You followed Ransom in his tan coat, pin striped slacks and a black cashmere sweater as he strode from the room. You felt nervous, anxious, scared. This was the first time you were leaving the house in two months. He led you to the garage where you started walking to the SUV he'd taken you in but he stopped you short, calling out to you, "not this time, Sweetheart." He stood at the passenger door to his vintage BMW. You swallowed and walked towards the door he was holding open for you. Wordlessly, you sank into the passenger seat and reached for your belt. Pulling it across your lap, you adjusted the pencil skirt and blouse you'd tucked into so as not to wrinkle it, your soft black peacoat bluky in your seat. The car roared to life, throbbing beneath you, the hum of the engine might, in other circumstances, have excited you. But now, the only thing filling you was dread. The first time you’re out of your "castle", and it's to go to a wake, for Wanetta Thrombey.

Go figure. ***** The silence in the car was stifling. Every so often Ransom stole a glance at Y/N to find her simply staring out of the window, at one stage reaching up to wipe her eye. He didn’t say anything, but he wasn’t an idiot. Over Christmas he’d caught her numerous time completely zoned out, as if she was somewhere else, just like she had been moments before they had left. And whilst she’d done her best to keep her tears and attitude at bay, she’d been clipped with him a number of times which he’d simply let slide and instead of reminding her about her attitude, he’d pressed her to tell him what was wrong. She’d quietly admitted that she missed her family, something Ransom simply couldn’t understand, so in the spirit of their recent candid openness, he’d asked her bluntly why she needed them so much when he gave her everything she could possibly ever want. At that she had snorted, and taken great pains to explain to him that just because he failed to understand something didn’t make it any less valid of a feeling to someone else and then she’d deftly changed the subject, and he’d allowed the conversation to steer elsewhere.

And now, the first time she’d been anywhere but the inside of his house and strictly the garden for months, they were headed to spend time with his shit-head family. The irony was staggering when you considered it. He eased his beloved beemer onto the main road and pushed his foot down on the gas, weaving himself in and out of the light traffic obnoxiously fast. But he wasn’t known for his patience, he had somewhere to be and in his mind; the faster he got there the faster he could leave, keen to spend as little time with his family as possible. About halfway into the journey, Ransom felt that familiar cold feeling in his stomach as he pulled off the freeway and on to one of the smaller roads. He could drive this journey with his eyes closed but it was the first time he’d been back to the mansion since... well, since IT had all gone down. The more he thought about it, the more agitated he could feel himself getting, his hands gripping the steering wheel of the car with a force that made his knuckles white. He was jolted however, with the feeling of a hand on his arm and his head turned slightly to see Y/N looking at him. She didn’t say anything, and no sooner had he registered her touch she moved her hand dropping it back into her lap, eyes focussed downwards as his turned back to the road. He swallowed, that familiar and uncomfortable feeling of remorse once more washing over him. Despite everything he had done to her, she was still voluntarily lending him comfort. 

Ten minutes later, he swung up the tree-lined driveway, his heart pounding in his chest. His jaw set hard as the mansion came into view, and low and behold his mother, standing on the front steps, a cigarette between her fingers as she exasperatedly texted on her phone. A meek voice came from the seat beside him, "its going to be okay." But he couldn't decipher if she were talking to him or herself. He cut the engine, his hands still on the wheel as he sighed and hung his head, before he turned to her. “I don’t need to warn you about trying anything do I?” He asked, ignoring her effort to placate him. "No," she replied quietly. “Good.” He reached out and gently gripped her chin between his thumb and finger, pressing as soft kiss to her lips, the action as much for him as it was for the benefit of his mother who was watching the pair of them. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”  He gracefully unfolded himself from the driver’s side, shutting the door behind him and strode to the front of his car, waiting for Y/N to catch up. Her face was set, an expression he’d seen countless times before when she’d been fearful and acting under duress. He watched as she took a deep breath and drew back her shoulders whilst he reached for her hand. Obediently, she took it and together they strode towards the large wooden door, his mother watching them as they approached "You're late," Linda scoffed.

He paid her no mind and pulled Y/N along his side. “I’m sure Nanna won’t mind too much, you know, on account of her being dead.” He retorted sardonically.

You stood by his side, your eyes watching Linda and she turned her attention to you, her eyes narrowing a little, a strange expression on her features, almost as if she was sussing you out. But, as her eyes flicked to your injured cheek before they darted to Ransom who still had a possessive grip around your hand you realised with horror it wasn’t you she was suspicious of. It was the bruise on your face, more so how it had gotten there.

You cleared your throat. “Funny thing,” you gestured to it and her eyes snapped to yours, “too much Scotch and I tripped. Face first into the corner of my vanity."

Okay, so it wasn’t a complete lie…but you still felt sick to your stomach at how quickly you’d jumped to his defence.

“Sure.” Linda arched an eyebrow.

“What exactly are you getting at, Mother?” Ransom looked at her, his jaw set and Linda rolled her eyes, taking a drag of her cigarette.

“Nothing really, I just find it extremely odd that you get an interview with this girl to clear your name and she ends up in your bed, only after she’s done a complete hatchet job on all of us first.” She dropped her cigarette end to the floor before she looked at him shrewdly.

“For which she published an apology.” Ransom’s voice was flat and carried an undertone of annoyance to which Linda paid no attention.

“Because you’re really the type to forgive and forget so easily.” She scoffed as Ransom gave a dramatic sigh as his mother continued, her head now turning to you. “You know, I could hardly believe it when Blanc told us you were with him, and then I saw you with my own eyes and now here you are again…“

“What do you mean, when Blanc told you?” Ransom frowned as his hand contracted almost painfully around yours, a warning no doubt to remain silent. His mother had hit the nail on the head, proving that she knew her son a lot better than you, and no doubt he, had bothered to give her credit for.

“Her disappearance was all over the news, more so because they’d linked it to that god-awful cretin of an actor, Lucas Lee.” She turned back to look at him. “But, no sooner had they done that he was cleared thanks to a cast-iron alibi and low and behold, a few weeks later Blanc turns up.” Linda raised her brows, her gaze fixed on Ransom. “I told him where to find you-“

“Gee, thanks.” Ransom drawled and she glared at him, before he rolled his eyes and gestured with his hand for her to continue.

“And obviously he did as he came back a day or so later, saying that to his surprise you-“ her eyes flicked to yours then and you swallowed “-were seemingly there, of your own accord.”

“I erm,” you fumbled on your words and felt Ransom let go of your hand, his palm warm as it now rested between your shoulder blades. Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself for another lie, one that this time you’d spun before and you shrugged, licking your lips. “I'll tell you the same thing I told him. I came to realize that despite my scathing feature, Ransom intrigued me. I wanted to get to know him more. One thing led to another and I figured if we kept our relationship quiet for a while, I'd save myself the spit on my face from my family and people like you.”

“People like me?” Linda arched a brow, her lips quirking up at one side. “

“I didn’t mean…” You shook your head, quickly taking a deep breath. “Sorry, that was rude.”

“A tad, but I’ve had worse.” Linda’s eyes twinkled with something that looked like amusement as she reached into her pocket for her packet of cigarettes. “But, what I don’t understand is, why let your family believe you were missing, dead even?”

“I, well, I was under a lot of pressure at work, and everything just got too much and needed to escape, from everything. Ransom told me to stay with him for a while to get some head space and I didn’t mean to cause anyone any hurt or upset and-“

You stopped dead as you felt Ransom curl his hand round the back of your neck, giving a squeeze in warning. You were rambling.

“You don’t have to explain yourself, Sweetheart,” his voice was softly spoken as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “it’s none of her business.”

Linda looked at you for a moment, before she turned to her son and shrugged, popping another cigarette into her mouth. “I’ve long since given up trying to understand anything you did.”

“Well, like the judge said,” Ransom moved, his hand now on the base of your spine as he turned and guided you to the large door of the house, “not of sound mind.”

In the spacious drawing room, the rest of the family was gathered around. There were no others at the wake, Wanetta having outlived everyone she knew.  You knew Ransom would offer no introductions, but that wasn’t an issue, you knew everyone anyway from your extensive research into this fucked up family. The fire burned in the background, and Ransom’s father, Richard, lounged in an arm-chair, a young woman who you presumed to be the au-pair Ransom talked about with disdain, perched on his lap. Walt was perched in another arm-chair, his wife Donna stood behind him, clutching a half drunk glass of wine, their son Jacob absent from the room. Marta and Meg were perched on the couch with Joni flitting about, a crunch from a carrot stick heard from across the room. You walked in and immediately felt the daggers in your skin as all eyes turned towards you. The knives were out and you swallowed, adjusting your sleeve, feeling Ransom's presence behind you.

“Here…” you felt Ransom’s hands gently pulling on the shoulders of your coat and he slipped it from your body, gently pressing another kiss to your cheek. You turned to look at him, offering him a small smile before he moved to hang the coat up on the stand at the far side of the room.

“Y/N, right?” Marta was the first one to speak as she stood up, and you nodded, not bothering to ask how she knew your name. It was a given she’d have read the article, and it was also a given thanks to the conversation moment’s ago with Linda, that the rest of the family had also been briefed on the fact you were ‘with’ Ransom. What clearly hadn’t’ been anticipated from the not-so-covert surprised glances that were being shared, was that he would have brought you today. “Can I get you a drink?” She continued and you smiled.

“Please, erm, a wine would be great.”

“Red or white?”

“She prefers white.” Ransom spoke and Marta’s eyes darted to his. You instantly felt his entire body language stiffen and you turned to him, the distaste evident on his face, his entire aura radiating utter disdain and bitterness.

Marta simply took a deep breath, her expression flat, but her eyes fierce as they remained in a silent stand-off.

“Can’t she speak for herself?” Meg scoffed and Ransom pulled his eyes away from Marta, turning his glare to his cousin.

“Is explaining what a lady prefers to drink considered sexist as well now or…”

“He’s right,” You jumped in quickly, smiling at Marta. “White is great, thanks.”

Marta nodded.

“Hugh?” She looked at Ransom and you blinked at the use of that name and then realised, of course, she’d once upon a time been the help. That said, you knew she was saying it simply because she wanted to, not that her status required it and there was an amused look on Ransom’s face as he turned to her.

“Beer.”

You rolled your eyes to yourself at his lack of manners, but from the expression on Marta’s face she’d been expecting it, and to be honest, you weren’t sure why you hadn’t been. Her lips curled into a sarcastic grin as she turned and headed out.

“You should try it, Donna. It’s got camomile and lavender in. I swear by it.” Your ears then picking up on a conversation between Walt, Donna and Joni and you turned your head towards them, Ransom’s arm curled round your waist, hand resting heavy on your hip. Joni bit down on the carrot stick she was holding with a flourish of her hands. “It’s my favourite thing FLAM have done.”

"You know, I'm surprised you didn't go under given you're no longer receiving Dad's money.” Walt interjected and Joni rolled her eyes.

“Shows how much attention you pay, Walt. When I released that new line of bath-bombs and candles, sales, like literally, went through the roof.”

“Bath-bombs?” Walt frowned.

“Yeah, they’re like little cakes if you will of dried soap and fragranced that you drop into a-“

“I know what they are.” Walt rolled his eyes as Marta appeared, handing you your drink which you took with a thanks. “I was commenting on the fact you said you’d launched a new line.”

“Oh, yeah.” Joni munched her carrot stick some more. “I got the idea from Gwyneth Paltrow when she released that candle scented like her vagina.” At that you choked on your drink and hastily avoided looking at anyone in the room as various groans and loud protests from the males hit your ears.

At that point Linda walked back into the room and sat down in a chair not far from where you were sat and she smoothed down her trousers before she peered up at Ransom.

“How’s the book coming along?” She asked, peering from over the top of her wine glass as she sipped from it.

“Fine.” Ransoms shrugged. “Few little blocks here and there but I’ll work through them. Granddad always told me sometimes it pays to take a step back and pause, ideas often come when you’re not expecting them.”

Linda smiled, and you were pleased to see that, for once, it appeared genuine, as if she was actually looking at her son with something more than ambivalence. And then, the moment was ruined as Meg burst out laughing.

“You’re writing a book? What’s it called? ‘Ransom’s Guide To Being An Asshole’?” She snorted and Ransom took a deep breath.

“Eat shit.”

“Original.” Meg replied drily rolling her eyes, “you know, I'm jealous of all the people that haven't met you.” She stated as her eyes turned to you. “Seriously, what the fuck do you see in him? Why on earth anyone would ever want to be in the same room with him, let alone share his bed is completely beyond me.”

“Tell me, Meg, when was the last time you got laid?” Ransom turned to her, a smirk on his face. “And your dildo doesn’t count.” “Fuck you, you fucking prick.” Meg seethed before she turned to look at you, her face angry. “You know, it must be serious if he’s bringing you here; he normally just keeps his fuck buddies on speed dial.”

“And throws the money on the mattress.” Walt mumbled.

At that, Ransom tensed and he turned his face towards his Uncle, his nostrils flaring. But before he had time to answer back, Richard let out a derisive snort and Ransom instead turned his head to his father.

“You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” Ransom shot back, ���Tell me, how much do you pay the barely legal whore sat on your lap?” 

“You little shit.” Richard spat as the poor woman in question shifted uncomfortably, her mouth falling open as the insult Ransom had shot at her registered.

You stood stock still, a warm and uncomfortable feeling washing over you as the family continued to bicker. You could feel a headache coming; this was becoming too much for you to cope with. 

“Oh for God’s sake.” Linda groaned, almost lazily from her spot on the chair. “Is it too much to ask that one of our family deaths goes by without starting another feud?”

"Oh that's rich, coming from you!” Richard, turned to her. Linda met her ex-husband’s glare with a completely blank expression on her face, before she scoffed.

“Why are you wearing those ridiculous glasses?” She demanded, referring to the spectacles that adorned Richard’s face, the style being something you would attribute to Harry Potter.

“So I can see.”

“You never needed glasses in the entire thirty-four years we were married.” She scoffed.

“I did.” Richard shrugged, a snarky grin curling at one side of his mouth and you instantly recognised that expression as being one Ransom sported a lot. “Just preferred it when I couldn’t see your face.”

Linda’s mouth dropped open and you felt yourself bristle as you took a breath.

“Are you actually gonna let your dad say that to your mom?” You glanced up at Ransom. His head turned slowly towards you and the expression of anger on his face at being called out made your blood run cold. You recoiled a little and your eyes immediately darted to the floor.

“Sorry.” You whispered.

"This is fun," Jacob snickered as he, from out of nowhere, waltzed into the room and took a seat in the corner of the bay window, never once looking up from his phone. “Ransom once more manages to spark an argument.”

“Y/N meet Jacob, the poster child for the pro-choice movement.” Ransom gestured to the teenager in front of you who merely rolled his eyes as both Walt and Donna began to yell and hurl insults back at Ransom.

“Says the guy whose birth certificate is an apology letter from the condom factory.” The teen mumbled back.

“Ooh, good one, which one of your alt-right, KKK loving buddies did you learn that from?” Ransom quipped, and in a quick change of decorum, the room erupted with slander and jabs being shouted and tossed about, most of the commotion being pointed at Ransom.

It was a cacophony of noise and sound, which infiltrated your head, making your brain buzz and crackle like the wick of a dynamite stick and it was too much. After months of quiet with no one to listen or talk to bar Ransom, it was overwhelming and you felt sick.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need some air.” You mumbled, seizing the chance, as he was distracted.

You made your way into the hallway where you stood, your back leaning against the dark wooden panelling, taking huge gasps of air. Your chest hurt, your head was spinning and your legs burned but those deep breaths didn’t help. Your hand slapped against your chest, hoping to ebb the sting. Soon, lightheaded, and with a slight spin to the space around you, you felt a cool hand on your shoulder through your blouse. Your head turned and you saw a sweet pair of eyes looking at you with worry.

“Let’s get you some real air, come on,” it was Marta, coming to your aide.

She took you outside, to a covered patio, with wicker furniture and heating lamps. The rush of cold air hit your flushed skin and a different sting erupted through your lungs as the bite of winter’s breath filled you.

“Here.” The young woman handed you a tartan blanket, which you took with a grateful look, still not quite able to form any words. She helped you sit down on one of the chairs and made sure the blanket was snug around your shoulders as she took a seat opposite you.

“They’re a little overwhelming, but you get used to it,” she rubbed a small hand up and down your back.

You just looked at her, your eyes watering as you came down from your panic. You had no desire to get used to it, to any of it, but as per anything in this fucked up situation, you were no doubt going to have to, like it or not. 

The breaths you took became longer, deeper, the peak of panic now steadying out leaving you feeling shaky and exposed.

“I’m sorry, that was…”

“You don’t have to apologise. With what’s happening inside, this is normal.” Marta softly smiled with a chuckle. “I’d be worried if they weren’t screaming at each other.”

“Can I ask you something?” You looked at her, speaking softly.

“Of course.” She replied, just as hushed.

“Why did you do it? Have everyone over? You don’t owe them anything.”

The former nurse rubbed her palms on her pants, “well, it’s what Wanetta wanted. She sorta came with the house and it was her last wish, for the family to come together. I think she thought after everything that happened something might have changed?” Marta shook her head at the audacity of the sound of it. “She didn’t say much more, but Allan had given me her will and that’s all it read. Things would remain the same but she wanted them here after she was cremated, for a final goodbye.”

“I admire her optimism.” You stated flatly and Marta laughed before she gave a heavy sigh, a sad smile on her face.

“Well, she loved them, not that any of them cared, not in years. The only one I ever noticed take mind of her out of want and not duty was Ransom.” She kept her eyes on yours as she spoke, genuine care coming from the sound of her. “But that was before…when he…with Harlan.”

You glanced away, not totally surprised but still a little shocked so to speak that someone else had noticed there was a little shred of humanity buried underneath all his asshole bravado. You leaned forward on your thighs, elbows resting there as your hands wrung together, a nervous habit you’d recently developed.

“Can I ask YOU something?” Marta wondered. You nodded, your stomach knotting, hoping I wasn’t what you suddenly thought it could be. “You’ve spent time with Ransom. I read your article and your apology. Do you believe all of this? The not of sound mind?” Her eyes were sorrowful but held a glare of contempt at the circumstance.

“Uh…” you started but the opening of the patio door caught both of your attentions and the man in question stepped outside, your coat in his hands.

“I was worried,” he stated, opening your coat for you as you automatically stood to receive the gesture. You had no doubt his worry was genuine, but whether it was for you or what you may or may not have revealed was another question.

“I needed some air,” you admitted, “Marta came to my rescue.”

“One man alone can be pretty dumb sometimes, but for real bona fide stupidity there ain't nothing can beat teamwork.” Ransom quipped in reference to the chaos of the family being together, chaos he narcissistically enjoyed partaking in.

You looked up at those daring blue eyes, “Mark Twain.”

He quirked a brow in agreement before his eyes flicked to Marta and then back to you. “Was I interrupting something, Sweetheart?”

There it was, that warning tone in his voice. You were on thin ice. You stuffed your hands into your peacoat pocket and shook your head.

“No.” You cleared your throat as you held his gaze. “Like I said, I just needed some air.”

As he stood there, his eyes searching hers he took a deep breath as she gazed back up at him, fear simmering within those deep globes. Ransom reached out, pulling her to him, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. “As long as that’s all it was.”

Recognising his comment for what it was, half concern and half warning, she nodded against his chest. Without so much as another glance at Marta, he turned, his arm looped possessively over her shoulders as he led her back inside. He walked slowly down the hallway, stooping slightly to speak into her ear. “From now on, you don’t leave my sight, you got that?”

“Yeah, okay.” She whispered and nodded.

“Good girl,” he smiled, tipping her face up with on finger under her chin, planting a soft kiss on her lips.

*****

The next hour or so passed reasonably uneventfully. Ransom was careful to keep as much distance between him, Y/N and the rest of the assholes in the room as possible. When the buffet was served, he watched as she picked at the plate of food she had selected, not eating a terrible amount. She’d gone in on herself again, and he found himself a little disappointed if truth be told.

“We’ll leave soon.” He turned to her and she looked at him, “you’ve behaved today, I’m impressed.”

At that she rolled her eyes. “Is going back to that fucking house supposed to be a reward or something?”

At that Ransom felt a surge of anger and he glared at her, the nerve in his jaw twitching. “Don’t push me, sweetheart.” His voice was low, and a growl but to his surprise, instead of recoiling at his outward hostility and warning she simply sat up straight, her shoulders squaring and met him with a filthy look of her own.

“Fuck you.” She spat.

“Oh we already played that game.” His lip curled back in a snarl. “Several times.”

“Trouble in paradise?” Walt leaned forward a little to pick up something off one of the plates on the table by Ransom and he took a breath, his eyes still trained on Y/N before he turned to his uncle.

“Are you not dead yet?”

“Do you have to talk to everyone like that?” Joni sighed. “God, Ransom.”

“Well I thought the guys who bust his leg might have caught up with him by now, no such luck.” Ransom shrugged.

“Listen here you little shit,” Walt leaned over the table, but no sooner had he done that he suddenly began coughing on whatever food he had in his mouth.

“I’m listening.” Ransom quipped as Walt continued to splutter, Donna hastily hitting him on the back.

Jacob, who wasn’t even looking at the table, too engrossed in his phone, then spoke. “What did you eat, Dad? Wasn’t anything he gave you was it? I mean he did kill Grandpa so I wouldn’t put it past him to poison you either.”

A deadly silence spread across the room as Ransom took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on his cousin, his hand clenching into fists. Besides him, Y/N let out a shaky breath and her head turned to look at him but he didn’t meet her eyes. Instead he leaned back in his chair and when he spoke next, his voice was icy.

“Not of sound mind.”

“Yeah, we heard. Loaf of bullshit if you ask me, but then again an expensive lawyer can get you off most things these days.” Walt snarled.

“Enough!” Linda yelled, her hand smacking on the table. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Besides him, Y/N had begun to tremble, and Ransom glanced at her to see she was taking deep breaths, her chest heaving, face stony as she stared at the wall opposite, where a picture of his Nanna Wanetta was hung.

“Oh shut up Linda!” Walt turned to her. “Everyone here knows he’s guilty as sin, even you! Why the fuck he’s even here is beyond me. And as for you...” He turned to Y/N and she gave a start, her eyes flicking to him. “You might as well quit while you’re ahead as there ain’t no gold to be digging for. She got it all.” He pointed his fork at Marta and then that was it. Y/N let out a hell of frustration, standing up that quickly her chair tumbled to the ground behind her, the plate clattering to the floor by her feet.

“You think I’m with him for his money?” He glared at Walt, the entire room silent as all eyes focussed on her. “Jesus Christ, you have no idea. I’m with him because I have-“

At that Ransom’s hand shot out and curled round her wrist, his grip tight in warning and she jerked away from him, glaring down at him with a fire in her eyes he hadn’t seen in a long time.

“The whole lot of you are fucked in the head.” She tapped her temple with her forefinger. “I’ve never seen anything like this in my entire life. You’re nothing but a bunch of self-entitled, narcissistic assholes. After everything you've been through, you can’t even find it in your cold dead hearts to come together honour a member of your family that died without reducing the entire event to some kind of sick, twisted game of one-upmanship. Each and every one of you are all about yourselves, and what you can do to out accomplish the other. As far as I’m concerned each one of you can fuck off and die. You disgust me." 

She took a deep breath, running her hands over her face before she turned on her heel and stormed from the room.

Ransom blinked, watched her leave, a slam of the door behind her. He stood there for a brief moment, processing what had just happened. He looked back to his family with a smug shrug and at that he headed quickly after Y/N, his mother's obnoxious and loudly over dramatic gasp bouncing off his back as he too slammed the front door.

****

It was your turn to stand there and act like a petulant child as you leaned against the hood of the Beemer, cares and all fucks be damned. You were tired, you were angry and God damn down right fed up with this entire family and their bullshit. You didn't even make eye contact with him as Ransom as he approached the car. You simply moved to your door, slipped in as he did and waited for him to start the car. You felt his eyes in him, heard him open his mouth to say something but rather he just took in a breath and started the engine. You sat there, your arms crossed over your chest, knees at an angle, pointed towards your door, away from him.

A rumble of a chuckle escaped his chest, "Oh Sweetheart, that was really something."

"Just drive," you spat out, turning your head to him in annoyance. Now he didn't find you amusing, this new air of confidence about you. He cleared his throat and looked at you with a stern gaze.

"Careful, Y/N," he warned, pulling around the drive to the long road before the main. You didn't care. You raised your brows as if you were silently emphasizing your demand, it was not a request, even in the slightest.

The bare trees and snow covered ground began flying by your window, clearly Ransom laying the pedal to the floor as you shook your head.

"What the hell was even the point of going today? It was blatantly obvious that they didn’t want you there, and you didn’t want to be there. If you wanted to mourn Wanetta, we could have done it from the confines of the prison you like to keep me in. Or was this just another shitty way for you to torture me? Huh? Was that amusing to you, Hugh, making me spend an afternoon with your fucked up family, whom you hate, when you’re keeping me from mine? God, you really are a twisted son of a bitch.”

Your tirade set his skin on fire, you could see the tinge of red flushing his skin as he white knuckled the wheel, his hand on the gear shift squeezing the hell out of it as you spoke. Then very quickly you felt your body lurch forward as he slammed on the breaks. "What the fuck did you just say?"

“What, are you deaf?” You blazed. “I asked why we were there? I mean I thought we were going to pay respects to your Great-Nanna, because stupid me actually believed that you felt something, you know, some kind of sorrow that she was gone, and I actually felt sorry for you at first when we got in there, and they were unloading all their vile little opinions and digging in at you and-“

"Now you listen to me you little bitch," he spat, cutting you off. "I didn’t ask for, nor do I need your pity. I don’t care what my family say to me, or think about me. And I certainly don’t care what they think or say about you”

“Oh my god, you are…” You shook your head, looking out of the window, taking a deep breath. “This isn’t pity, Ransom.”

“No, because that’s what it sounds like.” He seethed, his hands curling round the steering wheel.

“Of course it does.” You scoffed. “Because that’s probably all you’ve ever felt towards anyone else isn’t it? Pity, because they’re never going to be as good as you, or have the things you have. Well you might be rich in money terms but fuck, in everything else you’re a pauper. Have you ever truly empathised with someone? Like have even once fully understood what someone else feels? Their sorrow, their happiness, their joy?”

“What the fuck are you getting at?”

You sighed, considering your options. You knew what you wanted to tell him-that the fact he wasn’t loved as a child left him incapable of the simple emotions normal people met, but he was calling you out. And now, it was play it soft or rip it off like a band-aid…

And despite the feeling of foreboding washing over you, you chose the latter. You were tired of playing his mind games, tired of this whole situation. And whatever fucked up punishment he was going to inflict on you, well, it couldn’t be worse than anything he’d already done, you’d take it.

“You don't know how to be happy, or how to love Ransom, because you've never seen it. You've never experienced it. You just breeze through life thinking you can take what you want when you want, and it doesn't work like that.”

 “You’re starting to really piss me off. If I wanted a therapy session, I’d pay for one.” He snarled, “Shut the fuck up.”

“See, this is what I mean!” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You just asked me to elaborate, so I did, and know because I’m saying something that you don’t like or don’t wanna hear, you’re resorting to being an asshole.  Every time I think I’m getting through to you, I…” You fell silent, swallowing as he glared at you, nostrils flaring and you took a deep sigh, knowing that this was pointless. “You know what, forget it. I shouldn’t-“

“No, you clearly got something to say, so go on. Say it.”

“What, so you can punish me when we get back for pissing you off some more?”

At that his face faltered and he took a deep breath, hanging his head. When he raised it again to look at you, his face was softer and he looked out of the windscreen, licking his lips. “I’m not…gonna punish you, okay.”

“How do I know?” You whispered, shaking your head. “How can I trust that you’re not just gonna lock me back in that damned basement and come down when you want to fuck me and-“ “Because I’m not!” His voice rose. “I don’t want you down there anymore. So I’ll ask again, you think you know so much about how to love,” he framed the word with his fingers, "then tell me what you think it means.”

“Fine, you wanna know…I’ll tell you. It's going on dates, it’s fun, its surprising, it’s feeling like you can’t breathe if the person you are in love with leaves you. It’s not about owning them or breaking them or how much you buy a person or throwing money at them, it’s showing them you know how they are, that you understand what they appreciate and what they need and what they want, a lot of times without being told.” You took a deep breath, watching his face, his expression never faltering. “Love is something that can't always be explained. It's that feeling of family, of having your person. Someone your heart and soul changes for, grows with. Love is a mother's hug or kiss goodnight, a father's ball landing in your mitt with a joyful laugh and smile. Love isn't forced or taken. It's given and received. It's...."

"Fresh hot cocoa on a rainy day when you have nothing left in a world that hates you,” he spoke softly, and when you realized what he'd said it stopped your thoughts cold. Did that mean what you thought it meant? That he loved you?

You were lost for words, but before you could protest and tell him he was wrong, he sighed and looked at you.

“You asked me before why I brought you today. That’s why. Because they hate me. And you make me feel fucking safe around those pieces of shit.” Your breath caught in your throat whilst your mind raced for how to respond. The tension and suspense filled the air about the two of you. You stared at him, his eyes soft, expectant, darting over your features with a bouncing worry. The reaction time between his words and your next move was merely a minute but you had quickly found a way to capitalize on this moment. You threw your belt off and kicked your heels off in the process, moving over the gear shift and the centre console into his lap, the center seam of your skirt tearing as you straddled him. "Wha...." his words were cut off by your lips on his, your palms over his softly shaven face, fingertips sliding into the hair behind his ears. Immediately, your tongue slipped deep inside his mouth, lolling around with his. His hands found your waist and gave you a squeeze. You came to your knees as best you could in the small space and continued to kiss him while trying to inch your skirt higher. He'd guessed what you were trying to do and you felt his hands move from your waist to the tops of your thighs, fingers trailing down quickly to the hem of your skirt, lifting it to above the curve of your ass where it bunched. He didn’t ask or question your sudden burst of confidence or seeming desire, just as you’d banked on, instead he was quite happy to go with it, as usual always ready to fuck you any which way he could. Your hands trailed over the soft material of his sweater and down to the end of it, where it met the top of his slacks. You lifted the clothing slightly to ghost over his skin causing him to flinch before your finger tips found the button and zip of his flies. That maddeningly smug smirk spread across his face and your lips crashed back to his, a furious clash of teeth and tongue, your hands still fumbling with his pants. He was half hard before you even got him free, no doubt from the heated exchange the two of you had to get to here. As you palmed his girth in your hand, your brain switched from playing him to wanton need, a basic primal instinct of desperation to release the toxic stress your body held. His big hand and thick fingers trailed over your hip, your ass, down your thigh and finally cupped your heat and a deep ferrral growl emitted from his chest as he'd realized you'd worn nothing under that skirt. He dipped two fingers inside you straight away and you cried out, "fuck" as your body bent back away from him, keening at the feeling. “Fuck, baby, you’ve had nothing on under here all day?” His fingers curled inside of you and you groaned, your head rolling back as your hips pushed forward, thrusting against his hand. You couldn't use your words, you looked down at him with your pupils blown and your bottom lip between your teeth. You gave him a squeeze instead and he quickly lurched you into the steering wheel with his chest, his fingers falling away and both hands tearing your blouse open, buttons flying that will never be found. His nose tucked between the valley of your breasts and he inhaled between your fleshy mounds, his tongue dipping against the underside of your thin bra. His hands each palming an ass cheek and squeezing so hard, it delightfully stung. With what little space the two of you had to move, Ransom pulled you down into his lap, the need to feel you wrapped around him dangerously feral. It took no time for that single motion to get his head then every inch of his shaft deep inside you. "Fuck, you feel so fucking good," he ground out. He didn't care the mess she would make or the way he'd cum so hard he'd leak out of her, no, he wanted to fuck her senseless and that's exactly what he'd do. His heels cemented themselves into the footwell of the car as his hips jutted upward, her body curling in on him. “Harder, please Ransom.” Her voice croaked as she begged him and with a growl that was animalistic his hips picked up their pace as he rutted up into her quickly and harshly.  His mouth devoured the tops of her breasts, nipping at her nipples through the material of the lace that covered them while her fingers scratched at the back of his neck, tugging at his hair. In contrast to the cold winter conditions outside, the air inside his beloved car was now hot, fast steaming up the windows, drops of condensation trickling down towards the door sill a perfect mirror image of the sweat that was now sliding down the hollow of her throat and beading on his brow. He could feel her walls begin to squeeze him tighter and tighter with each thrust. His hands curled round her hips, pulling her down onto him as he leaned back, raising his ass off the seat slightly, spearing up into her as deep as he could. "Ransom," you started to shake senselessly, you were crashing fast and hard and there was no slowing down. "Fuck, baby, just like that," you'd heard him say over the blood that rushed to your ears, deafening you, as you came, gripping him like a vice. Your body gave way as your hands sought purchase to ground yourself from entirely collapsing, finding the lapel of his camel coat, white knuckling it with one hand while the other slapped against the damp window which felt like melting ice against your heated palm. A noise burst from your mouth, a half scream, half choked wail, a sound you weren’t sure you’d ever made before and you opened your eyes to see Ransom’s icy blue’s locked onto yours, his bottom lip clamped between his teeth. His voracious pace continued until the end when he came with a primal growl,  his hips raising off the seat far enough to jolt your head against the roof of the car. You felt him fill you, the warmth of his seed settling deep inside, and then some. The air was heavy with the sound of panting as the pair of you came down from the intensity of the moment, The both of you desperately trying to breathe despite the humidity. Your hands curled over Ransom's shoulders as he sagged back in the seat, his hands smoothing up the outside of your thighs. You swallowed hard as his eyes focused on yours. You leaned forward and kissed him slowly, softly, his mouth and body languidly responding. Pulling back slightly, you kept your forehead pressed to his, and took a deep breath before you went straight in for the kill, the reason you’d instigated this entire fuck, to capitalise once more on a seeming chink in his armour. "You said you feel safe with me." He stilled underneath you, his hands gentle as they now rest on your hips and his eyes locked onto yours, widening as he realised his admission. "Do you want me to feel safe with you? To trust you?" You continued, not giving him a moment to deny it. He nodded slowly in reply. "Prove it," you stated. "How?" His voice was croaky as he cleared his throat, a slight frown furrowed his brow. "I want to see my family again." He looked at you, and you kept your eyes locked on his, a challenge to him to make good on his word, gambling on him actually wanting you to trust him as he had taken great pains to demonstrate through various means over the past few weeks. This was it, the moment where you would find out exactly what he truly wanted- someone to love and trust him, or someone to fear and obey him. He let out a slow breath through his nose and his eyes flicked over your shoulder before they returned to yours and he gave you an almost imperceptible nod.  But a nod nonetheless. “Okay.”

**** Part 7

[valentina-writes]

Starfall

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this, feel free to ask for a specific imagine, headcanon or oneshot. At first I will only write for Azriel. Thanks for reading!

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“Look, y/n, there is nothing you need to worry about. Nothing. It’s Azriel we are talking about. He may be a spymaster, but he’s pretty damn clueless at the same time”, your best friend Mor reminded you.

The two of you were standing in your bedroom in the House of Wind, getting ready for starfall. You had just been talking about your crush on the spymaster in question - to be honest, that was no surprise. You had found a person to rely on when you told Mor about your feelings for him. And since then somehow all of your conversations seemed to be about him.

“I know, Mor, I know! But everything I do, everything I say seems so obvious to me. And I can’t even do anything about it! I try being decent about it, but it’s always the same. We start talking about anything and I can only concentrate on how close he is and on his eyes and his face and his lips and then I start blushing and it gets super awkward”.

Embarassing memories of your last birthday came to your mind, where you had hugged him for the present he gave you - a beautiful necklace - and he had been noticably uncomfortable for the rest of the evening, shadows surrounding him. Then Mor, already super drunk, had nearly told him you were in love with him, after you tried to apologize and talk about the next mission he would be sent on.

She thought about your concerns for a while and just said: “Then try not to talk to him. I don’t think that he ever noticed anything weird about your behavior, because then he would’ve said something. But if you are not comfortable striking up a conversation because of what could happen, just don’t do it”.

Then she left your bedroom mumbling something about Rhys’ wine and you were left on your own.

Your heart was beating in anticipation and fear. You would see Azriel today. Truly see him, after months of only getting a few glimpses at him before he was sent on his next mission.

But what would he do if he noticed that you were in love with him? Would he push you away? Tell you that he’s still not over Mor? Laugh at you for your childish hopes?

You pushed your worries aside and smoothed out your dark blue dress. Today was a holiday. A festive day meant to be celebrated. Even if you would deeply embarrass yourself again, there would still be Mor and Cassian and Rhys’ good wine to help you forget what you had done.

When you left your room, there was already music playing and a few guests chatting and drinking. The house was beautifully decorated. But you could not appreciate any of that. 

“Y/n! Come over here!”, Cassian called out to you. You quickly spotted him and braced yourself. Where Cassian was, there usually was Azriel too.

And yes, there next to Cassian, hidden behind his raging shadows, was Azriel, handsome as ever. You quickly shifted your glance to the group surrounding him, unable to look at him for another second.

You could not have him. Never. He was still in love with Mor, still not over his past. And though you couldn’t blame him for that, your feelings did not cease. If anything, they grew stronger by the second. And that terrified you. Because what if you would spend eternity yearning and longing for him like you were now?

“Are you alright?”, Rhys asked you. He looked concerned, as if he could see right through you.

“Yes, it’s fine. I’m just a little tired, that’s all”, you quickly said and smiled at him. That wasn’t even a lie. Since Azriel had been on one of his dangerous missions to the Autumn Court, you hadn’t been able to sleep at night, always fearing for his life. Every morning when a new report from him came, you were incredibly happy. He was alive.

“Well, then prepare to be even more tired tomorrow. You won’t get any sleep tonight!”, Cassian exclaimed, pointing at the dance floor that was now filling up.

“We will see, Cassy, we will see”.

“Cassy? I like that. I like that a lot. Maybe I should call you Cassy baby. That fits your childish antics”, Amren said, joining your group. You were almost sure that you heard a low chuckle out of Azriel’s direction.

“I should better get going”, Rhys quietly excused himself, walking towards Feyre, the newest addition to your circle. He seemed to be drawn towards her, like you were towards Azriel. The only difference being that she acted the same way as Rhysand, instead of kepping away.

“Me too. I’m gonna get Mor, I don’t want her to drink all of the good stuff herself”, Cassian said and disappeared in the crowd. You desperately wanted him to stay. Being alone with Azriel would only lead to awkward looks and you rambling on and on about something like the weather.

“Gosh, if they keep going like that they won’t be able to stand upright at the end of the night”. Amren shot some glances at you and Azriel, while saying that. You had never explicitly told her about your feelings, but still it looked like she knew something. Probably because of how obvious you usually were about your feelings.

“Anyway, that’s too funny not to watch. I will have them get me some fresh blood tomorrow for keeping an eye on them”. Amren mouthed a good luck to you and then made her way through the crowd, too - in a totally different direction than Cassian. You would not get her any blood, that was for sure. She had set you and Azriel up against your will. 

You felt your cheeks heating up, when you turned to face Azriel. His face showed no sign of noticing what Amren just had done.

“Hi”, you breathed, “it’s nice to see you”. You tried your best holding his gaze without showing how he made you feel. How his hazel eyes burned into your soul, making your knees wobbly and heart pound.

“It’s nice to see you too, y/n”, he answered.

For a while you just stood there, watching the others. Mor and Cassian had started a very ... unconservative looking dance battle. You started to think about what you could tell him, how you could start a conversation. When all of a sudden-

“Do you want to dance?”. It was more of a whisper than anything else, nearly drowning in the noise of the crowd.

You spun around to see him looking at you. For the first time today you allowed yourself to look at him, truly look at him. He looked very tired and reserved, his wings tucked tightly against his back. The usual look of shyness surrounding his face. You could not look away, drank in his features, noticing his dark blue suit. The same color as his siphons he didn’t wear today. The same color as your dress.

“Yes”, you said, smiling. Your heart began to beat even faster when he laid his hand on your waist and lead you to the dance floor. Subconsciously, you shivered at the feeling of his hands through the thin fabric of your gown. 

Azriel pulled you closer and started to slowly dance with you. You silently prayed. Dear Mother, please don’t let him hear my heartbeat. Don’t let him find out.

“I didn’t know that you can dance”, you said. He expertly waltzed you through the room. In that moment only the two of you seemed to exist. Everybody else had disappeared from your mind.

“I enjoy dancing. But only with the right partner”. Your heart fluttered in your chest at this comment. 

He opened his mouth as to say something else, but suddenly his shadows left their usual place aroung his neck and chest and darted towards you.

They brushed your face and arms, as if they wanted to play with you. You even thought you could hear them whisper things in your ear - too silent to actually make it out.

“I’m sorry, y/n”, he gasped, trying to regain control. His face looked pained, almost shocked, as he let you go and surrounded his shadows around him again. He shook his head and went out onto a near balcony.

What had just happened there? What did this mean? You went after him, wanting to see if he was okay. 

You joined him on the balcony, his wings flared as if he wanted to leave. He was so beautiful against the night sky. All of the stars looking dull in comparison to him. Laying your hand on his arm, you turned him around.

“Why did you stop?”, you wanted to kow. You did not care about the blush on your face or the concern in your voice. You did not care about exposing your feelings to him. All you cared about was him.

“It’s ... my shadows. I couldn’t control them. I’m sorry, y/n”, he repeated.

You took another step towards him, not understanding his reasoning.

“What do you mean?”. He frowned and looked down for a second. His shadows were already starting to reach out to you again.

“Most people ... most people fear them They don’t like being close to them. Close to me”. You glanced at his shadows and reached for one of them, touching it. It felt cool against your hand, chilly like the air surrounding you. 

“I don’t care, Az, they are a part of you. And to me, they appear rather playful if anything”. Again, he looked down. Almost ashamed. But then his shadows swirled freely around you, like the evening breeze.

“Also, they don’t like being near most people. They shy away. But with you ... they call out to you. Want to be near you”. Your heart missed a beat. His shadows... but that didn’t mean that he felt the same way, right? Maybe that’s why he was so embarrassed. Because his shadows acted against his will.

As you ran your fingers through the shadows and looked at his face, the way his eyes glowed in the moonlight, you made a decision. This could not go on the way it did for the last one-hundred years. You loved him. Every part of him. And if he did not feel the same way, you would end it here and now.

“Azriel, I...”, you started, but he stopped you.

“Don’t, y/n. Please, don’t”. Pain appeared in his eyes, his wings and shadows folding around him, as if to protect him. But you did not budge.

“Az, I love... I love you. I have loved you since I met you. I did not plan on telling you this, but I...I cannot live like this anymore. The constant hiding and the fear of exposing my feelings. I love you. Every part of you. And if you don’t feel the same way about me ... then that’s fine”. When this burden, the feelings you had kept to yourself for such a long time, fell from your chest, you felt weak. He would send you away, tell you he didn’t feel the same. 

You already turned around, unable to look at the shock in his eyes anymore, when his shadows pulled you back. His expression softened as he looked at your face.

“I love you too, y/n. But I was scared. Scared that this would not work out, scared of opening up. Scared of the possibility that I wasted over four hundred years waiting for Mor to fall in love with me. I did not know how to approach you, what to tell you. I wanted to be with you, yes I did. But it felt impossible, so I tried pushing you away”. He breathed out, relaxing. He loved you. He loved you. That was all you could think about.

“I went on all these missions to try to get my head free. I tried not to think about you or my feelings or how you felt about me. I tried to stop my feelings. But when I saw you today, for the first time in months ... I did not know how to react. And then we were dancing and ... the shadows gave everything away”. You reached out for his hands, holding them in yours. He let out a sharp breath but then relaxed at your touch.

“I could not sleep when you were gone”, you said, your voice barely more then a whisper, “I was afraid something would happen to you. And I was the one to check your reports every day. I nearly died every night at the thought of you dying”. Tears started to form in his eyes, as he pulled you closer.

“That’s what I felt like too”, he murmured against your hair. You let out a deep sigh.

Azriel cradled your face in his hands, ever so gently and kissed you on your lips. His wings closed around you as he deepened the kiss, slowly tasting your lips and melting into your touch.

His shadows now caressed you as he held you close. The kiss was long and sensual, as if he had waited for this to happen for a long time. As if he could never get enough of you.

And when both of you had run out of breath, you just silently stood there on the balcony, wrapped in his wings and arms, listening to his heartbeat as the stars around you fell.