#apparently the entire camp Knew

[leth-writes]

cocoa

Summary: You've been dating Tim for a while, and it's time to meet his family.

Yandere Tim x reader and yandere platonic batfam x reader

Warnings: While my blog is 18+, this piece doesn't contain any explicit material. Normal yandere warnings apply.

It all started when you met Tim Drake for the first time. You were a lowly worker at the Wayne’s company, just a simple personal assistant, but for the first time ever you’d been asked to go directly to the highest floor and deliver some paperwork to Tim directly. He looked different in real life, paler and sicker looking than you’d expected, with bright luminous eyes that seemed to never blink, staring directly into your soul like he knew every secret. He seemed only half-conscious, nodding off where he sat behind his massive desk, though he seemed to snap to attention when you brushed your fingers along his accidentally when handing over the folder. He seemed to focus entirely on your hands, completely zoning in on them, as you stood there awkwardly. Finally, you cleared your throat and turned to leave. He didn’t try to stop you, though he did seem upset judging by the glimpse you caught of him through the glass of the door.

From that moment on, it seemed your entire job was to give Tim paperwork, to the point that all other duties completely dried up. Whenever you weren’t able to give him anything, he started requesting you stay in the room, just in case. So, you started spending hours on end just reading in his office. The two of you gradually grew closer, and you discovered he had a dry sort of sarcastic wit that you hadn’t ever heard about. You began to discover the man behind the intimidating silhouette painted by the media, learning he was kinda dorky and enjoyed photographing nightlife. He even showed you some of his photos, which were of course stunning; he seemed to see Gotham in a way you never had, pulling out its gloomy beauty where most would only see the smog and the crime. Tim seemed to appreciate your almost naive perspective, enjoying the kindhearted way you reminded him of the good in humanity. When he got too cynical, you were able to convince him to give others the benefit of the doubt. It was almost cute, he thought, the way you never seemed to truly understand the kinds of personalities making up most of Gotham’s business scene.

You even served as his very own assistant when he broke a leg in a hiking incident, which apparently happened during a family camping trip. You hadn’t even known he could hike, though you assumed he wasn’t very good. Still, he spent ages just showing you pictures of the wildlife he’d seen, knowing you loved his photos. The tedious task of painstakingly searching his photo archives for pictures of cute animals was worth it, just to see your smile.

Still, you could tell Tim tended to make others uncomfortable. You could understand, he did have a way of staring right into you, but it seeemd to just be something he did. You weren’t aware, of course, of the fact that Tim only ever turned that soft gaze toward you, preferring to glare at anyone that so much as approached the two of you. Your naive disposition did have its uses, after all, as it prevented you from getting suspicious… There was a reason why no one would approach you at work, and why all of your bosses seemed nervous around you, and why you got sudden pay increases. You just thought you were a good worker, completely oblivious to everything else going on.

If Tim thought threatening off any love interests was easy, bugging your apartment was even easier. He was able to simply slip in through an unlocked window as Red Robin and place cameras all over, giving him 24-7 footage of your living room and kitchen. he avoided both the bathroom and bedroom; he didn’t want to be too creepy, after all, even if Jason did seem to want the bedroom to be bugged, in case someone else was able to slip in. You weren’t the best at securing your apartment, and he worried about your safety, okay? As a result of his anxiety, Jason began patrolling more and more around your house, not that you’d ever notice; they’d have to teach you to start looking up at the rooftops more, after they fully brought you into the family, of course.

Using the information he gained from the cameras, Tim was only able to get even closer to you. He was able to research your interests, your opinions, your hobbies… He was able to learn anything he couldn’t get from hacking your laptop and phone. It was different, hearing your little rants at the tv screen as you watched your favorite show; reading your search history just didn’t give him enough information.

Finally, with the help of Cass of course, he was able to ask you out, after ironing out the perfect plan. He took you out to the movies and then dinner, finally ending up at your apartment, watching your favorite movie while cuddling on your couch. It was there you first kissed.

Dating your boss was definitely an adjustment, but honestly the two of you were so close it didn’t seem to change anything. The best part for Tim was finally being able to touch you, to hold your hand, to gently cup your cheek and plant a kiss on your lips… To be able to hold you in the way he’d always dreamed.

Yet, he found himself inundated with requests at the mansion and through the groupchat, as every family member clamoured to get to spend time with you. He started spotting Dick and Jason and even Cass in shoddy disguises while on dates, and he knew it was time to introduce you to them. So, he invited you for dinner.

When you first walked in, you were greeted with Alfred, the stoic butler Tim had always described. He seemed nicer in person, none of the dry wit you’d ben prepared to face, and he took your coat gently and with grace.

Next, you were introduced to Tim’s quiet sister Cass, who wrapped you in a big hug and patted you on the back. She was nice, if hard to read, and seemed to love touching you; she kept gently patting your back, even throughout the night, as if she couldn’t bare to go another moment without keeping close to you.

Then you met Jason, who was busy cooking in the kitchen, Dick sitting on the counter and sneaking carrots when Jason’s back was turned. The two were incredibly kind, though intimidating, as you knew their opinions mattered a lot to Tim. Dick picked you up in a big sweeping hug, seemingly even more touchy than his sister.

Jason was quiet, weirdly so according to Tim, and spent a lot of the night just… staring at you. Maybe he felt uncomfortable being around you? You could imagine having a sibling introduce their partner would be awkward, and you knew the Waynes had had their fair share of terrible romances. later on, when you voiced your worries to Tim, he waved them away; Jason was just trying not to freak you out, he insisted, sure that his older brother would never be able to hate you.

The final brother you met was Damian, who was curled up on the couch with a cat in his lap and two dogs at his feet. He was a quiet child, a seemingly permanent glare on his face only softening slightly when it landed on you. The only way you knew he didn’t hate you was the fact that he let you pet his cat, who was apparently named after the butler.

You only met Tim’s elusive father at dinner. He was kind, if a little ditzy, and quite welcoming. All in all, the family was polite, and you felt truly welcomed for the first time in your life. It was like you’d known them for years, you seemed to just… click!

Of course, looking back, you could see how they knew you so well.

It had happened out of the blue. You’d been drinking some hot chocolate after winding down with the family, watching a cute cartoon on their large tv, and the next thing you knew was that you were waking up in a dark room. Tim was sitting next to you in the bed, laptop illuminating his pale face, highlighting the dark eyebags.

“Oh good, you’re up!” he said, setting his laptop aside and turning the bedside lamp on. You sat up, confused, rubbing at your throbbing head. You felt like you hadn’t drank water in three days. When you asked what had happened, he only smiled.

“It’s alright, don’t worry, we can talk about that later.”

Now feeling slightly uncomfortable, you stood up. Tim shifted slightly, following you and placing himself between you and the door. “Hey, let’s just sit back down, okay? I don’t want you to be too stressed, the dose was a little higher than I expected…”

Dose? When you questioned him, he laughed sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his head. His eyes blinked back at you, seemingly innocent despite your terror.

“Well, we needed time to get you all set up, and we couldn’t have you fighting when we sent in your resignation…” He said, smiling gently.

Shit. Shit! He’d fucking kidnapped you!

You went to dodge around him, but he moved faster than you were able to even anticipate, grabbing you around the waist and hoisting you into the air.

He plopped you back onto the bed, quickly pinning you down. “Hey, calm down!” He said, voice even, as though he wasn’t currently fighting to keep your hands from smacking at his face.

“I promise it’s okay, we won’t hurt you!”

Then, the door slammed open, and in walked Jason. His combat boots thunked against the shiny wooden floor, and he seemed nonplussed. “why aren’t you stopping them?” He questioned, leaning against the wall next to the bed. He pulled out his phone and quickly sent a text, fingers flying across the keys. He ignored your calls for help.

“I’m trying!” Tim huffed, finally able to get your hands under control, quickly tying them with thick, velvety rope.

“Do you need help getting them downstairs?” Jason sighed, tucking the phone away.

“Nah, I got it,” Tim said, standing up and heaving you up and over his shoulder. With that, Tim and Jason made their way downstairs, you tossed over Tim’s shoulder and struggling all the way. It fewlt particularly humiliating, the way that your struggles weren’t even acknowledged, much less viewed as a threat.

Finally, you were brought into the living room and plopped down, Tim and Jason quickly sitting down on either side of you. Jason quickly picked up your legs and slung them across his lap, keeping you from wiggling away.

Bruce sat down on the other side of the room, sinking into the green armchair. The other siblings scattered across the room, all staring at you with a similar gleam in their eyes.

“So, let’s go over some ground rules.” Bruce said, beginning the next phase of your life.

[birdiewriteslit]

omg omg i would LOVVVEEE if like [reader] and luke were dating behind percy’s back cuz of how sassy he would be n stuff but after like a date or kiss from luke the reader would gush about it to either annabeth, grover, or clarisse and one of them tells percy by accident during a convo and then percy like goes up to reader and confronts the reader about it and like scolds the reader and give them a whole lecture about how luke isn’t the right guy then luke overhears and like joins in <333

i love this idea!!

luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader

warnings: persassy (once again), fluff, mention of kissing, ignorance of the plot of the show for the sake of my happiness

nobody: me gaslighting myself into thinking i could fix luke:

You and your boyfriend had an agreement. Your relationship was private. It wasn’t necessarily a secret, but it was private.

This was a conclusion you came to before Percy arrived at camp, before you knew you had a brother. At first, you didn’t care much if he figured it out.

That was until you realized what a sassafras he was.

Percy was always sassing you about chores, about activities, and especially about camp boys.

You thought it was cute in the beginning, your little brother being protective over you, but then it became a real nuisance.

“Y/n, stay away from the Ares boys, I don’t like them.”

“Y/n, don’t date an Apollo guy, he’d write you some crappy poetry.”

“Y/n, for the love of gods, stay away from the Dionysus twins, I never want to have Mr. D as a relative.”

These were the types of things you would hear throughout the day as Percy got to know the other campers better.

You thought it better if you kept a low profile when you were around Luke, at least until Percy calmed down a little.

Most of the older campers knew about your relationship, but they were used to it and rarely talked about it.

“Having marriage problems?” Annabeth asked you one day during arts and crafts, where you were both about to give up on your ugly collaborative birdhouse.

“What? I’m not married,” you said, trying to fix a particularly garish looking bird.

She set her paintbrush down, officially proving she was over it. “Obviously. I mean Luke. I noticed you haven’t been around each other as much.”

You could tell she was a little worried. She wouldn’t be asking if she wasn’t. Annabeth had known you and Luke longer than any other campers, and she looked up to both of you. Plus, she always wanted to know about your experience with romance.

“It’s not what you think, Annabeth. We’re really fine,” you said. “In fact, just last night, he took me out on the dock.”

Your nightly meetups with Luke had always been a thing, but had become more frequent as of late.

“And?” Annabeth prompted.

“And, we hung out.” You were now furiously painting over the entire bird you failed to fix.

“You mean you made out,” she said, giving you a knowing look.

“Well, yeah, but I didn’t think you were interested in that part,” you said. “Now pick up that paintbrush, missy. I’m not doing this whole thing myself.”

Annabeth reluctantly dipped the brush in some blue paint, looking like she wanted more details about your date.

Private means private, you thought dismissively.

At campfire, you discovered that private didn’t mean private. You were sitting alone when Percy plopped down next to you. You frowned because you were saving that spot for Luke.

“Annabeth has just told me something very interesting,” he said, glaring at the spot where Luke stood, talking to one of his brothers.

“What would that be, Perce?” you said absentmindedly.

“Apparently Luke was macking on you last night.” He made a sound to imitate vomiting.

You grimaced. “Please never say that word again.”

“So? Is it true or not true?”

You sighed. No point in denying it now. “It’s true.”

Percy somehow managed to look even more disgusted. “Ew, why him?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, gee, I don’t know, maybe because I’ve known him for years, he’s kind, strong, and handsome. Wouldn’t you think that had something to do with it?”

“Oh, gods, forget I even asked,” Percy said, retching. “I just think you could do better. Look at all of these lovely candidates. Apollo guys are poets.”

“I thought that was too cringe for you.”

He ignored you and went on, “A Hephaestus guy could forge you some nice jewelry, and Athena guys are smart. You deserve a smart guy. Not Luke, no, he doesn’t have any good qualities like that.”

You noticed a figure approaching you over Percy’s shoulder, and you tried your best to hide the amused smile threatening to break across your face as Luke came to a stop behind him, waiting for the right moment to interrupt.

“All in all, Y/n, I think Luke’s a pretty bad guy for you. You should really reconsider.”

“Oh, I’m a bad guy, am I?” Luke finally spoke up, smirking as Percy slowly turned around to see him peering down at him.

“Not like a bad guy- just, you know, not right for my sister,” Percy said, his confidence leaving him.

“What makes me not right for her?” Luke asked, clearly loving the reaction he was getting.

“I- uh- you know,” Percy stammered.

“Oh, knock it off, Luke. Leave the poor kid alone,” you said, failing to hide your laughter.

“That sound is music to my ears,” Luke said seriously. Jeez, he was really laying it on thick.

Percy’s face returned to the look of disgust. “I’ll be leaving now,” he excused himself, hurrying off to where Grover and Annabeth were sitting on the other side of the fire. You could still see him glaring at Luke as he sat down next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

You leaned into him, relishing in the combined warmth of the fire and his body heat. “What do you think? Am I getting sassed out tomorrow?” Luke asked, looking down at you.

“No, he looked pretty grossed out. I’m hoping he just avoids the topic altogether,” you said, trailing your fingers over the fabric of his shirt.

“We both know that’s not going to happen,” he concluded, smiling as he pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - Why so much on right now?

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

NOV 2024 Week 4

Ongoing Series - Thai

Your Sky (Sun iQIYI) ep 1 of 12 - Classic old school Thai BL. Of course I love it. Naïve sunshine freshman vs strict older protective boy (who already likes him but refuses to show it). Is he grumpy or just gay and tired of all of these women? We don’t know. We don’t care. We just want to see them fake a relationship. And that’s what we’re getting. I love it. I also love the friendship group, and that the younger brother is in it and he has some of the same magic BL-hottie superpowers as his older brother. It’s great.

Love Sick 2024 (Sun iQIYI) ep 10 of 15 - Phun actually turns into dangerous babygirl when he is flirting, who knew? (Dangerous Babygirl is a new archetype I have just invented by the way. Yes, I am pleased with myself.) Noh, who is a nice boy, doesn’t stand a chance. Neither does Jeed, since this new babygirl superpower gives Phun a damn near perfect “back off bitch” face.

The arm drape public claiming, it gets me every time. Has done since SOTUS. Nong Mick is hero-level in this version, hands-down my favorite character this time around (and a non-entity last time). I love him so much I can’t stand it. I haven’t updated my 1:1 comparison yet this week, didn’t have time to rewatch 2014, but I will later tonight.  I'm chronicling my experience with 2024 as compared to 2014 here. 

Kidnap (Fri Gaga) ep 12 end - What an absolutely excellent final episode. Smiley kisses! 

Conclusion 

A cute if patently absurd little show about a stuntman who is somehow convinced to kidnap a rich kid except they fall in love. It takes itself a little more seriously than it deserves for such a silly plot and some crappy stunts and contradictory content, but it was a pleasantly romantic experience all around, and I enjoyed myself. Extra credit for Q in that perfect blue color throughout. No complaints, a solid BL. 8/10 

The Heart Killers (Weds Gaga) ep 1 of 12 - Jojo directs FirstKhao & JoongDunk in an action romcom about assassin brothers (Khao & Joong) who meet a tattoo artist (First) and a cocky mechanic (Dunk). I'm highly amused that Joong plays the older brother to Khao and that we have a take on the Taming of the ShrewBL. This has all GMMTV's best chemistry in one BL and some fresh concepts that I've only seen tackled in m/m romance novels (check out Amy Lane's Racing for the Sun, thank me later). My only quibble is Jojo, I like his style but his characters can get unreliably messy so…... this gonna be interesting.

Buckle up buttercups I got thoughts:

Frankly, I haven’t decided if this is good or so bad and so camp that it’s good? The latter I suspect. Either way, I’m enjoying it very much, but I had very little doubt that I would. This falls into so many of my wheelhouses. Not just the premise but the casting and the approach and the script. They pretty much knocked it out of the park with the first episode: one night stand + safe sex + linguistic negotiation = I’m in! During the opening sequence I spent the entire time worried about how many fingerprints Bison was leaving everywhere. And then I realized this show is going to require DEMAND we turn our brains entirely off.

We are in KinnPorshce / The Sign territory people. Take emergency precautions! Do not engage brain meats!

Kiss Me Kate only gay and hitmen? Frankly, it sells itself. The music is extremely stupid though. (Brain, stop it!) I gotta say that FirstKhao are good because…… FirstKhao. But JoongDunk are absolutely perfectly cast. Like: couldn’t be a better pair in these roles. Dunk, in particular, is slaying. I did not have Dunk as Petruchio down on my “best casting choice of all time” BL bingo card, but apparently there he is. Awesome. 

Fourever You (Thurs YT) ep 8 of 16 - I’m warming up to the second couple a little bit. I actually don’t mind a bully romance the way some do. But this isn’t quite hitting the notes that I want from one. Still, I found this week more engaging than last week. 

Secret Love (? YT?) 1-12 of 81 eps - They dropped 12 eps at once randomly on YT totaling about 20 min. So of course, I watched it. Because I have no self-control and STEPBROTHERS! Adopted into a rich family, boy falls in love with heir. But when he is made the heir instead, everything goes wrong. Now enemies the two boys reunite and sparks! I hate this format but dammit I love this utter dross. It’s very early Chinese BL feeling but from Thailand. I don’t care. It’s so stupidly great. This is my kind of BL.

Caged Again (Fri Gaga) ep 3 of 10 - There is something sweetly innocent and earnest about this show. It reminds me of Takara and Amagi or even Light On Me but less stiff - this one is quintessentially quirky and casually Thai about it. It’s interesting that this has an 18+ rating, which means it’s either gonna go very violent or sexy or both. Right now I can’t imagine that, it doesn’t suit. But I’m looking forward to seeing where this goes. Junior with his Mean Girl crop top moment is the goddess of the week though. Fierce queen penguin.

Perfect 10 Liners (Sun YT?) ep 4 of 24 - I love the side couple so damn much. How are they so adorable? Still not wild about the mains, and not likely to get there anytime soon. That said, I did like seeing the “sleeping in your boyfriend‘s class while he gives you his jacket” trope drop. We haven’t had that one for a really long time. My Engineer maybe?

Every You Every Me (Mon Gaga) ep 7 of 8 - I did find this installment kind of boring. I just don’t like actors as main characters. Much as I’m enjoying this show and I think the actors are doing a good job, I really do wish it was more like what we had been sold on: Connected reborn characters fated to be together over and over again. Not this weird little mishmash of whatever. I’m now annoyed by a format I was initially charmed by. 

Jack & Joker (Mon IQIYI) ep 10-11 of 12 - still on hold until it ends or I can cope with the pain.  I just can’t go into darkness right now.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Our Youth AKA Miseinen: Mijukuna Oretachi wa Bukiyo ni Shinkochu (Japan Tues Gaga) ep 3 of 11 - SNIFF TEST! But done by Japan so it’s that much better and more kinky. The way H looks at M pretty much defines naked lust. “I got extra beat up so you’d take pity on me and then I admitted it to you” is so damn warped I can’t even with this boy. This feral kid is gonna drive me feral. The power and the control and the execution of this show is just spectacular. I keep thinking about it after its done and telling people IRL about it. (I rarely talk BL IRL.) It’s classy. I do love it when Japan does classy BL for us. 

See Your Love (Taiwan Weds Gaga) ep 6 of 13 - so completely and utterly adorable. The learning sign language thing! I loved it so much.

Love is Like a Poison AKA Doku Koi: Doku mo Sugireba Koi to Naru (Japan Tues Netflix?) 10 of 12 eps - Possibly one of the best confessions of the year I have to say. Also a wonderful character growth arc for our lawyer. Exactly as one might hope. The plot twist was slightly predictable but still adds a delicious note of tension to our final episodes.

Blue Canvas of Youthful Days (China Sun iQIYI) eps 7-8 of 12 - You don’t want me but you won’t let anybody else have me either. The song of the repressed seme. I did like the irrational jealousy moment and a few other bits, of course the crying kiss. You know I love a crying kiss. Even if it’s a somewhat censored one. But this is also leaning a little bit darker than I want at the moment. This being China, I anticipate the darkness and doom getting worse not better.

Teenager Judge (Vietnam Sat YT) ep 9 of ? - The incredible migrating lip injury continues. Could we please get on with the BL aspect of this show? I’m getting frustrated as well as slightly bored at this juncture. Pacing darlings. Pacing.

Love in the Air: Koi no Yokan (Japan Sat Gaga) ep 4 of 10 - Still not sure. I think I like this better than the original, but I’m confused. I did make disgusted scoff noises and say “oh dear” a couple of times. Which makes me sound like a World War II grandpa (only the housemate's cat noticed), but is also classic me when profoundly disappointed by a piece of media. That’s said, the sex scene was pretty good. In the end, I wasn’t as frustrated by this version of these characters, but they didn’t have as many highs or lows as the original. So first half probably works out about the same in my all-purpose rating system. The true proof in the pudding is going to be couple number 2 tho......

It's airing but......

Winter Is Not The Death of Summer (Weds YT) ?? eps - Criminals who meet in prison fall in love. I did find it on YouTube, but I did not find any English subs for it. The first episode seems to be only six minutes long. It is very pulp. But it is intriguing. So I hope it gets some sort of international or something at some point. for now I’ll put it to the wayside.

Bad Guy My Boss (Thai Sun Gaga) 10 eps - I DNF'd at ep 7, I couldn't make it. I am weak. Life is hard enough right now, this show is making it harder. It’s not what I want from my entertainment.

Bad to Bed (Taiwan Sat YT) 10 eps - This is a little too low production value even for me + just very very odd. DNF

In Case You Missed it

Love for Loves Sake got some kind of special on 11/9. Not sure what, why, or where. Only the rumor that it...... is. I'll believe it when I see it...... literally. Let me know if you found it.

The Bangkok Podcast covered Marriage Equality in Thailand: More Complex Than it Seems. They missed some of the point and all of the queer perspective. But it's a local lawyer talking about it and how it was implemented, which is quite interesting.

Dominant Yakuza and Wimpy Corporate Slave AKA Ore-sama Yakuza to Hetare Shachiku: Kuni wo Koeta Jingi Naki Dekiai, Japan YT. A 30 min slice of ridiculousness. This mini walked out the back of one of my 1999 yaoi (you know those little shorts they always had along with the main story?) and randomly got cut together by some helpful malcontent, tumbled into my YT feed like a Taiwanese prat fall, and I couldn't be happier.

This is the Cliff's notes of a story that could have been amazing, but I adored it anyway. Basically what it says on the tin: office cutie from Taiwan working in Japan runs across hot AF mafia hit man beating up lesser thugs. Falls instantly in love, turns out so does the yakuza. They end up together for...... reasons? (one is cute and the other is cool?) That's it. It's dumb and I loved it. 7/10 because it really isn't good, but it lives on in a very warped corner of my shriveled old heart.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Still to come:

11/28 Spare Me Your Mercy (Thai Thurs iQIYI) 8 eps on OneD (no word on inter) - Increased rates of deaths in terminal patients has a police captain investigating the palliative care doctor with whom he's fallen in love. Their relationship deepens but the mystery persists, driven by mistrust. Adapted from the novel "Euthanasia" by Sammon (Triage, Manner of Death) stars some old guard BL actors: Tor Thanapob from Hormones as the doctor and (fuck me YES) Jaylerr from Great Men Academy and goddamn Grean Fictions as the captain!

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

We stan a smitten seme who's too reserved for his own good. Sunshine is gonna have this boy wrapped around his little finger in no time. (Well in 12 eps, but we know what we like!) Your Sky

King behavior.

Dangerous Babygirl behavior.

Both Love Sick 2024.

(last week)

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

[woso-dreamzzz]

Captain II

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Fridolina Rolfö x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You come home after being announced as captain

In true Magda fashion, everyone in her contact list gets a call. A quick 'did you hear my kid's Sweden Captain?' call where she ends it before the other person can reply.

You get a text and several missed calls that you just ignore until you're free to go to your mothers' house. It was a slip that had you forgetting to tell them that you were Sweden's new captain.

There wasn't much time between your discussion with Emma and walking out to the press conference.

The best you could have given them was a text in warning but, judging by the messages your Morsa sent and all the uncharacteristic emojis she sent with it, you assumed she was happy.

You also assumed that you wouldn't be yelled at for not giving them a heads up.

You pull up at their house and sigh.

Frido's car is also in the driveway and you roll your eyes.

You don't want to think about how many traffic laws she broke to get here before you.

You unlock the front door, unbothered with using the bell, and slip inside.

The low hum of the tv is apparent as you slide off your shoes and hang up your coat. Frido's definitely in the house because you have to put your shoes next to hers and her bag is sitting on the stairs.

You're not entirely sure why she keeps bringing a bag when all her clothes are in the spare room but you don't dwell on it long before making your way into the living room.

Momma is sitting on the sofa, watching the last five minutes of a random show before what she actually wants to watch comes on.

"Your Morsa and moster are in the garden," She tells you," Calling everyone they know to brag."

"Are you angry I didn't tell you? Are they?"

"I'm not angry and those two are much too smug to be angry as well."

You smile and sit next to Pernille, one of her arms being thrown over your shoulder comfortably.

"At least tell me you told Natalia at least. She's not got access to you while on camp like we do."

"I told Talia," You reply.

In fact, Talia was the first and only person you told before the press conference. She'd congratulated you with a laugh before teasing and saying to take it in while you could because she would be gunning for the Spanish captaincy next.

She'd get it eventually, you knew that. It was only a matter of time but, still, you were the only national captain in the relationship at the moment and you just knew she'd have something to say about it when you finally reunited.

"Good girl," Pernille says," I'd hate for her to suddenly appear at the house unexpectedly. You know what your Morsa gets like."

In sync, you both lean forward to peer out of the windows leading to the garden.

Magda's still on the phone, waving her hand around excitedly as her mouth moves quickly before she drops the call only to immediately make a new one.

Frido's also pacing around the garden doing the exact same thing and you can't help but roll your eyes at both of them.

Magda catches your eyes and instantly makes her way back inside.

"Look at you!" She cries, bursting into the room," My little captain! Look at you!"

You're pulled away from Pernille and crushed into a hug as Magda all but sobs into your hair.

"I remember the first time you wore the armband! So small! You couldn't even walk yet! It kept slipping off! Now look at you!"

"Morsa," You groan, trying to escape from her suffocating hug," Let go!"

"My baby!" She's definitely crying now. "Carrying Sweden to greatness!"

(One day, you do lead Sweden to greatness. One day, you make your mark as one of Sweden's captains. One day, you pass off the armband to a young player you saw greatness in like your captain did for you.)

"Come on," You complain," Let go!"

You're released, only to be forced right back into another hug, from your moster Frido now.

Her hugs is just as suffocating as Magda's. She rocks side to side with you as you struggle to get away.

She speaks to Magda over your head. "Do you think I can borrow your old armband? I can't just wear her shirt to matches anymore. Got to complete the look."

"Please don't," You beg but she ignores you.

"Er..." Magda says," I'm not sure actually. I'll have a look-"

"It's on the bedside table," Pernille cuts in," Magda insisted on wearing it last night when we-"

"Gross!" You complain," Please don't talk about your sex life. You know I wear the armband now. Please don't make me think about you guys having sex every time I wear it."

You peak your head over Frido's shoulder to look at your mothers.

Magda shrugs. "A healthy sex life-"

"Stop!" You clamp your hands over your ears. "Stop talking or I'll go straight back to camp. Stop talking!"

Magda waves a hand dismissively. "You'll find out what I mean as soon as you see Natalia again."

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Alright, time for another Merlin au! This one won the last poll, marked as "an au featuring Arthur being an idiot"!

In this au, set sometime in the three years between season 4 and season 5, Arthur, Merlin, and the knights of the round table get ambushed by a large pack of ferocious wyverns while on a quest. This time, Merlin couldn't be subtle about using his dragonlord commands to pacify them, and that was the only way to ensure that they would all make it out alive. So, Merlin uses dragonlord commands to make the wyverns leave and, in the process, reveals that's he's a dragonlord. However, he at least managed to keep his magic a secret through the ordeal, so he's got that going for him.

Arthur is, of course, rather upset about Merlin keeping this secret from him, and is even more upset when he learned that Balinor was Merlin's father and guilty that he didn't support his friend through mourning his father as Merlin had for him. However, Arthur can also keep things in perspective. After all, dragonlord powers weren't actual sorcery, apparently it was a magic-adjacent gift that Merlin had inherited at the moment of his father's death, whether he wanted to or not. Besides, it wasn't like Merlin chose to have the ability, so Arthur couldn't really hold the ability itself against Merlin.

And anyways, Arthur mused to himself at their camp after Merlin came clean to the knights the night after the the wyvern attack, it wasn't like there were any dragons left. The only thing Merlin could do was command wyverns. While that could perhaps make him a threat if he wasn't the most harmless person Arthur knew, they didn't even encounter wyverns that often.

So, Arthur was willing to just let this be a useful little trick that Merlin could use on the off chance that they ran into wyverns. Still, the image that the whole situation gave Arthur, an image of Merlin being a formidable, powerful dragonlord with devastating dragons under his command, was rather amusing.

So, as Arthur settled in for the night after hearing the last of Merlin's explanation, this wasn't going to be a big deal. Sure, he was still hurt that Merlin kept this a secret from him, but Arthur could understand why. Uther had killed all of the other dragonlords, so it made sense that Merlin felt unsafe with his father still on the throne, and since they didn't run across wyverns often, there was a very real chance that Merlin just forgot about his ability entirely until it was relevant again. That was a very Merlin thing to do.

So, everything was fine. Everyone with them looked comfortable with Merlin, and he knew that they would keep this a secret for Merlin's sake. If word of Merlin's dragonlord abilities got out, Arthur could always publicly grant him a pardon. After all, it wasn't like he had ever hurt anybody with it. The only thing he seemed to do with it was send wyverns away.

Arthur quietly snorted to himself at the thought. Oh no, the terrible powers of Merlin the dragonlord, telling some wyverns to shoo.

Arthur relaxed into his bedroll, listening to the knights settling in to sleep and their fire crackling a few feet away. The quiet noises were peaceful, but were broken a few minutes later by Leons seemingly innocuous question.

"Merlin, if you were already a dragonlord when we rode out to face the great dragon, did you do anything with your powers? I assume you're the reason Arthur made it out alive through the whole ordeal."

Merlin froze where he was sitting, a myriad of emotions passing through his face before his expression settled on a grimace. Arthur sat up, interested in hearing Merlin's answer. What truly happened that night with the dragon? In the comfort of his own mind, Arthur admitted that Merlin's explanation of Arthur slaying it was... unlikely, at best, considering that Arthur was unconscious at the time.

"Well, you'd be correct Leon. It took me a while to figure out how to use dragonlord commands, since I never got any instruction on how I was supposed to command Kil- the great dragon. I'm truly sorry that I wasn't quick enough to save the other knights."

Merlin hung his head low, with what looked like shame. Arthur frowned at his manservant. Surely Merlin couldn't hold himself responsible for their deaths? Every knight had similar guilt, telling themselves at night that they should've been faster, should've been better, should've been more aware, then maybe some of their friends would still be with them.

Every knight learned the same lesson: those thoughts were the path to madness. It was disheartening to see that misplaced guilt on Merlin as well.

Luckily, before Arthur had to try to articulate that, Leon seemed to have similar thoughts, and spoke to Merlin with a soft, reassuring smile.

"Merlin, they volunteered for that mission, and they knew the risks. You are not to blame for the dragon's actions. Now please, tell us, how was the dragon actually defeated?"

Merlin nodded at Leon's words, but the guilt remained on his face.

"I, uh, was able to find my dragonlord voice after Arthur was knocked from his horse. He hadn't managed to hit the dragon, and he was about to kill Arthur, but I couldn't let that happen."

Merlin glanced over at Arthur, who was valiantly trying to ignore the warm fuzzy feelings blooming in his chest at the thought of Merlin slaying a dragon single-handedly just to protect him. He wasn't some maiden in a children's tale!

"But, when I gave the order to the dragon to stop attacking, I- I couldn't-"

Merlin swallowed thickly before continuing.

"I couldn't kill him. He was the last dragon, the last of my kin. So, I ordered him to leave. I banished him from Camelot and forbade him from ever harming another human again."

This time, Arthur froze where he was sitting, and he could see that the knights were in similarly tense states. Poor Leon turned a rather disturbing shade of pale.

Finally, Arthur spoke up with a forced calm tone, the type that was only a thin veneer to panic.

"Merlin, you don't mean to tell me that the dragon is still alive? And it could return to Camelot to finish what it started?"

Merlin looked at Arthur and tried to reassure him, but Arthur could barely comprehend Merlin's words through his rising panic.

"Well, yes, he's still alive, but dragons physically cannot disobey orders given by their dragonlord. He cannot return to Camelot at all, unless I call for him."

Merlin tried to give him a comforting smile, but Arthur wasn't sure he could feel any sort of comfort at the moment. He locked eyes with Leon, who wasn't faring much better with his own panic. Dear gods, that monster was still out there! They had all been living under a false sense of security! And all the while, Merlin was smiling at him like there was nothing wrong at all!

Arthur took a deep breath and tried to think through the haze of his panic. Right, Merlin hadn't killed the dragon. That made sense, since Merlin hated killing anything at all, much less the most dangerous monster on the planet. Right. But, according to Merlin, the dragon physically couldn't enter Camelot or hurt any humans.

Information, what Arthur needed was more information. If he had more information, he could come up with a strategy to keep Camelot safe from the dragon indefinitely. Merin's orders had worked for now, but there was no guarantee that those would work forever.

Forever... wait a minute...

"Merlin," Arthur called out frantically, fueled by an awful thought. "How long does a dragonlord's order bind a dragon?" Please say forever, please say forever...

Merlin's eyebrows shot up, apparently not expecting Arthur to ask such a question.

"Well, any dragonlord's order is fully binding to a dragon up until the original dragonlord rescinds the order or the dragonlord dies, whichever comes first."

Arthur felt panic's icy fingers wrap around his heart. Arthur despised even thinking about any hypothetical death of Merlin's, couldn't fathom an empty life as the king without his friend, but this, this information put a whole new layer of dread onto the though, which Arthur previously thought wasn't even possible. He could see the other knights catching onto his logic as well, while Merlin still sat on his log, looking at all of them confusedly.

If Merlin somehow died, then his banishment on the dragon was lifted. And if that happened, there would be no dragonlord left to stop it from reducing all of Camelot to ash. If Merlin died, then Camelot was doomed.

This new knowledge sat heavy in Arthur's gut, putting him on edge. Balinor had been killed from a bandit's crossbow bolt, something that Merlin faced regularly while following Arthur around. All it would take was one lucky shot on a bandit's part, and all of Camelot would die.

One bandit attack gone wrong, one assassin from Morgana, one accident on the training field, one illness contracted from a patient, and all of Camelot would go up in smoke.

Wait... dragons lived for thousands of years... and Merlin would, if Arthur had his way, live for at least a hundred years, but everyone died eventually. The dragon would surely outlive Merlin, and then the only way that Camelot would still stand was if there was another dragonlord! But Merlin was the only one left, and it was passed down from...

from father to son.

Arthur choked on air as he realized it. Good god, what had his life come to?!

If Camelot was going to survive, Merlin needed to have a son, and have one quickly. For the continued survival of Camelot to be ensured, Merlin needed to find a wife and get laid.

Arthur wanted to start laughing hysterically. The fate of his kingdom rested upon Merlin's ability to sire a child.

Arthur stared at Merlin as the other man tried not to squirm under the shocked gazes of all the knights. Ok, he could do this, his kingdom would be safe from the dragon, he just needed a plan.

First, they needed to get Merlin back to Camelot, where he would be safe and away from murderous bandits. That part was easy enough, they were already heading back to the kingdom anyways. The knights had estimated that it would have taken them another three days to reach Camelot, but with all of the knights sharing Arthur panic around Merlin's safety, for both the sake of their friend himself and the kingdom, they were able to make it back in only two days.

For those two days, Merlin seemed more confused by their frantic and panicked behavior than anything else. His shocked and embarrassed face when Percival had helped him on and off his horse - "so he doesn't fall and get hurt", the gentle giant had rationalized - had been very amusing. All the while, Arthur planned out what they would do when they returned and repeatedly reassured Merlin that no, he wasn't too mad about Merlin letting the dragon live since Merlin could at least keep it away.

Then, they needed to ensure Merlin's protection in Camelot. Granted, there weren't many dangers in Camelot, but the clumsy fool could find danger anywhere. With his luck, Arthur would bet that Merlin would trip over some stairs in the castle and wind up bleeding out! That could be remedied by assigning knights to guard Merlin at all times in Camelot and keeping Merlin physically by his side as much as he could. Merlin raised an eyebrow at his new guards and schedule, which kept him glued to Arthur's hip at all hours of the day, but otherwise said nothing (besides a little mocking about how Arthur couldn't get anything done without him. Arthur tried not to think about how the familiar taunt rang far more true than he had ever realized.).

(Merlin, on his end, took these measures as a sign that he had lost Arthur's trust with the admission of letting the dragon live. What else was he supposed to think about knights following him 24/7 and being kept in Arthur's line of sight more than ever before?! Merlin consoled himself that it was by far more lenience than he had been expecting. Arthur hadn't threatened him, he wasn't being executed or exiled, Arthur was still treating him as a friend, and he had every chance to earn Arthur's trust back again. Really, if his punishment as just having to be with his knight friends at all times, then he could happily live with that.)

Still, Arthur didn't know how to go about the final part of his plan: ensuring that Merlin would have an heir to inherit his dragonlord powers and keep Camelot standing for generations to come. Of all of the trials and quests he'd faced, this one seemed to be the most daunting of all: finding a woman attracted to Merlin.

Arthur eventually settled on a plan. He'd have Gwaine accompany Merlin on long walks around the castle and the lower town, and the knight would report back to Arthur on which ladies had caught Merlin's eye, and which ladies Merlin had caught the eye of. Gwaine had a way to spotting attraction between people, something he frequently used to gather ammunition to tease his fellow knights with. With any luck, there would be some overlap between the two lists, and they could find some nice woman for Merlin to settle down with.

After a few weeks, however, Arthur found himself having to re-evaluate his plan. While Gwaine had reported that there were a good number of young ladies in the lower town that seemed to fancy Merlin, Merlin didn't seem to have eyes for anyone, which made their mission trickier.

Eventually, Arthur resorted to inviting Merlin over for dinner with him and Gwen, hoping to flaunt to Merlin how great the married life was and how Merlin was getting older and was running out of time to settle down and have children. To his disappointment, Merlin didn't seem to get the hint, instead telling both of them how much he appreciated them including him in their time together when they didn't have to. Arthur had to swallow back frustrated screams at his friend's obliviousness.

(Gwen, meanwhile, was perplexed by Arthur's push for Merlin to find a wife. At first glance, she would think that Arthur was worried about Merlin never settling down and starting a family, which was something Gwen sometimes worried about as well.

However, Arthur's push was more vehement than a concerned friend's. There was something there, some underlying passion forcing him to push Merlin towards a wife.

When Gwen finally realized the truth behind Arthur's efforts, it broke her heart. Gwen knew that her husband could be a bit old-fashioned in some ways, and that the prejudices that he must have grown up with as a noble were not easily shaken off, but still, that wasn't an excuse to be homophobic towards Merlin!

Gwen had figured out about her friend's preferences during the Lamia's attack, since Merlin was the only man unaffected. Truthfully though, Gwen had suspected long before that, given how Merlin had looked at both Lancelot and Gwaine. And while it was shocking for Gwen, she would support her friend no matter what!

So, she was very disappointed in Arthur's behavior. Arthur must have somehow learned about Merlin's preference towards men during their last quest, and now he was trying to pressure Merlin into finding a wife! She agreed that Merlin deserved a lovely family, but Arthur should not force him into the nobility's narrow definition of family! If Merlin wanted his lovely family to involve a husband instead of a wife and that's what made him happy, then that is what they all should wholeheartedly accept!

Gwen really needed to give her husband a stern talking-to before he could hurt Merlin with his prejudice!)

(Merlin, meanwhile, is far too sleep-deprived and stressed over keeping Arthur safe and the prophecy to even think about romance or starting a family. His disaster bisexual ass has too much on his plate right now.)

So, Arthur tries everything he could think of to find Merlin a wife. Unfortunately, Arthur is not nearly as good of a wingman to Merlin as Merlin was to him. Arthur had hosted many balls and feasts, making sure to invite attractive ladies around Merlin's age, but Merlin didn't even bat an eye at any of them.

Perhaps the only thing more frustrating than Merlin's lack of attention towards any of the young ladies of the court was the fact that, now that Arthur was looking for signs of anyone's affection towards Merlin, he could see how many members of his own court were smitten with his manservant.

And Arthur was just baffled because how?! How was that possible?! That Merlin, a lanky beanpole of a man with a blinding smile and charming wit and unending loyalty and eyes he could get lost in...

Where was Arthur going with that? Oh right. Merlin, with all of the suaveness of a wet sock, was somehow the object of desire for most of the ladies in waiting. Arthur was entirely baffled by it.

And just when Arthur thought that it couldn't get any worse, it did. It got so much worse when his wife sat him down and started lecturing him for some sort of prejudice that he was showing against Merlin by pushing him towards a wife, because apparently Merlin's eyes didn't stray towards women at all.

Look, Arthur knew that some of his own knights preferred the company of men, and he wouldn't begrudge them something like that. To each their own. But if Camelot was going to still be standing for Arthur's heir, Merlin needed to sire a son of his own.

After Arthur explained to Gwen the situation that they were in with the great dragon still alive and Merlin's life being the only thing holding the beast back from destroying Camelot, Gwen also became grave with the realization that they were stuck without a solution that would keep Camelot safe for the next generations.

Arthur moped around for a few weeks, unable to think of a single solution for the situation he had found himself trapped in. How on earth was he supposed to get Merlin to have a biological son if Merlin doesn't even like women?!

Wait, but Merlin had liked a woman, at one point. Perhaps his preferences had changed, but at one point, he was willing to sacrifice himself, to willingly confess to sorcery in front of Uther Pendragon, in order to keep the woman he loved alive. And Arthur knew that love like that didn't die easily. And Arthur should know, since he loved the same woman in the same way.

From then on, Arthur kept a keen eye on Merlin and his wife. He knew that his wife would never be unfaithful to him with Merlin, and Merlin had been nothing but supportive towards Arthur and Gwen's relationship, even when Arthur himself had given up on it. Still, Arthur knew that if Merlin had eyes for one woman in the world, it would have to be Gwen. He saw the way that Merlin looked at Gwen sometimes. Merlin didn't look at any other woman that way.

Gwen had confessed that she had romantic feelings towards Merlin at one point, and Merlin certainly had some sort of feelings for Gwen that went beyond platonic. Arthur swallowed dryly as he thought about it. Could... could that be the only way?

(Cue slowburn Mergwenthur, with Arthur trying to set up Gwen and Merlin together with a heavy heart, while the other two are kinda oblivious and mistake it as Arthur wanting a threesome, which they would be more than happy to go along with, along with Arthur slowly realizing his own feelings for Merlin.)

(Meanwhile, since Arthur's crap at communicating, Merlin doesn't actually realize that it all started because they thought that they needed Merlin to have a son to keep Camelot safe from the dragon after Merlin was dead. Upon Arthur finally telling him, Merlin then has to awkwardly informs them that he's immortal and doesn't really need to sire an heir.

Arthur, understandably, screams into a pillow at the news that his efforts were pointless, while his lovers laugh gently at him and start kissing him to make up for all the stress he had to go through.)

And that's all for this au! I hoped you liked Arthur's himbo-ness shining through one again!

Thanks for reading through my ramblings! :D

[targaryenluvs]

YOURS TRULY

pairings: dark!luke castellan x fem!reader, dark!percy jackson x fem!reader

summary: with one demi-god on your tail, you try your hardest to make your escape. but with two? they’re both no where near willing to let you go.

warnings: obsession, possession, stalking, implied kidnapping, sexual implications

a/n: look who decided to write again!

Icons not mine, credits to the owner!

it wasn’t hard for him to find you again. a given, he would track you down to the ends of tartarus as long as you wound up where you were meant to be.

by his side.

at first he’d been disappointed in himself when he fell for you. luke thought himself above that, thinking that he’d devoted himself entirely to his cause. but maybe being around so many kids for so many years caused him to soften in places unknown.

because when you’d limped into camp, collapsing in the strawberry fields and sending the the place into a tailspin, he found an eerie sense of peace with you. the words and thoughts in his heads were drowned out the second you looked up at him.

“it’s- it keeps- it’s chasing me.” his hand came down to your stomach, a lash ran across. not too deep, barely half a centimetre perhaps less. luke immediately picked up his sword in defence of you, waiting for the monster to show. meanwhile the other kids were either running for chiron and mr d or gearing up themselves.

there was no way they were missing the chance for kleos.

but the monster was already subdued, as percy walked out dragging a head along with him. “order to go?” you couldn’t help the smile that came across your face at his words. but luke didn’t like it, how the hell had percy beaten him to it?

over the next few months you found yourself in between the two of them, fighting for your attention. even if it was just for a minute. during the capture the flag you found yourself rotating teams every time since apparently the other promised victory every time. but you knew if you only focused on one of them the other would be angry.

everyone else at camp found it hilarious. two of the most well known campers competing for someone who apparently couldn’t care less. you just wanted to be at camp with your friends.

but what you didn’t know was that they were actively working against each other.

“nice sword skills jackson, a scarecrow teach you?” luke laughed as percy sighed, “your insults are weak castellan, so are your own skills.” luke raised his eyebrows, he was one of the best swordsman around in a long time. they both were one of few who saw the real sides to them, the jealousy and the arrogance. all because of you.

it got so intense to the point that you knew you needed to run. they were hurting eachother constantly, all for your approval, and even threatening your own siblings at times. to the point where they slowly began to distance themselves when the two were around. whether they’re excusing themselves for the bathrooms or just blatantly upping and leaving.

“hey y/n, how are you?” your spoon froze mid air as you heard percy’s voice, a quick glance at your siblings and you could see the fear. “guys, you mind giving us a second?” all your sibling at the table were younger than you and more than happy to leave, “i’m doing fine jackson. you?” you couldn’t be any shorter with him yet he always engaged himself in conversations with you. even when you were clearly uninterested.

“i’m doing amazing, now that i’m talking to you.” you flashed him a smile before getting up with your tray, “that’s nice, i’ll see you around.”

percy watched as you walked away, until he heard the voice he dreaded. “left alone are we?” luke joked whilst sitting down in the spot you’d occupied not too long ago. “shut up. she barely talks to you.” luke smiled, “well, when she’s with me we don’t do a lot of talking.” if looks could kill, luke would be a goner. “stop it.”

“bet i could catch her before you.”

“you’re slower than me let’s be realistic jackson.”’

“you wanna bet?”

and that’s exactly how you ended up here, knee-deep in the creek with either boy on each side of you. “will you just leave me alone? what is wrong with you!” luke’s face was cold, his grip on his sword was more than enough to make your heart race. “just come out and let me talk to you.” you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion at percy’s words, “why would i? it looks like you wanna kill me!”

“no!” luke’s shouting caused you to stumble back, “i mean— i would never hurt you.” he took a step forwards as you pointed your spear, “stay back!” unfortunately, you’d been so busy fending off luke you’d forgotten about percy to your left. you screamed at the top of your lungs when his arms came around you.

“hey, quit it.” luke whispered as his hand came over your mouth. “i don’t want to hurt you.” you’d be damned if you went quietly, so you shook and writhed. trying your hardest to get away, and luke had a short temper when it came to you. his sword came across your head, knocking you out cold. “what the hell!” percy yelled as you went limp in his arms. “she’ll be fine, now let’s get going.”

as they walked with you, either one couldn’t help but think, when they’d get rid of the other.

[m00nlight-ramblings]

Touch Me

Repulsed by touch due to years of trauma, Astarion now wears gloves in his every day life. But once he starts to adventure with you, he slowly starts to rebuild his trust in others, when one night, he can't bare to not touch you any longer.

Pairings: Astarion x fem reader

Warnings: SMUT, p in v, oral sex (female receiving), rough sex, light discussion of trauma, swearing, fluff. 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 4.5k

Requested: yes

A/N: Okay so I got carried away with this one lol. Happy to be back writing some good ole BG3 smut teehee. Graphic made by me, I don't give permission for my work (graphic or writing) to be shared without my consent.

You hadn’t really noticed Astarion’s gloves before, for the first few days of adventuring. You figured that they were just for defense, to help keep his body safe in combat along the journey. You were also far too busy trying to figure out the whole tadpole-in-your-brain problem, along with the myriad of enemies seemingly popping out of nowhere, to be concerned with your camp companions’ fashion senses.

But one evening, when you were headed to the nearby creek to quickly wash yourself in a moment of calm, you stumbled upon a rock, covered in familiar looking clothing.

Astarion’s clothing.

His gloves laid on top of the bundle of clothes, the brown leather muted in the soft moonlight. You paused for a moment and turned to look out into the deep creek, and not even five feet away, Astarion stood.

You realized he was fully nude so you shrieked and turned around. “Sorry! I didn’t realize you were here!” You apologized profusely. You heard Astarion gasp behind you and the motion of water, feet padding over to the rock. Clothes started to shuffle and you heard Astarion murmur under his breath.

“…completely nude, as if my clothes on the rock weren’t a dead giveaway that I would be naked! Trying to bathe and have peace and quiet for one second this entire journey…”

“Look, I said I was sorry-” Without thinking you turned, but luckily Astarion was fully clothed, except for his gloves. He seemed more concerned with fixing his outfit than what you were saying, so you gently reached out to touch his wrist to get his attention. “I didn’t mean to, and I didn’t see anything, anyway-”

The second your fingers touched Astarion’s wrist, he shouted, ripping his arm back as if you had just shocked him.

“Don’t touch me!” He bellowed, his voice dark. It scared you for a moment and you stood absolutely still, silence hanging between you. Astarion didn’t even look at you, just down at his wrist, as if he had been burned.

“What…I’m sorry? Did something happen-”

“Just…don’t touch me,” His cool demeanor was back as he gracefully slid the gloves on, “Alright? Just…don’t.” He had finally looked up at you, his ruby eyes shimmering. His expression was unreadable, but you nodded slowly.

“Alright…I won’t.”

You stared at him for a bit longer, trying to understand what was going on in his head. Was it…fear? Rage? You weren’t quite sure…all you knew was that without meaning to, you had somehow crossed a boundary with Astarion, who was already like a vault.

Without another word, Astarion walked back to camp. You sighed heavily and eventually bathed, but the entire encounter was so odd that you didn’t quite know how to move forward with it.

The next morning, while the sun was still rising, Astarion found you by the campfire as you cooked your breakfast. Uncomfortably clearing his throat behind you, he seemed a bit sheepish. Wringing his wrists (clad in the gloves), he shifted the weight on his feet in his graceful, Astarion way.

“May I speak with you for a moment?” He asked. Nodding, you stood, wiping off your pants. Astarion stared at you for a minute, his eyes darting back and forth between yours. It was increasingly apparent that he didn’t know how to start the conversation, but you waited patiently, afraid you’d somehow set him off again.

“I…want to apologize for last night,” He eventually said, “The whole…situation…with my gloves, I mean. I…” He sighed, searching for words, “I have a hard time with touch. I have for a bit…because of my past with Cazador. When I woke up, thrown from that Nautiloid, I realized gloves made me feel better because I technically don’t have to touch someone when I…well, when I touch them. And since I was no longer under Cazador’s thumb, I snagged the first pair I could find off of…well…some poor dead body on the beach and it’s been better ever since.”

Taking in what he was saying, you nodded, staying quiet. “So…you wear gloves. Because you don’t like touch.”

“Quite frankly, I’m repulsed by touch,” He calmly replied, throwing a hand back, “200 years in a body that I had no control over will do that to you, I suppose.”

“Okay. That makes sense.” You said plainly, forking a piece of pork belly into your mouth.

Astarion tilted his head, confused. “It does?”

“Yes. I mean…I believe you, and everything.”

“You do.” He stated, but it sounded like more of a question, like he didn’t understand.

Shrugging, you nodded, “Cazador forced you to use your body against your will to do his tidings, and now that you have the ability to act for your own for the first time in a very long time, you realize that there are boundaries that make you feel more comfortable. It makes perfect sense.”

Astarion opened his mouth to say something, but immediately shut it. “Well…look at you. Knowing so much about me.”

“That’s what friends are for,” You smiled and pat his shoulder gently, “Thank you for sharing that with me. I understand…and will be aware of it.” You go to walk away, but turn and look at Astarion, “I know what you’ve been through was unbelievably awful, so you don’t have to…but if you ever feel the need to talk to someone about it, I’m here for you.”

Astarion stood, frozen. He nodded so small that if you weren’t paying attention, you would’ve missed it.

“Thank you.” He eventually said, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes were locked on the ground. In a flash, he was striding towards his tent, his hands behind his back, as if the conversation never happened. Watching him walk to his tent, you shook his head.

You knew Astarion was full of secrets, but you weren’t quite sure how deep those secrets went.

The following weeks had tore through your body harder than any training you had been through. Every night when you went to bed, it seemed like a body part you didn’t even know you had was aching.

Currently, you were a little way away from camp, leaning against a tree, trying to get any semblance of reprieve that you could. Your eyes were closed, but you were nowhere near sleep, as the crickets chirped around you.

“Darling?” Astarion’s voice called out gently. You waved your hand in the air so he could track you down.

“Over here.” You mumbled, your arm feeling like it was 600 pounds. You brought it back down to your side and sighed heavily. Suddenly, you smelled chicken. Opening your eyes slowly, you saw a plate of food in front of you. You followed the arm holding the food and saw that Astarion had knelt beside you, presenting the food.

“Dinner,” He spoke plainly, “Gale just finished cooking. I thought you could use some help since your ass was devilishly kicked by those goblins earlier today, so I brought dinner to you while you were resting.” He smirked as you took the plate of food, barking out a laugh.

“Funny that you just had to bring up the fact that I didn’t perform my best today.” You started to slowly bring the food to your mouth, the taste melting on your tongue. You moaned softly in pleasure – he never shut up, but gods, Gale cooked a good meal.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I didn’t perform my best, either.” Astarion sat beside you now, his back resting against the large tree. He sighed as well, leaning his head back.

In the past few weeks, ever since the evening you had accidentally touched his wrist, you two had become closer. You were the only one to know his secret, a vulnerable piece of the Astarion puzzle. He trusted you to keep his secrets safe, and you did – like you had said, that’s what friends were for.

You ate in a comfortable silence as Astarion stared up at the moon, his face gleaming in the soft glow. Though you two were friends, he was undeniably handsome – you found yourself looking at him longer than necessary, butterflies popping up in your stomach when he would come into your tent to just converse, or when he was next to you in battle. You didn’t know when it started to change, but slowly, your feelings had deepened, which scared the shit out of you. Even now, with no words exchanged, your head felt light as he sat beside you, his familiar scent comforting you.

“Beautiful moon out tonight.” Astarion commented softly. You murmured in agreement, placing the plate and fork next to you now that you were done eating.

“Were you able to hunt tonight?” You asked Astarion.

He chuckled, “Always looking out for me,” He spoke gently. He then turned to look at you, his face soft, “Yes. I did…earlier. Thank you for your concern.”

You laughed softly and shrugged, even though it took all of your effort. You closed your eyes again, “You know me. I need to make sure everyone eats, even if your version of eating is slurping up some boar blood somewhere-”

Suddenly, your hand felt like it was enveloped, and chilled to the bone. Your eyes sprung open and you looked down. Astarion was holding your hand in your lap.

Without his glove.

Your mouth parted in surprise as you looked at him in shock. “Astarion-”

“I know.” He interrupted, smiling proudly.

“You’re…holding my hand.”

“I know.”

“Without your glove!”

“I know.”

You smiled back at him. Both of you sat there in silence, smiling at each other like two goons. You didn’t know what to say, so you started to stutter.

“But…how? When? You’re…feeling-”

“Not with everyone,” He said, “But with you…it’s different. I went to bed last night, thinking about how I wanted to…feel you. Touch you. Really feel you…hold your hand. With mine. Skin on skin,” Suddenly, he turned sheepish and looked down, “I hope you don’t mind?”

“Mind?!” You sat on your heels, gripping his hand tighter, “Of course I don’t! I’m…excited for you! Proud of you! Hells, I-”

Suddenly, Astarion’s lips were on yours. Cold, but gentle – he pressed lightly and pulled away almost as fast. As he pulled away, he looked at you, his eyes uncertain.

“I hope…you didn’t mind that, either.”

A deep blush grew on your cheeks as you smiled and shook your head, “Definitely didn’t mind that.” Your voice was low, quiet. You knew this moment, though on the outside seemed so insignificant, was a monumental moment for Astarion.

He smirked and nodded, “Good. Because when I was thinking about how I wanted to hold your hand, I was also thinking about how I wanted to kiss you, as well.”

You leaned into him and kissed him, pressing your lips on his a little firmer than last time. Smiling, you pulled away slightly, “I like when you think like that.”

Astarion chuckled, his bare hand moving up the sleeve of your blouse, “Good to know. I’ll have to keep that mind next time I start thinking.”

The Shadowlands had boasted not only the worst atmosphere you had ever experienced, but also the worst sounds to ever grace your ears. It seemed like every time you heard a bird squawk, or a bush rustle, you jumped 10 feet in the air. You were thankful that you had Astarion by your side at night, otherwise, you weren’t completely sure if you’d get any rest at all.

Your nights with Astarion could only be described as wholesome, for the most part. Though his gloves were now off in the presence of your tent – his comfortability of touching you without them pretty much 100% - he still couldn’t get past his history when it came to sex. The moaning in each other’s mouths as your tongues danced with each other only amplified how desperate you were for each other, but every time, it wasn’t right. And that was okay.

But gods, did you yearn for him in every way.

Astarion was currently holding you, as you read on your side. You could tell he was sneaking peeks at your book because every so often, there was a “humph” or gasp coming from his lips softly. And when you tried to turn the page too fast, Astarion would gently touch the corner of the book, preventing you from moving to the next page.

“I can let you borrow the book when I’m finished, you know.” You said, giggling in his arms. He smirked and kissed your neck, his breath hot in your ear.

“But isn’t this much more fun, darling?”

You dog-eared the page and put the book down, turning in Astarion’s arms so you were facing him. You gently placed your hands on his chest, looking up at him. Every time you touched him with skin-on-skin contact, you made sure he was comfortable. Astarion smiled and nodded, placing a peck on your forehead. Slowly, he kissed down your temple, to your cheek, and to your jawline. You sighed heavily, your arms wrapping around his neck. He hummed as he kissed along your jaw.

"Astarion..." You breathed. Your hands found their way into his hair, and when you started running your fingers through it, he moaned slightly.

Suddenly, gently, Astarion's cold hand had found it's way in between your legs, tentatively pressing against your clit through your underwear. You gasped at the sudden sensation, pulling back. Looking at him confused, he blushed slightly.

"I need you," He murmured quietly, brushing a lock of your hair back, "I need to feel you. All of you. I want to take you...desperately."

You smiled and slowly rolled your hips forward, towards his fingers. The pressure made you moan, and you tried your hardest to not roll your eyes back.

"Are you sure?"

Astarion nodded. His hand quickly pulled back and found it's way by his side, "But...I may...um..." His gaze followed where his gloves lay on the table near your bed. You followed his eyes, and looked at the gloves. You smiled and kissed him.

"Put them on."

"Are you sure? It's just that...well, I don't need them to touch you anymore, obviously, but when I think about making love, it can get overwhelming-"

"Astarion," You cut him off gently, staring into his eyes, "If you need to wear your gloves to feel comfortable making love to me, then you can wear 30,000 pairs at the same time. As long as you feel comfortable doing it," You kissed him quickly, "And can still take off my pants."

Astarion laughed and reached behind you, slipping the gloves on. His bashful look gave way to a smile, his eyes darkening in a way that you hadn't seen before. He enveloped you in a kiss, grabbing hold of your body around your waist.

"I am going to fuck you until you see stars." He grumbled, pressing his erection into you. Capturing your lips in a rough kiss, you moaned into it, the sudden portrayal of Astarion’s arousal sending heat to your belly. He gently guided you on your back as he straddled you, never breaking the kiss. Finally he leaned back, staring into your eyes.

He was truly a captivating sight - his fair, taught body seemed to glow in the light of your oil lamp. His eyes - usually a bright ruby - were now almost so dark they were onyx. He smiled at you, causing you to turn bashful under his gaze. You felt his hands make quick work of your pants, pushing them down to your ankles. You aided him by kicking them off your feet, your heart racing.

Was this finally happening - were you finally going to make love with Astarion? Your head swam as his gloved hands glided down your sides, taking in every inch of you. He shook his head, still smiling.

“You are the most beautiful sight I have ever seen.” He whispered, his eyes inching towards your (now soaking) center. Gracefully, he slid down the bed, not breaking eye contact with you. Achingly slow, he spread your legs. Settling on his belly, his head dipped to your core, his nose so close it tickled the hair that encased it.

“Astarion…” You murmured, your hand resting on his head. You watched him lick his lips before he lightly pressed his tongue to your clit, sending a wave of pleasure through your whole body. You physically felt like your senses were on overdrive - every muscle was tightened, anxiously awaiting his touch.

“You can’t rush perfection, darling,” He purred, one of his fingers finding their way to your clit. He gently rubbed the finger over your bulge, teasing you, the leather of the gloves an icy contrast to your growing heat. “I’m going to savor this moment. I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long.”

He was staring at you; a moment suspended in time. The only sound in the tent was your whimpers, trying to muffle it so the others didn’t hear you. Astarion’s signature smirk never left his mouth - he was the notorious tease, so why would he be any different in bed?

Suddenly, his tongue delved into you, immediately lapping up your juices, causing you to gasp in pleasure. Your hands found his head, desperate to grip anything in their path. Once you felt his hair you couldn’t help but give a tight tug, to which he groaned into your cunt, the vibrations driving you crazy.

“You like that, don’t you?” He teased, pulling back slightly to speak. He still smirked, his tongue softly darting back to your clit. You bit your lip and nodded, the only way you could currently respond without screaming in pleasure. He dove back in, sending waves of sensation through your body - the coil in your belly started to tighten as Astarion took your clit in his mouth, sucking gently.

Shifting your head to the side of the bed, you pressed your mouth into the pillow, yelping in pleasure. Suddenly, you felt the leather of Astarion’s glove grabbing your cheeks, forcing your head forward. When you opened your eyes you saw him hovering over you, body slightly raised from your pussy.

“Don’t,” He commanded, the other hand working circles on your clit, “I want everyone to hear. I want the whole world to hear how good I love you.”

“Astarion…” You whimpered, your voice trailing off as he was back in between your legs, licking you into another dimension. You did as you were told, your head lolling back on to the pillow so you were looking at the ceiling of your tent, your vision going fuzzy. Your orgasm was quickly approaching, your muscles so tight you felt like you had to jump out of your skin. You knew Astarion sensed it - he slipped one arm underneath you to give himself better leverage, and was now lapping at you roughly, hungrily.

“I-I…I’m going to come,” You breathed, your strength failing you to use your full voice. You looked down and saw Astarion smiling into your cunt, the vibrations on your clit causing your legs to shake around his head. He stared at you from his position, which was just the push your body needed to reach ecstasy.

Your orgasm washed over you as your back involuntarily arched, a hand gripping so hard on to Astarion’s head you’re surprised you didn’t hurt him. His voice was screamed from your lips - definitely heard by everyone in camp - and you couldn’t think of anything else as you saw stars. Your chest felt like it was on fire as you heaved, trying to get control of your breathing. Astarion lapped at you for a few moments more as you felt your orgasm, finally pulling back to give you a moment to breathe. He stood on his knees and wiped his mouth, the smirk never leaving his face.

“You taste incredible.” He said, slowly raising himself from the bed. He undid the strings of his pants and pulled them down, his erection popping out. Leaking with wetness already, you couldn’t help but stare - this was the first time you were fully seeing him naked, and you were in awe of his form. Just seeing him fully aroused was enough to get you going again, and once he crawled back on top of you, you immediately spread your legs for him. He kissed you, and the faint taste of yourself made you moan into the kiss - his tongue was sloppily dancing in your mouth, all sense of romantic etiquette out the window. He was needy, whimpering into the kiss.

You felt him align himself with your entrance and you pressed one of your hands to his cheek, causing him to look up. You smiled softly.

“Are you sure?” You asked gently, delicately cradling his trauma in your hands. Your heart was racing in your chest - out of all the lovers in the land, you couldn’t believe that Astarion had felt comfortable with only you.

He smiled and nodded, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, “I’ve never been more sure of anything else in my entire life, darling. All 200 years of it,” You felt him adjust himself on top of you and he smiled, his eyes darkening again, “Now; stop being so nice so I can ravage you so good you can’t walk tomorrow.”

You both chuckled as he pressed himself into you, your laughter giving way to a low hiss as he immediately filled your aching entrance. Your pussy was begging for a break since you had just orgasmed mere moments ago, but the ache felt so good, you couldn’t help but moan. Astarion maintained eye contact with you, his mouth slightly parted, as he slowly began to rock into you, his hips falling into a rhythm.

“Gods, you are so fucking tight,” He spoke through gritted teeth, “Make my cock feel so good.”

Beads of sweat began to appear on his forehead as he rocked quicker into you, his eyes falling heavy. You moved your hips upwards, gaining better leverage so he could go deeper. When he hit your spot, you both moaned in pleasure, and you gripped the sheets next to you.

“Astarion-” You groaned, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You dug your nails into his back and pulled him closer to you, “Fuck! You make me feel so good!” Your breasts bounced with every thrust and you arched your back, “Harder, please!” You whined.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He mumbled in your ear, his words hot on your face, “You’d like me to fuck you ‘till we broke this bed, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes!” You gasped, digging your nails harder into his back, “Please, please - give it to me!”

Astarion started to slam his hips against yours, the wet sounds of skin filling the tent. With every thrust, he groaned, his face becoming slightly red. A gloved hand appeared around your neck, and he stared into your eyes. You smiled slightly and nodded, and only with your consent did he start to squeeze, holding you in place as he fucked you.

“Tell me you want it. Tell me how good I make you feel.”

“Hells, Astarion! You make me feel so good,” You screamed, both of your hands going to his around your neck, “Please, don’t ever stop fucking me.”

Your voice was a whine, desperate for sweet release of your impending orgasm. If your first one was intense, this one was indescribable - Astarion’s cock slammed into you in a rhythm he was slowly losing control of. He took his hand off of your throat and held on to your hips, trying to gain control of his thrusts as he closed in on his own orgasm.

“Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours!” You screamed immediately, your hands wrapping around his neck again, “I’m yours! This pussy is yours - forever! I’m yours forever.”

Astarion smirked as he looked into your eyes, “Good girl.” He whispered, leaning down to kiss you. He bit down on your bottom lip hard and as he pulled away, he licked away the tiny bit of blood that had sprouted.

Suddenly, his expression changed as the trusts fell out of time. He became sloppy, his mouth open, his eyes closed. His climax was close, so you wrapped your legs around him, drawing his cock closer into your aching cunt. Slick with both of your juices, Astarion’s cock slid in and out of you, his head thrown back in ecstasy.

“Darling, I’m close,” He breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again, staring into yours, “You’re going to make me come.”

“Come for me,” You said bringing your hands to the sides of his face. Your own orgasm was close - you were sure that if you felt him spill inside of you, you would tip over the edge for the second time that night. You smiled, tears of pleasure threatening to fall from your eyes as your body was being pounded into the bed, “Fill me.”

Astarion rested his forehead on yours. With a loud moan of your name, his entire body tensed, his climax spilling into you. His gloved hands dug into the side of your hips and suddenly your orgasm appeared, washing over you all at once. You pressed your body into his, screaming his name, your bodies close enough to feel as one.

As your bodies spasmed together, you saw Astarion smile. He peppered a gently kiss onto your lips, a soft moan escaping into your mouth.

“My darling,” He whispered, his body still on top of you, “That was…divine.” He was out of breath, his voice ragged. As he slowly moved to your side, still inside of you, you nuzzled into his chest, trying to steady your own breathing.

“Thank you,” You whispered, sighing contently, “For trusting me enough to be able to do that with me.”

Astarion tutted and started to stroke your hair, “Thank you for being the person that you are…so that I can feel safe enough to trust you.” He looked down at you and kissed you.

Sleep crept upon both of you; and neither you nor Astarion made a move to clean up the sticky aftermath between both of your legs. As you drifted off to sleep, still naked in Astarion’s arms, he whispered sweet nothings in your ear. You smiled contently - you could get used to this. It seemed the whole world was in your arms as you both held on tightly to one another, an unspoken bond between the two of you grown stronger.

Astarion slid his gloves off before he fell asleep.

---

A/N: I had a blast writing this one...please reblog if you liked it! Comments mean the world to me! :)

[ofswordsandpens]

Okay compiling my most critical opinions on the pjo show so far (episodes 1 & 2)

The Gods' Conflict, Foreshadowing, & Big Three Kids

The show has seemingly dropped a lot of the foreshadowing and threat regarding the gods impending war over the theft of the lightning bolt. In the book, Percy remarks about how the weather's been inexplicably weird and extreme. When he gets to camp everyone is on pins and needles about something and they don't want to talk about it but its still very present. By the time he's claimed as a son of Poseidon and everyone's like "oh fuck" and then Chiron finally explains to Percy that the gods think he's the lightning thief, everything clicks into place for the reader. It all makes sense why everything seems so wrong... because things are wrong. Meanwhile in the show, that doesn't carry through as much, so the reveal of the conflict between the gods and why that's a big deal falls flat in comparison imo.

They dropped/stalled the foreshadowing of the fates and the cutting of the string. They could very well include this in future episodes, and probably will, but I think the timing of it - Percy seeing this before he even knew he was a demigod - again carries some hefty significance and helped set the foreboding tone of things being wrong even from the beginning.

They did drop Zeus's attack on Percy in the minotaur battle completely, which does disappoint me. In the book, its lightning that blasts the car off the road. In the show, Sally seemingly loses control of the car. That change is pretty significant, because it's again losing the power of RR's foreshadowing in the book. The attack on Percy outside the camp borders was a duel attack from Zeus and Hades.

Finally, I don't like the changes they made to Percy's claiming scene, namely, the reaction from the rest of CHB. Percy being a son of Poseidon is a huge deal. When Percy's claimed, the attitude is very much begrudging reverence paired with genuine fear of what it means and what he represents. In the book, Percy is claimed. People gasp. Everyone kneels. Annabeth says, "This is really not good." In the show, Percy is claimed. People... stand there? Annabeth smiles - she's going to get her quest. The only person who has the most outright negative reaction is Luke. I won't go so far to say this is out of character for Annabeth, but it is focusing on an entirely different aspect of her character in the moment, and what the audience gets from Percy's claiming scene here, the tone, is now different from the book. Basically, the reverence and fear don't really carry across to the show, which I think is important.

The phrase "forbidden child" slaps tho.

2. Gabe's Characterization, Sally's Characterization, & Why the Changes do Make a Difference

I'm going to say this with great care: The show has absolutely depicted an abusive relationship between Sally and Gabe. The show has shown Sally to be a strong woman who would do anything for her child. The show has shown Gabe to be a controlling, toxic man.

What they have depicted in the show does not read like the characters and dynamic in the books.

Book Gabe is a violent, menacing drunk. He is so disgusting and vile that monsters avoid him. This is overwhelmingly apparent from the second Percy gets home in the book, even before he is aware of the physical abuse Sally has been facing. Percy has already been dealing with physical abuse from him, amongst other things (edit to be more specific: this is including verbal, emotional, & financial abuse). I've already spoke to it here, in-depth, so I'll try to keep it short but all of this has not been translated accurately to the screen. (Is this to say that a person must be overtly abusive to be abusive? No. But does this character on-screen feel like Smelly Gabe? No.) These things have shaped Percy (and Sally) in very specific ways. As others have mentioned: Percy cannot stand alcohol. He meets Dionysus and is reminded of his step-father. He gets to Tartarus and the air reminds him of Gabe.... The character on screen, while abusive, does not share this presence at all, and that makes a difference.

Edit: To emphasize once more, I am not saying that the show has not depicted a realistic portrayal of abuse. It has (verbal, emotional, & financial so far). It has also distinctly changed the tone and Gabe's presence from the book, to the extent that it no longer feels like the same character and that does have a rippling effect on the dynamics he shares with both Sally and Percy.

3. The Lack of Annabeth

Annabeth in the show is just like... really not as present as she is in the book so far, and I'm just kinda like, why lol?

Annabeth in the books is already way more involved in Percy's life. She was in the infirmary feeding Percy ambrosia after the attack (ulterior quest motives lol), she's the one who lead Percy around camp and re-explained godly parentage to him - and its a moment where she's very sincere with him, and even trying to help him! Instead these moments are given to Chiron and Luke, which I do get the merit of, but still, these were her moments!

Annabeth in the books had already surmised that the gods were fighting, something was stolen, and the something bad was going to happen, all before Percy had even been claimed. And she shared that with him! Again, the loss of foreshadowing and little bonding moments has me :(

I'm a little worried how they're going to deal with her crush on Luke because its pretty central to her character in the books! It helps Luke to manipulate her and also keeps her from admitting he's done something wrong. Also, it was very sweet and funny reading her get flustered - It drove home the point that she was just a kid with a crush that she didn't know how to handle. But in the show Luke spoke to her and I was expecting there to be some sort of reaction to it and there just... wasn't? (This is not something I'm laying at Leah's feet btw! Only the writers/directors!) We're only two episodes in tho so maybe we'll see it some more moving forward.

4. The Minotaur Battle

Again, I've already spoken about this in depth here but !!

The lack of Zeus's lightning strike, them all coming to a standstill and just chatting instead of running for their lives, Grover being awake and just sort of off to the side watching the fight, Sally being like "Promise Me Grover Swear it"... it all just doesn't ring right to me

I wanted more panic, more terror, more urgency. Higher stakes. I wanted Grover unconscious, I wanted to see Percy drag him into camp, and I wanted to see more of Percy's grief alongside his rage. Like the book did.

The pacing in the show here, and just overall, is weird

5. Other Stuff

Mrs. Dodds fight kind of fell flat too. It was honestly too sudden and Percy killing her in the show seemed even more accidental than in the book lol. Like, accidental impalement vs intentional swing of the sword.

They really had show Grover throw Percy to the wolves and not just gaslight him, but low-key have a part in getting him expelled? Not sure how I feel about it tbh.

More New York. I wish we had gotten the part of Percy taking the bus home with Grover included cause like? Him ditching Grover was funny, but it would have been the perfect opportunity to show Percy traveling through New York and establish it has his home. Shots of him looking at the city, walking the streets, interacting with people near his building.. yeah.

More Montauk too tbh. Like more shots of him and Sally on the beach rather than just the cabin.

Nectar and Ambrosia! Unless I missed it, which I might have, why have we still not gotten an onscreen depiction of it yet lmao.

[demigod-shenanigans]

Jason thinks love needs to be earned. The only love in tiny Jason’s world that ever came without strings was Thalia’s, but he was so young when they got separated that he barely remembers her. His mom abandoned him but surely she had her reasons. Maybe he just wasn’t a good enough son.

So he tries to be a good strong wolf and then a good little soldier, for Lupa’s approval and Camp Jupiter’s approval and because maybe if he earns enough points on the achievement scoreboard his dad will come see him. Maybe his dad will love him. If he hasn’t yet, it’s just because Jason hasn’t tried hard enough.

And his friendship with Reyna feeds into this mindset. It’s not anything Reyna says or does. But Reyna is guarded—understandably so, considering she’s extremely traumatized and lived the first ten years of her life knowing love mostly as a thing that could blow up in your face at any given moment. Of course she’s slow to trust and even slower to love.

It takes time for her to let herself love Jason.

And she doesn’t love him because of some achievement scoreboard, or because he’s a good soldier, but Jason doesn’t know that. Jason just sees that Reyna is his friend now, so apparently he’s gotten a good grade in being a friend through his achievements. His dad may not love him yet, but Reyna loves him, so clearly it’s possible to earn love and the world works exactly how he always assumed it did.

And then he meets Leo and Piper. Leo and Piper who love each other without terms and conditions. Who get in trouble together and make fun of each other and would die for each other in a heartbeat. There were no grand gestures or heroic achievements that caused that love to happen. It just did. They just looked at each other and knew they were meant to be friends.

And they love Jason, too. Even after they realize their memories of him aren’t real, they stick with him. Even when he keeps messing up, which in his world should get friendship points docked and make their love go away, they keep loving him anyway.

Jason sees Leo make his little pipe cleaner helicopter and immediately asks if they’re actually friends, because he may not even remember who he is, but surely he hasn’t done enough to earn the friendship of someone that cool. In MoA he talks to Piper about how he keeps being knocked out and having to be saved and how that makes him a terrible hero. He tells her he doesn’t deserve her when she tries to reassure him.

But Leo and Piper keep loving him anyway. They met the version of Jason that’s a mess before they ever met the Jason that’s capable and heroic and they still love him. Leo loves Jason so much he dies to keep him safe.

Leo loves the Jason that laughs at his stupid jokes and plays video games with him and gets stupid competitive about it. He loves the Jason that’s a nerd about Ancient Rome and the Jason who is kind and the Jason who’s unsure what the future holds and what he wants it to look like. He loves the Jason who’s a bit childish and cannot cook to save his life and has a terrible taste in movies.

When Piper is trying to comfort Jason when he almost dies, she doesn’t talk about his heroics. She talks about Jason when he was happy, with a goofy grin on his face and marshmallows stuck in his hair.

All his life Jason thought there was a certain version of himself he had to be in order to earn love. A mold he had to somehow fit himself into, no matter how uncomfortably it fit. And here Leo and Piper are, loving him even when he’s not exactly the fearless hero leader everyone’s expected him to be all his life. Even when he doesn’t know who he wants to be, or what he wants to do with his life. Even when he tells them that maybe he hates being a leader.

And Jason wonders if that’s what love is supposed to be. If he’s been doing it wrong his entire life. If maybe Reyna could have loved that version of him, too, if he’d let her see it.

But he’s so afraid of the answer to that question—so afraid that the girl he considers his platonic soulmate won’t like who he is now—that he never lets himself find out.

[itsphoenix0724]

Promises Pt 2 (Rhysand x Reader)

Summary: You don't argue with your husband often, and never anything as serious as this. However, some things may be too hard to come back from. But, you can certainly try.

Part 1

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2k

A/N: Hi loves! Thank you for all the love on Promises! I'm so so happy everyone liked it, and I got a lot of really positive feedback and interactions! Here is the awaited part 2! I hope you all enjoy where I've decided to take it and the ending! As always constructive criticism is welcome!

You found Mor when you arrived at Athelwood. You had reached out to her mind to mind and she came right away. You spent an hour crying collapsed in her arms cursing the world, the mother, the cauldron, and your husband.

You didn’t leave your bed for another two weeks.

Mor tried to convince you to eat, but you rejected the offer every time. All you did was stare grimly between the gap in the curtains. 

Mate. One word, four letters. Who knew such a small word could rip your heart to shreds?  

You couldn’t stop replaying your argument with Rhys over and over. “She is my mate and I don’t know what to do.” and “It's just more complicated” rattled against the walls of your brain like a twisted symphony. You could only shut your eyes and turn away from the dying sun to try to drown out the noise. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The Night Court was in absolute shambles. It had only been a few weeks, but Rhys quickly realized how greatly the absence of his queen was felt across the entire territory.

After his return from Amarantha’s rule, you had shouldered the majority of the workload to give him time to recover. Theoretically, it made sense. He was out of practice and you had been ruling the court for 49 years by yourself. However, he was just now realizing how out of practice he was.

Rhys had never been a particularly good diplomat.

He was a good leader and a fantastic battle strategist, but he needed more patience for paperwork and meetings.

You always did say he could win a war before he understood the workings of city planning.

Now, there was a pile of letters on his desk asking him when the services the Queen had usually provided were going to resume.

He didn’t realize how much you did daily. How much improvement you made over almost 50 years of ruling by yourself.

You had established a grief counseling service for the war, there was a refugee center you helped run for Illyrian women who needed shelter, and you and Cassian even made biweekly visits to almost all of the Illyrian Camps to ensure they were upholding the new laws about wing clipping. You were even fielding talks with Keir in the Court of Nightmares.

You always did hate the way Rhys chose to handle that.

It was the way his father had taught him and his grandfather had taught his father, and even though you hated Keir, you hated seeing the rest of the court punished.

You had established an exchange program of sorts. Apparently, you had allowed a select few merchants to come to Velaris almost monthly to sell their goods, and you had a group of 20 children that would come attend schools in the City of Starlight. The work kept piling up, he had so many letters marked urgent on his desk that he was starting to go cross-eyed.

The only thing that he could think of was that he failed you. He failed his court, and there was nothing but deep unsettling loneliness clawing its way through his ribcage and straight into his heart. The only thing he had been trying to do was reach you. He had been trying to talk to you through your mind but he was met with cool obsidian walls banning him from entry. 

Then, there was the matter of the unanswered mating bond pulling in his chest. 

He never wanted Feyre. At least not in the same way he wanted you.

He never intended to accept the bond, but he wanted to help her. She had brought him back to his family. To his Queen. He refused to let her waste away in Spring. He thought he could use the mating bond as an excuse to get her away from Tamlin, and once she was settled he could break it off and set her free.

He had made the stupid mistake of not being honest with you in the first place.

He didn’t want you to scent the mating bond and get the wrong idea, so he stayed away for the week until he could finalize his plan.

Instead, he made the mistake of not telling you and it seemed like he was having an affair.

It had been a fair assumption to make, given his piss-poor excuse for an explanation, but the thought of being with another person made him sick to his stomach. Running his fingers over the band of your ring he knew he had to fix this. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You distantly felt Mor sit down on the bed. A soft caring hand brushes through your hair as she calls your name softly. You turn, and blink up at her with weary eyes.

She sends you a sad tight-lipped smile before telling you why she disturbed your hibernation. 

“We need your help.” She says it so softly you almost don’t hear her, “Please. The Court is running itself into the ground. Your people need you,” she pauses again like she doesn’t know if she should say what comes next. “Rhys needs you.” You bury your head back into the pillow and allow yourself to relish in the darkness a minute longer. 

“Winnow us to the House, and then give me an hour.” Mor’s face lights up with a blazing victory as she reaches out to grab your hands, and then deposits you in the Oueen Suite at the house of wind.

You flinch at the bright light and want nothing more than to crawl back into bed and wallow in the crushing sadness. 

But you are Queen of the Night Court, and you made an oath to your people before anything else.

You refuse to let them be punished for the mistakes of their stupid High Lord.

The House had run you a bath, and you sink into the boiling water trying to scrub away the remains of the previous two weeks. Once you’re done you sit down at the vanity in your room and go through the motions. You brush your hair, apply some makeup, and put on all the pieces of jewelry that mean the most to you like armor.

It feels like you’re suiting up for battle to go see your husband. The floor-length black slip you chose might as well have been made of steel.    

You do your best to pointedly ignore your bare ring finger. 

You stare at the crown you never quite thought you were worthy of. Of course, the cauldron would make Feyre Rhys’s Mate. She was the curse-breaker and Rhys was the most powerful High Lord in history. 

What were you?

You push the negative thoughts away and rest the crown on your head. You need to focus on your people. They were the important factor here. You stand up and find Mor in the hall, She looks over you with immense approval before winnowing you down to Velaris.

You walk around the city before you face Rhys at the townhouse.

You visit your favorite bakery, you visit all of your charities, and you walk along the Sidra greeting the townspeople as you pass. It fills you with renewed vigor as they greet you with their warm smiles. It makes you feel like you deserve to be here. 

This is your city, nothing can take you from it. 

The door to the townhouse opens for you, and the first thing you smell is the stench of old wine. You wander through the house and find that Rhys hasn’t moved any of the things you made in the kitchen before you left. You found Rhys leaning over his desk. He must be out of it because he doesn’t hear your approach.

He looks tense, the muscles in his back are as taught as a bowstring. His hair looks run-through and ragged even from behind, and you bet if he turned around there would be dark purple half-moons under his eyes.

You clear your throat and Rhy’s head shoots around to look at you. You’re expecting anger, regret, and maybe even resentment to reflect in his eyes. The only thing you see looking back at you is palpable remorse. He pushes back from his desk so hard that his chair knocks over. He rushes over to you and looks like he’s going to wrap you in his arms, but he drops them at the last second. Rhy is staring at you like he doesn’t believe you’re real and his violet eyes have taken on a glassy tint. 

“Hi,” you mumble carefully, not quite sure if you’ll spook him into triggering another argument. You not knowing how to act around your husband is an unpleasant foreign feeling. Rhys clears his throat and lets out a teary sort of laugh

“Hello my darling,” he tries to smile and fiddles with his hands in a way that is so uncharacteristically like Rhysand it makes your heart lurch for him in your chest. “I’m assuming there’s a lot you want to talk to me about.” You nod and Rhys casts his eyes downward before he nods at you in encouragement. 

“Do you want a divorce?”  It’s the first thing you blurt out, but you’re not sure if you want to know the answer. You have to know, you need to know before you can continue on further. If Rhysand was going to rip out your heart again you’d rather him just get it over with already. Instead, he looks up at you with the most alarmed look on his face you’ve ever seen, and he reaches out to grab your hands in his.

He opens his mouth and then closes it again before he drops to his knees before you. 

“No love, I do not want a divorce. I never want to be separated from you ever again,” He presses kisses into your knuckles “Please, let me explain myself.” He looks up at you in permission and you give a subtle tip of your head. “I never wanted Feyre. Ever. I only needed the mating bond to help save her. I was always going to reject the bond after she was safe.” You hesitate, and he can see the trepidation in your eyes. “Please believe me,” Silver lined the bottom of his violet eyes

“But why,” your voice cracked, and the sobs you’ve held in through you’re entire time apart came rushing out of your chest like hot lava. “The cauldron gave you a mate that matches your power. I’m just me. I’m nothing.” Rhys rises from his knees and holds your face in his hands.

Claiming and steady so he can soothe your sobs. 

“Damn the cauldron. I love you to the end of this earth, and the next earth beyond it. I made mistakes, and I handled this situation completely the wrong way. I am so sorry Darling. I am lost without you, when you’re not here I am missing half my heart. Please, come home.” Another sob bubbles up from your throat and your husband pulls you against him, rubbing soothing circles into your back and apologies into the crook of your neck. Once you both calmed down he pulls back from you and offers you your ring. The sight almost makes another sob bubble in your throat. “Well? Could you forgive me?” 

You nod and Rhy’s whole body almost sags in relief at your words as he slips the sapphire back onto your finger. It’s like a void in your soul has been filled.

You and Rhys certainly still have a lot to talk about and a lot to work on, but you know you’ll do it together.

Just like you always have. 

“So, I heard the Court is falling to pieces without me?” You look back at Rhys’s desk in question and he sends you a guilty look in return. He scoops you up in his arms, despite your shout of protest, and starts walking you toward your shared bedroom. 

“Love you don’t even know how lost I am without you, but we can get to that after I’m done thoroughly apologizing to my Queen.” His voice sends a shiver of dark promise down your spine, and you have the settled feeling in your stomach that everything will turn out just fine.

[sufferu]

Real talk. In BTZ III whose getting the biggest gut punch when it comes to guilt over Subaru's condition?

That is actually REALLY hard to say.

Wilhelm: His not-yet-grandson has finally done what he’s been begging him to do for like, MONTHS, and he can’t stand it. Subaru is obedient, and quiet, and so unbearably miserable that Wilhelm kind of wants to cry on his behalf. Worst of all — Subaru seems genuinely kind of afraid of him, now, which is just. That’s supposed to be his GRANDSON, he didn’t want to scare his grandson! He just wanted his grandson to stop trying to get himself killed! But now — it’s his own fault and he knows it, and he just wants to go back and kick himself.

Julius: Julius honestly, genuinely thought that he and Subaru were cool. Subaru refused to act scared or anything in front of him when they met again post-duel, and it kind of worked a little too well because he had no idea that Subaru was still really upset about it. He certainly didn’t realize that Subaru was SCARED of him. He also had no idea that Subaru was taking his teasing as, like, him being SERIOUS. He legitimately thought they were just playing together all those times, but apparently Subaru thought that Julius ACTUALLY wanted to hurt him and — just, OW. Subaru doesn’t put up a fight against him anymore, he’s just — surrendered, giving Julius a victory he didn’t even realize Subaru had been fighting for. That’s the only way Julius can really put it. He hates it.

Ferris: Ferris is up close and personal with just how badly Subaru got fucked up, because he is one of like five healers in the kingdom that are allowed to treat him for his injuries. He’s a bleeding heart who can’t stand anything about this. He’s trying really hard to not make it Subaru’s problem.

Reinhard: Subaru is supposed to be his little brother, and he’s TERRIFIED of him now. Reinhard can see it every time he enters the room. He was just trying to keep him safe, but now Subaru apparently sees him as so bound by rules and laws that he would — value upholding THEM over being nice to HIM. He was just trying to keep him safe!

Emilia: She really did think she was doing the right thing, keeping him away from her. She hated every minute of it, but she — she thought he’d be happier without her, in the long term. She knew she hurt him when she first left, but she didn’t realize just how badly — and apparently it was BAD. She doesn’t know if the right thing to do is to be there for him now or keep away from him entirely, and she doesn’t even know how to ASK. She didn’t want THIS.

Otto: Shockingly calm, all things considered. He’s enraged, because — well — but it’s not Subaru’s fault. He already kinda knew that Subaru was wary of him — had even used it to his advantage a couple of times, keeping him safe from the shadows — but he hadn’t realized that Subaru was afraid of EVERYONE ELSE.

Garfiel: A total mess. What happened to Captain?! He was supposed to keep him safe!

Pleiades Battalion: Over 900 fully-armed soldiers and somehow they completely failed at their One Job. Also Subaru is actively terrified of all of them. Maybe there really is a hell.

Anastasia: All of these people are fucking idiots, apparently. Maybe she SHOULD have insisted on taking Subaru into her Camp instead. She had been attempting to be considerate, since Julius had literally beaten him within an inch of his life, but man this is a SPECTACULAR failure.

Crusch: How the hell did her camp screw up THIS BADLY?? It’d be a little funny if it weren’t so horrifying.

Ricardo: He wishes Subaru would try to sneak into one of the carriages again. He might even humor him this time. Take a spin around the capital before coming back to drop him off. This is just awful.

Elsa: Elsa still has no idea what this situation is or how she ended up in the middle of it. Someone save her.

[therealslimshakespeare]

Those Who Can || integrated Female Air Force series

Introductory part 1: Flintenweiber, or “Rifle Broads”.

Summary: The American War Effort had conceded to the enlistment and commissioning of women into the Air Force at semi-integrated status. Deemed a more reliable if not safer combat post, the going rank of officer in the Air Force was intended to secure fair treatment and combatant status for these women, as it had for their male counterparts. Like most things in war -or life if one is a woman- such recognition must be fought for.

Authors Note: this is an Au, obviously, and I intend for the de-segregation in the force to not be entirely full, in fact in some ways they would mirror that of the Tuskegee Red Tails where they were held back from many opportunities and placed at a disadvantage, to say the least. However, as this is primarily a POW fic that aspect only effects their reception into the Stalag and the timeline of their crashes.

Inspo: thanks to all of y’all who contributed with suggestions and advice on this fic. I want to say that I based a great deal of the brutal treatment and indignity heaped on these fictional OC’s on the true and horrific treatment of the Soviet Female Soldiers taken as POWs. Taking into consideration that American ties would give these OC’s some leverage, I have moderated these horrors if anything, however as I intend for these girls to be some of the first of their kind, they in many ways endure the brunt of the cruel initiation. If you’ve got any questions or suggestions about this, have at the inbox.

Warnings: 18+ for disturbing content. War, brutality, cruelty, and references to sexual violence. Specifics: a woman’s head is forcefully shaved, a woman is kicked to death, a dog turned loose, concentration camps, brief infighting between Soviet’s and Americans, past tense illusions to rape which are underplayed and may be consequently more disturbing to some. Quite angsty ok?? It’s women at war. Rampant misogyny by Nazis.

Familiar faces: Gale Cleven, Benny Demarco, John Brady, “Hambone” Hamilton

Original Characters: Lt. Maureen Kendeigh (bombardier), Lt. Colonel Ida Brady, Lt. Tallulah Smith 

If Maureen Kendeigh heard the word “degenerate” used one more time in regards to her profession, her sacrifice and skill, -she just might do something regrettable.

By this point she was ready to get off this cattle car and go back to talk with Interrogator Glasses about stupid and unnerving shit like why the clock in the mess hall at Thorpe Abbots had a broken arm. Her distressed inner monologue of “how did he know that??” at the time was preferred to this newest method of demoralization: death by aspersion and suspense.

It was nice to be back with the girls, ones she knew and ones from other squadrons. But that held a misfortune too, the fact that it was just the girls, still not a single male crew member in sight. Apparently the Gestapo and the Luftwaffe were having a spat over who got to keep them, these Flintenweiber: “Rifle Broads”.

In the meantime Maureen and her fellows got punted back and forth between the two institutions like unwanted stepchildren. First the horrible isolation but humane treatment of the Air Force interrogation cells. Then back to the prison where all bets were off and the hope of safety came from a herd-like defense of each other against the ever more erratic guards. In these holdings, if one of their members hadn’t been executed by a pistol to the temple by end of day, it was considered a successful defense by the whole. All other atrocity, indignity and assault were unbearable’s that required bearing for the time being until the Luftwaffe took them back.

And then handed them back over.

And on and on it went.

It was effective, Maureen gave them that, after each hosting by the Gestapo, the girls were softer, tenderized and more susceptible to any deal that might procure them a shred of honor and safety. Only Ida Brady, the most senior amongst them at the incomprehensible rank of Lt. Colonel, had held ranks together, spine of steel and bearing more terrifying than most men’s, she’d fought for every grueling respect of rank they had been afforded. Even if it landed them in harsher conditions, worse interrogations -anything to ensure that what happened to her girls were considered as war crimes against lawful combatants when the time came for justice.

But they’d been collecting the downed girls and holding them apart like prized anomalies while conflicting orders came in from Berlin, and while the Red Cross fussed regarding combatant status. Now they had a tidy number collected, well over twenty by the time Maureen saw Ida Brady pushed into the cell, having been downed with a significant portion of them after Munich.

But now they hadn’t seen Brady in over a day. Not since they’d been loaded on this rail car headed to god knows where by soldiers with the dreaded lightning bolts on their collars.

The SS.

With Brady missing, Maureen supposed that made her and Lieutenant Smith a leader of sorts. Most of her “leading” currently took the form of not responding to a single vile threat or taunt by the guards mingling amongst them in the ever rocking car. Ida would be proud of her emotionless detachment at one guard’s suggestion to let the dog loose and see who it chose to maul.

Lieutenant Smith -tender hearted Tallulah with the bronzed skin and knack with animals that rivaled Snow White’s- had made the cryptic observation in Maureen’s ear that she’d never known a dog could be trained away from the throat to go for the breasts instead.

As of last Sunday they now knew, and none of them were likely to forget.

“I’ll be faster next time,” Smith had mumbled in a simmering rage, “I’ll be faster. I’ll have my fist down that cur’s throat before they finish slipping the leash.”

It was a nice sentiment, would’ve been made more so if Maureen wasn’t so sure it would land dear Smith with a bullet in her head. Would be made more so if Sergeant Forsyth had lived from her injuries long enough to benefit from it. Lots of things would be made nicer by heavier coats and the presence of drinking water.

One of the new ones, a terrified little replacement who wore her ordeal on her face, made the rookie mistake of asking for a drink. She’d been given the predictable initiation of being pissed on by a guard in answer and now she bore her thirst as doggedly as the veterans.

When the train cars rolled to a halt, and the great door was hauled back, sprawling out before them appeared the most idyllic scenery one could ever hope for. A crystalline blue lake, dotted on its border with charming structures adorned with red tile roofs, a quaint church of the same, lush fields and sparkling water and deep forest for miles. Maureen did not think they would haul them so near a town only to execute them. But then what did she know?

Nothing, not even where she was.

When they had lined the girls up, some in worse shape than others and a motley collective group from various military branches, they hauled off Ida Brady to the head of the pack, her bruised face considerably more busted than when she’d been loaded on. Maureen could see her craning her neck as she was drug past, counting down her flyer girls, looking for any missing from the trip.

They were marched, four abreast and with guns at their backs, down a wide and well traversed road into town, past cottages on its outskirts with little garden plots and clothes blowing on the line. Maureen was reminded of the idyllic countryside she had landed in with her chute before being seized and hauled off. There were women and children in row boats on the lake and the path they took through the woods was more peaceful than ominous. A traitorous sort of hope began to bloom in Maureen’s heart.

That was dashed when the tree line broke and out before them stretched what seemed to be miles of wire. And beside it a sign, welcoming them to Ravensbrück -a concentration camp. A camp for civilians, a camp to never return from.

Their new guards were ready for them, smiles on their faces and whips in their hands. Among them were a few remarkable for their sex, they were women too -if women who enjoyed such craft could still be called that. And for all the horror inflicted on them by their male captors so far, there seemed to be a general presentment amongst the arriving girls that the finer arts of terror had not yet been endured.

Standing for hours in the infamous square inside the compound, roll call and registration took on a form of torture yet unheard of. Round and round it went, repetitions of ranks and serials over and over and each time they were met with two alternatives. Renounce the ranks and be admitted as civilians with no further targeted harassment. Or-

“If you insist on being special, we will be forced to make you special.” as one officer put it to Brady’s stone cold face. “Ask your Soviet compatriots, the ones who wanted to be special like you. They claimed to be officers too, and now they service officers in Buchenwald. They have not left their beds in months. Special, no?”

“I’m not ‘claiming’ a goddamn thing.” Brady would go round and round with them in turn and up and down the line was the echo of ranks and serials.

Nothing but ranks and serials.

The minute they dropped one or the other, they’d be freed from this standing purgatory, and they’d be as good as dead. They might wish it were so anyway, if the threat was carried out but they’d suffer as officers, with honor. Whatever that meant this far from home and any appreciation of it. A fresh batch of guards relieved the first and the banter continued, even through roll call of the general camp where a mass of the most miserable specters of female kind poured out of the huts and were made to await the call of their one single number.

A serial for a serial. Maureen would keep hers. By dawn she had kept it, as had all but one of her group, a navy nurse with a broken leg who’d succumbed to the allure of a chair.

Civilian status for a seat.

Maureen thought a drop of water might be her own undoing were it offered, but one look at Smith's cracked yet unmoving lips cemented her in her own determination. As did Ida Brady’s talk, straight back in front of her, trousers bloodied on the inseam but not a cringe to be discerned in her stance.

By morning roll call for the entire camp, their guards were tiring of them, or else thought a new method of persuasion more likely to bring success. Off they were marched to their new billet to “meet their Allies” and what Smith wouldn’t give to have her brass knuckles back when met with a hut full of Soviet soldiers. Females, if females could have shoulders like that. They were impressive women with murder on their faces at the intrusion of a new gang of American blowhards.

“Did you give up already?” The one with the most English taunted and for the first time since capture, Maureen saw Ida Brady’s spine bow backwards just a fraction -a pacifying gesture in the face of the Russian’s nose to nose staredown.

“Hey, we’re not here to make trouble.” she insisted, cool and stern. “Did you?”

“We’d rather die.”

Brady gave a sharp nod, “Then we’re Allies in that, too.”

“Your precious Red Cross won’t come for you here.” That likely verdict seemed to bring the woman satisfaction, and Maureen wondered how many months, weeks, hours of this grueling place it would take before she too took savage satisfaction in another’s misfortune. How long before all better impulse to be glad for others was stamped out and all that was left was crowing self preservation. “You are not the firsts. There were others, Americans, like you, they are now wearing the ink of field whores- or they are dead.”

“One might assume the same of your predecessors.” Brady pointed out mildy, and both groups shifted behind their leaders, ready and tense.

“Anyone who accepts-“ the Russian warned, “-we kill.”

With that incentive clear, a tentative peace was made, which included a few trying to fraternize, converse and share news. There was little that aligned to create any cohesive figure, despite their shared experiences and sufferings.

When night fell they were hauled out for roll call amongst the masses, and together after hours of waiting to be called upon, they answered with their ranks and serials, each in their own language. The Russian who had confronted Brady was beaten so badly she did not rise again after it. The guard left her lying there and asked Brady herself what her occupation was.

“Lt. Colonel in the United States Air Force.”

The unfortunate rookie who had so ill advisedly asked for water on the train stood beside Brady; and got a bullet to the head for her superior’s answer. What Colonel Brady thought of her judgment being given to another did not show, her face white and her lips sealed, only the speckle of blood on her profile stood in stark relief in the early morning.

“Kneel.” a very shiny Luger barrel was pressed, still smoking to Brady’s temple.

She did so, braced for the inevitable execution. A soldier's death, it’s what they’d signed up for. The Kommandant waved over one of the female guards and spoke to her in German. She took off at a run to one of the buildings with a bright smile, and Ida Brady stayed kneeling, the splattered brains of the unfortunate dripping out of her hair and into the leather of her jacket, a mockery of her own upcoming fate.

The female guard returned with scissors. “Your poor hair, so pretty. Now it is ruined.” the Kommandant bemoaned, gloved fingers sliding though Brady’s wet tresses, “See what happens to beauty when you pervert the order of things? Now it must be sacrificed. Perhaps then you will see how ugly you are become.”

Maureen felt Smith’s restraining arm before she had even registered her impulse to charge forward, caught about the middle she strained against her friend's surprising strength and in the end was forced thusly to keep ranks and watch with the rest as the Nazis fucks scalped the Colonel of her femininity with a pair of sheep shears.

Dribbling blood down her face and shaking with rage, Ida was in better shape than her Russian counterpart. When her ordeal was over, she rose again, even if she swayed dangerously upon doing so.

And when asked, she had her serial at the ready.

Crowded back into the hut, Maureen and Smith watched the Russians hopelessly fuss over their insensible leader, knowing all too well how likely it might be that they could be found doing the same tomorrow, in a week’s time, who knew. For now, Brady sank down against the wall with the rest of them, the scowl of her formidable brows deflecting any potential commiserations for her battery.

When the navy nurse was pushed into their hut next evening, a dead silence greeted her. One of the Soviets, a sniper by her markings, came up to her and unceremoniously tore open her shirt. If the girls had doubted the Russian’s warning about “wearing the ink of field whores” upon their skin as mere hyperbole, such speculation was removed. It was a dreadful tattoo, large and damning as was the reaction it elicited amongst the servicewomen.

By the end of the night there were two dead bodies on the hut floor. And it didn’t seem to matter who had killed which. One had died for honor, the other for giving it up. And in the end? Where was this ephemeral honor? Ida Brady could only find it in the tense faces of her girls, lining the room from their places along the wall, waiting for another roll call or worse.

But in war, as in peace, sometimes the dead sent favors and in this instance it came to them with screams of:“Amerikaner Soldat!” in the middle of the night. They were marched out to the square and stood to attention once more in the sweep of the spotlight, all the while were shouts of “Amerikaner Soldat!”

All they knew was the bitter waiting in the gray dawn chill and the choking anticipation of some sick, final joke, or some methodical mass execution. Maureen wished she could knock her shoulder into Ida’s one last time and tell her she’d been a rock -she was a rock- but Brady stood there in front alone, as was her privilege and her curse. Talullah Smith would not meet Maureen’s side eyed glance for a farewell. Maureen wished she had less of a roar inside her, wished she could step off calmly into whatever was on the other side but the idea was repulsive, even after all she’d endured, and she looked about in vain for some semblance of the same revolt on her fellow’s faces.

What came instead was the dreaded whistles and the order to march. They were marched right out of the gates and down the idyllic lane they’d been marched up days ago, back through town to the railway station. There the soldiers herded them back up into a cattle car that smelled more of death than livestock, and then the train pulled away, hurtling south -perhaps the only one to do so with living cargo.

There were no guards inside the car, only the cramped space to keep them docile and the lack of promise that the great door would ever grind open again.

“The hell do you think happened?” Maureen hissed to Ida, finding her superior propped up in the corner in a suspiciously casual pose that she suspected hid a limp and unfathomable fatigue.

“Haven’t got a clue, Kendeigh.”

“Maybe someone got word out.” Maureen suggested, thinking of their predecessors, thinking of the useful dead.

“Or we’re headed to a nice rural dumping ground.” was all Ida would speculate. “Or brothels.” she added after a long minute.

Maureen chewed her cheek and kept peering out the slats at the beautiful countryside flashing past. “Well, at least they’ve ensured you’ll be least wanted of the bunch at such an establishment.” she joked and watched with the careful precision of a trained bombardier as her mean joke landed and Ida Brady’s legendary eyebrow ticked up in something that might have been amused disbelief, had she any energy left for such a display.

“Pistol whipped in the mouth and still no respect for rank, Kendeigh.” Brady observed and it was so like her brother John’s flat lined humor that Mauren’s heart throbbed with something alarmingly akin to sentimentally. For John Brady -and all the other lucky souls still at Thorpe Abbots, God willing. “I’m not laying on any damn beds for them.” Brady suddenly broke the silence again in a low voice, one Maureen knew was meant between officers only.

She pitched her head closer in agreement. “Me either.”

“I don’t care if they shoot me first,” Ida went on, as if reciting it to herself, “-and I don’t care if they shoot all of you first. I’m not going to.”

“Wouldn’t want you to.” Maureen agreed again, vacillating briefly in her intent before proceeding to say, “That Sergeant -she wasn’t your fault. The nurse either.”

“I know that Lieutenant.”

“I know you know,” Maureen muttured, “but some stuff bears repeating. Places like these, we’re liable to lose our bearings without a little repetition.”

“Mm.”

Maureen shuffled beside her and wracked her brain for pleasant conversation, something besides the Soviet girls they’d abandoned and the skeletons they’d seen at Ravensbrück. “Ya know,” she remarked tiredly, “if someone in here’s hydrated enough to pee, I might be ready to drink it.”

Brady slowly turned from her view out the slats to give Maureen a blank faced stare. “Should I make an announcement or are you hoping to keep that between us?”

“Oh hell, Colonel,” Maureen grinned, mischief bubbling to the surface at the first chance, “I wouldn’t trust anyone else but you, liable to get stds from this lot.”

“Kendeigh.” Ida hissed warningly but there was that disbelieving wobble to her stern mouth, “That’s not funny -not with where we’ve come from.”

“It kinda is.”

“It’s not.”

“It is- a little. Admit it, a little.”

“It’s not.” And still her cheeks were pink with suppressed amusement, just like John’s got when Maureen pressed him on a dig about basic training.

“You sure you’re ok?” she ventured again, eyeing Brady’s extensive injuries visible above her clothes.

“Yeah?” Ida looked nonplussed, “I mean -what’re you ranking as ok, these days, Lt. Kendeigh?

“It’s just,” Maureen bit her own busted tongue briefly as a spur to get it out,

“-you’re bleeding a lot, Ida. Couldn’t help but notice.”

Ida Brady didn’t even glance down at her trousers or make a motion to feel her lacerated scalp, instead she answered in the same, almost bored way she always did, “Yeah, Candy, it’s called being a good Catholic.”

Maureen blinked. “Oh. Oh Shit.”

“You know, maybe some of you girls had the right of it,” Ida actually winced before staring back out the slats, “go off and do it ahead, in peacetime. But here I am, twenty seven and as sacrosanct as the Virgin Mary, dropping into occupied territory. What could go wrong!” To her credit, her snort was wonderfully genuine.

Maureen kept after her, “You signed up to fight, to get fought against. We all did -never this.”

“Mm, well, couldn’t choose a better gang to get put down with.” Brady smiled, begrudgingly raising an imaginary glass of her own to Maureen’s already raised one.

“To bitches who bite back.” Maureen toasted.

“To bitches who bite back.”

——————————————————-

Two cases of MIA troubled John Brady the most: Egan, who he had seen jump first after their dispute, and Maureen Kendeigh who he had learned from Blakely had jumped over Bremman. That’s two flyers who should’ve been here by now, before him even, in the case of Kendeigh, and yet they weren’t.

He went round and round the argument with Cleven and Crank and Hambone, all three downed from separate missions yet here together - proving his point. Cleven held staunchly to the belief they were being kept segregated, as befitted their ranks and sex. They could be one sector apart and not hear of them. It was the only hopeful response, it was a leader’s response. There had been women downed before Kendeigh, not many but a few of the escort fighters, and none of them had showed either. Brady wasn’t sure that was a good sign at all.

“So where’s Egan then?” he’d always hit back with, “They mistake his shoulders’ for a dame’s?”

“I dunno John.” Cleven would reply with that newly blank gaze of his somehow enhanced by the twin cuts on his cheeks.

Demarco took Brady aside when he arrived to tell him that whatever had happened to Cleven in interrogation wasn’t pretty and it wasn’t ethical. Those cheek scars weren’t both due to flack. Like a dog with a bone, Brady took this already suspected information about his stoic superior and ran with it, pointing out hotly to an uninterested Demarco, “if it’s happened to Cleven, what about them?”

“What can we do about it?” Was Cleven’s demand that always wrapped up the little circular arguments as they sat huddled in their hut. “Red Cross knows they’re not here, no colored flyers either. They know where they are. What can we do besides ask after them?”

He was right, there wasn’t anything, but still, like a presentiment hung over him, Brady found himself leaning on the wire each time a new batch was marched in, counting heads and scanning faces.

“Ida hasn’t even been shot down, John.” Crank kindly reminded again and again.

“As of two weeks ago.” John snapped.

As of two weeks, and then as of three, and then it became four and -where the hell was Kendeigh? Gale had stopped arguing when the subject came up, apparent but impotent fury slowly racking his wiry frame, face gone wane already above his grimey fleece collar. Winter wasn’t even here and they were fading.

And then it happened, what John had been waiting by the fence for, and boy was there a crush at the wire to see them marched in when they came up the muddy enclosure through the gates.

“The fuck are they bringing the women here for?”

“They don’t belong in here, bastards!”

“Ar’those Brady’s Banshees?”

“They’re not gonna hold ‘em here are they?”

Like he’d been reanimated by the presence of a cause, Major Cleven cut his way through the rabble to the front, addressing the German officer escorting them.

“Hey, hey you can’t bring them in here. They’re women, they belong in their own section.”

“If they are women,” the Commandant pointed out, not unkindly, “then perhaps your country should have recognized that before enlisting them? They belong here.”

Cleven shook his head, vehement in his conventions and rules, “It’s not right, you know it’s not.”

“Then tell your Lt. Colonel to stop fighting for combatant status.” he jerked his chin towards Ida Brady and Gale’s eyes widened at her injuries and tufted hair, “The SS had them tucked away at our most prestigious female camp. But they would not accept. They want to be men.”

“Combatants!” Gale argued the point Ida had been making since her feet touched occupied soul.

John Brady yanked his arm, whispering urgently in his ear, “She’s makin’ sign to me, torture, she says. Don’t fight it, Buck.”

Cleven searched the battered faces, some he knew like Ida, T.Smith and Maureen, and some from other squadrons, -ones who must’ve been damned unlucky to get captured considering their safer postings.

“If it can happen to you it c-“ John Brady was a bit of a pain in the ass, Cleven had found, but he had never found him to be wrong.

“Roger, loud and clear, captain.” Cleven warned him his point was made with a bite in his own tone.

“Have we come to an understanding?” The Commandant, amused by the fluster his female charges had caused, it was ample proof that women could never be fully integrated, not even by a society so pervertedly equal as the American’s. “Ja? Sehr gut. It wasn’t like you had a choice anyway, was it?

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed. Feedback is a writer’s life blood, let me hear your thoughts and screams, they mean so much to me.

We have so many prompts already thrown around for this AU, I can’t wait to explore them, and I welcome any more if you have them.

Taglist (if you’d like to be added please drop a note below):

@stylespresleyhearted

@ab4eva

@earth-to-lottie

@suraemoon

@blurredcolour

@steph-speaks

@crazymadpassionatelove

@rubyfruitjungle

@taestrwbrry

@storysimp

@javden

@sexualparkour

@jointherebellion215

@sunny747

@ask-you-what-sir

@xxanaduwrites

@pretty4u

@yorkshirekiwi

@waitedforlove743

@elvismylove04

@blikebarbie92

@luminouslywriting

[aphroditelovesu]

⸻ The Lost Queen - III ⸻

— summary: You woke up near a military camp without remembering how and why you got there, you didn’t understand why they were dressed like ancient Greeks, all you knew was that you weren’t safe and you needed to get out of that place as soon as possible. Too bad for you that you found yourself attracting unwanted attention from the Macedonian King and he won’t let you go so easily.

— genre: yandere, dark!au.

— warnings: time travel, obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, mention of torture, kidnapping, angst, fluffy (very rarely), dub-con, eventual smut, pregnancy.

— pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader, yandere!generals x female!reader.

— word count: 1,605.

— tag list: @devils-blackrose, @faerykingdom, @hadesnewpersephone, @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 , @kadu-5607, @zoleea-exultant, @borntoexplore11-blog, @silmawensgarden, @elvinapandra, @jennifer0305 , @his0kaswife, @animetye-23.

— the lost queen series masterlist.

Chapter 3

''I wouldn't trust her if I were you, Alexander.''

Alexander looks up at the map he was studying when Parmenion decided to speak. He stared at the general, waiting for him to finish speaking.

''We don't know anything about her and there's clearly something wrong about her.'' Parmenion finished speaking, feeling slightly disturbed by the King's piercing gaze.

''I wouldn't trust her either if I were Parmenion, but I'm Alexander.'' He replied, turning his eyes to the map. It was a map of the most convenient routes for the entire army to pass. They were hunting Bessus and the best choice would be Bactria.

Alexander smirked when he heard a light laughter and he didn't even need to look to know it was Hephaestion. His best friend and closest companion forever. Alexander wouldn't know what to do if something happened to him.

''We don't know anything about her, as you say,'' Alexander began, looking at Parmenion again, ''which is why I have decided that she is not a threat.''

''And how can you be sure of that?'' Cassander grumbled loudly. Alexander looked at him with a stern expression, but the general didn't even flinch.

''Are you questioning your King?'' His voice was low but deadly. A pretty clear warning.

Apparently Cassander had no self-preservation as he glared at Alexander with a hateful expression on his face. The King leered at him as if daring him to say something.

Wisely, Cassander kept silent.

Satisfied with that, Alexander continued to speak, ''She's just a confused young woman. What risks might it present to an army? For Alexander's army?''

No one answered.

Running away wasn't the most viable option, you realized very quickly. And besides, where would you go?

You didn't know anything about this place, the people and you were very far from home. Both in distance and in time.

So how would you run away? If you ran away it would be worse for you. They might not be so... Benevolent. And bad things could happen to you. You could be robbed, abused, murdered or even enslaved.

So no, running away was definitely not a viable option. For now.

You needed a plan. A strategy. You needed to survive at any cost. It was no longer a choice, it was a necessity. You couldn't go on any longer in that time, you needed to go back to your home, your family and your friends.

Your family...

Your heart squeezed inside your chest at the thought of your parents. You hadn't thought about them since you came across this place.

How were they? Had they already noticed your absence? Fuck, you felt like crying again. Your mind conjuring up images of your parents devastated by your disappearance, and that is if they even know you're gone. Your vision blurred as more tears rolled down your face.

You hated crying that much. You hated that feeling of desperation, like there was a lurking monster waiting to attack you.

Your eyes were already stinging from your previous bout of crying and they stinged even more as new tears formed. You wanted to stop crying, you wanted to pretend that this was a nightmare and you would wake up in your comfortable bed, that there would be walls around your instead of a tent canvas, that there would be LED lights and electronic devices around your and not candles and an empty tent.

You hated hearing the noise of the soldiers outside, the horses and the swords waving.

You hated it all.

''Excuse me?''

Your head whipped around at the sound of a voice and it honestly hurt a little. You tried to look at the man but your vision was blurry from tears, but you recognized him as the man you had found attractive.

The one with the blond hair and dark blue eyes.

''Wh-What do you want?'' Your voice was choked and harsher than you expected, but it didn't matter at the moment.

''I...'' He faltered for a moment at the sight of you crying and his chest tightened at the sight, ''I came to check on you.''

You frowned but decided not to argue.

He took a step forward, approaching the cot where you were sitting and collapsing.

''Are you... okay?'' His voice was low but there was genuine concern.

You looked up, still teary-eyed, and he fell silent instantly.

''May I?'' He pointed to the cot beside you. You thought for a moment and nodded. The cot moved a little as he sat down next to you, his shoulders close to yours and thighs almost touching. You shuddered a little at the contact, but you kept silent, trying to stop the tears.

''Your name is (Y/N), right?'' You nodded at his question, ''I'm Perdiccas. It's an honor to meet you.''

Perdiccas...

His name was not unfamiliar to you and you choked on your own saliva as you remembered who he was. He was the regent of Alexander's Empire after the latter's death.

He smiled at you and your heart skipped a beat to see him smiling. Perdiccas reached up with callused fingers and touched your cheekbones, wiping away the tears. You blushed at the touch but allowed him to wipe away your tears.

''Th-Thanks...'' You mumbled and he just nodded.

''You shouldn't cry.'' He whispered and closed his eyes, ''It doesn't suit you.''

You arched your eyebrows. Doesn't suit you? For the love God! He didn't even know you and talked like you were best friends.

''I'm sorry but you don't know me to say whether it suits me or not. You doesn't know anything about me.'' You decided to be direct. He seemed to be kind, at least that's what you assumed, it didn't look like he wanted to hurt you.

Perdiccas laughed a little, ''You're right. I don't know you but I'd love to do it.'' He said and got up from the cot, smiling gently at you.

''Why?''

He shrugged, walking to the flap of the tent. ''I don't know.'' Perdiccas confessed, still smiling at you, ''But I wish I could be your friend, (Y/N). Am I pronouncing your name right?''

''Yes...''

Perdiccas bowed slightly, in an act of play, you know. Greeks bow to none but the gods.

''I hope to see you tonight.''

You got confused, ''Tonight? What's happening tonight?''

Perdiccas chuckled, “A feast in Alexander's tent. You were invited.''

What?

''Oh...'' You frowned, ''I don't have anything to wear...'' You tried to come up with an excuse for not having to attend and that was the only one you thought of at that moment.

But apparently that would not be accepted.

''Don't worry about that. I'll send you a chiton, along with some jewelry.'' Your eyes widened upon hearing his words.

''I...''

Perdiccas laughed, ''Thank me later. But I hope to see you there, (Y/N). I wish I could be your friend...'' He left before you could answer him.

Oh dear... It was all so...

Unbelievable.

And Perdiccas was even more so. Why was he being so nice to you? And why do you like it?

Your mind screamed desperately for you not to trust anyone but yourself, but your heart... Your heart told you to make friends, allies and maybe they could help you get back home.

Yes. Maybe making friends with Perdiccas isn't so bad after all.

Your heart will be your downfall.

You feel awkward and uncomfortable while being washed by servants sent by Perdiccas. You assumed so since he was the only one talking to you.

You tried to avoid it at first, but they wouldn't have it and soon you found yourself undressed and being bathed.

You were sure this was your most embarrassing moment in the world. You haven't needed help bathing since you were a small child and now...

Here you were having your hair and your body washed. Your face and body were totally red with embarrassment and you were even redder when you were pulled out of the water and dressed.

''This is so inconvenient,'' you thought as a servant adorned your hair with a jewel General Perdiccas sent you.

''There, lady.'' She said and bowed slightly, leaving the tent along with the other maids as you were dressed for the feast.

You didn't know what you looked like, you didn't know if you looked pretty or if you looked like a clown. You prayed it wasn't the last option. There were no mirrors available, so you decided to trust the servants' judgment.

You were dressed in a white chiton with some gold straps, it looked quite nice, although loose but it made you more comfortable. An ancient greek sandal and some lent jewelry. You took a deep breath, trying to calm the panic that started to build in your body.

You could do this.

You could go to that feast, make allies, and when you finally did, leave this place.

''Are you ready?'' Your eyes went towards Perdiccas, standing at the entrance of the tent and looking at you with shining eyes. You studied him a bit, noting that he was also well dressed, no armor or weapons in sight, just a white chiton and a few ornaments.

You nodded nervously and let him walk over and hook your arm through his.

You would do it. You would make it.

And so, close to each other, you and Perdiccas started walking to where the feast would be, the loud noise welcoming you.

— lady l: weren't you expecting a chapter today? Well, neither do I! I planned to post on saturday but as I'm going to travel, so here it is. I know there were no interactions between Y/N and Alexander, but I wanted to show how her relationship with one of the generals will be! In the next chapter there will be interactions between Y/N and Alexander! I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes! If you want to talk, send theories or anything, I'm always open. I love you all! ❤️

[bokettochild]

Um... yeah. I have no idea where most of this came from but I hope you enjoy it? Happy belated birthday. Sky and Legend.

Everyone knew Sky as the sleepy, sweet quiet one; while Legend was sarcastic, angry, and wore a perpetually stormy expression. No one seemed to be included to dispute this characterization. 

But that was all lies. Lies, and masks and walls built of memories. 

Legend's sass and snark were a front. It was a way to shield the softest heart Sky had ever had the pleasure of meeting. It had been hinted at with the ‘bunny incident’, where Twilight's artifact apparently showed some magical form reminiscent of true nature. He saw it when the Veteran hero interacted with children, with animals, with the goodwives and humble folk of his era. 

He saw it when Legend’s walls would dramatically fall around one other hero, their Traveler. 

“Here...” Legend shoved a handful of items into Hyrule’s arms. Hyrule scrambled to hold the bottles of potion in skinny arms. 

“You don't need to give me so many potions. I have two...” 

“Yeah, neither of which you've touched even though your magic is nearly gone. I have more. Drink one.”  Hyrule obeyed, and in handing the empty bottle back, Legend slipped something into his palm and walked off, promptly picking a verbal fight with Warriors to be occupied and making returning the gift difficult.

Night watch, the task was officially staying awake and alert for danger while the others tried to rest exhausted bodies... but it was unofficially intervening when memories of the past turned dreams into nightmares. With nine of them all having the scars on young minds from their quests, it was rare that the entire party slept through the night. 

Tonight's afflicted was Four, who had shot up from a dead sleep, and stumbled from camp. Sky had been about to get up from his post to check on the Smithy when he heard the sound of retching coming from the direction of Four’s retreat. Oh, it was that bad. 

Honestly, just go help. Some part of him scolded. But while he was scolding himself for being squeamish, Legend tapped his arm, and without speaking stepped out of the camp circle towards the sound. 

Once he'd seen it in action, Sky saw it more and more often. Legend frequently left his own sleep to comfort other heroes. Most often it was silent, subtle and  often not even the watch-stander was aware of the change before a quiet murmur or hint of a melody soothed troubled dreams. 

“I don't know what his problem is, but you shouldn't let him push you around like that.” Twilight bit out early in their travels after hearing Legend’s acrid commentary about something or other, Sky didn't even remember now. 

“It's harmless...” Sky had responded at the time. It was nowhere near as bad as...others had been. No one who was as soft and gentle-hearted as the Veteran could ever truly be a bully. 

--

They had made lightheaded jabs at Time’s bitterness and cynicism. Time was frank, and open about his opinions. He was old enough to have given up a ‘mask of acceptability’ with most others. Sky envied that freedom. The chain thought Sky sweet, happy, and an airhead. He tried to live up to those expectations. Don't let them see the hurricane of rage that flooded so easily into him. Don't let them know that caring about... about most people was an active choice. Don't let them see the dark well of despair he constantly clawed his way out of to face the next day. If Legend hid his soft heart behind a wall of indifference, Sky hid his black pit of a heart behind an ignorant one. 

The one positive trait the Chosen Hero (and he still winced internally at thinking of himself like that) did have was a protective streak. He'd fight Demise again if it meant keeping his successors safe and happy. The called ‘knights’ in any other era were cowardly, pompous, bullies who neither deserved the title nor claim to the history it should have represented. This was particularly obvious in two eras. Warriors’s era and the Veteran's. Warriors dealt with attempts on his life near constantly in his own era. Legend's era was simultaneously more open in their dislike of him and more subtle in their actions. The chain had been set loose in a market square to buy supplies and keep busy. As the local hero, Legend had broken off from the group to visit with those he knew. Sky was pawing through a merchant's stall, marveling at the bright colors of embroidery thread, when a couple children ran screaming to their mother (the merchant Sky had just started to begin bargaining with). 

“Mama! Mama!”

“The knights are here in the market...”

“And you know how to stay out from underfoot, Dears...” Her smile was slightly strained as she surreptitiously glanced in Sky’s direction. Right... he was wearing chain mail and carrying a sword...he looked just like them. 

“But Mama...” 

“They cornered Link at Goodie Rosey's shop!” The shrill protest of the older of the children had Sky’s blood running suddenly cold. 

He dropped the thread and charged in the direction the kids had come from. 

Legend was not hard to spot. One of the so-called knights had him by an arm. Another was holding him by fistfuls of his tunic. There was blood running from the Veteran’s nose, and Sky saw red. 

“Unhand him!” He had enough presence to call before drawing his sword. The gang of idiots in armor looked startled.

“Knight’s business, be on your way.” The one in charge rebuffed him. He leveled the point of his blade at the knight’s chest.

“I said, unhand him.” 

“Sky... it’s not...” Legend tried, but then the knights dropped Legend in favor of drawing their swords and laughing at the prospect of a fight. 

“We’ll deal with you later...” one of them sneered as they shoved Legend to the ground. 

Even four against one, they were poor fighters. The smell of ozone filled his nostrils and thunder rolled overhead. 

“The hate for the gods that has boiled in my veins…You will taste all of it in the bite of my blade...”  The memory of the Demon King’s taunt echoed in his ears with a second peal of thunder. 

He heard Legend frantically trying to reason with him as a flash of light split the sky above his head.

“Sky, stop. They’re not worth it. Please.”

Two of the knights were on the ground. He held a sword to a third’s throat. 

“You don’t deserve the title you pretend to bear” He growled. To think these vile excuses of Hylians called themselves knights. “You’ll leave my descendant alone.”

The knight in front of him was stammering and crying half-hearted excuses. 

“Do you have something to say, Scum?” The knight’s blubbering fell silent. A set of arms slid around him from behind and locked around his chest. Arms encased in a black, shiny material. 

“Not today, Godslayer.” Wild pulled him backwards, making him drop his sword. The ridiculous dangling...things on the helmet the Champion wore drew his attention and diverted him just long enough from the knight he’d been about to put the Master Sword through. Thunder rolled once more above them. “Breathe, Legend’s ok...” He saw Twilight shepherding the Veteran away as Warriors carefully stepped up beside them.

“At ease, Knight of Skyloft.” He was trying, By Hylia he was trying. But the terror in Legend’s face when the knights held him captive made that hard. 

“You’ll feel bad if you actually kill ‘im.” The Champion reasoned once again. He’d feel bad, but not for the reason Wild was thinking. He’d feel bad mostly at shattering his brother’s illusions that he was a good person. He took a breath, and stuffed the raging tide of anger down. He looked down at the arms still locked around his torso, which squeaked as he rocked to move backwards. 

“Wild, what in the Sacred Realm are you wearing?”

Darling~

When I say you hit the nail on the head for every point I adore, you did it, you did it so well. I was squealing and kicking my feet, absolutely giggling up a storm and gazing at my computer like I'd been sent the most delectably sweet love-letter, but it was far better than one of those could ever aspire to be!

Thank you ever so much for this birthday fic!

[cece693]

Oh No, He's Hot! (Jason Voorhees x M. Reader)

Summary: What m/n believed would be a rather simple job has him encountering a masked murderer named Jason. But, oh no, why does m/n feel weirdly attracted to the dominant man?

M/n didn't know what he expected when his friends urged him to apply to become a camp counselor for the newly, about to be opened, Camp Crystal Lake. Poison ivy, yes, fallen tree trunks, sure, but a 6 ft 5 masked man chasing him around with a machete, no. Having left his friends (because who would stick together when death was knocking on the door?), m/n ran through the dark campsite before noticing a decrepit-looking cabin ahead. Looking behind for any sight of the man, m/n opened the door before locking it behind him.

The room was dark, with a tiny twin bed in the corner, and no source of light nearby. Controlling his breathing so as to not attract the murderer, m/n just hoped Jason (if that was even his name) found entertainment in killing another camp counselor and forgot all about him.

M/n should've listened to the townspeople who warned him that the camp was a lost cause, that camp blood was inhabited by a monster, but m/n (like the dummy he is) waved them off. Well, now guess who was regretting doing that? Yeah, this guy.

"Huh." m/n mumbled, noticing that the cabin was rather stocked with supplies. Inching closer, m/m crouched to inspect the ground, noticing tiny bones formed into a pile. "Well, shit." Those were animal bones—meaning that this cabin was, more than likely, Jason's hideout.

Quietly scrambling back to the front door, m/n was about to return to the forest when heavy footsteps began inching towards the door. Knowing the weight didn't belong to any of his friends, m/n looked around for a hiding spot before the door was ripped open, revealing Jason. Letting out a scream, m/n instinctively ducked to the side, narrowly missing the swing of the machete. Knowing the murderer blocked his only exit, m/n knew he had to somehow disarm or disorientate Jason.

Adrenaline coursing through his veins, he scanned the room for anything that could serve as a makeshift weapon. Bingo. Noticing a heavy wooden chair nearby, m/n grabbed it and immediately swung it towards Jason's head. Celebrating as the man stumbled back, m/n made a dash for the open door and began running. However, it didn't take long before he felt a powerful force slamming into his back, sending him sprawling forward. "Oww..." m/n whispered, when his face connected with the ground, and a line of blood obscured his vision. Just great, he somehow managed to cut himself.

Forcibly turned unto his back, m/n watched as Jason bent down and gripped his neck. M/n's world seemed to spin. The pressure on his neck tightened, and he felt the air being slowly squeezed out of his lungs. Panic surged through him, but to his surprise, a strange sensation overcame the fear. Instead of pleading for mercy, an involuntary moan escaped his lips.

Curiosity and confusion could be seen in Jason's eyes while observing the male's response. The moans of pleasure, rather than cries of pain or pleas for mercy, were entirely new territory for the infamous killer. To ensure it wasn't a fluke, Jason tightened his grip once more, only to be met with another round of apparent pleasure from m/n.

"Didn't expect this, huh?" m/n wheezed, his words carrying a hint of both amusement and disbelief. The encounter had taken an unexpected turn, leaving both survivor and killer in uncharted territory. Jason's hold disappeared, and m/n, though slightly shaken, quickly stood on his feet. He looked at Jason. Really looked.

Besides the whole murder aspect, Jason was handsome. And yes, m/n knew he would be considered crazy for admitting such a fact, but the man did have some appeal—his bulky, muscular form for one. Still staring at one another, m/n let out a chuckle.

"So are you going to kill me or...."

Before he could finish his sentence, Jason, emerging from his trance-like state, turned the machete so the handle could be seen. In a swift and unexpected motion, the handle of the machete swung over m/n's head, connecting with a solid impact. The woods briefly echoed with the sound, and m/n crumpled to the ground, consciousness slipping away.

This was a perfect opportunity for Jason to kill the man, but something held him back. Securing his machete to his belt, Jason, instead, lifted m/n from the ground and stalked back to his cabin.

Gently laying the male on the bed, Jason retrieved a cool of rope before skillfully bounding m/n's hands and feet to the bedposts. Ensuring there were no other exits besides the front door, Jason, with a stoic determination, left the cabin. The night was still young, and as Jason ventured into the darkness, his elusive silhouette vanished into the shadows.

[apolloscastellan]

We were just kids, babe | loss of my life chapter two

Pairing: Art Donaldson x Tashi Duncan x Patrick Zweig x FemaleTennisPlayer!reader

Summary: Your life had always been divided in two: before you met Tashi and after you met Tashi. The second you had laid eyes on her for the first time you knew you had been changed. You were soulmates, meant for each other Nothing could ever tear you two apart, or so you had thought. You could've pinpointed the junior U.S. Open as the night that changed everything. Now you have to juggle your hate-love relationship with tennis with your love-love relationship with Tashi and the two guys who you can't seem to stay away from. Tennis, after all, was only one of the most fucked up relationships of your life.

Warnings: challengers spoiler, challengers content warnings, super minor character death, terrible mother figure, use of y/n, polyamory.

Word count: 6.3K

A/N: the comfort before the hurt me thinks. Please let me know what you think!! <3

series masterlist | prev | next

Monica Seles Tennis Summer Camp for Prodigies, June 15, 1996:

You have never been more excited for anything in your life. You jump off the car, almost skipping towards the uniformed girls at the tables. Summer camp is everything you have ever dreamed of, six weeks of tennis, nature and no contact with your mum. She seems slightly less excited about it all. She wouldn’t have let you come if it wasn’t for the reputation of the place, they turned kids into legends, and that’s all your mum wanted for you. You are starting to suspect she wants it for herself, but you’re still eagerly attempting to impress her. One of the women introduces herself as Linda, your cabin leader, and one of the coaches you will be working with. You shake her hand, feeling extremely professional as you follow the instructions your mother had laid for you on the drive over. You follow her to a wooded cabin, almost shaking. All but one of the beds seem to be taken, however, there is only one other girl in the room. She was sitting on the lower bed of the bunk you, apparently, were going to be sharing. Linda informs you of the schedule for the rest of the day before she leaves to let you settle in. Your mum pulls you to the side to say her goodbyes. You know she is trying to be quiet so the other girl won’t hear you, but you can see her looking intently at you from the corner of your eye.

“You need to go out there and prove who you are every single practice, ok? I’m not paying all this money for you to waste your time. You need to fix your serve, and get better at your backhand, I want you on the courts every second of the day. And play a thousand percent every time, you never know who could be watching. Understood?” you nod.

She taps your shoulders twice before leaving the cabin. You walk over to the bunk bed, the girl has not stopped staring at you for a second.

“Who’s that, your coach?” she finally asks

“I wish, that’s my mum.”

“She sounds like a pain in the ass.”

“She is.”

She seems like she is going to say something else, but she is interrupted by another girl barging in the cabin. She has red hair and freckles all over her face. She looks down at you two, not even bothering to smile before she speaks:

“They are about to serve lunch and we can’t eat without the entire cabin being there so… Chop, chop” she walks towards the door before stopping herself, she looks back at you, a condescending smile now on her face, ��I’m Kat, you’re gonna wanna remember my name.”

“She sounds like a pain in the ass,” you whisper as soon as she leaves the room.

The other girl snorts, covering her mouth before descending into a fit of giggles, you laugh with her, glad to have broken the tension. You both stand up, not willing to make your entire cabin wait for lunch, no matter how annoying the other girl was. You don’t wanna make a bad first impression.

“Hey, they said there would be a doubles tournament later today, do you want to play with me?” She says as you walk out the door.

You can barely contain your smile as you nod.

“I would love to. I’m Y/n, by the way,” you say, extending your hand.

“Tashi,” she replies as she takes it.

Flushing hotel, Junior U.S Open, 2006:

You can’t help but shake in anticipation as you knock on the door of room 206. You have never done anything this rebellious, you’ve never gone against your mother’s wishes so explicitly. You don’t even want to think about what your mother would say if she knew what you were doing instead of meditating and going to bed. It is part of what makes it so exciting. Tashi pulls you so you both have your ears against the door. You can hear the two boys scramble around, it almost makes you laugh. Before you can make any comments, the door is pulled open abruptly. The two boys stand before you out of breath. You smile and they mirror you immediately.

“Hi”

“Hey”

Tashi looks at them impassively, waiting. They seem to finally notice the awkwardness of having you stand outside their door while they gawk at you. The shift to let you walk in. The room looks exactly like what you’d expect two teen boys’ room to look like. There’s empty lunch boxes on the trash can, the beds are hastily made and pushed together

“So, how did you guys meet?” you venture to ask.

“Yeah, did you go to mommy and me classes together?” Tashi’s teasing makes them both laugh. “What? You seem like brothers.”

Her last comment is what makes you laugh. They look back at you strangely, unaware of why you are laughing. You try to play it off by shoving your face into the can of beer Patrick just handed to you.

“Well that’s what the Mark Rebellato Tennis Academy will do to you” Art says, looking back at his friend with a wide smirk.

“Oh, that’s right you guys went to boarding school together,” Tashi says, as you hand her the beer.

“We’ve been bunkmates since we were twelve” Patrick doesn't hesitate to share more about their lives.

“That’s really cute.”

“You guys ever thought of doing something like that? Is that where you met” Art seems eager to learn more about you, it’s endearing.

“Boarding school? No, no, I couldn't afford it” your friend looks at you as she finishes, letting you choose how much you are willing to share.

“And my mum would have a stroke if she had to let me away from her sight for that long. No, we met at tennis summer camp. The Monica Seles Tennis Camp for Prodigies. Those were the good times.”

“So, is the Mark Rebellato Academy where you met your girlfriend?” Tashi changes the topic, looking at Patrick questioningly.

You admire the way her stare never wavers. Her confidence doesn’t falter as she digs for the information she wants. Although you don’t enjoy not being the center of her attention, it is interesting to see this side of her come out with someone else.

“No, no… yes. But she’s not my girlfriend.”

“Does she know that?” Patrick smirks at you, pleased to see you get out of your shell, but he doesn’t answer.

“What about you? Why are you not pretending not to have a girlfriend?” Tashi asks Art, instead of dwelling on your question.

“Art’s between ladies right now.”

“Don’t say that it makes me sound some sort of…”

“Player” you finish for him, extremely amused at their banter.

“Yeah, Art does fine for himself, I mean look at him” it’s soft, the way Patrick cups his face as he speaks.

They look into each other’s eyes for a second. You wonder if they notice it the same way you do, if they are as attuned to their feelings as you seem to be. 

“Have the two of you ever…?” you don’t know how to ask the question, but you are too curious not to.

It takes them a second to understand what you mean.

“Oh, oh! No, no,” Patrick’s face falls for a second, he recovers quickly, laughing with Art’s words, but you notice. “Why? Is that surprising?

You raise your eyebrows, eyes fixed on him.  You don’t know if he is unaware or trying to conceal it. Something about the shocked look in his face as he laughs it all off makes you believe it’s the former. Tashi, who has been instead looking at Patrick the entire time, must catch something in his expression because she speaks up:

“What?”

“Well…”

“No,” Art interrupts immediately.

“I mean…”

“No,” he repeats. “Not happening.”

“I think you need to tell us now,” Tashi resolves.

“C’mon this is a safe space,” you smile openly at them both, trying to convey how much you actually mean those words.

It’s the first time you’re in a room with Tashi and you’re not entirely consumed by her presence. You don’t know what to make of it. 

“I think it’s a sweet story,” Patrick presses.

“Well let’s hear it then” your smile widens as Tashi continues to push for it.

Art reddens, his face lowered, his head in his hands. He covers his mouth with his t-shirt.

“Mhm, yeah, no, go ahead”, he finally concedes.

“I… I taught Art how to jerk off,” he says it almost coy, but the smug grin on his face tells you all you need to know

From the corner of your eye you can see Tashi struggle to hold in her laughter. You are on the same boat.

“Okay,” Art says, finally looking up. “Patrick was an early bloomer, ok? And I think that I was on time. And one time, when we were twelve… He thought I was asleep and he was, you know…”

“Jerking off” they both say at the same time.

“And, yeah, and I asked him, what are you doing? And he told me”

“Jerking off” they repeat again.

“He asked me if I had ever done it before and I told him no. And so he just… He showed me how.

When you look at Patrick, he is already looking at you. He looks so proud of himself as he nods, a shit-eating grin adorning his face.

“What do you mean showed you how?” you say, just to steer the pot. “Did he…?”

“No, no…” Art is quick to correct. “I mean, he did it on his bed and I did it on my bed. We did it together, but on opposite sides of the room.”

You look at the beds, pushed together, then at Tashi, who raises an eyebrow at you. She doesn’t believe him, and honestly, neither do you. But you don’t want to push too far.

“In silence?” is Tashi this time who presses for more.

“Oh, no, no. We were talking about Kat Zimmerman, weren’t we?”

“Yeah, Kat Zimmerman.”

You can feel your eyes open comically at Art’s words, you start laughing uncontrollably, Tashi following close behind.

“Patrick said it’s always better if you’re thinking about somebody when you’re doing it. So I asked him ‘who are you thinking about?’ And he was talking about this girl, Kat Zimmerman, and so I thought about her too” Art rushes to explain, misunderstanding the reason for your laughter.

Tashi and you roll on the ground laughing for a couple of seconds more before you both regain your composure.

“Kat Zimmerman, you’ve got to be fucking joking.”

“Me and Y/n went to summer camp with her for like two years, she was in our cabin.”

“She was a total bitch,” you say, rolling your eyes at the memory. “She walked around camp like she owned it, and she kept saying she was the best player at camp, even though she could never beat me or Tashi.”

“What happened to her?” Patrick asks, looking back at Art.

“She got injured that summer and never came back.”

“Oh, yeah, that was Y/n.”

“It was not me,” you immediately refute, incredibly offended. “I was playing against her when she took a bad fall and broke her knee.”

“She was frustrated because you were demolishing her.”

“Not my fault!”

“No, you’re right, it wasn’t” you smile at Tashi, getting lost in her eyes for a second.

“What about you two?” Patrick interrupts, a knowing smirk in his face when you turn to look at him.

“What about us?”

“Have you two ever…” Art continues his friend’s thought.

“A lady doesn’t kiss and tell,” you say, unwilling to say too much and make Tashi uncomfortable.

“We’ve made out a couple of times,” your jaw drops when she speaks. “We spend too much time alone in hotel rooms not to. I was Y/n’s first kiss” you nod, she has never spoken about this out loud before, not even with you.

“Oh, were you?” you can feel your face growing hot as Patrick turns to look at you.

“This guy asked me on a date and I didn’t want to not know what I was doing,” you shrug, as if it was nothing.

It wasn’t nothing. You had never called the boy again after that night. You hadn’t even let him kiss you, too afraid he would wash away the feeling of Tashi’s lips. You had never told her that, though. You had dreamt about that kiss for months, still now, if you focus, you swear you could feel the ghost of that first touch in your lips again.

“And?” Art asks, too eager to pretend he doesn’t care.

“She’s a quick learner. What, are you hoping for a repeat?”

“No” Art quickly denies, at the same time Patrick exclaims “Yes!”

Tashi laughs, standing up. She pulls your hand until you are face to face with her. Too close to focus on anything that isn't her lips. She manhandles you until you are both sitting in the bed, thighs touching, one of her hands on your face.

“Are you ok with this?” she whispers.

You nod, as eager as the boys had been. You know they are probably watching you, but you can’t get your mind to think of anything except how Tashi is drawing closer and closer to you. Both your hands are on her thighs as her lips crash into yours, an involuntary moan escaping your mouth. It gives the other girl an in to push her tongue onto your mouth. She kisses you with practiced ease, with the familiarity of one who has done it a million times before, with the tenderness and care she always kisses you with. Your face burns where she is touching you and you forget completely about the other two boys until Tashi pulls away, her hands still in your face, to look at them.

“Oh my God,” they say, at the same time.

She motions them to join you with a quick head gesture. They obey immediately, Patrick sitting next to you, Art next to Tashi. She pushes your and Art’s faces together, joining your lips in a kiss. He kisses you slowly, savoring it, as if he can’t believe what is happening. His lips are thinner than Tashi’s, but just as soft. After a couple more seconds, you get pulled apart. Tashi smiles at you before she pushes you towards Patrick as she starts kissing Art. When you look at him, his eyes are glossy, his cheeks flushed red and his hair messier than it had been before, you realize quickly that they must have been kissing, the same way you and Art were. You press against him without a second to think about it. His lips are less forgiving as he kisses you, hard, wanting. He doesn’t try to appear calm or collected, letting his desire and desperation for you show in the way he kisses you. It’s sloppy, but you like it.

You feel Tashi’s hands on your thigh, and you turn to look at her immediately. She has that smile you love on, the one that lets you know she is scheming. She looks to both boys quickly, then back at you, her smile never faltering. You know what she wants to do, the knowledge sending a thrill on your face. You match her smile as it dawns upon you.

The boys have no idea what you are doing as you pull them both in. The four of you crush, there’s lips and tongues everywhere, but you can’t bring yourself to hate it. Tashi lets all of you kiss for a couple seconds before she is pulling you away from the back of your t-shirt. You stand back, watching the two boys kiss each other passionately. There’s no way they haven’t noticed they are alone, but they don’t pull away. You feel almost giddy.

“Okay,” Tashi says, breaking the moment.

They pull apart and look at you, lips parted.

“That was very nice,” she continues, standing up from the bed, you do the same, “but we do have a final tomorrow, so we should leave.”

“What about your numbers?”

“We told you we are not homewreckers.”

“Please” it would be pathetic, if Art wasn’t so cute.

“Uhm, okay. We will be watching your final tomorrow, whoever wins can get my number” Art groans immediately, Patrick smiles.

“You can beat him,” you say, trying to encourage him to fight, to not give up.

“What about your number?” he asks, looking straight into your eyes.

“She’s not interested in you like that” Tashi replies, before you can come up with an answer of your own. “You’re not her type, if you know what I mean.”

You know what she means, and, by the way their mouths drop open, they do too. It’s not that you’re not grateful that Tashi is supportive, and loving, and willing to defend you if need be. But when you had told her you liked girls three summers ago, you didn’t mean you didn’t like boys. It’s true that you have never really liked a boy, but that’s probably because your head is constantly running endless circles of ‘Tashi, Tashi, Tashi’. You don’t think you would mind dating a boy, you’ve made peace with the fact that Tashi is never going to like you back, at least not the way you want her to. So yeah, you would probably enjoy dating a boy, especially if that boy was one of the ones sitting in front of you right now. But you don’t say anything, too embarrassed to correct her. They’re probably only interested in Tashi, anyways, you don’t want to be somebody’s consolation prize. The room is silent for a couple beats, you speak when you can’t take it anymore:

“Well, goodnight,” you say as you pull your friend out of the room with you.

“I'm so sorry,” she says as soon as the door is closed behind you in your own room. “I didn’t mean to out you, I swear, it just came out.”

“No, it’s ok, I’m not mad at you… I just… Tashi, when i said I liked girls I didn’t mean I didn’t like boys. I do, I’m… Bisexual” you manage to say.

“I… I didn’t know. Are you interested in them? Do you want me to take it back?”

“No! No, it’s ok. They probably weren’t interested in me anyways.” 

“What do you mean they weren’t interested in you? They were practically drooling everytime they looked your way.”

“Tashi, it’s ok, I don’t want their numbers, swear. And now, they get to compete for the wonderful Tashi Duncan’s number. That’s going to be a fun game” she smiles at you, before she can say anything else, like you can tell she wants to, you continue, “now, go to bed so you can beat my ass tomorrow. I need my beauty sleep before I get yelled at by my mother.”

She laughs, listening to you and getting into bed. You whisper a goodnight to each other before you turn off the light. You look at the darkened ceiling, your head too busy to fall asleep. You don’t know what to make of what just happened, of Art and Patrick, of how Tashi had acted. So you roll over, force yourself to stop thinking about it and close your eyes, willing sleep to come to you soon.

––––––––––––––––

You hug Tashi over the net, smiling wildly. She looks excited, but the smile on her face falters as her eyes meet yours.

“Congrats, Champion!” you say unwilling to let her feel guilty for winning.

“You gave me a good fight.” 

It was true, it had been a very close match until the very end. Both of you fighting tooth and nail, as you always did. Anything else would feel disrespectful. You walk over to the trophy table, arms intertwined. She claps as you get given your plate, smiling openly for the pictures, enjoying your last minutes before your mum starts laying it on you. You cheer for her too, louder than anybody else. The two of you take one picture together before you walk away, letting her bask in her deserved spotlight. You stall as you pick up your rackets and water bottles. You see some young girls in the stands, waving you over and you smile, loving an excuse to not go to your locker room yet. You sign a couple backpacks for them, making easy conversation. They tell you how much they admire you, you promise you will tell Tashi to come over too. You turn to walk away when a familiar voice stops you.

“That was a hell of a game” you turn to look at Art and Patrick, smiling at you over the railing.

You can’t help but grin, hoisting yourself up to hug both boys with a familiarity you should not have, given how little you’ve known them for.

“Shouldn’t you guys be preparing for your own final?” you ask, instead of acknowledging their praise.

“We wanted to congratulate you! Honestly, you could be winning slams tomorrow,” Patrick says, “both of you.”

“Well, we’re off to college, both of us, so maybe you should just let it go,” you’re teasing and he knows it.

“Are you coming to Stanford? You never said,” Art wonders.

“No, no, I’m going to Berkeley. Still close enough for visits, though,” you say.

“Berkeley? You’re going to Berkeley?” Patrick looks more confused than disappointed.

“It’s the top ten tennis program in the country, and they gave me a full ride.”

“You don’t look like you need a full ride.”

“Well, there’s more to me than what meets the eye,” you say, with no bite. “I need to go, my mum will be wondering where I am. Good luck, both of you. There’s a lot at stake today.”

You turn around and run towards the locker room, fully aware that the extra time you’ve taken will only infuriate your mum even more. She is yelling at you before you’ve had time to close the door.

––––––––––––––––

You sit next to Tashi, face recently washed, now out of your tennis clothes. The glow from her win shines on her face making her impossibly beautiful and you have to force yourself to look away from her and into the court. There Patrick and Art are battling it out, it’s not a close game. Art is putting up a fight, hitting the ball as well as he possibly can, but there is nothing he can do against Patrick. The blonde guy scampers around as his friend plays with him however he wants. It is almost painful. Patrick hits the winner with a trick shot in between his legs that has the crowd gasping. He turns around immediately, looking straight into Tashi’s eyes as he bows. Art struggles to catch his breath, clearly disappointed. 

You walk down next to Tashi, nothing to do as she sees Patrick in the distance and runs to catch up to him. You should probably leave, there’s nothing left for you here, and you don’t want to hang around to third wheel Tashi and Patrick. But you stall, walk around unsuspiciously, acting as if you belong there. A couple minutes later, Art walks out of his own locker room, head down.

“Art!” you yell at him.

His face lights up when he hears you. He looks around until his eyes meet yours. He walks up to you, a confused grin in his face. You hug him, your arms around his shoulder. His hair is still wet from his shower.

“That was a good match,” you whisper in his ear.

“No it wasn’t,” he laughs you off, shaking his head.

“Ok, so it wasn’t the most exciting game, but you still played well!”

“You don’t need to coddle me, I promise, I’ll get over it, I'm not a baby.”

You don’t know what compels you to do what you do next. Maybe it is his gentle smile, or the things you know Patrick and Tashi are probably getting up to right now. Whatever it is, you pull your phone out of your pocket, offering it to him.

“So, I know I’m not Tashi, and I’m not trying to be your consolation prize, but if you want to put in your number, I might be persuaded to call you some time.”

He takes the phone off your hands immediately.

“Consolation prize? Are you fucking kidding me? Patrick is almost going to wish he lost,” he says, then freezes in the middle of typing the digits into your phone. “Wait, I thought you didn’t…”

“That was a misunderstanding. I am into boys. I like girls too, though, so if that’s not…”

“No, No! I’m not… That doesn’t…” he interrupts, as he finishes typing down his name and hands you back your phone. “Call me, please.”

You nod, feeling giddy, something flutters in your stomach, akin to the butterflies that had only belonged to Tashi until then.

“Ok, I’ll see you around.”

You call him that same night, laying backwards on your bed, alone. Tashi is getting dinner with her family to celebrate, and you can’t wait a second longer, can’t pretend not to care.

“Hi” you say when he picks up, after only ringing once. “It’s Y/n”

“Hey,” he says almost out of breath, as if he didn’t believe you would actually call him.

“Who’s that?” You can hear Patrick's voice wonder.

“Is this a bad time?”

“No! Let me just…” you can hear shuffling and Patrick’s teasing voice, you can’t make out anything of what they are saying.

You know they are on the bus on their way back to boarding school. It is a bad time, but you couldn’t help yourself. You hear footsteps and you assume he is walking to the other side of the bus, vying for some privacy.

“Ok, I’m ready, sorry, Patrick was being a dick.”

“Oh, I’m sure I will hear all about his dick when Tashi comes back” he laughs loudly.

You hear somebody tell him to “Shut the fuck up, Art” and it makes you giggle. He apologizes, then focuses all his attention back on you.

You are still talking to him when Tashi comes back. She smiles but doesn’t say anything, waiting for you to hang up the phone so she can grill you for information.

“It was Art” you say, after you place your phone on the bedside table.

“Oh, was it? Interesting.”

New Rochelle, New York. August 24, 2019:

Art Donaldson: 2-0

Patrick Zweig: 5-15 

You are more excited than you should be. And pleasantly surprised. It’s not that you didn’t believe in Patrick, you did, but he is not used to playing on his own against the big names. It doesn’t help that he is playing against his long lost best friend, the first person he ever loved. So you weren’t confident that he was going to play his best tennis. Somehow, he is proving you, and probably everyone else, wrong. So yes, you are excited, the most sadist part of you reveling in the way Tashi looks more and more frustrated the more mistakes Art makes. It almost reminds you of the Junior U.S. Open finals, how Patrick had made Art look much worse than he was. Your husband wins the set with an ace, not giving the other boy a chance to score in the last game. Tashi stands up, walking out. You almost stop her, almost ask her what’s wrong. Until you remember that’s not your place anymore. 

When you look back at the court you notice both boys following her retreating figure with their eyes, both now sitting down for a break. Art takes off his t-shirt and you have to force yourself to look away, Patrick does not have the self control. He is grinning when he catches your eye. You shake your head, praying he doesn’t get too cocky.

Earlier that week:

You jump on Patrick the second he walks out of the locker room. He wraps his arms around your waist and spins you around. 

“I’m so proud of you” you say, running a hand through his hair, still damp from the shower. “Does it hurt at all?”

“It’s a little sore, but no pain.”

“I scheduled Mike in for an hour then we can grab dinner at the hotel, how does that sound?”

He nods, his head still hidden in your neck as you guide him towards the car waiting for you. Mike, his physical therapist, is already in your hotel room when you get there. You walk into the bathroom, using one of the courtesy glasses to take the pill you had bought the day before in the first pharmacy you had found. It’s supposed to help with morning sickness.

When you walk out again Patrick, Mike and your coach, Julian, are all talking, discussing the game and Patrick’s recovery. You sit next to him dutifully, holding his hand and letting him squeeze it when his physical therapist presses on a particularly sore spot.

“Do you wanna order room service?” you wonder, turning around after closing the door behind your staff.

“But I won! I think we should go out and celebrate.”

“Yeah, absolutely not, baby. I need you well rested for your next match tomorrow. I’ll give you the hotel’s restaurant, but that’s as far as we’re getting for our room” you melt at the way he immediately folds at the pet name, nodding along to what you’re saying.

He switches into a dark blue polo and you get a fancier shirt on before the two of you are making your way down to the hotel’s lobby. It is not very difficult to get a table for two at the side of the restaurant. Soon, you’re both laughing over your food like teenagers.

“Do you wanna try it?” he asks, his mouth stuffed with the steak he’s eating.

“God you’re so gross,” but you have hearts in your eyes, you’re smiling, and you lean over to let him place a bite of the meat on your tongue.

You don’t break eye contact as you chew and swallow, nodding your head.

“It’s pretty good.”

“If you keep looking at me like that I’m going to have to drag you to our room without paying.”

You laugh, openly, your head falling backwards. People turn to look at you, confused, but you’ve spent too much time dating Patrick Zweig to care about how people look at you in public.

“I’m going to the bathroom, behave,” you fix him with a warning glare that has nothing but love in it.

He raises both hands in surrender, and follows you with his eyes as you walk away. He does whatever you tell him, because he loves you. You are the best thing that has happened to him, and he doesn’t really know what he did to make you fall for him too, but he is going to do his damn best to keep it that way. So yeah, he is planning to behave, but then, as he is turning away from looking at your butt, he sees Tashi. And he doesn’t believe his eyes at first, he is sure he is making things up. But that is Tashi in the bar, with tired eyes and a sharp-looking outfit, never looking anything less than perfectly put together. So he has to stand up, he has to walk in her direction. Especially as they make eye contact and she turns, starting to walk away. He sees her give her mother the cup she had ordered and quickly dismiss her and a big guy standing with her. He supposes that must be their bodyguard. It’s kind of freaky that Art and her need a bodyguard now. He walks up to her when she is finally alone, she turns to look at him, sending an unimpressed glare his way.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” she asks.

“I’m playing at the challenger.”

“Yeah, I know that, but you’re not staying here, are you? There’s no way you can afford it.”

“We can, actually. Plus, with my injury, we couldn’t go to any of the Grand Slam Tournaments, so we decided to give ourselves a little treat with all the money we saved. We were already meant to be staying here for the U.S Open, so… Why are you guys staying here? I’d assume you would rent a villa or something.”

“Lilly likes hotels” Patrick pretends to be confused, as if he doesn’t know who Lilly is. “Our daughter.”

“Ah,” he acknowledges.

“Art can’t see us together, he already thinks I planned this to humiliate him.”

“Didn’t you?”

“Not this part” she starts to walk away, but turns around.

She spots you on your table, alone, your back facing them. She shakes her head, walking closer to him.

“Shouldn’t you be with your fucking girlfriend?” Patrick can’t help but smile, Tashi scoffs. “I don’t think she’d be very happy if she saw you talking to me.”

“And I don’t think you know my wife anymore,” he says, emphasizing the ‘my wife’, Tashi’s mouth falls open comically, but she is able to play it off quickly, “so everything you say are just assumptions.”

“I don’t have to talk to you. You and Art are on opposite sides of the bracket, you’re not gonna face each other unless you’re both in the final.”

“I don't think we have to worry about that.”

“No, you always used to fall apart in the second round without her. Can’t see why it would be any different now. Do me a favor,” she says, walking towards the elevator, “stay the fuck away from us.”

“Can you stay away from her?” the door closes as soon as those words have left his mouth, but he knows she heard them.

He turns around, a self satisfied smirk in his face, he knows he’s gotten under her skin. He sits in front of you, still smiling. You don’t look quite as happy.

“Why are you starting shit again?” you ask, more tired than angry.

“C’mon you love it when I start shit. Plus, she deserves it for what happened in…”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you interrupt firmly, his hands shoot up in surrender. “We need to win the open. I don't want them getting into your head and messing you up.”

“It won’t happen, I promise. I’m locked in.”

You can help the smile that spreads through your face. He puts his hand over yours on the table, your fingers interlacing.

“Now, what if I paid the bill really quickly and then we can go back to our room and celebrate properly?” 

You giggle, he kisses your knuckles. He stands up and pays, then comes back for you. His hand is on your back the entire trip back to your room, itching to go lower. You fall onto each other as soon as the door is open, kissing passionately. And just like that, you have almost forgotten about Tashi, and Art, and how this is the first time the four of you have been this explicitly close to each other in a very long time, almost.

Hillsborough, California, August 20, 2006:

You and Tashi have spent August in your vacation home, away from everything. Now, on your last day before you have to move into college you sit in your lawn, watching the sun set.

“Are you nervous?” she asks.

“A little. I’ll probably be fine, but I’m gonna hate not seeing your gorgeous face every day,” there was more truth to that statement that you were willing to admit.

“Yeah, I still can’t believe we’re not going to college.”

“I'm going to miss you,” you whisper, letting yourself be fully vulnerable.

“Oh, you won’t, I’m going to be calling you all the time. I’m going to call you so much you’ll change your number.”

“That would never happen.”

“I’ll even write you letters, I know you love that romantic bullshit.” You can’t help your eyes from getting wet at her words. “And I’ll visit. Plus, we’ll play against each other a lot, so get ready to get your ass whooped.”

“I just wish I was going to Stanford with you…” and Art, you think, but don’t say.

“You made the right decision for yourself, and I’m proud of you. You won’t have to put up with her anymore.”

You nod, you have been feeling guilty over your decision, telling yourself you should’ve put up with your mother for a couple more years to be with Tashi. You feel more confident once you know Tashi thinks you’ve made the right choice. You haven’t picked up any of your mum’s calls since the start of the month and tomorrow, when you drive yourself to college, will mark the official start of your new life, a life your mum is not a part of.

It’s dark by the time you make it back inside, drunk on sadness and each other. Tashi kisses you before you walk into your room. It’s sweet, softer than any other kiss you’ve ever shared with her. You can taste the salty trail of tears on her lips. You stare into each other’s eyes for a couple seconds when you pull away. You don’t talk about it, not that night, not the next morning. You don’t talk about the kiss or how the both of you are in relationships with other people. If you had known that would be the last one, you wouldn’t have let her go.