#lance would be a perfect miles like it’s ridiculous

[autisticlancemcclain]

y’all just saw the spiderverse movie and the way i am ITCHING to dig my fingers into it…

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

3 - An Intrigue Drenched in Blood

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader (Slow Burn), Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 8.6k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, animal death, discussions of child murder and infanticide, brothels, blood and violence, slight canon divergence

Notes: Previous Chapter Here, Things pick up from this point on, I assure you. Series Masterlist Here.

Bright and noisy was the state of Kings Landing as knights poured in from every corner of the most populous cities. All with their shiny armour and polished bravados like they were every bit of confident that they would win the winning gold and glory. They were never your kind of attraction even in your younger years here. The play fighting that so many of these men staked their life on, and of all the days to miss it was yesterdays which had the worst of action.

Not allowing the chance to even truly approach for a question, Ser Gregor Clegane otherwise known as The Mountain had speared the newly knighted Ser Hugh with a lance right through the throat. A space in his armour seemingly perfect for such an action and it felt hard to believe that it was nothing but a coincidence. Nothing in this city was a coincidence anymore it felt.

Walking towards the stands you passed by where curiously your King uncle was absent from his seat. Not a man to miss a spectacle you toyed with the ridiculous notion that he would ride in the event. Even now you could recall a time when you were thirteen and a tourney was on just like this one, you had stopped by the tent King Robert was in and admonished him for being so foolish to join.

It was easier to be comfortable with him in those days. You were sat up on a table, popping grapes into your mouth as you casually would remark that not only would no man dare hurt the King even in jest, but that the armour he was trying to fit in was about fifteen years too small. Were you not so close, he might have gotten you in trouble for such a comment. You couldn’t imagine even having a conversation with him that would allow for fun now.

The King was less miserable, and typically more reasonable and sober back then and you were still full of a youth like pep in this city. You still had the urge to explore the nearly fifty miles length of tunnels hidden about by the former dynasty and the pretty colours, bright sun, and vast diversity of lords and ladies impressed you. You still could walk into this city with a smile, unlike now. Maybe it was the loss of a childhood trait, or more realistically it was the adult understanding that this was a dangerous place and you’d be a fool to think otherwise.

You still wore the pretty dresses, and entertained the noble daughters whom were some degree of friends but the spark was gone from your eyes despite it all. This place and it’s people no longer giving you joy, instead just now a place of bloodshed and the tediousness of cleaning up after your King’s messes. No wonder your fathers scowl had deepened the lines in his forehead so much, you were beginning to think you’d return to Robb in Winterfell, stress having doubled your age on him.

Spotting Renly, he gave you a closed mouth smile of surprise as you pulled your skirt upwards to climb the steps before flattening it all out as you sat next to him. His voice was as light as ever, not that you expected much. “When you asked if I’d be here, I didn't actually expect you to show up. I thought this wasn’t your kind of thing, my dear niece.”

Tilting your head with a slight grimace you relented. “No, I can’t say I see the great appeal in cheering about men whose claims are they are young and very good at knocking men off horses with a stick.”

Nudging you with his arm, Renly smirked. “Shame, you could do with some fun in your life, shake up the terribly boring personality my brother passed onto you.” Glaring with only a flicker of your eyes to the side, you felt back a slight smirk as he just sauntered onward like nothing. “I hope for Robb Stark’s sake you aren’t such a rigid, bore in bed as well. Last thing one of those northerners need is less enthusiasm in their personal lives.”

Rolling your eyes, you took a breath before just passing him onto the truth. “I promised Shireen I’d go see a tournament, so I can write to her all about it.” You dared not look at him, knowing it was something unjustly vile about her on his tongue.

You think you could see him shrug somewhat beside you. “At least it gets you out for once, you and Lord Stark seem to be working way too hard for a King whose never going to thank you for it.”

Watching the very man approach, he nodded with an unblinking stare for just a second before sitting next to his daughter. No one thought your jobs, certainly not Hand of the King’s job was done for the sake of thanks. Not when the King had attended maybe two or three small council meetings over the course of the six years you’ve been sitting in on them to some degree.

Squinting in the bright sun, you shrugged with an otherwise flat expression. “Someone in this family should do the hard work for once, I may as well take over that mantle.”

Chuckling, Renly and yourself glanced over to the King making his own way to his seat finally, the bumbling sack of nerves and apologies that was his squire following suit with the wine. “Don’t be so harsh on our King, takes a lot of energy to fuck as many whores as he does at that age.”

The contenders next begun to ride up. Ser Gregor large and as brutish as ever on a large yet skittish black horse that seemed to be as unsettled as many felt looking at the man. On the other side, dressed in a bright and ornate armour with poise was his opponent. Curls atop his head neat and styled and a rose in his hand as he looked towards the stands near where you sat, for a subject to give it too.

Settling on the young redhead in the front stands a few rows from you, you could see the elation in Sansa’s shoulders as she gently accepted it. “Thank you, Ser Loras.”

Unnoticed to her as he took steps away, glancing up to the rows where you sat he glanced with a pointed glint in his eyes. Renly did not respond, but the words were there as there was solidarity in your silence. You would tease your uncle as he would you, but something between the dynamic you two had build up seemed to have been discussed in the men’s private affairs. Your teasing was never meant as anything but fodder for banter.

The shared look was not romantic, but they tended to stay away in public due to image. Much of the court knew about Renly, you weren’t as sure many, if any at all, outside of the small collection of whisperers, knew enough to say the same about the son of Mace Tyrell, heir to Highgarden.

In the seat below you and one above the two Starks, Lord Baelish turned with a jaunty grin. “A hundred gold dragons on the Mountain.”

Renly beside, did not hesitate. “I’ll take that bet.”

The two knights made their way to each side of the procession as the lower man begun to brag of his confidence. “Now what will I buy with a hundred gold dragons? A dozen barrels of Dornish Wine, or a girl from the pleasure houses of Lys?”

With a quirk of your eyebrow, you glanced at him. “You could even buy a friend.” The reaction was as satisfying as such a man could emote. A smile as if he knew a secret you didn’t and it only reminded you why bothering to speak to him was so grating. Lord Baelish not allowing for a moment to let another get the one up on him even in words he always felt compelled to have the final look, the final say.

The trumpets sounded out, both riders finally going towards the other as it only lasted for a mere moment. Loras’s Lance striking Ser Gregors shield and pushing him back. The large black horse fumbling in it’s steps as it fell into the wooden railings and knocking the large knight himself to the ground. The crowd cheering with delight as you felt the pride next to you.

Pride in both energy and voice as Renly shouted down smugly, “Such a shame, Littlefinger. It would've been so nice for you to have a friend.”

Standing up and turning to face you both with a quieter tone and a wider smile, you felt the creeping below your skin with a narrowing of your brows. “And tell me, Lord Renly. When will you be having your friend?”

Both of you said nothing, but the glares spoke many things all at once that the man only found amusement in as he turned back. You and Renly glancing at the other for only a moment of seriousness before you glanced back to the waving Ser Loras at the people. “Dare I ask how much gold you two are playing around with to come up with that little stunt?”

Renly laughed, the one thing about you that separated from your father is that you didn’t have to lecture to disprove. If the rich wanted to play with their money like jesting boys, you’d just let them it didn’t matter to you. Leaning in to whisper closer to your ear, “To be fair my dear niece, it wouldn’t have worked as well on any other horse. A man’s animal is only as wild as it’s owner they say.”

The next words didn’t come out of your mouth, as the sounds combined with what image flashed in the side of your vision gathered a mix of yells and stunned silence. Ser Gregor at some point having acquired his sword, took it through his horse’s neck in a single slice. The anger in him wild and untamable as he turned on his opponent, knocking Ser Loras to the ground only just missing from by strikes to his shield.

Both you and Renly standing at the action, Loras was good, but not good enough for that. Strike once twice, enough that you felt the bubbling anxiety in your chest before a growling voice came down from that of the King’s Stand to leave him be.

Striking his sword against his before each pushed away from the other, brother against brother stared the other down in a hatred that spoke more about themselves then it did defence of another. Ser Sandor Clegane, the brother of the giant Knight in front of him with half his face burned in a sear of fire for life. Half the hair on that side barley able to cover it beyond the strands coming from the top of his head that weren’t destroyed.

It wasn’t of any interest to you, nor did it matter, but you recall learning what such a mark meant and how it happened. The two now clashing swords, your eyes narrowed and your nerves grew tense in your muscles. This would get out of hand until more bloodshed arrived but only one man dared to interrupt such a commotion.

“Stop this madness in the name of your King,” The roar from the stands as King Robert stood was strong and echoing. Ser Gregor taking a final swing as the other ducked the blow with a surprising grace as he bent down to kneel, sword stabbed in the ground with a bow of his head.

You felt Renly’s own nerves ease beside you as the Mountain threw his sword to the ground with a raging huff and stormed off. The King yelling to let him go as the crowd parted in a justified terror. The Hound was not a man you enjoyed associating with, found too much pleasure in the necessary harshities of life and considered you to be as aggravating and dull as he did your father. However, he did follow around your wretched cousin for most of his days and that would make anyone angry.

The crowd cheered for Ser Loras and The man most just called The Hound as the smaller and younger raised the others hand in the air of victory, you and Renly sitting back down slowly.

Glancing at him, you could see a brightness in his eyes looking at the proclaimed Knight of the Flowers, and you couldn’t see it within you to give anymore passing jests at the matter. His new close association with the Tyrells struck you as an odd choice, and it pinged a distrust in your brain but you in no way had let it effect what a terror that would be for him.

Renly wasn’t a fighter of any kind, you weren’t even sure he had ever held something longer then a stick to play fight with and certainly had never been hit hard enough to bleed. It’s scary to imagine that you are forced to sit there and do nothing as the man you love has a blade shoved into him.

You perished the thought, you dared not let yourself imagine anything for the two faces which struck you as the scariest.

Sighing to yourself as you walked through the Red Keep you were thankful for the silence, the handmaidens appointed to you were fine girls, good at their jobs, but they were also giggly and chatty and fussed over you a bit too much. Having to tell them day after day, “I can walk myself through the castle halls my ladies, I assure you.”

When you were younger, it was either one of your fathers household guards that would keep and eye on you, or another who wasn’t sworn to serve but seemed to always know when you snuck off. Ser Barristan was in the sworn brotherhood of the Kingsguard, but he took a liking to you the day you arrived in Kings Landing. Not quite good at holding your tongue just yet, but you were still serious and respectful like your father taught you.

It was one day he had been sent by the King to fetch his niece so he could spend some time with you that he came across the most unique of sights. A wide area of Lord Stannis’s quarters had been pushed up against the wall and he stood in the middle with you, only aged thirteen, with a wooden sword in your hand.

He watched for a while, seeing the clever instruction your father was giving you. Ser Barristan knowing your lord father to be a formidable opponent and one that he would not wish to fight on the other side of a battlefield. Yet it wasn’t that style which he taught you.

You were less hacking and slashing, and more about swift movements and carefully timed slices that would cut down faster then your strength could overpower. After that, it was he who often found his way to accompany you when the King had no immediate need of him.

Days like this, you almost missed that. You didn’t want the hen chatter of girls fussing over you like you were the princess but you did miss the company of those who didn’t see fit to treat you like a dainty doll. Sometimes you had wondered if your strange mix of ladylike properness and a tendency to more lordly tasks was because of your father. He gave you and Shireen a lords education and such teachings led you to other interests.

To many you weren’t ladylike enough, but it wasn’t as if you pretended to be anything but the highborn lady you were born as. You enjoyed the company of other women, you took pride in your appearance like many, but you also spent much of your days as a teenager being kicked in the mud and hit with wooden swords by three teenage boys that had no qualms of making you feel like you were fine at being both.

However, as you heard a groan of frustration and tiny pattering of feet scampering beside you as it dodged into the hall, you were met with an amusing sight. Arya was covered in a layer of sweat and grime as well as what appeared to be scratches along her forearms when she stopped. Bending forward to rest her palms on her thighs as she caught her breathe, only flinging back up in surprise when you chuckled.

Slowly approaching, you didn’t bother hiding a smirk. “Such a ghastly state of dress for a highborn girl such as yourself, Lady Arya.” Your chuckle bellowed to a much heartier laugh at how quickly she told you to shut up.

Coming closer to you, she plopped herself down onto a small series of steps as you carefully sat down to join her. “Syrio has me catching cats. If I can be quick enough to catch them, then I’m quick enough to move around my opponents.” You smiled fondly at her, exhausted and covered in scratches that looked unseemly like looking at your once self.

Glancing up, you kept your eye on the black cat hiding around the corner. Peeking it’s one ear’d head out occasionally to eye it’s chaser. “You’re smaller then a normal target. They’re stronger but if you’re faster then them, that’s how you get them before they get you.” When she looked at you with a curious question in her eye, you shrugged looking back to the black cat. “It’s what Jon told me when he started to teach me how to swing a sword.”

Looking up with narrowed brows she asked, “I thought your father taught you?”

Nodding, your fingertips started to tap at the other in a fidget. That memory was still clear as it was when it happened. “Sort of. You were just born, you wouldn’t remember any of it. But it was one night I couldn’t sleep and I ended up wandering into the training yard. I was fooling around with one of the training swords, no idea what I was doing at all. And before I knew it, Jon had snuck up behind me and hit me in the legs with one and I just fell to the ground.”

Arya looking a bit taken back, but you laughed. “We all used to rough house a lot more back then, me and your brothers. He and Robb were around fourteen or fifteen by that point, and I was twelve. So just shy of being too old to pick on girls anymore.”

Moving to tuck her knees closer to her chest she wrapped her arms around them. “So what, he hit you and then..?”

You mimicked the same position, “At first he joked that if I was going to play with swords I should at least learn to not turn my back unguarded. But then he asked if I really wanted to know how to use one.” Feeling far away, the girl next to you disappeared as well as the castle walls around you. “I think we met up after everyone went to sleep for three weeks straight. He taught me some basics, then realized I would learn a bit better if he didn’t teach me how to fight like him, but how to fight against someone like him.”

Smiling to yourself, it was during those nights all to yourself that had done you two in. You weren’t a lady in that moment, and he wasn’t a bastard. You were just you and Jon, your best friend guiding you how to fight simply beacuse you wanted to know and he wanted to teach you. You got roughed up a lot, in the privacy of the night, Jon certainly didn’t shy away from grabbing and throwing you around when you got too cocky.

“When I returned home, my father recognized what kind of cuts and bruises they were, instantly. I never told him who did it, I was scared he’d write to Lord Stark and Jon would get in trouble. But he never got mad at me. No, he figured if I wanted to learn and I already was, then he saw no reason to not continue himself.”

Those days you think were some of the last time you and your father so easily got along. He smiled and laughed during those lessons in his quarters, proud of his daughter so keen on learning the things that helped made him the Lord he was. You hadn’t seen your father so freely smile like the did on those days in a very long time. It was the last time he felt truly like your father, and not more like your Lord.

Lost in thought for more then you assumed, Arya’s voice startled you. “Does it bother you?” Glancing down at her, but she was looking at her feet not you. “Having to act like a lady when you want to do things the boys do?”

Considering for a moment, you saw no reason to sugar the truth. “For a while it did. When I came to Kings Landing for the first time, everyone treated me like a fancy highborn lady when both on Dragonstone and in Winterfell, people just treated me more like who I was already.”

Formality of such high luxury certainly was not common on Dragonstone. Being doted on and cared for like it was a waste of your effort to lift a finger that much was not the way of your father. You didn’t have so much done for you, that you forget what it means to earn your keep through your own means.

“But, I think I had to learn that it wasn’t being a lady that I didn’t want.” Glancing down to her, who now was looking at you with wide eyes. “It was just that I didn’t want to be the kind of lady people like the Queen wanted me to be. I’m nothing like Sansa, but I’m as much a lady as she is.”

Arya looked away quickly, a flash of long hurt in her eyes that you knew stemmed from a sister who didn’t treat her well. “My father wants me to be like her.”

Not even a second hesitation did you spend, “He doesn’t.” Turning to face her properly, you called her name firmly. “Arya. Fathers will always want things for their children, things that they have no way of knowing what we’d like about it or not. He’s not a mind reader, he can’t see the future you want for yourself and sometimes accepting that it’s different then what he envisioned takes time. But he adores you, and he would never tell you to be someone you can’t be.”

Running a hand over her hair, you could feel her trying not to lean into it. Trying to look impassive instead of upset as you continued. “We’re not all going to get the future we dreamed of, but that doesn’t mean your father wouldn’t support your choices no matter how different from Sansa’s they are at the end of the day. He went out of his way to hire Syrio to teach you something he first said wasn’t for girls. He wants you happy, even if it doesn’t lead you to the future he wants or you want.”

“Like how you didn’t get the future you wanted?”

Taken back, you didn’t understand her words but there was no anger or judgment in them as she elaborated. “You didn’t get to marry who you wanted, but every time I see you writing or opening a letter Robb sent you, you still smile in the same way my father does at my mother.”

Not in these open walls would you broach that. Not sure of what she knows or suspected or if you were just projecting onto her. You smiled, and your next words echoed the very thing Jon told you would be what was in store for you. “I’ve known Robb since I was eight. He’s easy to fall in love with.”

Your lips remembering his, and how easy it was to let his touch and his deep words make you lose yourself in him. But also the boyish grins whenever he teased you, the lack of worry you had knowing you could say anything to him and there’d be only support. Even before.

Somewhere in your heart was something far different that needed not thinking of now, or even if you had to think long enough to be real with yourself. But it was locked away for a reason. You couldn’t take that feeling with you, you had to let it go in order to give Robb who you really were. Not just pretend.

That part of your heart, had been captured protectively by the other. That part of your heart now sat heavy alongside that of the wolf who took it with him. That part of love was tucked away safely at the Wall with the one who insisted you not take it with you. You were with Robb now, and no matter what one part of you said, the other part of you yearned to see Robb and actually be happy. You did want it.

“Sometimes the things we want, aren’t the things we originally asked for. But that’s part of duty, how to be just and firm in our choices. Whatever your duty becomes, you have to learn to want it. Otherwise it’ll just eat away at you.”

Glancing up, you saw the little tomcat start to inch away down a stairwell, pulling a smirk as you nodded your chin over to it. “I hope you really want that cat, Arya because he’s about to bolt.”

Her head whipping up, you watched her leap to her feet sprinting down the hall as the little black cat sprinted off faster. As Arya grumbled loudly, you laughed freely.

Much true of words, you didn’t come here wanting to be wrapped in the tendrils of liars and spiders, but as you entered Lord Stark’s room? The very spider sat in the seat across from him, his face somewhat less apprehensive as it was you who entered, not one of mistrust. “My lady.”

“Lord Varys.” You did not sit int he seat beside him, coming to the end of Lord Stark’s desk and leaning back against the wall closest to it, arms crossed as you and him shared a look. His eyes steady and serious as you nodded. “Am I interrupting?”

Cordial and showing no intent, yet he never fooled you. “Not at all, in fact it makes it easier to share such sensitive information while you both are here.”

Lord Stark stared intently at the man, trying to gauge just as you. “Lord Varys seems to think the Kings life is in danger.”

“Oh I don’t think, Lord Stark. I’m afraid I know.”

Your posture couldn’t be more uptight and rigid as your stoned face, but you found no patience in playing nice as Lord Varys did. “Are you speaking of the same kind of danger that killed Jon Arryn?”

A slow nod, his voice was even as if none of this effected him. Despite his very presence and confidence of truth saying otherwise. “If you suspect Lord Arryn was poisoned, it would need to be one that was fast and utterly incapacitating if given the proper dose.”

“If we suspect?” Your emphasis on the doubt of we as in you and Lord Stark had Varys raise an eyebrow to you.

“I assure you my Lady, I don’t act on questions or doubts.” Glancing between you and Lord Stark he settled on what appeared to be the one who relaxed his trust more. “The tears of Lys, they call it. A rare and costly thing, as clear and tasteless as water. It leaves no trace.”

Lord Stark rose, pacing in thought towards the open air of his balcony. Your jaw clenching in consideration of the idea. What Grand Maester Pycelle had said, he seemed confident at first it must have been natural causes. If he didn’t sense a foul attribute then this ran deeply, did it not?

Asking who would give it to him, his voice was muffled as he still looked out to the city. Lord Varys playing such a game that irritated you. Telling you what you already know, but in a riddle to avoid any prying listeners to the subject. Never close to a man who says what he means. “Some dear friend, no doubt. But which one, there were so many. Lord Arryn was a kind and trusting man. There was one boy, all he was he owed to Jon Arryn.”

Squire to Knight upon his masters death, and yet once the master was dead soon was the squire turned knight. Something was tying up it’s loose ends but the ends of what? Lord Varys only saying whoever paid Ser Hugh would’ve been someone able to afford such a price.

His hands pressed against the top of his chair, the same yarns spun in Lord Starks head. You looked from him to Lord Varys. “Jon Arryn was Hand for over twenty years, why kill him now?”

Leaning forward, he spoke of something he knew the answer to and yet still forced you and Lord Stark to form more of that very thing on your own. “He started asking questions.”

There was no way of knowing how haunting this meeting would be to you one day.

The ferocity of your Uncle as he called a meeting of the small council himself told everyone whom didn’t already know the newest update, that something was about to explode. King Robert was the most blatant example of the fury of a Baratheon as any of you living now.

Something akin to madness was in his eyes as you watched him arrive, there was a calmness in both Lord Varys and Renly, a curiousness in Grand Maester Pycelle as he arrived and a difficult to read Lord Baelish who was the only other one present then Pycelle who didn’t know. As Lord Stark finally arrived, walking in you wondered how much of a unified front it appeared to be.

Niece and brother on both sides of the King Baratheon and a horrific message displayed. The only time your King uncle did not mince words, was now. Drenched in anger and vengeance that did not sit comfortably in your stomach. He looked at Lord Stark with all the vitriol he could, spitting out in anger “The whore is pregnant.”

Lord Stark hardly finding it in him to care for hiding his disgust but they fell on the Kings deaf rage.

It was like he didn’t even hear the man speak. “I warned you with would happen. Back in the North, I warned you but you didn’t care to hear. Well hear it now. I want them dead, mother and child both, and that fool Viserys as well. Is that plain enough for you? I want them dead.”

You hadn’t been born until two years after the rebellion ended, you’d never seen him in a place that wasn’t in times of peace and yet he ranted and raved as if all three of them were armed and blooded at the gates. This was not a man you recognized, this was a man who spoke of an unborn child with the same he did of Rhaegar Targaryean.

Lord Stark’s tone was deep, cracking with a shocked twinge at who this man was. “You will dishonour yourself forever if you do this.”

The fury grew louder as he spoke. “Honour? I’ve got seven kingdoms to run. One king, seven kingdoms. Do you think honour keeps them in line? Do you think it’s honour that’s keeping the peace? It’s fear. Fear and blood.”

Your father had a similar idea but never in a lifetime would it be in a manner like this. Lord Stannis felt that if people don’t fear you they won’t follow you. That if you can’t scare the wicked away then the good will not stick around to be picked off by what you refuse to pluck out. If you don’t pull the weeds out by their roots with determined force, then they will overtake the garden and nothing good will stay to grow between the rot.

Your voice was rough, as if your throat was scratched in need of water but it was hissed out without much care for hiding the feeling building. “Fear and blood isn’t far from fire, now is it?”

The King turned to his left to look at you, but you did not flinch back at the rage nor the spitting words from his mouth as he said your name. “Careful now. You’re my niece but you watch that.”

“You’re chasing shadows twenty years removed, shadows you can’t even be sure are real.”

Lord Varys far calmer then the other member still glaring your way. “My lady, you wrong me. Would I bring lies to the king and his council?” You both stared at one another, and in just a brief moment so quick you could’ve imagined it, there was a flash of something in his eyes.

Something like what he found in yours unsettled him. The way you know for a fact, he had looked at Lord Stannis many times over. Lord Stark asked who even provided the information. The spider’s answer did nothing but leave the wolf and little stag unconvinced. Or you supposed, given the calm manner which Renly refused to challenge and the true fury in the other?

Perhaps the two unconvinced members of this council, were indeed two wolves.

“Jorah Mormont. He is serving as advisor the Targaryeans.” You huffed a breath of disbelieving laughter at such a spy. As Lord Stark looked as unimpressed, he himself having much more direct reason to press to them that he wasn’t to be relied on.

“Mormont? You bring us the whispers of a traitor half a world away and call it fact?” Lord Baelish trying to reason that being a slaver is not the same as a traitor and yet only traitors would betray their loyal family and flee across the sea to escape whatever sentence justice demanded from him. You took no part in entertaining slave traders.

“And if he’s right?”

Glaring once more at your king, “And if she miscarries, if the child dies in infancy? We do not plan murders based on a whispers of what if, your grace.” Your name spat once more but you did not hear. “You mean to fear someone who doesn’t even exist yet so much, that you’d murder it in their mothers womb and call that anything but that of a coward?”

King Roberts face almost red from fury as he once again hissed your name. “I told you to watch yourself or have you forgotten who is king here?”

You stared at him as still as possible, not recognizing this as your uncle. This King was a stranger.

“No, your grace. Have you?”

Lord Stark speaking up before the King took a chance to raise his voice so loud it booms through the seven kingdoms. “The Narrow Sea still lies between us. I’ll fear a Targaryean child the day the Dothraki teach their horses to run on water.”

Looking in shock between you both, he yelled at the others to talk sense into you two.

Lord Varys took his chance, looking to Lord Stark notably as opposed to you both. “I understand your misgivings, my Lord. It brings me no joy delivering this news to the council. It is a terrible thing we must consider, a vile thing. Yet we who presume to rule, must do vile things for the good of the realm, however much it pains us.”

Grand Maester Pycelle took his reasoning, a rational approach to a fruitless endeavour. “I bear this girl no ill will, but should the Dothraki invade, how many innocents will die? How many towns will burn? Is it not wiser, kinder even, that she should die now to tens of thousands live?”

Tell that to the unborn child you refuse to give a chance, you thought to yourself.

Renly finally spoke, and you felt that weight in your chest plummet down and slam you hard into the floor. “We should have had them both killed years ago.”

Your eyes blazed as you looked at him, across the table. His were with no guilt even. Of course, the brother handed everything he did not earn nor deserve by the brother he now sat beside advocating for what he sees as the least amount of effort for the most unfair of results. Lord Baelish spoke somewhere to your left but you did not break your eyes from Renly.

“When you find yourself in bed with an ugly woman, best close your eyes and get it over with. Cut her throat, be done with it.”

The men here all sickened you but none as vile as Lord Baelish. Not even King Robert’s rage made you feel as if you were covered in the slime from a swamp from his voice alone.

Lord Stark looked his old friend right in the eye. “I followed you into war, twice. Without doubts, without second thoughts, but I will not follow you now. The Robert I grew up with didn’t tremble at the shadow of an unborn child. I will have no part in it.”

“You’re the Kings Hand, Lord Stark. You’ll do as I command or I’ll find me a hand who will.”

Lord Stark’s only action, was to look his friend in the eye as he pulled off the pin of his position, and tossed it onto the table as it landed with a clunk. “And good luck to him. I thought you were a better man.”

The yelling went on for some time. Not a single one of you with the capability to have him calm his fury and the unravelling of what once made him a King fell before your eyes. As some finally begun to leave, you sat in your seat before projecting loudly. “Your grace? A word?”

Room emptied out, he turned to you. His voice quieter but not without it’s rage. “You have a lot of gall to speak to your king like that, girl.”

Not moving an inch your eyes blazed towards him with a narrowed brow. “Speak to you like what? Like you’re a coward afraid of an unborn infant?”

“A coward-”

Slowly pushing yourself up, you braced your palms on the long table. “Tell me, your grace. What happened the last time a half Targaryean babe was murdered along with their mother? How well did that serve us in the long run, or I am I just supposed to assume that House Martell has forgiven all of that?”

King Robert stormed closer, leaning his fists much like you did your palms. With a tilt of his head you felt as if he somehow still towered over you. “They were that son of a bitch’s own children or did you forget that too? You’d have them alive now and walking around doing gods know what just beacuse doing what needs to be done isn’t honourable?”

“This isn’t about honour,” Your own voice finally rose to a proper shout and your uncles head jolted back as his eyes widened for a moment. “I’m talking about justice. You aren’t an honourable King for doing this, but you’re certainly not giving Lyanna justice by murdering women and children who’ve done nothing.”

“She hasn’t been done right by until every member of that family is dead-”

He leaned forward and so did you. “You served her justice. You killed Prince Rhaegar at the Trident, you were the jury and executioner for his crimes and blaming those who weren’t even there or alive for it has nothing to do with Lyanna and you can’t serve a just sentence for something that isn’t even close to have happened yet.”

You weren’t fool to think you got through to him, but he was lost in thought for just long enough for you to find the limit of your handling be reached. “Don’t do anything to people who haven’t proved a harm to you. That unborn child is someone you’ve never met, you have no idea what they could grow up to become, uncle.”

Passing by, he was simmering down as you were when you stopped beside him. “I’m not even telling you what to do about the girl. You choose to kill her, and just her I will not argue. But you cannot punish an infant just beacuse they have drops of Targaryean blood somewhere in their veins. You have no idea what that child could turn into, and if they are a threat? Then we serve out that justice. But only when justice is required.”

You got to the door before he spoke, voice raised to catch the distance as he turned to look at you.

“It doesn’t matter what you two do. If I won’t give it to him, I won’t give it to you.”

You shook your head, a sad sigh breathing from your lips. “I wasn’t asking for it, your grace. And with all due respect, I’m not just your niece. I’m his daughter. Not yours. I wasn’t raised to think you were ever in the right towards him.”

The door which closed behind you sealed you and Lord Stark inside. You have to admit, there was nothing more of a bizarre shock to the day this had been, then being told Lord Arryn and Lord Stannis had visited this brothel together. You father alone being here was enough to conjure an image of him that you wondered how rigid and emotionless you came across to these woman as he likely did.

Lord Baelish had urged you and Lord Stark to visit his establishment, to see the last person Jon Arryn visited before his death.

The girl in front of you, her name Mhaegen, was little more then a child. Younger then you, but you doubted with your heart that were you to ask Lord Baelish how old she was, that he’d give you an honest answer. In her arms, was a stunning baby girl.

Bright green eyes, already the makings of a strong face of dark hair and once more a ping inside you clung. Two actually, but the first one was how much of a Baratheon this little girl was. “She looks like him, don’t she, My lady? She has his nose, his black hair?”

You stood slightly in front of Lord Stark, running your finger down the girl’s cheek. She looked so much like Shireen did at that age, you wondered if you held her, would she yank at a stand of your hair until your head was leaning cuddled against hers. Something your new baby sister had loved to do when you could still hold her at that time.

But this baby wasn’t just a reminder of your sister, it wasn’t even a clue of mystery about how this all connected to Lord Arryns death. No, you were looking at this baby girl, your raging Uncle’s bastard daughter and you were stunned by this was your cousin.

This small girl was your cousin like Joffery was, and yet this girl smiled weakly as you tickled the side of her neck with a coo and a smile. How many of them were in this city alone? How many of them didn’t have a clue that they belonged to a family that could give them life outside of the poverty of flea bottom?

Lord Stark stepped up beside you, as the no doubt teenage girl looked to him. “I named her Barra. Tell him when you see him, my lord. If it pleases you, tell him how beautiful she is?”

Lord Stark said he would, but you both knew it would not matter. The King barley had any love in his heart shown towards his own children, for as many faults as Queen Cersei had no one could doubt the love for her children was a real as her hair was blonde.

Children, babies, that meant nothing to the man your uncle had become.

“And tell him I’ve been with no one else. I swear it my lord. By the old gods and the new. I don’t want no jewels or nothing, just him. The King was always good to me.”

The gods have mercy what a web of lies King Robert had played this girl up to, to think he’d ever entertain her as more then something to warm his bed and little Barra as anything but a bastard to cast out beacuse highborns like the King had no use for anything that didn’t bear his name or his house’s titles.

Perhaps becoming a Stark was the final nail hammered in that deemed you not one of him anymore.

Lord Stark asked what it was Jon Arryn wanted, and to the only amusement you found that day, she looked almost worried she painted the wrong idea of him. “He wasn’t that sort of man, my lord. He just wanted to know if the child was happy. And healthy.”

He looked at the glee on the young mothers face at her babe, the longing and tragedy deep within your eyes barley hidden by a steel mask that weight you down. He ran his hand over the baby’s foot gently as he spoke, “She looks healthy enough to me. She’ll want for nothing.”

He didn’t have to pull you physically, but it seemed like tearing away from the girl was a cruel task. Just an infant who had a lifetime of poverty and neglect in front of her all beacuse your King Uncle had no taste for self decency. You thought too of the one in the armoury, Gendry. How learning of who his father was, would come as no comfort considering the sort of man Robert Baratheon was proving himself to be.

No child deserved to grow up fatherless, but perhaps knowing who they are could hurt or disappoint then thinking they were just a no one. Joining Lord Stark into the next room where Lord Baelish looked as relaxed as ever and you felt as rigid as ever.

It wasn’t such a place that bothered you, but it certainly was the eyes and ears of who owned it and for what. You wondered if there was even any women in this establishment who didn’t fuck just to fill Lord Baelish’s need for information.

“What do you know about King Robert’s bastards?” Lord Stark had asked him.

With a sly grin, it was impossible to tell which he looked at more. The proper Stark, or you. “Well, he has more then you for a start.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you pushed it down as far as it could go.

“How many?”

Lord Baelish glanced at you with no doubt this time, before sliding them back to Lord Stark. “Does it matter? If you fuck enough women, some of them will give you presents.”

Presents being children who will never feel like their apart of a world that respects them.

Lord Baelish gave you no answer as he walked slowly to you, Lord Stark, and the accompanying Jory to the door. Something inside you was screeching and yelling, like it had the answer to something you weren’t quite at yet. It made your heart pound, but it also set your blood alight like it burned. You didn’t know why, and yet what arrived outside for you was it’s own present that intended to ruin.

Members of the Lannister guard surrounded the area, standing two to one of the Stark’s own household guard their spears at the ready. All three of you slowly wandering into the streets slowly, your lips parted as galloping came forth until a horse with Jaime Lannister sat atop came by. “Such a small pack of wolves.”

He was not a foe you could beat, nor were you prepared for such at all kind of fight. Not truly. Jory using a calm reason to such aggression. “Stand back, Ser. This is the Hand of the King.”

The eyes on him were glinting with smugness but anger. “Was the Hand of the King. Now I’m not sure what he is, Lord of somewhere very far away.” Climbing off the horse, he paced every so slowly with a bravado only a true dangerous fighter could pull off like he could. “I’m looking for my brother. You remember my brother, Lord Stark? Blond hair, sharp tongue, short man.”

Lord Stark steady and calm as you were with a heart that wanted to strangle your lungs from within, “I remember him well.”

Looking to the side at nothing, there was as smirk that seemed to think the northerners cared to play such a game, or you for that matter. “It seems he had some trouble on the road. You wouldn’t know what happened to him, would you?”

He had done none of that, but Lord Stark did not go against his wife’s actions even for a single second as he declared, “He was taken at my command. To answer for his crimes.”

Lannister men shaking their amour as some reached for a better hold on their weapons as the lion pulled his. “Come, Stark. I’d rather see you die sword in hand.”

Moment of anger, or naivety, or just a helpless love you stepped forward with sharp narrowed eyes, “If you threaten my lord again-”

Lord Stark held a hand out, gently keeping you in place and by his side despite the lion pointing his sword with a smirk. “Threaten? As in, I’m going to open your lord from balls to brains and see what Stark’s are made of?”

“You kill me, your brother’s a dead man.”

It all happened so fast, Jaime turning to his own, “Take them both alive, kill his men.”

You had little on you, a small blade that you pulled from a pocket that fit in the palm of your hand almost. You sliced it at the weak softness on the Lannister armour of the one who approached you, crying out as blood split from the cut and you ducked to avoid his counter.

You were fast but it was against too many and a woman whom had no armour, only a dress, and no real weapons to speak off as the Stark guardsmen were taken out most by surprise. As you moved, almost punching into the neck of a Lannister one it punctured a wound enough to have him sputter up and fall to the side as Jaime Lannister shoved a small dagger of his own into Jory’s eye.

Stood in shock for just long enough that the rest were overwhelmed until it was them against the two of you. Lord Stark pulling his own sword, you were suddenly hauled backwards by two arms which didn’t feel like armour was behind them.

Lord Baelish’s voice in your ear as you fought against him was a whisper, “You’re far more useful alive then dead, my dear.”

You were not strong, something Jon, Robb and your father all trained to to keep in mind. Even a man like Lord Baelish could keep you as long as he tried harder then your muscles did, but you couldn’t. You watched the two men clash swords, Jaime confident and Lord Stark desperate. You had hardly seen the Lannister fight in person, but he must have been quite good as for the briefest of seconds?

Lord Starks sword pushing him backwards, his eyes flickered between the man and the weapon worried that there might be a possibility that he loses. Just as Jaime lost the upper hand, one of the Lannister guards stepped forward.

With a harsh push, stabbed his spear into Lord Stark’s leg bringing him to his knees. Already shaking, you gasped with what little breath remained as the hold keeping you from the fight loosened. Enough to slip your arm just enough to lunge back into the middle of his chest.

Jaime standing back in hesitation, watching as you rushed to his side, uncaring of the sweat and blood staining your arms and dress as you grabbed Lord Stark to keep him from collapsing entirely. He shook from the pain and blood loss, you shook from the shock and pathetic cry of how useless you were in a place like this gods forsaken city.

Jaime Lannister climbed atop his horse, turning in place as he gave you both one last look that radiated of both anger and something like a sympathy that you wished you could snatch away and shove down his throat until it choked him. “My brother, Lord Stark. I want him back.”

The City Watch had found you like that, a barley conscious Eddard Stark with a spear in his leg as you looked to the dead around you. Killed for what? In retribution of a man who tried to have a ten year old boy murdered twice?

The weakening look in Lord Stark’s eyes as he grew weaker, your lungs did not breathe nor did it feel like your heart ever stopped threatening to explode from your chest.

For a reason you could not explain, the sight or the light and angle making his appearance remind you so close to that of his son, you for a brief second imagined Robb in his place.

You didn’t understand why your mind conjured such an image, but you knew it horrified you all the same.

[sunjaesol]

clandestine meetings and longing stares

juke secret dating au | title: illicit affairs // taylor swift | a middle of the night scribble

When twelve year old Julie Molina got a stern talk from her father that she wasn't allowed to date until college, the tween had no qualms with it. The only boy she's ever liked had been Sokka from Avatar and that was it. Real boys didn't interest her. 

Until she turned sixteen and caught sight of Luke Patterson. 

In the years between, she had small crushes here and there. Lance, Nick, Noah. None, however, competed with storm that erupted in her stomach each time Luke smiled at her - her heart in a constant frenzy. 

It was the beginning of junior year when he randomly sat next to her in music class and brought out all the bravado. It shouldn't have been cute. Julie should've rolled her eyes, dismissed his cute smirk, but she simply couldn't. The shimmering green of his eyes and the nice laugh was too alluring, too attractive. Soon enough, Julie was crushing on him hard. Which was fortunate, since he very much liked her as well, something he never hid from her. 

("Watch out, Julie," he joked during one of their first conversations. "The charm is gonna make you get a crush on me!") 

Luke kissed her two weeks after, chastely and secretly under the bleachers. Her infatuated mind forgot in that moment how she wasn't even allowed to look at a guy and eagerly kissed him back. It had been her first kiss and wow - what a perfect one at that. 

A beat later, she realised her mistake and told him about her dad's stupid rule. His face had crashed for all of ten seconds when a mischievous grin crawled on his lips (an expression that would get her into serious trouble one day) and said: "Why tell him?" 

Had it been any other boy, she would've shaken her head and regret kissing him. But this was Luke. She really liked Luke. The idea of not being with him, of not seeing where this could go, was a greater fear than her father's disappointment. In response, she snatched him back into a kiss he all too hungrily went along with. 

Rule #1: Don't date! Broken, busted, thrown out the window with a smile. 

It started off easy. At school, no one had to worry. She sat with him at lunch and let herself be coaxed under the bleachers and snuggled into his embrace at the end of the day. On the parking lot, she could pretend she was simply saying goodbye to her boyfriend and not going home to lie in her dad's face about why she was so overly chipper all of a sudden. 

(Luke made her so ridiculously happy it was unfair. Each time he surprised her with a hug, her feet lifted from the ground; each time they kissed, his thumbs grazed her cheeks like she was a precious gem; each time she came up with a clever lyric, he gave her the toothiest grin and called her all the cute nicknames he could think of. Boss, baby, babe, Lyric Queen.) 

God, she was complete mush for this boy. Sometimes she wondered if she was doing enough, not quite matching his overt display of affection, but she knew she must be doing something right if he never stopped smiling when she talked. That his eyes held a certain softness, timidness, reserved for her only. 

They outgrew school quickly. Both wanted to go on dates without raising suspicion, Luke wanted to come over and just be with her without causing havoc. 

"Why does the rule exist anyway?", he asked at the end of a cool December day. 

Julie toyed with the lapels of his red shacket. "It's dumb. I mean, I get it, but it's dumb." Sighing, she explained his reasoning. "He wants me to fully focus on school so that I can get into a good college. Once I secured that, then I'm allowed to have fun."

Luke frowned. "I- I guess I kind of get it."

Her eyes rolled teasingly. "You don't even want to go to college." 

"Correction: I wanna go to frat parties and have the college experience-" 

"Without the classes part," she deadpanned. His face fell flat, a giggle of her own following. 

His frown returned, a look she hated seeing. "You don't think he'll… I don't know, let go of that rule when he sees we're good?" His calloused hands slipped from her waist to softly cradle her face. Julie sighed, leaning into the touch. Resisting Luke and everything he did was hard. A smile twitched on his lips. "Would be pretty dope to come through the front door and kiss my girlfriend."

Her heart clenched at his confession. It would be amazing, but it sounded so unbelievable that it could easily be taken as a joke. Dad would go absolutely insane if she pulled something like that. Hey dad! Don't mind me as I jump into the arms of my boyfriend and he kisses me like a heartthrob from the movies! 

She should've known Luke would try something. His impulsivity was an admirable trait, she found, though the pebbles hitting her window past midnight have her such a fright that she cursed for a beat how one track minded he could be. Until she caught sight of him. Eyes twinkling in the moonlight, a wide smile, his casual stance. He pointed at her and she nodded, grabbing her phone to text him there was a ladder by the garage. 

Quiet like a ghost and quick like a fox, Luke snuck into her room, feet falling onto the floor with a soft thud. 

Butterflies raged in her stomach. Her secret boyfriend was here, in her room, right now, with her father sleeping just down the hall. 

"What're you doing here?", she whispered, already breathless from having him near. 

His nose scrunched up. "Trying to be romantic. Should I have called you first?" 

She shook her head. "It's fine. Maybe next time. It's-" Her arms slung around his shoulders, heart hammering a mile a minute. Her pyjamas were nothing special, an oversized pullover and sweatshorts, but it felt oddly intimate to be so cozy together. His own faded t-shirt was from a zoo in Oregon and his sweatpants softer than any of the ones she owned. Julie almost asked to borrow them, if it wasn't for his lips to swallow the words with a warm kiss. 

Her fingers slipped into his hair. Yeah. This was better than talking. 

It soon became routine. Every other week, Luke would text her a moon emoji and then climb into her room around midnight. They'd kiss and cuddle, Luke often leaving by five am and then making a whole show at school as if he hadn't seen her. Julie thought it was cute. If she could, she'd return the favour and go to his place, but Luke assured her she did not want that and, consequently, her father would just know. Unfortunately, she didn't have Luke's agility like some parkour champ. 

"Trust me, Jules, I don't mind," he told her at lunch while stealing a cherry tomato. "I like sneaking in."

Alex shot him a look. "You like feeling like the main character of a movie, that's what."

"You brainwashed me with romcoms, so it's your fault, dude,' Luke retorted, grinning when the blonde flipped him off. 

They got cocky though. Julie knew her dad would be gone during the day for a photography gig in Santa Monica, all the way on the other side of Los Angeles. It was the perfect excuse to get Luke over. Excited, Julie opened the front door for him with a flourish and did a silly courtesy. 

"Your first time using my door," she teased. "Must feel special."

His cocky nod made her roll her eyes. "Super special," he replied gravely, playing along. "She's been begging for me."

Her expression turned sour. "I haven't been begging for you." 

His smirk widened, tugging on a curl as he slipped past her. "Was I talking about you?" 

He didn't, but he did start making out with her the second they were in the safety of her bedroom, so she knew there wasn't much competition. 

That afternoon, they successfully avoided her dad's wrath and felt arrogantly confident about it. It made them daring. Pushing the limits, how far could they go, how blatant could they be before he knew? It was almost a game, the thrill part of the insane attraction she felt each time he snuck in. 

His strong arms were wrapped around her as she straddled his waist, kissing him. Every touch was languid and intentional, a searing passion that rippled her skin and left her mind empty. Kissing Luke always put her in a dreamy, blissful haze. Her fingers clawed at his shirt and he shrugged it off in one fluid motion, pulling her back in. His skin was warm, hers to explore. Julie grinned into the kiss. His fingers toyed with the hem of her top.  

"Julie?" 

They froze. Her dad. Other side of the door. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. As quietly as possible, the girl hoisted herself from his lap and motioned at her closet. 

"Julie?" The door handle began to shake. 

Her voice squeaked. "Just a second!" Luke tiptoes into her closet, Julie kicking his shirt under her bed as she ran to the door. Her flushed cheeks would be a dead giveaway had her father ever doubt her trust. Fortunately, Julie Molina was in the eyes of her family a perfect good girl. 

(The guy hiding in her closet would whisper something else in her ear.)

"Why is your door locked?" Dad frowned. "You never lock your door."

Julie shrugged, innocence leaking from her tone. "I can't have some privacy?" 

"Of course, Julie," he said, though his lips were pressed into a thin smile. This clearly wasn't the last time they'd talk about it. "I'm going to the store. Do you need something?" 

"No, thanks," she rushed. "Anything else?" 

"Uh, no. Don't lock yourself in, hm?" It was said as a joke, his brows lifted, but both she and her father knew he meant it. No more locking doors. Shit. 

When the front door fell shut and the car rumbled into the street, Luke reappeared with a careful smile. 

Julie sighed. "That… was close. Maybe we should stop hanging out right after school. I didn't even hear him coming up the stairs."

"Damn, Jules!” Peppering two kisses on her forehead, it did little to relief her stress. “Now that's an ego booster."

"I'm serious!" She huffed. "I hate this. I hate the rule and I hate that I'm making you put up with it."

"Hey, hey," he soothed. "It's shitty, yeah, but you're not making me do anything." Nodding at her lips, he added: "Your smile is already…" 

The smile bloomed on its own accord when he trailed off, edging closer. "What?" 

That little shake of his head almost made her kiss him, but she wanted to know what he was going to say, why his lips were parted in that wonderstruck expression. When nothing came, a curious hum rumbled in her throat as she placed her chin on his chest. 

He relented, tapping a finger against her cheek. “Your smile is already making me do dumb stuff.”

Oh, God. If he was going to continue saying things like that, she might actually fall in love with him. Back when Julie and Flynn were still obsessed with those relationship quizzes in magazines, she always claimed she’d like guys that weren’t so smooth with their words. She thought it meant they were players. But Luke never half-assed anything. 

Her head tilted, amused. “Do you always have words ready?”

“Zero words, Jules,” he quipped. “Ever.”

Yeah, she might actually love him. 

Public dates became a thing after that conversation. She simply couldn’t let him get away because of some rule, even if he claimed he wouldn’t. Eats & Beats was a cute, little café in the heart of Los Feliz with live music and amazing lattes; it was also their regular spot. They’d settle themselves into a booth, share a baked good (“If we’re trying the carrot cake now, we’re doing the pastel de nata next week.” “Deal.”) and talk for hours. Sometimes, when either was tinkering on a song, they’d work on it together.

One leg overlapped his, his fingers drawing pictures on her knee. The booth with the suede red couches and the scratching of a star in the wood was their safe haven.  

“Mh, no,” she swallowed the piece of muffin. “That’s such an ugly word, don’t use that.”

He grinned, shoulders nudging as a tease. “Drencher not doing it for you?”

A laugh bubbled up, kissing his cheek. “Just use ‘rain’, you dork!”

“Dork?”, he mocked, getting in her face. 

“Yeah.” Her nose brushed his. “Dork.” 

“You are a dork.”

“That’s the best you’ve got, Patterson?”

Luke smirked, eyes flicking across her frame. “Want me to show you my best, Molina?”

She pushed his face away, a blush creeping up her cheekbones. They haven’t done it yet, but whenever he got like this, she felt her entire skin heat up at the mere idea. A part of her wanted to take that step, but she felt bad doing it if her dad or tía didn’t know. Knowing that they wouldn’t support her for as long as the rule existed, made her settle with that heat for a little longer. Her leg slipped from his and turned back to his songbook. 

“So-”

“Julie?”

The couple looked up, once more paralysed as her dad’s familiar voice called her name. Why was he literally everywhere?! His tall figure stood in front of their booth, his hat shrouding the grimace on his face as his scrutinising eyes flitted between them. Oh, God. Did he know? Did he see? How much did he see? Did he see Luke checking her out? Mortification didn’t even come close to what she felt. 

“Dad!” Her pressed smile hopefully looked relaxed to him. Her dad had moments of obliviousness; she might be able to save this. “What- hi, I didn’t know you had a booking here.”

His suspicion didn’t waver. “Yeah, honey, for the Rodriguez’ - I told you last night. Was just getting, ah, coffee.” He nodded at Luke. “Who’s this?”

My boyfriend. The one I’m falling for. The boy I’ve been hiding for months. “This is Luke, he’s one of my classmates.” The way his arm tensed at the label made her ache, but she had to truck on. “We’re working on a song.”

If he didn’t believe her, she just hurt her boyfriend for no reason. It did the trick though. Her father’s face mellowed, noticing the scribbles in the tattered book. “You’re working on a song?”

“Yeah. It’s really getting along.” Her finger tapped against his thigh. “Right, Luke?”

He perked up, a cough following as he straightened his attitude. This really was not the way she wanted them to meet. “Uh, yeah.” His hand stuck out. “Hi, mister Molina.”

Dad shook it with a smile, fully relaxed now. “Ray. Nice to meet you.” The barista called out his name. “See you at home, Julie. Don’t stay out long, yeah?”

Her smile twitched and crashed the second he turned around, grabbed his coffee and closed the glass door. She groaned, dropping her head on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

“I gotta be honest,” he whispered. “That hurt.”

“I’m sorry.”

Luke sighed. “I was okay being a secret before, but…”

She coaxed his jaw, needing him to look at her. “It’ll hurt more if I tell him and forces me to break up with you.”

For a moment, silence sunk onto the table, wedging itself like thick smoke between her and Luke. He seemed pensive, the green of his eyes peering. Suddenly, they lit up. “But wait, aren’t you getting your results? Early admission?”

She sagged in her seat, pouting. “If UCLA wants me.”

“They will,” he smiled. His arms wrapped around her. “Of course, they will. And if you get in, he can’t be mad that you’re dating me, right?”

Hope tinged her chest. She hasn’t considered that. She’s been so focused on Luke and trying to keep it hidden, that everything college-related went over her head. The letters and essays and interviews happened before she and Luke got serious, so with her being on that pink cloud ever since, school stress has been locked away. Why bother mulling over UCLA when she could be having fun with Luke? 

If she locked in UCLA… then Luke might be right. And if not UCLA, then she’d hear of USC and NYU next year. (If they were even still together by the time those letters got in the mail.) 

“You might’ve found the loophole,” she teased, hoping to lift the tension. And then she uttered out her biggest fear: “But if you haven’t… will you stay?”

His kiss answered her, soft and sweet and with a hint of blueberry muffin. A grin bloomed on her lips, burrowing her face in his shoulder. She felt it. That overflowing, unbridled adoration overwhelming her all at once. Julie loved him. It was April fourteenth and it only took her six months but Julie loved Luke. They stayed in the booth until they had to go home.

Her phone was mocking her. Luke and her were in her car, stagnant, as both stared at the white screen. Every few minutes, she refreshed it, yet no email came. Gah! Couldn’t colleges just send the email when they said they would? What was taking so long? Did that mean she didn’t get in? Was this a bad sign? It helped having Luke there, easing the rising stress that clenched her ribcage, but she wouldn’t be fully okay until that freaking email come through. 

As if sensing her thoughts, he drummed against the dashboard. “It’s gonna be cool. You look great in blue and gold, you gotta get in.”

She giggled, nerves lacing her tone. “Imagine if that’s how you got in. You’d get into USC then.”

“Are you saying I look hot in red?”, he teased. 

“You know you- oh my God!” She lurched for her phone as a new email pinged in, heartbeat stuttering in her ears. Frozen, her thumb hovered over the fated email. This would change everything - for better or for worse. She knew she should focus on the fact that it would determine where she’d go to college, but all she could think about was Luke, Luke, Luke. Was it selfish to care more about junior prom then UCLA? At this very moment, she thought it was completely justified. 

She shook her head. “I can’t. I can’t do it. You open it.”

His brows raised. “You sure?”

“Yeah-” She stuffed the phone in his hand and put her trembling ones on her lap. “-do it for me.”

Luke took a deep breath. Julie shut her eyes. Please. Please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please accept her. Please let her be with Luke.

Ten seconds passed. His voice gave nothing away. “Julie?”

“Just rip the band-aid off,” she choked out.   

A familiar, calloused hand softly grabbed hers. Her eyes cracked open. Luke had the biggest smile on his face and it made her heart pop out of her chest. She bit down on her lip, fighting off a grin. “Don’t play with me.”

“I’m not,” he sang, reaching across the console to show her phone. You got accepted! blinked in bold, black letters. “You’re UCLA bound, baby!”

Euphoria burst out. Julie squealed, throwing her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a searing kiss. She got in! She fucking got into college! A great one at that! Another Molina was going for gold! 

And it might even get her to date Luke without secrecy. God, she hoped this was enough. She wanted to do everything with him. All the time, the entire time. Flynn has called them clingy, but Julie just wanted to get rid of the anxiety of her dad finding out. To finally relax and be fully with him.

Her head tilted, bashful. “Is it crazy to say that I might be in love with you?”

He dropped her phone in the cupholder and peppered another kiss on her mouth. “No. That’s good.” His thumb traced her bottom lip, eyes glittering with adoration. “Cause I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you too.”

She pecked his thumb, giddy. “Fuck it. Let’s tell my dad right now. About UCLA and you.”

He smiled. “You sure?”

“One hundred percent.”

Storming inside the house, the couple made a beeline to her dad’s office, his hand in hers. 

“Dad!”, she called out, door slamming open. Her startled father perked up in his seat, his wide eyes going from Julie to Luke right behind her. “I got into UCLA!”

Ray sprung up, cheering. “Mija-!”

“And I’m dating Luke!”, she yelled after. “And that’s okay, cause I got in, so you don’t have to worry about the rule anymore! So... ” She put her foot down, awkwardness creeping in her tone. “Yeah!”

Flabbergasted, dad faltered and let the cheers die in his throat. Luke came to stand next to her, squeezing her hand. Slowly, he nodded. “Ah… so that time in Eats & Beats-”

“A date,” she admitted. “And I’m sorry I went behind your back, papa, but I… really care about Luke. And we figured that if I got in, you’d stop enforcing the dating rule.”

His grap became even tighter. “I, uh, really care about her too,” Luke mustered. “Sorry that we kept it a secret.”

Ray sighed, propping his head in his hands and scrubbing the confusion away with his palms. The pair shot each other a look. He wasn’t mad, she deduced, so that was a good sign at least. Finally, dad moved again and gave her a tight hug. Her confidence grew, hugging him back and withholding a cry of victory. 

He pulled back, crossing his arms with a hint of amusement. “Well… the rule clearly didn’t work, but you seem happy and you- you did actually get in, right?”

She laughed, nodding, and showed the confirmation email. His smile grew. “Then I guess,” he trailed, “you’re allowed. To date. But no funny business!”

Julie quickly nodded, grabbing back onto Luke’s arm and jostling him in excitement. Luke bounced on his heels, trying to temper it but failing miserably. She thanked her dad, promised him they’d celebrate her acceptance later tonight and rushed back out with Luke. Dad yelled something about establishing new rules, but both gleefully ignored it. Once in her bedroom, he snatched her into a tight embrace, kissing her full on the lips. Julie whooped against his mouth and danced between his arms. This might be the best day of her life! Luke was her real real real boyfriend!

“You heard your dad, Jules,” he teased. “No funny business.”

She pouted, faux-peeved. “You won’t get to climb through my window again.”

“Won’t have to hide in cars anymore.”

“Won’t have to say you’re just my classmate.”

Luke dragged them onto her bed, laying side by side. “I can take you to junior prom.”

She kissed him with a giggle. “You’re taking me to prom?”

“Hell yeah, I am!”, he bellowed, drumming his fingers against her hips. “Let your dad take pictures of us and everything.”

She scrunched her nose. “Let’s maybe not push him just yet.”

“Yeah,” he exhaled, humming in agreement. “You’re probably right.”

Luke did that her to junior prom, to homecoming, to senior prom, called her hot in blue and gold and vetoed no when she begged him for a bright, blue velour couch for their first apartment. When someone asked her father what it was like, seeing his daughter find the one at sixteen, he had to admit with embarrassment red on his cheeks that it all flew under his radar.

That it all started with sneaky bleacher kisses and a hopeful heart. 

@blush-and-books @ourstarscollided @sophiphi @bluefirewrites​ @willexx​ @unsaid-emily​

[teatimecrumpetsandsugar]

freefall (voltron; pidge/lance)

Heyo! This story is based on a request from @jabbloo​ !

Hi!! I'm not sure if this is the right place for it, but I couldn't find your ask box AJDKSKDS ; I'd like to request Pidge/Lance discovering a planet where it's very lush and green and full of plant life, and it turns out you can essentially snowboard on slippery algae hills, so they grab some boards and go at it!! :D thank you for your consideration!! ❤️❤️

I’m gonna write this to the best of my ability for you- thank you so much for making a request! for the record, if you don’t see an ask box anywhere it’s because I’m really new to Tumblr and have no idea how to do any of this- I set up the request post with the instruction of a friend, so I’m hoping I learn over time! Anyway, onto the story :D

Btw, feel free to let me know if I didn’t touch on the prompt the way you wanted and I’m happy to go back and rewrite it or make a part two- I actually had a ton of fun writing this and wouldn’t mind doing more of it!

/                                                                                                            \

“It’s really... green,” Pidge comments, grimacing at the monitor, “Are you sure anything sentient lives there? I’m not seeing any signs of manmade structures here.”

Allura tilts her head slowly, “Maybe we’re missing something? I mean, the beacon definitely came from here, so there has to be some kind of civilization...” She gestures her hand towards the surface uncertainly, “...Somewhere.”

Pidge glances back at the rest of the team, cocking an eyebrow, “Do we go?”

Most of the team seems just as unsure, but, when her gaze locks on Lance’s, she sees a sparkle in his cobalt blue irises. She heaves a sigh, fondly rolling her eyes at his exaggerated pout, “What do you think, Lance?”

A wide, toothy grin takes up residence on his face, and he turns to the rest of the Paladins with an enthusiasm she wishes he’d have for any other important discussions, “It’s so pretty there, you guys!” He pauses, seeming to realize that isn’t a valid argument, and tries again, “If there really is a community there asking to join the coalition and we don’t go, it wouldn’t look good for us. Plus, it’s gorgeous and wouldn’t be a bad place to see up close- please, please, please can we go?”

Pidge turns her gaze back to the monitor, taking in the thick foliage and sprawling canopies of leaves they can see just from a satellite image of the small planet- it is objectively pretty, and she can’t fight the smile that tugs at her lips as she imagines the delight on Lance’s face. One was arguably more beautiful than the other, but that was more a matter of opinion than anything else, really.

She turns to Allura, hesitant, but the older woman already has a pleased smile on her face, “Lance is right- we should go, just to make sure it’s really empty.”

/ /                                                                                                        \ \

It really is just as beautiful as it was on the monitor.

When the airlock opens, a burst of warm, sweet-smelling air hits her face, trees almost as big as the castle itself surrounding them. The warm orange light of the planet’s solar entity breaks through the thick canopy of leaves sparingly, forming cracks of blazing light on the forest floor, yet, somehow, there are flowers and grasses of all kind flourishing everywhere underfoot.

She can’t help but marvel as she realizes that all of these trees must be thousands- or perhaps even millions- of years old, small creatures nesting all along them and forming a glorious symphony of chirps, purrs, and soft buzzes of all kind around them.

She turns to look at Lance, marveling at the way the rich, blazing orange light hits his face, defining his each and every feature in a way that takes her breath away- the blue of his eyes is even more captivating than normal, twinkling with complete, blinding euphoria.

He smiles brightly, barking out a short, giddy laugh before snatching Pidge’s hand from her side and taking off running towards the trees. His excitement is contagious, even as she stumbles over her own feet trying to keep up with his long strides, and she finds herself laughing loudly as she follows after him.

It takes a while to weave completely through the trees, but, when they do, he stops suddenly, peering out over a vast cliff. She runs straight into his back from her own momentum, clinging to him in surprise when she realizes the ground is a lot more slippery here than it was in the woods. Curiously, she peaks around his tall, lean frame, a soft gasp pulling itself from her throat as she sees what’s on the other side.

The hill they stand on is steep, overlooking a vast basin and another sprawling forest, the orange sun shining high in the sky over the horizon and reflecting perfectly off of the shallow water in the center of the serene area. The shore is lush and green, dotted with colorful pinpricks Pidge can tell are flowers even from miles away, and the world seems to be at her fingertips, completely still and perfect in that moment.

She’s caught off-guard when the ground under their shoes begins to give under their combined weight, suddenly beginning to slide- Lance suddenly topples over, dragging her down with him with his grip on her hand, and the two of them soon find themselves sliding down the hill at a high speed. She cries out in surprise, followed by his hectic, raucous cackling as they plummet towards the ground at breakneck speeds, only to follow the hill’s gentle slope and slide to a stop on the basin’s shore.

For a moment, they’re both completely silent in surprise, laying on their backs with their gazes locked on the rich, pink-hued sky and rich violet water lapping gently at their ankles, breathing heavily from the sudden motion.

And then Pidge starts laughing. At first, they’re subdued little giggles, fits and spurts of amusement tickling at her throat, before she realizes how absurd it’d been and truly begins laughing, eyes crinkling at the corners and chest heaving, breath stuttering with each unceremonious snort that creeps in. Lance turns his face to the side to watch her in awe, a crooked grin slowly rising to meet his eyes and his own bright, delighted laugh breaking from his chest in a moment that’s truly absurdly them.

“It’s algae!” Pidge cries breathlessly, nose flushing pink from her stuttered breaths and warm brown eyes falling shut, “I was wondering why the grass got so slippery, but it was never grass at all! This body of water was probably formed by water running under the surface- it’s probably also why the grass and plants are surviving without enough sunlight!” She grins in realization, excited by the discovery, “This planet is at least 65% land-dwelling algae but it all looks so natural I didn’t even notice at first!”

She opens her eyes again, slowly turning to look at Lance, expecting to find him confused or asleep, but, to her surprise, he’s watching her with rapt attention. Her nose wrinkles in confusion, confused discomfort pressing against her chest, before he gives her a ridiculous smirk and says, “I love when you talk biology to me.”

She stifles a loud, surprised snort, laughing brightly until she registers the edge of honest reverence lurking just beneath it and her breath catches, “I like that you listen, even when you don’t get it.”

He pauses, unsure how to continue now that he’s gotten this far, before perking up suddenly, “You wanna go snowboarding on it, Pidge?” She squawks out a laugh, sitting up, “Would it even be snowboarding if it’s algae? Isn’t that just... algae-boarding?”

He pouts playfully, and she rolls her eyes fondly, “I’m just messing with you, Lance. We gotta find boards first, though...”

The pout is gone faster than it appeared, an excited smile taking its place as he shoots to his feet, pulling her up with him, “Come on! Come on, come on, come on- we gotta find something to use as a board, Pidge!”

She laughs again, letting him pull her along back towards the castle, knowing it’d only get more and more hectic as the day went on and looking forward to every second of it as long as he was by her side.

[love-killed-the-superstar]

yo im back at it again, this time for cassunzel week!! these ficlets will all take place in the same fic-verse as my cass week fics, which you can read here!

CASSUNZEL WEEK DAY 1 - HOMECOMING

On the day of her 22nd birthday, Rapunzel is radiant.

She must have known the surprise party was coming – how could she not, what with the whole of Corona buzzing with anticipation? – but still, she shrieks with delight all the same as the room erupts with cheer. She’s changed a little since the last time Cass saw her; her eyes sparkle a little brighter, her shoulders are less tense. Her happily ever after was only just beginning with Cassandra’s departure, but now – now she’s truly at peace.

Despite her initial decision to join Eugene and Lance at the front of the room in order to greet Rapunzel, Cass finds herself looking for a place to hide. Part of her doesn’t want Rapunzel to notice her right here and now, with the whole of the kingdom watching. She’s excited to greet her, of course, and give her a hug (maybe more, if her nerves cooperate), but… she just doesn’t know how to act with everybody else there. The new nature of their relationship isn’t exactly public knowledge, after all, and the last thing she wants is to cause some sort of uproar on Rapunzel’s birthday of all days.

So she hangs back, for once grateful at how tall and broad Lance is in comparison to her. Rapunzel begins to gush about the decorations, running over to hug her parents tightly, before making her way over to Eugene to give him the hug and kiss he’s earned for being such an efficient party planner.

“Well, I can’t take all the credit, sunshine,” he rambles, looking all too pleased with himself. “Everyone helped make this place a success. Oh, but I can take credit for keeping a certain someone – pardon the pun – under wraps…”

Cass considers leaving him hanging, but the second-hand embarrassment would be too much, even with Eugene getting the brunt of it. So she awkwardly side-steps out from behind Lance and gives a sheepish wave. Rapunzel’s face, set in confusion at Eugene’s awkward trail-off, morphs into one of pure amazement as her eyes meet Cassandra’s.

“CASS!!” She launches herself at Cassandra at full speed, leaving her winded from the impact.

“Oof. Hey, Raps. Ha, long time no see.”

Rapunzel’s arms wind round her tightly, scooping her further into the hug, and Cass returns it a little stiffly, glancing around as the rest of the party watch on in amusement. Lance is grinning like a fool, issuing a double thumbs-up, while Eugene simply offers a lopsided grin and a nod that she’s guessing he’s trying to equate to a sense of approval. The queen’s lips quirk up into a mile, but otherwise gives nothing away, while the king clears his throat and stares at the floor.

“Eugene said you couldn’t make it!” Rapunzel cries. “He said you were probably scaling a mountain or sailing between kingdoms or dodging a bounty hunter!”

“Oh, did he now? Dodging a bounty hunter, Fitzherbert, really? Unlike you, I don’t make enemies everywhere I go.”

“With your delightful personality, that genuinely surprises me,” he retorts, grinning all the same.

Ignoring him, she turns her attention back to Raps and pulls away to face her. “Well, regardless, I’m here now . Happy birthday, Rapunzel.”

Rapunzel reaches for her hands, entwining them, and for a moment Cass feels a horrific sense of deja vu – standing in the moonstone’s chamber, Rapunzel’s hair a swaying golden beacon, their fingers laced and faces close, such a tender moment and all the while, intense betrayal and anguish and hatred is tearing through her, clawing to get out–

But this isn’t then, this is now. And she is beautiful.

Rapunzel beams at Cass, but there’s a flicker of recognition in her eyes that roots them to the spot, just for a moment. She feels it too, Cass realises with a sinking feeling.

But in an act so defiant, as though to challenge the power of that awful memory, Rapunzel draws Cassandra’s gloved hands up to her lips and kisses them, just for a moment. Cass is pretty sure she can hear the king’s jaw drop in disbelief, but she’s far too shocked herself to glance over at him to confirm that. Rapunzel, oblivious to the surprise of those around her, quickly drops their hands and slings an arm around Cass’s shoulder, grinning from ear to ear as she turns to address the crowd.

“Thank you all so much for coming, and for celebrating my birthday on this fine day! Now,” she says brightly, “shall we let the celebration begin?”

From over the resounding cheer of the crowd, Cass hears Eugene burst out laughing behind them.

…

As far as Coronan celebrations go (of which there are far too many to commit to memory, in Cassandra’s opinion), this is one of the more enjoyable ones. The king and queen’s birthday festivities are usually more of a formal affair - there’s typically a banquet held within the castle and a more general celebration held in the courtyard for the public. Rapunzel, ever the fan of blurring the lines, has managed to merge the two somehow. The end result is an enormous buffet-style spread, two dance floors accompanied with separate musicians (one in the throne room they were decorating earlier with a formal string quartet, and one outside in the courtyard with a rowdier folk band that often performs at The Snuggly Duckling), and a whole lot of chaos.

Well, at least there are no gophers to chase after.

Cass, for the most part, has been hanging around the edges of the throne room to keep a low profile. People have been side-eyeing her all afternoon, though whether it's from the affectionate interaction with Rapunzel earlier or the whole former-enemy-of-the-kingdom thing remains to be seen. Either way, it’s better to avoid engaging with people when possible. Out in the courtyard, Rapunzel and Lance are caught up in some complicated jig of sorts, light on their feet and faces flushed with exertion as they dominate the dance floor. This gives Eugene the perfect opportunity to side up to her, a spare tumbler of punch in his hand. Pascal rests on his shoulder, watching Rapunzel’s dance in a similar trance.

“Thirsty?” he prompts, holding it out to her. She takes the drink from him and utters, “Parched, just from watching them.”

He laughs, and leans against the wall. “So, are you glad to be back?”

“Sure. I mean, I’ve missed it all, more than I thought I would. But…”

“But let me guess, you mostly came back for Rapunzel?” he finishes. “And now you’re pissed because you’ve barely spent a minute with her since the PDA fiasco that sent you scuttling right into the corner?”

The accuracy stings, it truly does. She goes to protest, but both Eugene and Pascal fix her with knowing looks. Cass hangs her head with a deep sigh.

“That obvious, huh?”

“Well yeah, everyone knows that Rapunzel is your favourite person in the world,” he says with a shrug. “And I know public affection isn’t your thing, at all. Here, hold this for me.”

He holds out his own cup for her and she takes it, eyeing him dubiously as he reaches for a small silver flask in his jacket pocket. He sprinkles a few drops into his drink.

“It all just took me by surprise, that’s all.” Cass sips at her drink gloomily and hands his cup back to him. “I didn’t hate it.”

“Still, here you are. Miserable in the face of festivities as always,” Eugene sighs, nudging her with his elbow in amusement. He takes a sip of his seasoned drink, smacking his lips in satisfaction. Still perched on his shoulder, Pascal shakes his head in exasperation. “Whoo, that’s better. You know what that punch bowl needs? Some rum in it. You want some?”

“I’ll pass, thanks.”

She rolls her eyes at him, but tones down the aggression. After all, he’s right; why did she even bother to come back for Rapunzel’s birthday, if she’s just going to bring the mood down?

“I’ll… try harder not to be such a downer,” she offers.

“How noble of you. You know, you should just tell Rapunzel you want some time alone with her, she won’t exactly turn that offer down,” he points out.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not going to pull her away from the party, she’s having fun .”

“She has fun with you .” As the song comes to an end, leaving Rapunzel being dramatically dipped by Lance, she catches Eugene’s eye from across the floor and waves. He waves back, before beckoning her over.

“Don’t,” Cass warns. Predictably, he ignores her.

“Hey! What’s up, guys?” Rapunzel asks breathlessly as she bounds over. “Did you see our dance? Lance is a natural, who knew?”

“It was something, all right,” Cass begins, draining the last of her drink and setting it aside.

“Yeah, it was great! But listen, sunshine. Your girlfriend here,” Eugene says matter-of-factly, jerking his thumb towards her, “who has travelled many miles to be here today, is lonely. Now, you’ve danced with me and Lance and your parents and it’s been great, but our girl Cass here is more of the wallflower type, so why don’t you two find somewhere private and catch up, huh?”

“Eugene!” snaps Cass, mortified.

“Sorry, Cass!” Rapunzel apologises immediately, reaching for her hand. “I didn’t realise, I got so swept up in all the dancing and cheer-”

“Rapunzel, it’s fine,” Cass interrupts. “More than fine. It’s your birthday, you should spend it however you want!”

“Sure, but… if we’re being honest with each other, Cass, I would like some time with you,” Rapunzel admits, squeezing Cassandra’s hand. Cass squeezes back, before quickly dropping it. “I mean, since we can’t be all… you know, ourselves in public at this point.”

Guilt stakes Cass through the heart at that. She shouldn’t have let go so fast.

“Yeah. I’m sorry, Raps, it’s just still a bit-”

“Hey, no, only happy stuff today, please!” Eugene intervenes. He claps a hand on both their backs and begins steering them towards the back exit of the throne room. “Now, I think you two should duck out now, find a quiet place away from the chaos down here. Go talk. Give presents. Make out if you want, I don’t care. The frog and I can hold down the fort. Oh, but we’re setting off the lanterns in an hour, so don’t stay too long, okay? All right, have fun!”

And with that, the door swings shut behind them, leaving the two of them alone.

…

Eugene did them a favour, really. Cass will have to thank him later.

Walking through the empty castle walls in silence, they eventually find themselves climbing the small tower overlooking the training grounds; a spot they’ve spent countless afternoons in before, idly watching the soldiers train. Cass would silently watch on while pouring tea or adjusting a tray of watercolour paints, envying each and every one of them, all while pretending not to feel Rapunzel’s wistful eyes burning holes into her from behind. This time, after opening the trap door and helping her up, she holds Rapunzel’s gaze with equal yearning. God, it’s been far too long since she’s had Rapunzel all to herself.

The first thing they do, after the trap door slams shut, is kiss. It’s quick, and Cass still finds herself glancing around furtively in case of any curious onlookers, but they’re blissfully alone besides from one soldier posted at the edge of the grounds.

“He’s too far away to see anything,” Rapunzel remarks, already able to read Cassandra’s thoughts perfectly. “Now, can I kiss you again?”

The impatience in her voice sends a giggle rippling through Cass, and she nods, reaching for Rapunzel's waist and pulling her in for a second kiss; one that she can almost feel her smiling through. Fuck, she's missed this.

“So,” she says, leaning back against the wall as Rapunzel stands giggling before her, “good birthday, Raps?”

“Best birthday!” she declares sunnily.

“Oh, really? Best birthday? Better than escaping the tower and reuniting with your long-lost family?”

Rapunzel stops, and hums in thought. “Okay, fine, you’re right. Second best birthday.”

“That’s more like it.” Cass turns to stare out at the twilight sky ahead. “It’s a beautiful day for a birthday, Rapunzel, I have to say.”

“Isn’t it just?” Rapunzel sighs, scooting up beside her. “Every year I used to look out the window of the tower and stare at a sky like this. Even though I knew the lanterns set off at nightfall, I would just sit and watch the sky grow pinker and darker in anticipation for it. Even now, I have this… this jittery feeling in my chest.”

“Brings back some mixed emotions, huh?”

Rapunzel nods, her smile falling slightly. “It feels like a whole lifetime ago. I suppose it is now. Hey, what were my birthdays like for you, before I was here?”

Cass shrugs. “Castle life largely went on as normal, I guess. Your parents were sad, of course, so there was this air of mourning in the palace, even though the townspeople treated it more as a celebration of your life and the hope of your return. We would leave little messages inside each lantern, it was kind of a custom everyone followed.”

“Did you write me lanterns?” Rapunzel asks, turning to her with raised eyebrows.

“Everybody did, it’s not a big deal,” Cass starts, feeling the beginnings of a blush creeping in as she remembers the kind of things she used to write. “You remember all the lanterns we found on Terapi Island.”

“Yeah, but I never thought to look for yours! Do you remember the kind of things you wrote?” she probes, grinning from ear to ear. “Come on, Cass, tell me! It’s my birthday, you have to!”

Rapunzel bears those big eyes, ones Cass used to be able to say no to, and she curses that Rapunzel’s love has made her so soft inside.

“Fine. Ugh. Um, let’s see, I used to… okay, now don’t laugh.”

“I won’t!” Rapunzel promises, hand on heart, although her eyes are already beginning to crinkle in anticipation.

“You’d better not! Um. Okay, so when I was younger I had this… this dumb idea that maybe when I was older and stronger I could like – rescue you. Me and Max or Fidella would go on a lone journey, searching the lands far and wide for the lost princess, and we’d bring you home and I would, you know… be promoted to the guard.”

She cringes at the very fantasy her young mind used to entertain as Rapunzel squeals beside her.

“Oh, Cass! That’s just-”

“You said you wouldn’t laugh,” Cass reminds her with a grumble, burying her head in her hands.

“I’m not laughing , it’s just so sweet! You really wanted to bring me home?”

“Yeah. For a time. As I grew older and I was stuck doing maid duties, I kind of gave up on that particular dream, but then one day… there you were. And our lives got all mixed up after the fact.”

Rapunzel reaches over to rest her hand atop Cassandra’s, squeezing lightly.

“I’m glad they did. I don’t know what my life would be like without you, Cass, but I don’t regret it.”

“It wouldn’t be so bad,” Cass says wryly. “You’d still have Eugene.”

“I couldn’t picture my life without either of you,” Rapunzel insists. “Don’t act like you aren’t both equally important to me.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Cass reaches with her free hand to fish around in her pocket. “Hey, Rapunzel. Close your eyes.”

“Oh, okay.” She twists her face towards Cass and shuts her eyes, before pursing her lips expectantly. Cass rolls her eyes fondly.

“Okay, hotshot, not what I was going for. Hold out your hand.”

“Can I still get a kiss though?”

“Later. Hand, now.”

Cass takes out the bracelets she fashioned this morning from the blue stones of the lagoon and carefully fastens one around Rapunzel’s outstretched wrist. They’re nothing too special to look at, honestly; a little clumsier than the ones that Rapunzel originally made, for sure. The gesture will surely make up for it, though.

Rapunzel’s eyes open, and she gasps.

“You remade our lagoon bracelets?!” Rapunzel’s eyes are alight with amazement. “But you hate making jewellery!”

Cass shrugs. She isn’t about to go into detail about what a pain in the ass it was to thread the bracelets, and the number of times she stabbed her fingers in the process. She’d thanked the stars for her gloves being so sturdy. “Ehh. I hate making jewellery most of the time. I can make an exception when it comes to you.”

“Cass, they’re beautiful! I don’t know what to say!” Rapunzel hugs her tightly, pressing several kisses to her cheek when she pulls back again. “But I thought you said they should be returned to sacred ground?”

“Well, yeah, I did, but I’ve, um… I’ve actually been studying a little Saporian on the road,” Cass admits sheepishly. “A bit of language, a bit of the history. Just to pass the time on rainy days when it’s hard to travel, you know? Anyway, I found a history book that spoke of Herz Der Sonne and General Champanier. Did you know, they each wore matching pendants until the day they died? Matching blue pendants, the historians say.”

“The lagoon stones,” breathes Rapunzel. Cass nods.

“They were most likely buried in them, so I reckon we may never know for sure, but…” Cass bows her head to avoid Rapunzel’s eyes as she adds, “Since the lagoon was where they fell in love, it’s understandable that the blue stones were significant to them.”

“Just like they’re significant to us.” Rapunzel’s voice is soft, barely above a whisper, and full of awe. Cass swallows and nods.

“I… I thought, if the people who discovered this lagoon allowed themselves to take mementos without the world ending…”

Rapunzel’s hands find hers in the fast-fading light, winding tightly together.

“I will treasure this, Cassandra, for the rest of my days. Hey, maybe we can get buried wearing these too?” Her voice is light, teasing, but beneath that airy joke is something a little more… personal. Permanent. It makes Cass’s heart soar.

Rapunzel leans in and kisses her softly. “I love them. I love you .”

Cass melts a little, at that. “Oh. Oh, I… Yeah. Me too.”

“Here, give me the bracelet.” Rapunzel takes the other bracelet from Cassandra’s outstretched hand and ties it around her wrist. “Now, maybe it’s not the most practical thing to wear it over the glove, but it’ll be fine for tonight. Here, now we match!”

They hold their arms up against the glare of the rapidly setting sun, watching the light gleam through the stones. They glitter like they do beneath the waves of the lagoon, if only temporarily.

“You know… You feel different now, Cass.”

Cass cocks her head to the side, trying to work out what exactly Rapunzel means by that statement as she watches dreamily as the sun disappears below the highest turrets of the castle, distorting the colour of the grounds below. Has she picked up some kind of accent on the road that makes her sound off to native Coronans? Have the facial scars distorted her appearance too much? Is she acting haughty, aloof, more so than before thanks to her time on the road?

“I’m different?” Cass prompts.

“Not in a bad way,” Raps laughs, eyes crinkling with her smile. Her gaze roams over Cass, fully taking her in, before she adds on decidedly, “It’s just the way you are now. I don’t think I could describe it fully, but the life in you, it’s so different to how you were when… when you were at your lowest. It makes me proud of the person you’ve become.”

Cass is stunned. It’s not that she didn’t expect Rapunzel to comment on this; no, she knew she would be praised in some form, because Rapunzel simply can’t help trying to uplift people whenever she can. But she hadn’t prepared for Rapunzel to cut to the heart of the matter so quickly. It’s foolish, she knows, to think that Raps wouldn’t be able to see the effort Cass has taken to become this new version of herself. It’s an image she can’t always keep up, but it’s something she has worked hard towards before feeling ready to show her face around here again.

Rapunzel being proud of her is, shockingly, the remedy that she’s craved since the moment she stepped through the gates.

“You think I’m different now?” Cass bleats uselessly, unable to stop that goofy smile from creeping in. Rapunzel grins and leans over, pecking her forehead quickly before retreating.

“I think you’re getting closer to your authentic self. And it makes me really love you.”

Cass laughs nervously, swivelling away to watch over the field down below so that hopefully Rapunzel can’t see just how flushed she’s become.

As they lapse into a comfortable silence, the rumble of footsteps begin to flood the corridors leading out onto the training pitch. Cass strains her eyes and realises, as light fills each corner of the grounds, that all of the partygoers are congregating onto the pitch below, each holding a lit paper lantern.

“So this is where they’re setting them off,” Rapunzel remarks. “We’ve been caught out. Just our luck.”

“Well, Fitzherbert could have been more specific,” grumbles Cass, without any real venom in her tone. After all, she still owes him one for pushing the two of them into some alone time in the first place. “I guess we should head down and join them.”

“I suppose,” Rapunzel says, almost sounding disappointed at having to cut their time short. “Hey, did you make a lantern this time?”

“Of course. It’s nothing fancy, though. You know that artsy stuff isn’t really my strong suit.”

“I don’t know, Cass. You did make us these bracelets, after all…”

Rapunzel, glancing between the slowly gathering crowd and Cassandra’s face, makes a split-second decision and kisses her cheek once more, before crouching down to pull the door hatch open. Damn, what Cass wouldn’t give for this to be a boat they could undock from the walls of Corona and sail off into the night, away from all these prying eyes. Anything to squeeze a few extra minutes out of this situation.

Fiddling with her hands, she pipes up, “...I could say the same about you, you know.”

Rapunzel pulls the hatch open and cranes her neck to look back at her, brow furrowed in confusion.

“What’s that?”

“About being different now? You’re growing into yourself too,” Cass continues, moving to sit down on the floor, away from the curious view of the gathering crowd below. “I remember how terrified you were at the prospect of running a kingdom, but just look at all this! Seems to me that you’ve really come into your own since I’ve been gone.”

Rapunzel sits back beside her, face glowing at Cassandra’s compliment.

“Well, I love this place! And now that the magic, sundrop, saving the world destiny is behind us, I have more time to focus on this destiny instead. Turns out, it suits me more than I ever believed it would.”

“I haven’t seen Corona this happy and at peace in a long time. Whatever Rapunzel Positivity you’ve been spreading to the people, it’s working.”

“Hopefully it’ll stay this way for a little while longer.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and peeks over at her, meadow-green eyes bearing into hers. “I’m so glad you came back, Cass.”

“I’m glad too. You really believed I wouldn’t fight tooth and nail to come back for your birthday?”

“I didn’t know how far away you might be!” Rapunzel points out. “If you were all the way across the continent I wouldn’t expect you to make it back in time, and you haven’t written to me in weeks!”

“Because I was travelling!”

“Well, I’d still like to know next time!” Rapunzel takes a playful swing at her arm and Cass dodges, unable to hold back her laughter any longer. It doesn’t take long for Rapunzel to follow suit, their heads resting together as they giggle in the semi-darkness. When at last they’ve run out of steam, Rapunzel peeks over the rim of the tower.

“I see Eugene. Looks like he’s holding an extra lantern.”

“Probably mine,” Cass offers. “Since everybody else is accounted for but us.”

“Guess that’s our cue to head down there, then.” Rapunzel begins to climb down the ladder, before stopping, just as her head pokes out the top of the door. “So, did you write a poem in yours, or…”

“I’m not telling you!” Cass insists, poking her nose with a grin. “If you’re lucky I’ll let you squint at it through the paper before we set them off.”

“Well, is it romantic?” Rapunzel probes. Cass smiles inwardly as she recalls the words she wrote for Rapunzel, short and sweet, knowing that they’ll wind up on Terapi Island with no one to read them but the lorbs.

I love you, Raps. And for as long as the sun shines, I will never stop.

“...Maybe.” Lowering her voice to a whisper, Cass adds conspiratorially, “But you can’t tell anybody.”

Rapunzel mimes sealing her lips. “It goes to the grave,” she says seriously. “Now. One more kiss before we go?”

Rolling her eyes, Cass leans down to bridge the gap.

[crystalelemental]

Oh man.  GamePress apparently updated the offensive tier list to be AR exclusive, and boy have there been some changes.  You know I have opinions on this one.

Okay let’s start with the obvious part: how in the hell is any Legendary hero considered above Tier 2?  Like, are we not factoring in score?  Or are we only accounting for if they score well?  Because realistically, half the time, a legendary hero is an active detriment to the scoring.  Also it turns out this isn’t just offense, but both offense AND defense, since Mirabilis is Tier 1.  So that’s gonna be...honestly, a bit confusing.  I’m sure some people can tell which is which, but I’m willing to bet others aren’t clear.

Let’s start with the biggest changes at the top.  Eliwood and Brave Roy are now Tier 1, likely because Galeforce.  Nothing else is different that I can tell.  Maybe some demotion?  But nothing substantial.  Lysithea is finally recognized as Tier 1, and I’m certain it’s because of her power on AR-D.  Girl is obscene.  Otherwise, Fallen Julia is the only other T1 Red Mage, and damn good on her.  Idunn demoted, but honestly, fair.  AR is not for her.  Armor units are not hard to handle, and are pretty bad on offense.  Especially with Thrasir existing, armor dragons just have a rough go.  Spring Idunn and Tibarn alone are T1.  What I do find interesting is that Dancer Micaiah didn’t maintain.  I guess the Hardy Bearing effect isn’t as impressive anymore.  Also Karla stayed T2, that’s...astonishing, actually.  Duo Byleth is also T2, which kinda makes sense.  Defense can’t make use of her Duo skill, and her bulk is pathetic, so any typical ranged defense unit can handle her.  On offense, it’s going to be tough.  Desperation effect is good, but conditional on having a fast team, not to mention Galeforce sets can require the foe to retaliate, like with Eliwood/Brave Roy.  So I can’t say I’m surprised she’s not on top.

Lance seems to just be B!Lucina, Duo Ephraim, and Trio Palla.  Which is fair.  Blue mages, though?  Damn is this crowded.  L!Azura and Peony, because obscene dancers.  Ophelia, because bitch.  Duo Alphonse, because immortality.  Brunnya, because honestly Fimbulvetr is perfect for this game mode, and she’s got the infantry status and abilities to do whatever she wants.  And L!Julia.  I’m willing to bet she’s more AR-D focused.  Rafiel and L!Chrom are also T1, of course.  I think what really surprises me is that Reinhardt is T2.  Is anyone else surprised about this?  I guess he’s not the most threatening thing in the world anymore, but still.  Actually wait, what’s REALLY neat is that Naga is T3.  So clearly scoring considerations are not paramount.

Axes have V!Duo Alm, Annette, L!Edelgard, and B!Ike.  Because of course.  All of them are ridiculous.  Mages have L!Celica, Thrasir, and Fallen Lyon, with beasts/dragons having Reyson.  Which, again, makes sense.  I’m glad Surtr demoted to T2.  I really don’t think of him as the most threatening aspect of AR anymore, even on dedicated stall, so this feels overdue.  Yune’s also T2, which..okay, fair.  While I think she’s great, she’s a ranged flying unit who plays defense, and her debuff game is crippled severely by Eir’s bonuses.  It’s super weird that F!Kana demoted, though.  She was T1 before, and that was entirely based on AR potential, so...okay.  Guess the meta has shifted hard enough against her.  Also, big shoutouts to Julia for maintaining T2 status.  That’s my girl.

Bows have L!Alm, L!Leif, V!Faye, and Duo Marth.  I can’t speak for Duo Marth, I don’t have him, but I feel like the fact I’ve never faced one means he’s at least not good on AR-D.  I can vouch for V!Faye, though, holy shit.  In fact can we establish Tier 0 for the primordial beings that break the world over their knees?  Anyway, Bernadetta and B!Lyn are T2, and I’m betting that’s for hit-and-run offense teams.  Also Norne’s T2 now, which is super correct.  I’ve felt this for a while, and the forum backs me up pretty hard on it: Norne’s the best common archer by a mile.  But of course, you all know what I’m going to say.  There is no way Faye is T3.  I have played her ranged defense game long enough to know that she is really strong at it.  While some threats like Lysithea can blow past her, and Thrasir isn’t always one-shot with my current supports, she is very capable of performing better than T3.  Also, poor Clarisse.  Finally gets a kickass refine that’s just not particularly great for AR, and instead of climbing the ranks of the offensive tier list, they change the conditions on her.  Girl can’t catch a break.

Dagger/Mage combos have, of course, Bramimond, Leila, Eir, and Duo Micaiah.  Absolutely no surprises here.  What is surprising, maybe just to me, is that Winter Cecilia is down to T3.  She was considered T2 for a long while, and I’d guessed that was based on AR potential.  I guess Duo Micaiah is causing substantial problems for armors across the board?  But man, Larum is T2.  LARUM.  Larum sucks, what could she possibly be doing that’s useful?

Dragons/Beasts have Fallen Female Corrin, Leanne, Mila, and Velouria.  I love everything about this.  Leanne makes sense for Defense teams, Velouria is a great Galeforcer, Mila is probably the best Light mythic for supertank strategies, and Fallen Female Corrin makes me happy because Fallen Male Corrin is only T2.  Get fucked, loser.  Your higher BST does nothing for your shit ass.  I do think there’s an argument for Caineghis in T1 for an offensive supertank, but honestly, he struggles.  To a degree I’d say he’s worse than Faye.  We don’t have any beast Mythics, and the only offensive dragon is Mila.  His DC is conditional on transforming, and he’s an armor unit.  He can’t run Null C-Disrupt, or Null Follow-Up like she can, so there are defense teams that can beat him by exploiting this.  I feel like Faye’s a lot better, but hey, what do I know.

And finally, staves.  Bridal Fjorm is the only one in T1.  Brave Veronica actually dropped, which is funny because she was T1 before solely on AR.  She doesn’t place in Arena.  I guess the meta has shifted away from Brave Veronica lately.  I haven’t been scared of one in a long time.  And hey, Maribelle is T2 as well, and Forrest got pushed up to T3!  Unfortunately, Brave Camilla was reduced to T3, so she’s still below B!Veronica.  Which in this game mode I guess is fair.

Now for the opposite end of the spectrum.  There are now 6 tiers, which I like.  I feel the subdivisions are appropriate, we have enough units that categorization was tough.  T4 for lances and swords was like 60 units before, I’m glad it got cleaned up a bit.  For red stuff, Alfonse remains at the bottom, but is no longer alone.  NY!Camilla, Chrom, V!Conrad, Beach Fiora, Hinata, and NY!Hrid are also down there.  Haha, Hrid, get fucked you loser.  That’s for January 2019, you fuck.  Mages here include Canas, Julius (ouch), Leo, Beach Leo, Raigh, and Beach Lorenz.  No surprises.  There are no dragons, daggers, or bows for red down here, the lowest they go is T4.  Hysterically, every form of red Tiki is in T4.  Also, maybe this is me not understanding something, but NY!Anna and NY!Eir in T4 surprises me.  I thought their weapons were considered great team support.  Are their stats just not optimized for it? 

T6 lances are many.  Too many, I’m not listing all of that.  What I will say is, tell my Forma Finn running on the double cav Galeforce defense team that he’s T6.  Considering I only lost two matches at all last season, and only 38 Lift, I’d say he’s doing alright.  But there are probably better options out there, I’m just working with what I have.  Mages are just Oliver and M!Robin.  Man, I hope M!Robin goes up with the resplendent.  Leave Oliver to die.  No dragons, bows, or daggers, they’re all up in T4 where...where...no.  No, there’s no way.  Lilith has warp abilities from anywhere.  NAESALA is considered T4, despite being paired with Tibarn for some of the nastiest offensive AR-D strategies out there.  Mordecai has the Smite thing.  I don’t agree with this at all.  And Ninian is T3?  Even though she’s one of the top picks for Infantry Pulse AR-D dancers?  I know Nils exists and is better in every way pretty much, but that’s a bit much to me.  I think the blue dragon/beast section is the most ridiculous by far.

There are also a lot of axes down in T6, but I agree with all of them.  The green mages make me sad, though.  Picnic Leo, Cecilia, and Female Robin.  I do think F!Robin has a lot of utility within the game, but...honestly they’re super right, she cannot possibly compete in AR.  Defense teams have no use for her, and offensive teams using her as a support are a bad idea with Panic Manor around.  Mostly Cecilia makes my heart hurt.  Come on, IS.  Null C-Disrupt Raven Tome when?  As with the other tiers, all dragons, bows, and daggers of this color are higher ranked.  That said, L!Lyn in T5.  Get fucked.  There’s also...absolutely nothing controversial about their T4 picks.  Green’s pretty well sorted, good job team.

The only colorless option with units in T6 are healers, where we have Azama, Mist, Wrys, Sakura, and Lissa.  Nothing controversial here.  In fact, nothing controversial in T5, either.  What is sad but super true, is that F!Grima’s here.  All the other colorless beasts and dragons are clustered in T1 and T2, but she’s down in T5.  Expiration refine when?  Felicia and Jaffar are the lowest ranked daggers, to no one’s surprise.  None of the bows are shocking either, except I’m kinda surprised Niles isn’t at least a little higher.  I feel like his massive Res must account for something when attempting to tank out the many ranged magic threats on AR-D, right?

Overall, I...actually agree with the majority of this.  It’s a solid tierlist for Aether Raids.  There are some things I don’t entirely agree with, but would have trouble arguing in their favor in the current meta.  Like Micaiah.  As we move entirely away from armor units, Micaiah becomes less and less significant.  I do think the blue dragon/beast section could take some revisiting, given that goddamn Naesala is down in T4, but one area that seems off isn’t bad when you have so much to organize.  I like it.  Definitely a lot better than the previous list, because at least now we’re specialized.  Before, there was always an argument that a certain unit was better or worse based on performance in a specific area.  But here, it’s more stable.  I’m not sure if there’s intent to make an Arena one, or if that’s even necessary since scoring is a lot more specific for Arena, but we’ll see.

[tonyspep]

and possibly i like the thrill (of under me you quite so new)

a/n: friends to lovers is my favorite thing in the whole world, give me a girl seeing a boy in a new way or vice versa and i will die every time like i've never seen it lol. this was inspired by the poem i like my body when it's with your body by ee cummings. i imagined richard's friend who is a writer to be naomi scott who was in the remake of aladdin and will be in the new charlie's angels. also richard's sisters are mentioned throughout the fic, i don't know their names so i made them up; they are beth and evie.

~*~and possibly i like the thrill~*~

(of under me you quite so new)

pairing: richard madden/you

summary: it is so quite new a thing/or they've been friends for as long as they can remember, now – over the course of three days – they take the leap and become something more

rating: m

well, it seems to me that the best relationships – the ones that last – are frequently the ones rooted in friendship. you know, one day you look at the person and you see something more than you did the night before. like a switch has been flicked somewhere. and the person who was just a friend is... suddenly the only person you can ever imagine yourself with.

gillian anderson -

part one of three

[day one]

You couldn't understand why you were nervous, so nervous that you had gone through two bags of crisps and were currently working through a third as you waited for Richard to pick you up at the airport. There was absolutely no reason for you to be nervous, it's not as if you were some starstruck fangirl who waxed rhapsodic about his bluer than blue eyes or the cut of his jawline. You were his – literally – oldest friend. The two of you having been joined at the hip – basically – since you were born, just a few hours apart in the very same hospital in Renfrewshire and then just two houses down from each other until you both moved away – him to London to pursue acting – and you to Paris for writing.

Now he was Mr. Mega Famous Superstar, everyone in your little town crowing on and on about Robb Stark had a pint at the pub and sat in this very chair.

And you had done well for yourself, also. Starting out low on the totem pole at French Vogue to writing a weekly thing and celebrity profiles before deciding to go free lance and compose a book of observational essays, which – somehow – made the New York Times bestseller list. But that was nothing compared to being recognized all over the world by millions of people.

You couldn't help but shake your head from the stray thought.

While you were far from blind – his puppy fat had long since melted away, revealing the handsome face the public had come to know – he was still just Dickie, your oldest friend who you took baths with, who devoured your mother's chicken korma with gusto you couldn't even manage and your first kiss behind the swings of your primary school when you were five.

Or at least that's what you had to keep reminding yourself of more and more every time you saw him again.

Because the last few years, what was so obvious to the world at large, was getting harder and harder for you to ignore.

The broadness of his shoulders, the obvious strength in his lean but toned arms, how he had a bum a quarter could bounce off of. That streak of pure silver among his tight auburn curls, the way his eyes crinkled as he laughed, his lush lips forming that oh so charming grin with ease.

oh, god you thought, panic setting it. You were basically on the verge of being like one of those people who typed those thirst tweets that Buzzfeed made him read. Richard Madden could run me over with a bus and I'd still suck that dick or whatever and now you were going to spend the next three days in Cannes with him... alone.

fuck you cursed just as your senses were suddenly assaulted by a warm crisp scent of pine and spice and man, making your thighs involuntarily clench underneath you as you prepared for the deep rasp you knew was coming.

“Surrender that extra bag of crisps I know you have and I won't cause a scene, little miss,”

little miss, little miss, little miss...

It shouldn't have – it's something he's called you for so long now, something playful and affectionate because though he isn't tall by the standard of most men, he towers over your tiny barely five foot frame – but your wayward imagination takes over before you can stop it.

The two words – in your head – are rougher, deeper – like a growl from the deepest part of his chest that you definitely haven't thought of and when the bristles of his beard brush against the smooth skin of your cheek, you suck in a deep breath reminding yourself that this was the same man who at age thirteen ran to the corner store for a hot water bottle and emergency tampons for you, that he was your oldest and most dearest friend and you shouldn't be thinking about him pounding you – your legs wrapped around that criminally narrow waist – as he called you little miss.

You turn, expected to be confronted by his ridiculously blue eyes, and your more than thankful that they're hidden by stylish aviators. You laugh at the cap on his head, plucking it off and setting it on your own head as you stick out your tongue, falling easily into the familiar routine of best friend.

“Put that back where it belongs, miss or I'll have to tell the lovely Dr. Chokalingam how the polite, lovely girl she raised is now a little hellion with no regard for manners,” He threatened, flashing those perfectly white teeth as his lush lips twisted into a smile that was too charming for your own good.

You were about to retort – something tart on the tip of your tongue – when suddenly you found yourself swept into his arms. Your face fell into the crook of his neck and you couldn't resist breathing him in, that familiar smell of spice (cinnamon) and pine with that burst of citrus (orange) underneath and something completely Richard engulfed you, and when he pulled back – lifting his aviators – and there were his stupidly blue eyes staring at you, your stomach swooped and it was suddenly filled with butterflies.

“I've missed you,” So honest, so sincere like only he can be and you can't stop the shudder that rolls through your lithe frame.

As he watched you bound into the lavish hotel lobby, your fingers slipping from his as your wide coffee colored eyes took in every inch, Richard didn't know how he was going to survive these next three days.

You were even more beautiful than he remembered, the warmth of the Southern French sunlight bathing you in a glow that had his heart tripping in his chest. You were dressed more than appropriately for the heat the island was known for, the denim cut offs revealing the length of your shapely legs. Though, small in stature, your legs – somehow – seemed to go for miles finally ending in dainty feet that were slid into worn flip flops revealing your gold painted toes that sparkled.

His cap was back on his head – after a bit of a playful wrestling match the two of you had – and now your hair was twisted into a messy top knot, several of the inky black strands framing your face, and he could feel his fingers flex by his side, the want to brush them away and then seal his lips across your pert raspberry pout growing stronger by the second. His feet easily separated the small distance between you, his hand reaching for your wrist and as soon as his fingers closed over your skin, he twirled you, unable to stop himself.

It was so hard to ignore your body pressed against his, your pert breasts pillowed against his chest, the flare of your hips aligned with his waist and your head tucked perfectly under his chin.

“I missed you too,” And it was clearly his imagination because why would you sound breathless around him? He was your oldest mate; the chubby boy who did things like get you emergency tampons and hot water bottles from the corner store, not someone you would ever think of as a viable romantic partner.

Little did he know as he bent his head forward, nose nuzzling the appealing curve of your slim shoulder, you were thinking the same thing. That he would never see you as a viable romantic partner.

In the suite, the studio had booked there were two queen sized beds, but by the end of the holiday the two beds would be pushed together, neither of you knew that yet, though.

“Do you ever get used to it,” You asked softly after you and Richard slipped out of the hotel's back entrance through it's enormous kitchen. “Having to do this? Sneak about? How if a pap snapped away, I'd be called the latest flavor of heartthrob Richard Madden's month?” You tease, nudging his hip with yours, purposefully keeping your voice light, even though your stomach drops.

You can't help but think how lonely it must be for him, now that he's – you can't stop your cheeks from warming – some kind of sex symbol.  Which leads you to thinking about the revolving door of women that have come in and out of his life since he and Jenna finally split. All of them tall, all of them drop dead gorgeous with bodies you could never compete with no matter how many spin classes you took or how many miles you ran.

You bite your lip, casting a look at him from underneath your lashes and your heart aches as you watch sadness creep into his chiseled features. His blue eyes go dull, turning a subtle grey and he shakes his head, carding his fingers through his curls.

“Not really,” He answers, faint blush creeping into his perfect cheekbones. “I don't see myself the way everyone else seems to,” A dry chuckle. “Though, if a pap snapped away at you and I,” There's that charming grin again and his eyes have returned to their usual bright state. That happy blue you could drown in. “I can't say,” He's doing that thing where he stares straight into your eyes and your whole world melts away, leaving only the two of you and your stomach goes swoopy and there are the butterflies and you don't know how you're standing. “I'd be the least bit miffed to be listed as one of the flavors of the month for New York Times best-selling author Ariana Chokalingam.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, that wonderful brogue full of such sincerity, you don't know how you're breathing. Under the faint glow of the lights from the hotel, he looks very much like the young prince he claims he's happy not to be cast as anymore. He's so handsome, you feel as though the French Police should be called and he should be towed away because his looks make him as dangerous as any criminal roaming about.

You stop your wayward thoughts and jab him square in the ribs, breaking yourself out of your little fantasy. “Come off it,” You chide. “I don't have flavors of the month. The paps would just tag me as a mystery brunette on your arm. It was just a book of essays, Dickie,” You roll your eyes and give him another jab. “The cover was mostly pink.”

“Don't,” His tone is fierce and the muscle in the cut of his jaw twitches and clenches as if he's back on the set of Bodyguard playing David Budd. “Don't do that,” His voice changes going gentle, almost pleading as you feel his large palm cup the right side of your face, forcing you to look into his too-captivating eyes. “Ana,” Something only he calls you, everyone else around you defaulting to Ari or your full name. “If it was just a book of essays would so many people have bought it? First in hard cover and then in paper back. Vera and Roshi couldn't have bought every copy. If Beth hadn't told me I was ridiculous, I would have beat them to the punch, anyway,” He laughs and his eyes are sparkling, a boyish and bashful look crossing his handsome face. “Evie will be the first to tell you, I hadn't read a book cover to cover since secondary school when I was required to.”

“Stoooop,” You whine, shoving at him and before you can shove him again, he's caged you in his arms and nuzzles his face against your neck. “It's true. I'll call them right now and prove it,” He insists and you giggle as you squirm in his embrace. “C'mon, Romeo,” You sigh, finally managing to twist out of his hold. “Show me what mega stars do on holiday. Writers only get into the hottest parties and whatnot if they're on assignment y'know.”

Le Vogue was Taron's suggestion after Richard had sent his good friend a quick text. The music – electronica and house – reminded him of the music they used for Ibiza. The club itself was intimate with close quarters, at least from what he was able to gather as all too quickly the the two of you were whisked to the private era, a velvet rope separating you and the other VIPs from the public.

Under the strobe lights, you were even more beautiful to him, and he found himself slipping back into being almost cripplingly shy as if he were nothing more than a school boy.

The flimsy dress you had chosen to wear – after changing from your cutoffs and tee – wasn't helping at all, of course.

The fabric is satin, the straps thin and sitting high on your slim shoulders while the satin clings to your pert breasts emphasizing how they would fit perfectly in the heft of his palms and the ribbon wrapped around your waist shows off how tiny that part of your body is while its slit reaches the top of your thigh, teasing him to helplessness every time you so much as take a step let alone dance.

It's the music and the alcohol, he thinks as you drag him to the floor, grinding and sliding against him, head thrown back to the steady thump of the bass, exposing the wonderful length of your neck. He wants nothing more than for this to be real, for you to want him as he wants you. If not for the French beer giving you a buzz, no one knowing either of you and how it's typical for anyone to be loose with their inhibitions while on holiday, you wouldn't be doing this; touching him, your fingers carding through his hair, then sliding down the front of his body before swiveling your hips in such a way he's not sure he remembers his own name.

How early it is when you finally leave, Richard doesn't know all he knows is you're thoroughly smashed, like utterly blitzed and tanked up and because you're in such a state, you're clingier than you would be otherwise. You can't stop touching him; your hands blindly groping over and underneath his clothes, your roaming hands – at one point – actually grip his ass which makes you howl with laughter as you nearly topple over on your unsteady feet, the heels on your feet doing you no favors in keeping you upright.

Despite being wasted, you still smell of daisies and clementines and when you fall into bed, hiccuping and mumbling how your mother would be thoroughly disappointed in you, he laughs and sets about the task of getting you comfortable to sleep off your drunken stupor.

He's careful of not revealing more of your luscious mocha skin than he has to as he tries to slip your dress away and put on your pajamas. It doesn't help that he's replacing this devil of a dress with shorts that can't possibly cover your ass and a top that doesn't seem like it will cover your entire front, some of your stomach – flat and smooth – will surely be visible, and he curses his parents for raising him to be such a fucking gentleman.

“Nooooooooo,” You whine after he's finally gotten you changed. You're grabbing for him again and he bats your insistent hands away, bending and murmuring as he pushes back several strands of your hair, “Sleep mo leannan,” He urges, his voice soft and gentle.

“Staaaaaaaaay,” Another whine as your velvet lashes reveal unfocused and bleary coffee eyes. But they're soft and warm, somehow, as well and he's never been able to resist you. Going back to when you were children and you always got the last crisp in the bag or the last piece of his Gran's homemade shortbread from the tin. “If you insist, my lady,” Bowing gallantly and you laugh – loud and brash – your head thrown back as if it's the funniest thing you've heard and after stripping to his boxer briefs, he grabs an old tee shirt and slips it on before climbing into bed with you.

You cling to him like a limpet, your every inch pressed against his and just before he falls asleep you murmur, “Thanks for staying, Dickie.”

“Anything for you, Ana.”

a/n: mo leannan is scottish for my sweetheart

@bluesfortheredj @nishanki1

[b-kitsune]

Many ways to say I love you: Day Nineteen.

Kidge-a-palooza 2019 Prompt: Rebirth. Pairing: Kidge (VLD) Universe: Fantasy!AU. Status: Part 1/3

They had been moving for many days nonstop, thanks to the last misadventure they had lived in which they almost managed to escape alive with the help of the last magic resources at hand, earning several wounds around their bodies that hurt at the insistent touch of their clothes. They needed to disinfect the deep cuts as soon as possible, but many of their resources were lost as soon as the caves collapsed under their heads, taking the drastic decision to flee leaving their possessions adrift so as not to be delayed while running.

The mood was down, not even Lance was able to make an ironic comment about the situation and the night would soon fall while walking through the forest, the sharp senses of Shiro alerted him that the hunter animals were already in full swing looking some prey to feed, and they at this moment looked charmingly tempting, almost managing to walk on their own.

Hunk did his best to find a village around him to ward off the impending dangers and to rest properly after the hard battle, but the closest place was the small town of Arus, and it was several miles away from where they could It would take several nights to get there. So they had to camp in that place to recover at least a few energies.

They made a small camp in a comfortable area after a few minutes deciding which would be the best place. Shiro took his sword and went out in search of food along with Hunk, who was skilled at recognizing which foods of the forest were edible without dying of some kind of poisoning. Leaving Pidge in charge of the fire while Lance ordered a few leaves and dry grass to make a large bed improvised for everybody.

It would not be the first time that they shared space of rest to spend the night after an arduous battle, their life as treasure hunters for many years had made them close. Enough to not bother about the closeness between them. They knew each other completely and respect was their main basis for the strange friendship they had created among people of races as different as themselves. What for many was a complete madness when they knew them.

Lance yawned languidly after finishing a nest quite comfortable for everyone, who was about to fall halfway satisfied with pleasure, Pidge laughed at his behavior.

''And I thought that the minstrels were much more resistant.''

''Hey, don't blame me for being tired!'' Lance answered with a broad smile when he settled on the floor. ''Fighting against those trolls has been by far the stupidest idea we have ever had.''

''Yeah, well, I'm not going to deny it.'' Pidge said in a whisper. ''We had to be much more prepared. Even Shiro suffered serious injuries to his right arm.''

''Do you think there are scars left?''

''Are you kidding?'' Pidge's lips bent towards a sardonic smile. ''He should hardly have any cuts, Shiro is an oni, after all. It takes more than a couple of stones and magic fire to break his skin. Especially his right arm.''

''Ahh ... '' Lance replied disinterestedly. ''Well, sometimes I forget that he is not a human.''

''With those big horns that he has?'' Pidge inquired inquisitive, raising an eyebrow as if Lance had said something completely ridiculous. ''Even I can spend much more easily as one!''

''But not when you talking, Pidgy.''

Pidge placed one of her hands on her chest with a slight gasp coming from her lips, pretending to be offended by his words. But even she could accept that her character and her responses were often inevitably cruel or sarcastic. She couldn't help it, many times she felt that humans, especially Lance, were ridiculously stupid, so when they were visiting villages looking for some supplies for their missions, Pidge tended to close her mouth and let Shiro take care of everything so as not to generate uncomfortably situations.

Even when it was almost palpable to distinguish the supernatural area on Shiro's shoulders and people still tended to keep distance with magical or spiritual beings, given the ambivalent nature of their genes, he always captured the attention he least wanted, attraction, both men and women. And while it wasn't a nuisance most of the time, stopping when others saw his clear disinterest in coquetry often shameless, her beloved brother-in-law used to feel uncomfortable most of the time.

But Pidge could understand, those white horns that came out of his head looked imposing, added to that his eyes had a natural delineate along with a purple color around his eyelids, they gave him the image of an aggressive nature, without counting the mountain of muscles that he had all over his body. Even without his mystical nature, Shiro was a person who visually demonstrated not being part of the world of mortals.

Unlike Pidge, who, because of her short stature, the disordered image with a tousled hair under armor too big for her height, looked like an ordinary person. She could almost pretend to be a boy or a dwarf if it were not for the fact that her features were too delicate as she spent more years, but Pidge was completely perfect for what she needed in her missions.

She was the first defense in her group, the shield of her team and the connoisseur of labyrinths. A female appeal was not something she needed.

When about an hour passed, they could see Hunk and Shiro approaching with a deer between their shoulders, drooling almost instantaneously at Pidge, Lance had fallen asleep from exhaustion.

''I see you made a pretty nice nest.'' Hunk commented while lightly kicking the side of Lance, who only responded with a deep moan.

''We'd better let him rest, Hunk.'' Shiro spoke, while he was in charge of crumbling the meat with his hands, dividing the skin that they would use for that night. ''Lance took the worst part of the last battle, it will not hurt him to sleep a couple of hours more.''

''Yeah, I suppose you're right.''

When Shiro stretched the skin enough around some branches of a tree, Pidge made a delicate movement with one of her hands using the last reserves of magic that remained to seal the collagen and transmute the flesh to a softer texture for the touch. It was a simple spell that didn't require much mana, but useful at moments like those of that where they had nothing to keep warm for the cold night that was coming.

They threw it to Lance once Pidge finished her work, who gave a good sleep as he surrounded himself pleasantly. They both decided to sit by the campfire enjoying the meat that Hunk had prepared with multiple species and nutritious vegetables to regain strength. Little by little they felt the hunger disappear from their bodies to give way to a satisfied stomach, and the urgent need to sleep until the next morning.

But they couldn't afford such mistakes as lowering their guard during the night with hundreds of animals and possible thieves around a winding forest, so Pidge decided to stand guard the early hours of the night, promising to awaken Lance when it was her opportunity to sleep.

She spent a couple of hours cutting a piece of wood with one of her sharpest daggers, using her skills trying to listen to what the trees could tell her during those moments of calm and tranquility that very rarely happened, thanks to her noisy group of friends. The fire from the small fire crackling and forming mysterious shapes was the only thing she needed as light as the piece of wood began to take the shape of a spoon, a small gift to her friend Hunk because they had lost the utensils in their last mission.

After a couple of hours, when the night reached its maximum point and her friends snored at her side, Pidge felt a sharp twinge in her back that made her get up almost immediately, with her dagger in hand ready for the attack. The branches of the trees moved slowly, warning her of a nearby danger she had to be careful of. But when she turned around and tried to get close to Shiro to wake him up, Pidge saw what made her blood freeze completely.

A goblin smiling, petty, pointing Shiro's neck with a stake loaded with quintessence with enough edge to cut his throat in a few seconds, as a threat to any strange movement Pidge could make. In a few seconds, the around began to surround herself with others more of his class approaching her friends, but Pidge couldn't move a single inch, the goblins were ruthless and could not endanger Shiro's life. They dropped an unknown liquid over the ears of her friends, Pidge begged all the gods that it wasn't a deadly poison.

Pidge breathed deeply without making any movement that alerted her intentions until she felt strong steps behind her that made the earth rumble drearily, what she feared most at that moment was approaching and exhaustion didn't let her think what could do to get out of that problem. The goblins weren't intelligent beings, they were small monsters that lived from wars against other beings and primitive instincts, so their actions of stealthily approaching and poisoning their companions without an iota of violence, made her think that the strong breathing that felt behind her back surely it was an orc.

She swallowed hard when she heard his laugh rudely, the wretched bastard was enjoying her despair.

Her mind quickly turned to the most important goal, Pidge couldn't let those disgusting goblins kill her friends, she accumulated a wave of electrical energy through one of her hands to hurl it towards the goblins that were on top of their bodies friends to drive them away and generate painful damage. Before she knew it, Pidge was already running away from the camp, using herself as bait.

Pidge was exhausting considering she hadn't rested at any time of the night, but the elves used to have problems moving on the surface, so she found herself at a great advantage with various minutes of running. Pidge didn't know if she had managed to get the attention of all the goblins, but definitely, the orc was chasing her when heard the heavy footsteps behind her, which gave some relief to her heart.

She was sure that before leaving, Lance had woken up because of the current of her attack. Pidge only hoped that the poison he had been given wasn't so deadly as to disable him completely.

Pidge fell on some stairs after a few minutes running through the woods when a dart reached her legs, numbing them completely to almost the seconds. In front of her, there was an old castle surrounded by vines and roots, indicating its abandonment for many years.

Now she knew where the damned goblins came from.

Took off the dart from her leg quickly, but the poison was already beginning to numb her senses. Pidge watched as the orc with his followers came towards her, drooling rudely. Pidge cringed about with panic in her veins, trying desperately to move as she thought of some way out, but her legs didn't respond no matter how hard she tried.

A few words from years ago by the oracle of her village resounded strongly inside her head, something she had completely forgotten. A promise of fate that she naively thought had been delivered when she met her friends, and of which her family feared terribly when she began her travels around the world.

When she felt the footsteps of the orc approaching her, the tears didn't prevent falling to her cheeks for the cruelty that would end up being her death. Her mother was right when years ago she tried to desist about her desire for adventure.

Pidge was doomed.

She screamed in anger when the hands of a few goblins began to tear the clothes with their nails and teeth with fearsome ease, while others held her body against the ground. Pidge beat and bit them desperately, but it was useless when many of them held their limbs with a despicable force. Her throat burned with the force of her screams and her skin bled at the cuts that were made while they undressed her by force. Pidge naively thought that if she tries to concentrate for a few seconds, she would be able to perform a protective spell before she was raped, but her weariness and fear intervened with her magical abilities. Pidge felt desperate, helpless, and deep in her mind, it was constantly repeated that if she hadn't abandoned her family for a personal desire, none of that would be happening.

Her screams mingled with her laments when she saw the orc approaching with a look that made her tremble in her own place, one of the goblins bit her shoulder so hard that she was not able to continue to hold the basic spell of her appearance, changing its morphology into pointy ears characteristic of her race, her hair grew falling on her back to cover barely something of her trembling body, and her wings appeared tinkling erratically, being caressed with the nails of those inferior beings, somewhere in she was afraid they would be torn from her body.

In spite of everything, Pidge didn't stop fighting trying to break free, looking directly at the high-altitude monster whose mouth hadn't closed since he saw her fall for the first time, his saliva dripped rudely from his chin, and Pidge knew that after to desecrate her, he would devour her head with his own teeth.

Her eyes clouded with a lament from her insides when he took her by the neck with one of his hands.

She would have liked to eat a little more of Hunk's peanut butter cake.

He lifted her violently from the ground to stamp her against the wall, to the amusement of the goblins around her one of her wings broke to the impact.

She wanted to see what the sea was like when Lance talked so much to her at night.

Taking advantage of the position she was left in; the orc raised her backside with so much pressure that Pidge almost felt it would break her back. A deep growl inside his throat made her want to tear out his eyes, but her arms didn't respond no matter how hard she tried to move them.

She would have liked to be in charge of the union of Matt and Shiro for next fall when the trees covered the village with multiple colors.

But none of that mattered anymore, she thought. Her end was going to be miserable at the hands of goblins and orcs. A fate that she could never avoid even taking all the precautions.

Only for her desire for freedom and knowledge.

The only thing Pidge thought, before closing her eyes tightly, was that she could only be reborn with a destiny freed from the curses that came with an adventurous life.

The pressure in her insides never came.

However, she could feel the blood spreading on her back violently, when Pidge turned around, she could see that a giant wolf had ripped the head of the orc behind her.

The goblins began to scream in fear, attacking the beast with their claws and teeth, in vain. Pidge wanted to know what had happened in so few seconds, but soon her consciousness began to cloud through exhaustion and recent stress.

The last thing she was able to see, was a hair tied on a broad back and marks of a race cursed by darkness.

 ...

 When Pidge awoke, her limbs burned like shit, as if she had lived a marathon for hours with her brother Matt through the forest of her village, and the muscles of her body were completely torn after constant exercise, so she couldn't help the loud growl from her throat as she rose heavily from a warm, welcoming skin. When she opened her eyes, Pidge didn't see the old castle that was used as a colony for the goblins, nor the forest in which she was trapped with her friends for many days. But a simple bonfire, and the snout of the wolf that had saved it a few minutes ago.

Pidge quickly got up scared, regretting when she realized that it hadn't been a good idea considering the current state of her body, her wings felt stiff behind her back, so she supposed they were being held back by some bandage. She dragged the skin that covered her shame across her shoulders to give herself some heat, the night was still high in the sky and the cold was unbearable. She looked cautiously at the beast she was using as a pillow all this time, now she was sure that she had not imagined it, it was exactly as her father described it in his book of non-earthly beings that she read in her first years of life.

She was next to a cosmic wolf, a beast from space.

''I see you have enough energy to get up...''

Pidge looked away to the voice that greeted her, where a young man, with soft but aggressive features, looked at her with an expressionless face. The marks on his cheeks that grew to his eyes echoed in his memory. He, however, only offered her a bowl full of water.

''Drink it.''

Pidge took it looking at it cautiously, it had a strange color and it moved as if it were viscous on its contents. Pidge hesitated a little, but he had saved her from being killed by the goblins a few minutes ago, so it didn't make sense to think that he was trying to attack her life, so she took it in one trip.

As she supposed, it was disgusting, but she did her best not to return it to the first arcade.

''What the heck was ... '' Pidge barked hitting her chest, he shrugged and still moved the ashes of the fire with a stick.

''It will help you recover the quintessence of your body.''

''Thank you very much ... '' Pidge was surprised by herself when her voice was heard harsher and more serious than normal, touching her neck with one of her hands.

''Your trachea is somewhat closed; it is a consequence of the poison that was injected when you fled the goblins.'' The boy answered simply. ''You'll feel better after a few days.''

''How did you find me?'' Pidge asked, but he raised an eyebrow, inquisitive.

''I thought you would be a little more grateful, I saved you from being raped by the goblins.''

''But that doesn't answer my question.''

Pidge answered, a little more defensively. While she was completely grateful for his actions, it seemed a bit strange to her how he had appeared. No goblin perceived it to be miles away being that they were skillful in finding potential enemies. What was strange he kept her gaze for a few moments, until he sighed heavily as he continued to play with the fire.

''I ... I was the one who took them out of that cave last night. I was investigating the ruins of that castle as fieldwork. When I heard the noise from outside, I teleported with Kosmo to see what was happening. '' Caressed the outline of the head of his partner, emphasizing his words. ''That's when I saw the situation, and I ordered my wolf to tear off the orc's head before it did irreparable damage to you.'' His look went down a little, Pidge could see some regret in his eyes. ''I'm really sorry. I thought there was no one around the forest.''

''I understand.'' Pidge replied, a little calmer knowing the truth. ''You were quite reckless, not to say stupid. One doesn't scare the goblins from the caves without even checking the perimeter.''

''It's true.'' Affirmed his words heavily.

''But you helped me at the right time and I couldn't be more grateful for that. So, really, thank you.''

Pidge smiled warmly at the stranger. He didn't seem foolish; it had only been a terrible coincidence that he was about to end her life. But again, she felt really grateful that he had appeared at the ideal moment. Part of Pidge also knew that her actions had been precipitated when she fled into the forest with no plan in mind.

She moved her legs a little more towards the fire, the cold of the night drowned her bones with regret, and although the layer of the skin helped not to die frozen at that moment, it didn't cover her body completely. Suddenly, a fact made noise in her thoughts, breaking the silence that had been armed around them.

''Did you say the last night?'' The elf nodded, confused by her question. Pidge's heart jumped in panic. ''How long have I been unconscious?''

''About two days. We have been moving since then, why?''

''My friends are in that forest.'' She answered worried, he frowned thoughtfully.

''I doubt that they remain there, I didn't feel any magical or human presence while we passed the forest.''

''Is it the same skill you used before releasing the goblins?'' Pidge asked sarcastically, he just watched her irritated.

''No, I used a tracking spell looking for someone who could help you. But I didn't find anything.''

Pidge's concern was evident in her face, her friends would surely think that the goblins had taken her, and if they weren't close to an elf's tracking skills, then they had run to the opposite direction without Shiro's help, who could feel her presence while they were at an adequate distance.

Perhaps the liquid that the goblin had slipped through their ears was precisely so that they couldn't easily find her, and not a poison like Pidge had initially created. But the elf's words brought her out of her thoughts.

''Anyway, we are closer to Arus than the forest, they will surely be there.''

''I don't know...'' Pidge moved a little more to rest her head on the back of the cosmic wolf, she still felt a little weak. The wolf accepted her delightedly. ''One of them is my brother-in-law and an oni. He will be desperately looking for me everywhere.''

''If he is intelligent, he will feel your quintessence trail out of the forest. They are pretty good sniffing yours.''

''Maybe you are right.'' He certainly had it, Pidge thought, somewhat surprised that he knew about youkais. Her best option was to head towards Arus at that time. ''I'm Pidge, by the way. You will take me there, right?'' The boy smiled slightly, nodding after a few seconds staring at her.

''I'm Keith. Do I have another option?''

''No.''

Pidge finally answered a feeling of warmth reached her heart when she reached an accomplishment while watching those eyes as dark as night. Keith had just been responsible for her rebirth, and she no longer needed to fear the death of a prophecy.

[enlacinglineswrites]

Monthly Klance prompt: Past

Drabble for today’s Monthly Klance prompt: Past

Part 1 of 2. Part 2 will be posted tomorrow as the prompt ‘Future.’ 

Enjoy! 

He’d said “I hate you” more than once in the past.

Back at the Garrison, he could recall, after Keith looked particularly smug. A perfect score, Shiro standing proud, and Lance’s own numbers so far down the list it wasn’t even close to where he wanted it to be. Hated how Keith could fly with ease, while he’d fought even just to set foot in this school, had to fight every second only lose out in comparison.

Lance hated his attitude. Hated his talent. Hated the way they all flocked to him, stared at him, were mesmerised by talent so natural it seemed like the collective dream of every child who’d wanted to fly brought to life.

Lance hated that he admired him so, couldn’t move his eyes away either.

He said it in space too. During a training session, screamed it across the room, echoing clearly, all eyes on him. Including Keith’s, his filling with sorrow and pain but hidden immediately. Lance had been so tired, so done with performing feats he could not do, in a place so far away from home with a person who so obviously felt disdain towards him.

Then, lighter. A grumbling mutter of affection, followed by a laugh in that interlude. That twilight time when they’d been a team, the best duo despite the pain and constant battles with Shiro gone and Lotor following their every move.

“No, you don’t,” Keith had teased, actually teased as he pulled Lance up from the ground, having tripped while exploring a planet with ridiculous terrain; all branches and roots covering the mountain they’d clambered up, just the two of them as Keith swore this would be worth it.

(It had been. The view spanning for miles, both of them panting with their helmets off, hair rising and falling with the breeze, the planet spread out in colours without earthly names before them. Peace undiluted spinning to him as he just inhaled the air, pure adoration for a sight unseen by other humans, awe at what worlds could produce.

A moment shared with Keith, and only Keith, his smile so bold and encompassing Lance could not forget it if he lost all memories of this life).

He’d whispered it as a mantra once. “I hate, you, I hate you,” over and over one night after Keith had left them, had left him in this place where he was so very alone despite the new people now living in the castle ship. Whispered it into his pillow, a disguise for other emotions which he couldn’t voice, wouldn’t let himself voice, wouldn’t let himself cry over anything else.

“I hate you,” was easier. He’d been saying it for so long.

But now he says it again, through tears he cannot control, the sentiment true and heartfelt, eyes streaming, voice barely making out the syllables, breaking as he stumbles across them.

And a smile is his reply from below, Keith looking up, own eyes shining but tears not falling unlike Lance’s, and replies just like before.

“No, you don’t.”

To be continued...

[softlysheith]

maybe i’ll love you for a while

Summary: Shiro wants to wait for the right moment to tell Keith how he feels. Keith beats him to it.

( @sheithsecretsanta gift for @sideofsaltblog !! mutual pining, post s7 & s8, confessions, fluff. word count: 2564. ao3 link)

Seeing Keith finally open his eyes feels like finally being able to breathe again.

“Shiro.” His voice is weak from not being used, but it is still his, saying Shiro’s name so sweetly it makes his knees tremble. “You’re here.”

Shiro doesn’t remember moving, but one second he’s by the hospital room doorway and the next he’s gathering Keith into a hug. He feels a tired laugh from Keith’s chest before he feels arms wrapping around him. It’s not as strong as their usual hugs, but it’s just as grounding, the touch fully assuring Shiro that now he has nothing to fear.

He’s not losing the most important person in his world any time soon.

“Of course I am,” Shiro whispers. He hugs Keith tighter, mindful of his injuries. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up.”

“Don’t worry about it. You have your duties. I’m just happy you’re here now.”

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

If only he had the choice, he would stay right where he is now until Keith is back on his feet, at Shiro’s side where he belongs. By the way Keith’s smiling at him now though, eyes soft, Shiro knows that he understands.

“Is everyone else awake?” Keith asks when they pull away, keeping their hands intertwined.

“Yep. Pidge and Lance are up and about.” He slides off the bed and sits on the chair beside it, but he doesn’t let go of Keith’s hand. “Allura and Hunk are still in the hospital, but they’ll be discharged within the week. You got most of the damage.”

Keith lets out a sigh of relief. “Well, I’m just glad they’re all okay.”

Is it selfish, he wonders, to think about how he wasn’t okay while he waited day after day for Keith to wake up? He may not have been hurt physically, but watching Keith sleep for weeks on end, not knowing whether he would wake again, was worse than any death he has ever experienced.

He can’t lose Keith. Not after everything.

Maybe that’s a little too much to reveal so soon, though. So instead he says, “Well, I’m not letting any of you leave me so soon. I just got back, y’know.”

“Shiro,” Keith says, his eyes all soft and earnest again, squeezing Shiro’s hand tighter. “I’m not leaving you. Never.”

Shiro smiles. “I know. And I’m not going anywhere either.”

One day. One day he’ll tell him. One day he’ll say those three words back to him, the words that affected his clone so deeply that now the words are engraved in his memory, his heart.

I love you.

He can’t tell him now, with Keith still so weak and everything else so fresh. But he will.

He just needs to time it right.

He may have to wait for the right moment for a very long time, he realizes.

Keith has woken up, but he’s far from being better. There’s still the bruises and broken bones he’s now suffering from because of the fall. Shiro’s just relieved it wasn’t any worse, but he reckons confessing your newly-found love for your best friend while he’s just escaped death isn’t very romantic.

More than that, there’s a war going on. For now there’s some semblance of peace while they and the Galra regroup, but it won’t last. Adding a relationship (or the burden of breaking his best friend’s heart) to everything else Keith is carrying on his back won’t be any help to anyone. Shiro needs to be there to help out with some of the load, just as Keith has been there for his own burdens.

Still. He’s got something to fight for. Whether Keith accepts his feelings or not, one thing is for sure – no way in hell are they leaving each other.

Shiro’s left him too many times. He swears he won’t do it again.

But, well. He may be waiting for the right time, but there’s no harm admiring from afar.

He was planning on spending the last night on Earth by himself, going over battle strategies and preparing for the long journey ahead.

But a second after he tells everyone to spend time with the people they love, Keith’s eyes drift over to meet his own, and that’s all Shiro needs to cancel everything he has planned.

Spend time with the ones you love. Well, he doesn’t think he can be a good leader if he doesn’t follow his own words.

Keith approaches him when the meeting adjourns, showing off that little grin he reserves just for Shiro. “Any free time in your busy schedule, Captain?”

“For you, Sir? Always. Any plan?”

“We can meet up outside the Garrison around five, get Black to take us to the usual place? I can ask Hunk to whip us something to eat.”

And – this feels different from their hang outs before Kerberos, their visits to each other’s rooms in the Castle of Lions, Shiro’s sleepovers in Keith’s hospital room while he recovers. The way Keith describes everything sounds too much like a date that it sends Shiro’s heart beating a mile a minute.

“Sounds perfect.” Maybe his voice sounds too soft right now, too sweet for someone just talking to his best friend. “Can’t wait.”

Maybe his tone doesn’t go unnoticed, because Keith’s face turns to such a pretty shade of pink that Shiro can’t take his eyes off him. “Yeah,” he says, eyes softening. “Me neither. Can you talk to Hunk while I take care of Black?”

“What, you think I can’t cook for us?”

Keith’s loud, disbelieving laugh is all the answer he needs. “I’ll see you later, Shiro.” Then, devastatingly, he puts his hand on Shiro’s bicep and gives it a friendly squeeze as he walks past.

Or, he thinks it was friendly. Maybe. He probably shouldn’t get his hopes up, should he?

God. Shiro leans on the meeting room table, feeling a little weak.

There’s a chance he could be reading everything wrong, but… he can entertain a couple of his hopes and dreams.

A couple hours later he’s sitting on Black’s muzzle, sitting on a picnic blanket (at Hunk’s insistence) and sharing halves of a sandwich with his favorite person as they watch the sun dip down the horizon, and there’s no place Shiro would rather be.

A tiny laugh interrupts his train of thought. He slides his gaze over to Keith, lets his heart melt at how he’s trying to hide his smile behind his hand. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, just – Black told me she’s glad you brought the blanket with you. Said she didn’t want crumbs all over her.”

Shiro snorts, makes a point of pinching off a bit of his sandwich’s crust and sprinkling it over a space on Black’s muzzle that isn’t protected by the cloth. His connection with Black isn’t as strong as before, but the wave of annoyance that she sends him is enough to make him laugh.

“And people call you the golden boy,” Keith chuckles, shaking his head. “If only they knew how much of a rebel you really are, huh?”

“I wouldn’t trust that side of me to anyone but you,” Shiro jokes, bumping his shoulder against Keith’s.

“What an honor.” Keith rolls his eyes, but they soften when he turns to look at Shiro. “I missed this.”

“Missed what?”

“Y’know. Joking around with you. Hanging out with you at all, really.” Keith averts his gaze, focuses on how he’s playing with his sandwich by turning it over and over. “I know we’ve been busy, but – I dunno. We haven’t really talked much since-”

“Since you got out of the hospital,” Shiro finishes, voice weak. Keith’s been out of the hospital for months now. “I’m so sorry, Keith. If I pushed you away, I swear I didn’t mean to. It’s just been so hectic with Atlas and getting everything ready.”

“You don’t need to explain yourself, Shiro. I was busy too. It’s neither of our faults. I just don’t want to drift away from you because of everything going on.”

Keith has lost him so many times, he realizes then. How many times has he scared Keith, made him think that Shiro would be gone from his life forever? How many times did he cross the universe to bring him back?

Well, he’s here now, and he’ll be damned before he gets ripped away from Keith’s side again — and he sure won’t let himself be the one to drift away.

“Never,” he promises. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Keith.”

Shiro watches in awe as redness begins to bloom on Keith’s cheeks. He still refuses to look at Shiro in the eye. “Oh.”

“And I’ll always be here for you, whenever you need me,” Shiro continues, bumps his shoulder again. “Name a better team than the Black Paladin of Voltron and the Captain of the Atlas. I’ll wait.”

“Dork,” Keith snorts, and when he leans in to rest his head on Shiro’s left shoulder, Shiro swears his heart stops.

They fall into silence after that, content to just eat and appreciate the last sunset they’ll be seeing in a while. The weight on Shiro’s shoulder never leaves, only shifts occasionally whenever Keith grabs another sandwich in the basket or reaches for their shared thermos, and the longer the weight stays there the calmer Shiro begins to feel. It feels right, just like everything else with Keith.

It’s a foolish wish, but Shiro wants this moment to last forever.

Keith breaks the silence when they’re out of food and the sun has fully set, replaced with a cloudless night sky and stars to guide them home. “Shiro?”

“Hm?”

“I’m not… misreading anything, am I?”

And just like that, his heart rate picks up again. “Depends on what you’re reading.”

“You. I mean, whatever this is,” Keith says, pointing towards the two of them. “If I’m wrong, we can pretend I never said anything, but…”

Maybe this is the right moment, even if he didn’t think so at first. “Well, how are you reading this?”

His left hand takes Keith’s hand in between them, and he laces their fingers together carefully. He almost misses the little gasp Keith takes in, the way his fingers tighten around Shiro’s hand for a split second before relaxing.

“You’d make a good writer,” Keith says around a nervous little laugh, his thumb stroking the back of Shiro’s hand repeatedly.

“Good thing I have you as my muse,” Shiro says, preens when he turns and sees the blush on Keith’s cheeks when he laughs.

“Ridiculous.” Keith nuzzles into Shiro’s shoulder, making him laugh when Keith’s long hair tickles his neck. Keith sighs. “… I really love you, Shiro.”

He’s expecting his heart to burst with joy, to feel lightheaded with it, but hearing Keith’s silent confession feels more like a piece of a puzzle sliding into place. It feels grounding. And like everything with the man he loves so much, it feels like it’s meant to be.

“I love you too,” he says, feels that final piece of the puzzle lock in. Everything feels right. “But, Keith—”

“It’s not exactly the best time to start anything yet, I know,” Keith says, finally lifting his head from Shiro’s shoulder to look at him in the eyes. “I’m just glad I know now.”

“After,” Shiro promises, and this is a promise he can never break, and he knows he’ll do anything in his power to keep it. “Something worth fighting for, right?”

“You’ve always been worth fighting for, Shiro.”

And he knows, deep down, that Keith has been fighting for Shiro for years, just like how he fought for Keith back when he was still so young and vulnerable. To know and hear it now though, with the entirely new context, has his heart racing.

After. When the stakes are gone, and he can devote all of himself to Keith, who deserves so much more than that.

But there is one thing he’s wanted for so long that he can’t wait for any longer.

“Can I kiss you?”

Well, he meant to say it more tactfully than that, but he doesn’t miss the way Keith’s eyes widen, then lighten up. “I thought we agreed to wait,” Keith chides him, playful.

“I know, but one doesn’t hurt, right?”

Keith just shakes his head in mock exasperation, but he leans in anyway and lets Shiro capture his lips with his own.

He can admit to himself that he’s thought about how it would feel to kiss Keith more than a few times, but he could never be ready for the real experience. Keith is sweet with the way he moves, hands moving to the back of Shiro’s neck and playing with the short hairs on the nape of his neck, making him shiver.

Shiro breaks the kiss, only so he can tug Keith to position himself in front of Shiro instead of beside him. Keith kneels before him, gentle hands guiding Shiro’s head to tilt up and meet his lips.

They manage to keep it chaste and close-mouthed, but by the time they part for good, Keith is seated fully on Shiro’s lap and Shiro has no idea how much time has passed.

Watching Keith slowly open his eyes feels like watching the sunrise. Maybe because Keith lights up his world just as much. He can’t resist telling that to Keith, who flushes, playfully pushes him away. “You’ve been hanging out with Lance too much.”

“You liked it.”

“Sure.” Keith stands, and Shiro resists the urge to pull him back down. “Anyway, that was definitely not just one kiss. We should be heading back.”

“Right.” He lets Keith pull him up, then gathers him in his arms once they’re both standing. “For the record, I know we agreed to wait but don’t expect me to keep my hands to myself.”

Keith laughs, rests his head on the crook of Shiro’s neck. “As long as you don’t make it obvious. I always knew those shoulder touches meant something.”

They make it back to the Garrison without incident, and soon they’re standing outside Keith’s quarters. Shiro’s room is only a couple doors down, but he doesn’t want to leave Keith’s side yet.

Once he does, they’ll have to set aside their budding relationship for who knows how long, when all he wants to do is watch it grow.

Keith, of course, senses his distress. “Hey.” He tugs at Shiro’s hand, and when Shiro looks at him, he smiles. “We’ll be okay. Something to fight for, right?”

A peaceful future with Keith, where they can let their love grow however they want, with nothing to endanger it. He’s fighting for the universe, but knowing he can have that after it all ends empowers him more than anything. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” Keith squeezes his hand before he lets go. “Get some rest. We’re gonna need it.”

“Yes, sir.” Keith has already unlocked his door and is a step inside when he remembers. “Hey, Keith?”

Keith turns to look at him. “Yeah?”

“Love you.” A reminder doesn’t hurt, and he just realized how amazing it feels to be able to say it so freely.

Plus, he’s never going to get tired of the way Keith blushes. The smile he gives Shiro is shy, sweet. “Love you too, Shiro. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

[yallreddieforthis]

Believer

Fandom: It (2017)

Pairing: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier

Rating: T (for language and Richie being Richie)

Words: 7k

Soulmate AU. Takes place in 2004. Humor, banter, first meeting, first date, first kiss.

And wow. Wow and a half. Richie couldn’t have even dreamed up a guy this cute, although admittedly he’d been picturing some dude in baggy jeans and a beanie with a hacky sack this whole time. Which couldn’t be further from this...absolute snack of startled, prep-school perfection.

Oh my fucking god, I hate that song.

Y’know, Richie has seen worse. Some girl in his English class has damn, how you fit all that in them jeans? so really, anything after that is an improvement.

And it’s not like the soul mark is constantly on his mind or anything. It’s on his back—literally, he can’t see it without two mirrors and he had to have Bill read it out to him when it first showed up—but every once in awhile he remembers that someday he’s going to hear oh my fucking god, I hate that song and he’ll just know. Well, maybe more than every once in awhile. It’s kind of like a recurring daydream. That, and what he’d do if he suddenly became Cyclops from the X-Men.

Fifteen year old Richie was positive it was going to be like some punk-ass rocker chick standing outside Hot Topic and reacting to 98 Degrees over the loudspeaker. At least, that was his first thought. And it’s not like it’s going to be a problem if that’s what ends up happening—because no matter what or who else he’s into, Richie is positive he’ll always have a deep-down internal hard-on for punk-ass rocker chicks—but lately he’s had this nagging feeling in the back of his mind that… Well, it could just be like, a memory of a dream or some shit. And Richie certainly does not believe in dreams coming true, but it wasn’t until well after he got a soul mark that he admitted to himself that his secret thing for Chad Michael Murray is not going anywhere anytime soon.

Richie thinks it would’ve been easier to admit to being The Bi-est if it hadn’t been goddamn Chad that forced him to realize it. Like if it had been Orlando Bloom in Pirates or something when he’d been like alright, time to fuckin’ fess up . But he explained away his crush on Orlando as like, well, Orlando is cool as fuck. Duh. Who doesn’t want to blow him?

Same with like, David Boreanaz. Richie is convinced that even the straightest of straight guys fell desperately in love with Angel when they watched Buffy. He could stick his stake in anyone and they’d thank him.

But Chad...mm. Richie is the only guy he knows who watches One Tree Hill. He’s sure about that because every joke he’s ever made about Lucas Scott has been met by blank stares by Bill and Bev and even Ben, who, though ostensibly straight, would totally love One Tree Hill if Richie ever got the balls to ask him to watch it with him. The only people in the whole world he has to discuss it with are the group of girls who sit next to him in Physics. So actually, Richie blames One Tree Hill for his D in Physics. If he hadn’t started talking to those girls—and he probably wouldn’t have if they hadn’t been discussing the show—he might’ve been able to learn about science instead of playing Fuck Marry Kill every period. So even though it truly is the worst show he has ever watched on purpose, once a week, like clockwork, Richie sits his ass down in front of the computer to jerk it to Blondie McKenDoll because...what are you gonna do.

It ended up being a blessing in disguise because he decided to let his friends know he’s bi and a One Tree Hill fan in one fell swoop. He only got shit on about the One Tree Hill thing, especially because he was the one who used to give Ben shit about Dawson’s Creek. So really, that was only fair.

Still, that was nothing compared to the shit he got for having a soul mark that’s like...inches from being a tramp stamp. Secretly (and also not-so-secretly), Richie loves it. It’s deliciously tacky, the handwriting is almost as bad as his; really, he couldn’t have asked for something trashier. He might’ve died of shame if he’d gotten delicate, loopy cursive around his forearm like Bill it’s lovely to meet you, finally Denbrough. Anyway, anybody who writes that nicely would never be compatible with Richie. And god help whatever poor guy has a soul mark in Richie’s handwriting somewhere on his body. Richie can only pray it’s somewhere unobtrusive.

The messy printing is only a small part of what has convinced Richie his soulmate is a boy. It’s mostly just a gut feeling, something he doesn’t want to acknowledge because he can’t explain it. It feels stupid to bank on something like that.

Richie is low-key disappointed by the fact that he's never seen the handwriting from his soul mark crop up in any of the school graffiti. He's even gone and tagged the bathroom stalls a couple of times, in the hopes that whatever guy it is will see it. And deep down, Richie knows he probably wouldn't have done that if he'd thought his soulmate was a girl.

They're all reasonably convinced that Bill's soulmate is British, based on the whole lovely thing, and Richie has taken to mimicking the kind of accent he thinks she might have. Bill keeps being like I'm not gonna match with the qu-qu-queen, Richie, but if she's the kind of girl who goes around telling people it's lovely to meet you... Richie's not saying she will be like some kind of aristocratic socialite, just that she might be. He thinks Bill should probably be taking steps to prepare for that sort of scenario, although he's not sure what those steps might be. Cotillion? Cigar smoking? Tea making?

Either way, Bill has time. There aren’t any British girls in Derry. No way is he going to meet her until at least college.

In any case, thinking about what song he and his soulmate can hate together to be a lot better pastime than whatever the fuck Mr. Shulman is writing about on the whiteboard. Richie feels like he can't take a hundred percent of the blame for failing to pay attention. The green marker Mr. Shulman is using is frayed, fading, and praying for the sweet release of the trash can, and it's not like Richie can really see the board from the back of the room on the best of days. His parents have suggested, well, more like insisted he sit up front but like...Bev sits in the back, and sitting up front would put a damper on the bubble gum blowing contests they have when Mr. Shulman isn't looking. Tragically, his parents probably wouldn't agree with his reasoning. But whatever.

Richie has a list in the back of his notebook, which he relies on his inscrutable handwriting to protect from prying eyes, of every song he's ever heard that he immediately disliked. He started it on his fifteenth birthday with a list of past horrors and adds on every time Creed releases a new single.

  Titanic song—My Heart Will Go On

I Hope You Dance

Hero—Enrique Iglesias (although Richie has admittedly crossed out and rewritten this one several times because, you know, Enrique)

Soak Up the Sun—that chick that’s dating Lance Armstrong

Summer Girls

I Knew I Loved You

Your Body Is a Wonderland

I’m Like a Bird

Anything that has ever been on American Idol

 And so on. He's got 37 entries so far, and it's been two and a half years in the making. He's just in the process of deciding whether A Thousand Miles deserves a spot on the list when Bev nudges his shoulder and hands him a note under the desk, written in Ben's even, exacting printing.

  Tuesday: Circle one

- National Treasure

- Mean Girls

- The Passion? (probably not, I know)

- Saw

- Troy

 Richie truly sees no point in reading further because Bev has only circled National Treasure and Mean Girls and there is a zero percent chance Ben won't side with her , but he'll be damned if he's not going to give his opinion anyway. He scribbles a big fat line through The Passion, because although he knows Ben's AP history class will give him extra credit for seeing it, but he's not sure he loves Ben (or rather, Ben's history teacher) enough to sit through three hours of Jim Caviezel getting whumped.

Apropos of nothing, a song begins playing in Richie’s head; a good one, thankfully. Richie has very little control over his internal radio and sometimes it gets stuck on Radio Disney, so some Weird Al is a welcome reprieve.

  And the guide... Richie mutters while tapping on his desk.

  Said not to stand

But that’s a demand

That I couldn’t meet

I got on my feet

And stood up instead

And knocked of my head, you see

Tell meeee…

 From Richie’s other side, Bill’s elbow collides with his ribs.

“You’re doing the th-thing again,” he mutters under his breath. Richie rolls his eyes. He doesn’t understand why anyone— his math teacher included—would not be delighted by a surprise rendition of a Weird Al song, regardless of where in the song he happens to start singing. 

Back to the movie list. Everything else...hmm. Troy looks badass—and stars Richie's one true love, Orlando Bloom. There's a good chance he's gonna be naked in it too. Richie draws a dick next to Troy as part of the decision-making process. He knows Ben only put Saw on the list because he thought Richie would like it. There's no way Ben actually wants to watch Wesley from Princess Bride get chopped up. Richie scratches Saw out and writes you're not fooling me next to it.

He's heard good things about Mean Girls, but still... Bev probably only circled it because she knows it's Ben's first choice. Sometimes being best friends with a couple makes Richie want to spray them with projectile vomit. But, you know, in the best way. He has no particular objections to Mean Girls himself, except that National Treasure promises to be amazingly, spectacularly adventure-y and ridiculous, and Richie is always down for that kind of action. In fact, he would just as soon use the advantage of a half day where his parents are at work to watch Jumanji on the big TV in the living room, but...

Fuck it. He's feeling generous today, and he kind of wants to witness Ben vibrating with excitement when he sees the note so...he circles Mean Girls and passes it back.

Ben's gasp upon receiving it is worth it.

Apparently, Derry High isn't the only school having a minimum day because the mall is fucking packed with teenagers. The concession stand line is super long, but where else is Richie supposed to find a nauseating selection of overpriced candy and a bucket of popcorn that could feed a small village? After dousing the popcorn with butter to the point where Ben almost gags, they make their way into the theater to find seats. Which are shitty almost-front-row ones because it took them so goddamn long to get snacks that those are the only four seats together by the time they get in there. Lucky the guy sitting in front of Richie is super short. Bev and Ben aren't so lucky—the curls of the guy to his left are almost as impressive as Richie's, and the guy in front of Bev is just obviously really tall.

The previews haven't even started yet—it's just the shitty like don't talk in the theater ads and dumb TV trivia questions.

Richie feels incumbent to entertain his friends at all times, but especially in moments like this, where nothing else entertaining is forthcoming.

Uh huh, he whispers, starting up a beat on his thigh. Uh huh. Extra Cheese.

Bill sighs in a long-suffering sort of way beside him.

  Uh huh. Uh huh. Save a piece for meeeee…

 He turns to Bev and starts whispering the rest of the lyrics directly into her ear because he can’t not.

  Pizza party at your house

I went just to check it out

Nineteen extra-larges, what a shame

No one came

We sat eatin’ all alone

You said, take the pizza—

 “Shh!” Bev puts a finger over his mouth. “You’re going to get us kicked out again.” 

That’s fair. Although, in Richie’s defense, it’s not like they missed out on much last time. The Village was supposed to be shitty anyway.

Mean Girls is, as it turns out, almost as interesting as the antics of the people in the row in front of them. Curly and the tall one are  a couple, clearly, and Richie feels for Shorty The Third Wheel, whose face he has yet to get a good look at. His hair is as neat as Richie’s is messy though—the kind of perfect where Richie can’t tell if he tried to make it look like that or if that’s just how it is. It’s just long enough to sweep over the tips of his ears and to almost touch the back collar of the polo shirt he’s wearing. He sits with his legs crossed in front of him, which Richie hasn’t been able to do since eighth grade.

The couple is cute, like stupid cute. The tall one is black and like, easily a ten no matter what your taste is; Curly is white with defined cheekbones and a cardigan. Tall has his arm around Curly, who has leaned into his neck. It makes Richie at least ten times gayer than he was before he walked into this theater.

Halfway through the movie, Richie has finished his monster popcorn and started in on the Milk Duds. He’s getting intense gay vibes from Aaron, who is supposed to be hot but is a little too Mister Muscles for Richie’s taste. Of course, Richie also likes Chad Michael Murray so… Even Richie’s taste doesn’t match with Richie’s taste. Whatever. At least his mouth and brain are in agreement on the subject of Sour Patch Kids, which is what really matters in the end.

But anyway, Richie prepares to come away from this movie a changed man with a new appreciation for Jingle Bell Rock by the time the credits roll. He’s definitely going to have to see this at least four to sixteen more times—or however many he can get away with before his friends threaten to kill him—because he missed a lot of the jokes being distracted by the way Shorty was craning his neck to look up at the screen. Richie pops the last of his Starburst into his mouth without unwrapping it. If there was an Olympics category for unwrapping a starburst with your tongue, Richie would be a gold medalist.

“Did you finish all that?” Ben gasps, leaning over and gaping at the graveyard of candy wrappers across Richie’s lap. Richie nods, burps, and rubs his belly like a proud expectant mother. He spits out the Starburst wrapper and hands it to Ben with a wink because he knows Ben’s too polite to drop that shit on the floor for the ushers to clean up.

“Well,” says Beverly, taking a final, bubbly sip of her Icee, “when you give birth to that thing later tonight, don’t call me to cry about it.”

And because she gave him such a perfect opportunity—and because he absolutely will be calling her from the bathroom later tonight—Richie decides to finally finish his song.

  Why’d you have to go and make me so constipated?

This really is a—

 He doesn’t get any further because a sharp voice cuts in from directly in front of him.

“Oh my fucking god, I hate that song.”

And then Richie’s back is attacked by a thousand mosquitos at once—or at least that’s what it feels like. He overheard a guy on the quad once say that the sensation from his mark when he met his soulmate gave him a boner, but apparently it’s different for everyone because all this does is make Richie want to light himself on fire. 

Which is why when Shorty in the J. Crew polo wheels around to look at him, Richie is awkwardly shifting, trying to find a way to itch his back on the seat. Maybe not the first impression he was going for, but just then, Shorty’s eyes lock on to Richie’s as he locates the source of the song, so yeah. There it is.

And wow. Wow and a half. Richie couldn’t have even dreamed up a guy this cute, although admittedly he’d been picturing some dude in baggy jeans and a beanie with a hacky sack this whole time. Which couldn’t be further from this...absolute snack of startled, prep-school perfection.

Before either of them can say anything else, Shorty yelps and grabs at one of his legs. That’s when he seems to regain the power of speech.

“It’s you?” he says, glaring sharply at Richie. “You’re the reason I haven’t been able to wear shorts for three fucking years?”

People are starting to leave the theater, which Richie hardly registers because he is having a full-on, swear to god Disney moment. This guy is like a...a bear cub. Not like hairy— he’s actually noticeably not hairy—but in the sense that he’s small and huggable-looking and Richie wants to pick him up and squeeze him but would probably get mauled if he tried to do so.

“Do you even—oh, sorry,” Shorty says, apologizing to the person who is trying to scoot past him. Then he turns back to Richie and flicks his eyes over him; just like a quick once-over. It’s impossible to tell if he likes what he sees. Richie notices he is still rubbing his calf.

“Itches like a motherfucker, doesn’t it?” he says, giving up on his seat-wiggling and reaching behind himself to scratch at his soul mark. Unfortunately, it turns out to be one of those itches that hurts when you scratch it, so he pulls his fingers back with an, “ow, son of a bitch!”

Shorty hisses.

“What’s wrong, Eddie?” Tall leans over Curly to ask Shorty—Eddie. Eddie.

“Fuck,” says Eddie, then he takes in a deep breath, rubbing his leg like he’s dying to scratch it. “This asshole—” he points an accusing finger in Richie’s direction, “—is the reason I’ve had those Weird Al lyrics about being—sorry, excuse us—about being constipated on my leg since before the goddamn song even came out.”

Tall and Curly both swivel around to stare at Richie. That gets Bev’s attention.

“Wait, Richie,” she says, grabbing his arm. “Is this—” 

“The love of my life,” Richie announces proudly, leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees, chin in his hands. “Eddie.”  

There is silence for a second during which Richie can almost see smoke coming out of Eddie’s ears.

“Fuck,” he says again. For all his preppy khakis and neatly combed hair and pristine white sneakers, he sure has a potty mouth. Richie couldn’t imagine anything better.

Bev gapes too, tapping Ben rapidly on the knee to get his attention. Curly’s eyes narrow as he examines Richie critically.

“Eddie, are you sure this is him?” he asks, still staring.

“Yeah,” Eddie nods, pulling up his pant leg and peering at his leg. “Yeah, cause—you know what? You can’t really see it in—”

“Excuse me,” calls an usher from the end of the aisle. “Is there a problem?”

“No,” Richie calls back cheerfully. “This is my soulmate! Isn’t he—”

“Right,” says the usher, blank faced in spite of this being the greatest of all possible happenings. “You think maybe you can move this party out to the lobby? I need to get the floor cleaned before the next showing.”

Eddie practically disappears into his friends during the awkward group shuffle out of the theater, but Richie walks backwards, keeping his eyes on all five feet and...four inches? three? of the gorgeousness that is Eddie.

Out in the light of the lobby he’s even better. Soft-looking brown hair, lightly freckled cheeks and arms, and—once he pulls up his pant leg—a soul mark that looks like the logo for someone’s z-list death metal band. The skin around it is pink and blotchy, but Richie can see the lines already fading. The only word that’s really fully legible is constipated. Which is hilarious, so Richie can’t understand why Eddie seems so ticked off.

Not that it fazes him in the slightest. It is actually written in the stars or the Book of Fate or whatever that he and Eddie are meant for each other. They’re destined to fall in love. If Eddie is mad at him now, he won’t be later.

“Whoa,” says Curly, tracing his fingers over Eddie’s soul mark. “Yeah. There it goes.”

“I’m Mike,” says Tall, who, now that they’re all standing, is actually the same height as Richie. He extends a hand, which Richie takes and then uses to yank him in for a hug. He smells amazing.

“Richie,” he says into Mike’s shoulder, before next trying to plaster himself to Curly. He hears Ben start to make introductions with Mike before Eddie’s voice cuts in.

“Stop,” he orders, running both hands through his hair, which bounces immediately back into its immaculate style. “Okay? Just—this is not happening right now.”

“Tell that to my heart, cutie,” says Richie. “And by my heart I mean my—”

“My mom?” Eddie says, like he’s name-dropping—like that should mean anything to Richie.

“God, if she’s half as cute as you, then hell yes.”

“No,” says Eddie. “I mean like, my mom. Does not know. That I’m gay. Fuck. Like, she has no fucking idea. And she’s gonna have a shit fit when she finds out. I keep telling her I don’t even have a soul mark yet—she never would’ve let me out of the house again if she’d seen it.”

“So?” says Richie. “Now it’s going away; now she doesn’t have to see it.” Seems more like a solution than a problem if you ask him.

“Honestly I was hoping not to even have to deal with any of this shit until like after college,” Eddie says. He looks like he’s considering just making a fucking break for the door. Like, don’t want to deal with this now, bye! Which, fair.

It’s a lot to roll with, especially just out of fucking nowhere like that. Richie probably should be freaking out way more than he is right now.

The idea of not seeing Eddie again until after college sounds terrible, but he doesn’t want to admit that. Going around like, yeah, I met my soulmate but he had a meltdown and ran away so… Like, he could do it if it’s what Eddie wanted. But he really hopes Eddie changes his mind.

“Do you want me to just like...fuck off?” he asks Eddie, quietly enough that the others won’t hear him.

Eddie frowns. “I don’t—”

“I mean...I guess we don’t have to like, you know, go for it now. Like. If you’re not into it, it’s cool. No offense taken. Maybe I’ll… I dunno, find you on Friendster in a few years? When things are easier? Or you can look for me. It’s Richie T-O-Z-”

Eddie cringes, checks his phone. “Shit, I have to go. My mom left me three messages; she’s probably already in the parking lot.”

And before Richie can even get upset about the idea that his soulmate is about to walk off into the sunset without so much as a dramatic monologue about how he’ll never give up on their eventual theoretical love, Eddie bites his lip and looks up into Richie’s face. His eyes are big and brown and make Richie feel like his ribcage is liquefying.

“Gimme your phone,” he says. Richie’s heart leaps into his throat as he pulls it out of his pocket.

Eddie takes it from him. “You should really get a case for this thing,” he says, clicking away on the number pad.

Their fingers brush as Eddie hands back his phone, with one last long look back as he scampers away.

Richie starts typing before he’s even left the lobby.

 From: Richie

hi its richie, the actual love of ur life

 From: Eddie

jesus i havent even reached the parking lot

dont text me too much its 15c a text, my mom will catch on

 From: Richie

can i see u again

i miss u already

 From: Eddie

i can probably get out again saturday

 From: Richie

saturday? what about tmrw?

 From: Eddie

im lucky if i get saturday

saturday, yes or no

 From: Richie

YES OF COURSE

meet me in front of the arcade 1st and Adams

…

ok?

 From: Eddie

Yeah 2pm stop texting me 

Eddie—god even thinking his name brings up a rush of butterflies—is standing outside the arcade looking about as comfortable as if it were a strip club. He’s wearing shorts, apparently for the first time in years. Something tells Richie that Eddie’s not going to be one of those people who gets their soul mark tattooed on after meeting their soulmate. The jury is still out on Richie—he kinda misses his already.

In the five days since they met, Richie has outlined itineraries for at least three different honeymoons and started a shortlist of names their adoptive children. He hopes Eddie also dreams of naming his sons after the kids from South Park.

“So,” says Richie, leaning down and looking Eddie in the eye, “yes or no to kissing on the first date?”

“Who said this was a date?” Eddie scoffs, opening the door to the arcade and rolling his eyes.

Richie has as much of a plan as he’s ever made in his life for this afternoon. First it’s the arcade where he can show off his bitchin’ Dance Dance Revolution skills, then to Johnny Rockets next door for a burger to remember, then hopefully back to Richie’s car to make out if they really hit it off.

Richie honestly cannot wait to show Eddie his car. It’s super impressive, even though it’s missing a bumper and the back passenger side door is held on with duct tape. Is a handjob too much to hope for on the first date? He doesn’t want to pressure Eddie or anything, but Richie is ready to give Eddie a handjob yesterday. So as soon as Eddie’s ready to rumble, they can get down.

Richie brought both his windshield covers just in case—the blue one and the Ren and Stimpy.

Turns out there’s a long line for DDR, which Richie probably should have counted on since it’s Saturday. Perfect opportunity for getting to know each other though. If Eddie would just like, you know, talk. He’s silently chewing on his lip instead, brow furrowed.

“Come here often?” Richie asks him.

Eddie shakes his head. “More like never. My mom won’t let me. Says the arcade is full of germs. She thinks I’m at Stan’s house watching High Society again . ”

“What’s High Society?”

“Really?” Eddie looks up at him. “You haven’t seen—like, with Grace Kelly, Frank Sinatra? Bing Crosby? No?”

“So it’s like...a super old movie?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says slowly. “What—I’m just curious—what’s your favorite movie?”

“Definitely The Big Lebowski,” says Richie right away. “That’s easy. Best movie of all time. Oh, except maybe White Chicks. Pulp Fiction. Scary Movie 3.”

“Oh my god,” Eddie whispers, apparently to his shoes.

“Please don’t tell me you preferred Scary Movie 2. That might be a dealbreaker. Soulmate or not.”

“But you do like scary movies?” Eddie perks up a little. “Have you seen Wait Until Dark with Audrey Hepburn? It’s super scary.”

“Audrey Hepburn? Ohhhh, that chick in The Philadelphia Story? My grandma makes us watch that every year when we come over for Thanksgiving.”

Eddie purses his lips. “That’s Katharine Hepburn.”

“Are they sisters?” Richie asks.

“No.”

Richie isn’t worried. Eddie probably just hasn’t seen, like, Dude Where’s My Car yet. Easily fixed. His parents will be out of town next weekend; Eddie can stay over and they can watch it. That and definitely Catch Me If You Can.

He pitches the idea to Eddie, whose eyes light up at the mention of Catch Me If You Can.

“Oh my god,” Eddie groans, “Leonardo DiCaprio was like, my sexual awakening.”

“For sure,” says Richie. “He was such a badass in Gangs of New York. Which one did it for you? Was it The Man In the Iron Mask?”

Eddie looks at him like he’s being an idiot. “Uh, you’re guessing The Man In the Iron Mask before Titanic?”

“Really?” Richie winces, super disappointed and unable to hide it. “Titanic, Eddie?”

Eddie smirks. “No. Romeo and Juliet. You’re up.”

Richie tries to decide whether Romeo and Juliet is a better or worse sexual awakening than Titanic as he chooses a song. Richie practices DDR every weekend the way some people faithfully go to church, so he’s pretty confident he’ll blow Eddie away no matter what.

Still, just to be safe, he picks easy mode when he thinks Eddie isn’t looking. Eddie’s never been here. He doesn’t need to know that it took Richie six months of practice before he finished a song without failing out. It’s gonna look cool either way.

And, okay, in hindsight...these brand-new Dickies are still kind of stiff. They might not have been the best choice for DDR. He just figured they’d make a better impression than the old ripped ones he was wearing when they met. Eddie strikes Richie as the kind of guy who doesn’t wear the same pants two days in a row; he doesn’t need to know that Richie (up until the day before yesterday) only had the one pair. Richie has decided he might even be convinced to break his strict rule of not throwing out pants until they’ve worn through in the crotch. All for love.

Eddie smiles brightly at his abysmal score. “Wow, that was pretty good. Can I try?”

Damn, that smile. Whipped already and they haven’t even kissed yet. Richie steps down with a bow.

Eddie stands tentatively on the DDR platform.

“Um…” He looks at the screen. “This one?”

And before Richie can stop him, he’s picked a crazy song on hard mode. If it were Bill, Richie would settle in and prepare laugh his ass off. Maybe even try to grab his camera from the car.

“So you just like, step on the arrows when they show up on the screen?” Eddie asks while the game loads.

“Uh, yeah,” says Richie. “But you know—don’t worry if you fail out. Took me awhile to get the hang of it.” He winks. 

“Okay,” says Eddie. He rolls his neck and shakes out his arms and… Whoa, why does Richie suddenly feel like he’s about to pop a boner?

And then, uh. And then Eddie is nothing but a flurry of legs, jumping, twirling, hopping back and forth. He claps and snaps with the beat—god, he knows how to use his fucking body. Thank god for Richie’s stiff new pants. He bends a little at the knee, letting his sweater drape down over his lap. Other people in the arcade are stopping what they’re doing to watch—he’s that good.

After what could have been either ten seconds or ten years—but nothing in between—the song ends and Eddie bounces lightly off the mat. Richie’s throat goes dry.

“How’d I do?” Eddie’s little smirk is positively edible.  

“Marry me,” Richie croaks. “I was gonna offer to teach you to play but, uh…”

Eddie laughs. “Mike has that game,” he says, still smiling. “We play it all the time at his house. It’s even harder with the shitty fold-out mat.”

“Well there go my plans,” Richie says, throwing his arms in the air. “It was gonna be a DDR lesson. A sexy one. And you’ve gone and totally schooled me, so now I’m just gonna have to try to impress you with Halo.”

Mercifully, Eddie turns out to be absolute shit at first-person shooters, so Richie isn’t totally humiliated on his home turf. But Eddie creams him at the driving games almost as bad as he did at DDR. 

“Jesus, dude,” Richie says, watching Eddie punch his initials into the hi score list. EFK. “What kind of car do you drive?”

“Pffft,” Eddie shakes his head. “My mom won’t even let my get my permit yet.” 

“Wait,” says Richie. “How old are you?”

“I’m eighteen,” Eddie tells him. Shut the fuck up. No way.

“You’re older than me?! But you’re so short! I thought you were like sixteen.”

Eddie shoots him a baffled glare. “You know that’s not how it works, right?”

“Well, how old did you think I was?” Richie asks. 

“I guess I thought you were eighteen too?” says Eddie, shrugging. “I mean…” he gestures vaguely upward.

Richie raises his eyebrows.

“Alright, touche,” Eddie admits. “But seriously, how old are you? I’m gonna feel really weird if you’re just like, the world’s tallest freshman and you’re hitting on me.”

“Seventeen. I’ll be eighteen next month. So we’re practically the same age.”

Eddie nods. “But as far as driving, yeah. I don’t like, have my own car. So yeah, technically I could get a license but I don’t have anything to actually drive yet.”

“My dad gave me his old car and basically let me destroy it while I was practicing,” says Richie. “Your parents don’t trust you with their cars?”

Eddie hesitates for a second before looking away. “It’s just me and my mom,” he says quickly.

“Oh,” says Richie stupidly, feeling like an absolute tool. “Oh yeah, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Eddie tells him, and it sounds like he mostly means it. “I was so young when he died, I don’t even remember him. It’s just that my mom…”

“She sounds like a hardass,” says Richie, drumming on the Whack-a-Mole console while Eddie grabs the mallet.

“It’s not— wham— that,” he says, eyes darting between the moles. “It’s like… My mom acts like she wishes she’d never even —wham— given birth to me.”

“Ow,” Richie grimaces. “Harsh.”

“No,” Eddie corrects. “I don’t mean it like— wham —that. Just that like I think she would rather they’d never— wham —cut the umbilical cord. Like she wishes we were still— wham wham wham —attached.”

“Yikes,” says Richie, because that’s all he can think of to say. 

“Big yikes,” Eddie agrees.

“I’m guessing you don’t go to Derry High, then,” says Richie, resting his head against the machine while Eddie continues to annihilate moles. “Makes sense that I never saw you around, cause I totally would’ve remembered seeing that ass before.”  

He hesitates before adding, “I even wrote some graffiti in the bathroom stalls so you’d recognize my handwriting.”

Eddie’s nose crinkles adorably at that. “First of all—no. I’m homeschooled. Maybe because my mom doesn’t want me making too many friends, or maybe even just to keep me from using public bathrooms.” 

“How do you know Mike and Curly then?” Richie asks.

“Cur—Stanley? Shit,” Eddie says as he misses a mole. “Mike and Stan are homeschooled too. We go to the same testing center in Bangor. And—ha!—I dunno? I sensed their gayness?”

“Yeah I sensed their gayness too,” Richie says. “By the way they were all over each other.”

“No, actually. It wasn’t like that. I knew both of them before they knew each other,” says Eddie. “I was there when they met.”

“Wow.” Richie uses his fist to hit a mole he thinks Eddie’s about to miss. “soul mark surprise?”

“Not really,” says Eddie. “Stan had a thing on his wrist that said, hi, I’m Mike , in Mike’s handwriting, so I kind of connected the dots and introduced them.”

“I’m the third wheel with Bev and Ben all the time,” Richie tells him, leaning over to collect tickets from the Whack-a-Mole.

“They’re not usually too—wait, what’s that?” Eddie asks, snatching something out of Richie’s back pocket. He unfolds the piece of paper.

“Oh, well, uh,” Richie says, thinking for the first time that it’s kind of embarrassing that he kept the list in the first place, “I just… Well, my soul mark said oh my fucking god, I hate that song, so I kind of like kept a list of songs I thought he—they might be talking about.”

Eddie snorts. “I have every single one of these on my iPod,” he says. “And that’s like, my all-time favorite song.” He points at I Knew I Loved You by Savage Garden. Oh god.

“Do you really hate Weird Al?” Richie asks him on their way to the air hockey table. “Cause I gotta say, I don’t know if this,” he gestures between them, “is gonna work out if you don’t want to hear the Angry White Boy Polka at least three times a day.”

“No,” says Eddie quickly. “Weird Al is great. It’s just, you know, the soul mark thing. Like I got it and I was like, what the fuck is this shit? And I guess it was kind of a relief when the song came out because I really hadn’t figured out like...what context I might hear that in. But then I just got sick of associating the song with like...true love. Cause it’s like, ridiculous and gross, you know?”

“I guess,” says Richie. “I dunno. I thought that was pretty fuckin’ romantic.”

“Yeah, I bet you did,” says Eddie. “That’s the kind of romance I’d expect from anyone who hasn’t watched Bing Crosby serenade Grace Kelly.”

“Damn, Eddie. You’re a pretentious little dick, you know that?” Richie says, picking up the puck.

“And you’re a goddamn mess,” Eddie shoots back without pausing. “Your serve.”

Richie is already balls deep in love by the the game ends. To be fair, he’s not sure how he was supposed to concentrate on the game with Eddie giggling and doing a little dance every time he scored. Eddie may have kicked his ass, but Richie walks out the door of the arcade feeling like he’s the one who came out on top. 

“What’s next?” Eddie asks, backing out the door of the arcade, catching his new sticky hand toy on Richie’s glasses on purpose.

“Road head?” Richie asks hopefully, jutting his chin in the direction of his car and grabbing onto his glasses to keep them from being pulled right off his face.

“You wish,” Eddie rolls his eyes. “I haven’t even decided if I want a second date yet.”

“Ah ha!” Richie points at him. “So you admit this is a first date?”

Eddie laughs and raises his eyebrows. “I dunno. Is it?”

“Let’s ask Johnny Rocket,” says Richie, cocking his head to the right. “Got time for a burger? We can split a milkshake.”

Eddie gives him a considering sort of look. “I could probably squeeze it into my schedule.”

Ohhhhhh the things Richie wants to squeeze… With great mental fortitude, he refrains from commenting. Instead Eddie opens the door for him and they grab two menus and a booth. 

“What are you gonna get?” Richie asks.

Eddie peers at him from over the menu. “Depends who’s paying. But we’re definitely not sharing a milkshake. I can already tell you’re a dessert hog. I’d end up getting like one sip.”

Richie laughs, running a hand through his hair. “God.”

“What?” asks Eddie, eyes already fixed back on the menu.

“Honestly? You.”

“Me what?”

Richie hesitates because it’s something he’s never talked to anyone about before. And for good reason—it’s fucking stupid. But right now, sitting in this Johnny Rockets…

“You know…” he starts, drumming his knuckles on the table, “I’m like, super bisexual. But I knew my soulmate was going to be a guy.”

Eddie puts the menu down. “Huh. Really? How?”

Richie shakes his head. “I dunno. It sounds really stupid but like… I don’t know if it was a dream I had or… you just. Like when I heard your voice and then you turned around in the theater…”

It’s so corny. He can’t say it. He’s playing with the straw dispenser on the table like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. How do you say you make me feel like, gooey inside and it’s fuckin’ nasty but also I don’t ever want it to end? Without sounding like a pussy, of course.

“Thanks? I guess?” says Eddie. “I mean, I still have no idea what you’re talking about but—”

“I’m really glad you’re my soulmate,” Richie blurts out. “Not just to have one, I mean. I’m glad it’s you. You’re awesome. Like...you’re totally knocking me off my fuckin’ feet here. And I hope you—”

The rest of his sentence is drowned out by Eddie leaning over the table and kissing him. Not like, full-on tongue kissing or anything. Just kind of a peck. But longer. Something in between. Soft, but definitely real.

And afterwards Eddie draws back, a little pinker than he was a second ago and then digs into his pocket, fishing out some quarters. He puts two in the little jukebox at their table, punches in a number and letter combo, and then sits back in his seat, shredding a straw wrapper between his fingers.

  I thought love was only true in fairy tales

Meant for someone else, but not for me

 Eddie looks like he’s trying as hard as he can not to grin, going even redder. Richie leans in and offers his hand. Eddie drops his straw wrapper.

  Love was out to get me, that’s the way it seemed

Disappointment haunted all my dreams

But then I saw her face—

 “You know,” Richie says, looking Eddie in the eye, “I like the Smash Mouth version better.”

  Now I’m a believer

 Eddie laughs and takes his outstretched hand. “I think I can live with that.”

[mademoisellegush]

Nectar

Happy Galpalentines Day!! Have a NSFW Chargestep

@fallenhero-rebirth

Solana hasn't hung around the Rangers much, in the months since the Gala and her rebirth, but for Ortega…

For her, Solana would make some exceptions, however the cards may fall.

The elevator opens to uncover Lady Argent, eyes lost somewhere far beyond the drab walls of the base, until she focuses on her drab grey overalls and the beers she carries.

"Argent."

“Birchwood.”

The rest of the ride up is just as silent. Argent's presence is a heavy weight as always, both in mind and in flesh - silver or not.

The bottles in her hand clink softly against another, and for a moment she's tempted to offer her one. Bridge the gap of years and animosity with a gift.

The elevator chimes, and the door to her floor opens unceremoniously. Too late, then.

She walks out, head held high, and doesn't smile.

"Hey, Ilio," she says softly as the door closes behind her. It feels wrong to speak any louder.

"Hey, Sol," Ortega replies, parsing through a thick beige folder. "What are you doing here?"

Solana puts down the beers on a stack of old files, newspapers and police sketches.

"Shouldn't I be the one asking you that?"

"What do- mierda. Oh, Sol, no, I'm sorry, I forgot. Let me finish up and I'm all yours."

Solana can't help the wry smile on her face. Ortega's mind runs a thousand miles a second, able to switch tracks in the span of a breath, but there are times she focuses so much she loses track of everything else. Solana doesn't know if she'll ever be used to it, but. It's very Julia, and she missed her sun so, so much. Too much to be healthy, too much for what she has to do. Too much to move on. She shakes her head, warding away some of the cobwebs.

"I don't mind. I'm just here for you anyway. And those beers."

"I'll take you up on that."

Solana goes to hand her one, unsure of what to say. Ortega always did keep her on her toes, and not being able to glean anything other than Julia's body language makes it... difficult, at times. But it's also been a comfort.

She's holding her.

Solana looks down, sees Julia's tanned skin against her scarred flesh, wants to jerk her limb out and cradle it close and punch her and-

"Oh. You cut your nails," Julia says, not letting go of her hand.

Solana nods. She shouldn't, but she's blushing now, entire body and mind focused on the fingers linked with hers. Ridiculous; she's thirty... something, not some foolish teenager who's never made out with her only friend (and supposed enemy) by now. But Ortega - Julia, Ilio, her sun - brings out something fragile in her.

Something that shouldn't be alive anymore.

"Sol," Julia says, shit-eating grin spreading across her face like the rising dawn, and then, leaning in close as if sharing a secret, "so did I."

She still hasn't let go of Solana's hand.

It doesn’t feel as bad now.

And like in the hospital, Solana pulls Julia down and presses her lips to hers, too afraid to second-guess herself. Julia smiles against her lips, and deepens the kiss.

So, two problems now. One, Julia's zipped up in her blue Ranger skinsuit, which isn't easily taken off. Two, Solana absolutely cannot let her reciprocate.

The offensive it is.

"Sol," laughs Julia, lips open on the "o" as she breathes out her name, as Solana corners her against the table, as wandering hands run over the deep blue of her Ranger suit, "stop tha-a-at, I've got a meeting soon."

"Liar," Solana answers, and reaches up to untie Julia's ponytail. "Like that's ever stopped you before."

Julia's hair falls, grey streaks at her temples framing her face. Perfect for running her hands through it, kiss the laugh and worry lines that turn the larger than life Greek Statue that is Charge into just a woman. Scars she left, scars she didn’t. Old and New.

Solana is enamoured with the softness of Julia's flesh, with the way the taller woman's skin and muscles move and bend and hold to her own. It's not what she needs - no way to stay detached and harden her heart for what's ahead, the terrible choices and revelations. But it is what she wants.

Who she wants.

Julia lets Solana raise her arms to unzip the skinsuit along her ribs, though she does her best to distract Solana from her chosen path with slow kisses. Getting one of Julia’s legs out of the skinsuit is difficult, and Solana has to take a second to laugh when the matching neon blue sports bra and lightning patterned undies emerge from underneath. Trust Ortega to wear her own merch regularly and willingly.

“I know you like them,” Julia winks, hooking her hands in Solana’s salopette’s suspenders. “I can get you some so we match.”

“I’ll pass, Ilio. Blue never was my colour.”

A lie, what with the mask that is Blue Rocket; but Julia doesn’t have to know. Not yet.

The legs on either side of her waist bring her back to the present. Nonchalantly, she helps Julia shrug off the suit, steps back to let her take off the underwear, running her hands up the newly-uncovered skin. Scars again, a lifetime of fighting and modding and, well, life.

Solana kneels at last, her cheek to Julia’s thigh, and takes her time.

The one advantage to this weak, scarred body of hers without the armor is this: how easily it bends and contorts as she needs it to. How she can feel, taste, touch - and be touched - without shedding any of the layers upon layers protecting her secret. Like now:

The hand in her hair tightens with every secret she hums between Julia’s thighs. The sort of secret that would make one go half-mad, set ears bleeding and alight flames on the edge of thought. The sort of secret an ex-almost-hero should never have heard of.

One of Julia’s knees hangs off her shoulder, ankle digging at her upper back, and she holds the other spread out, nipping at the soft skin of the bare thigh until it is as marked as she dares, so sensitive that any pressure seems to be the source of excruciating discomfort. The soft breaths she tears out from flushed lips are worlds away from the screams of agony that should be the only thing a villain takes from a hero, but not... unwelcome.

Every moan and shallow breath shoots heat through her spine, unfurling in her belly like a fire threatening to start again, and yet bare embers to the furnace when Solana looks up to meet Julia’s gaze, half-lidded and focused entirely on her. This is her work. This is something she's done; and that thought shouldn’t be as frightful as it is.

Julia suddenly stands upright, spine straight like someone's stuck a stick up her back with her suit only on one leg, and Solana's been pushed back on her ass on the floor of a messy office, with a knee to the face for her trouble, she's about to snarl when she hears-

"-done with the reports?"

Oh, she grins. Opportunity for torment. She crawls forward, one of her hands sneaking back to Julia’s skin, climbing ever upward across her body.

"Yes, yes,” the taller woman mutters on her brick of a phone. “I'll have them done in time for the end of the week. Was there-" she shivers as Solana’s mouth finds her skin, "- anything else?"

Julia’s voice is steady. Too steady, Solana thinks. She presses an open-mouth kiss to a bruise. With her other hand, she nudges Julia’s knees apart again,  enough to allow her to breathe a path up the woman’s inner thigh, kissing the already bruising skin she left there not minutes ago. The only visible reaction is a hand to her cheek, calloused palm comforting. Urging her on.

Time to bring out the big guns, she thinks, and teases a hand higher and higher up.

She starts rubbing small circles on Julia’s clit with her thumb, light enough to tease, heedless of the foot digging into her ribs. She's not really listening to what is being said, focused as she is on Julia and her limits. To Julia’s credit, her only reaction is to clench around Solana’s fingers, the foot still in the skinsuit digging a bit more harshly into her ribs.

She hears hastily exchanged goodbyes and the thump of the phone thrown somewhere close by before hands knot themselves in her hair. Solana laughs at the sensation, scalp stinging as Julia pulls her closer; swallows the sounds her maybe-but-not-quite… lover? Girlfriend? makes, hungry mouth on hers, before she kneels again between Julia’s thighs.

It’s a full-on moan that answers Solana’s lips pressed to Julia’s ones; and her name is the answer she receives when she kisses as deeply as her lungs allow. Warm, the taste of Julia and sickly sweet sweat and her need, her want, drawn out syllable by syllable and the desire that lances straight to Solana’s gut.

It doesn’t take long for Julia’s breath to quicken, the hard pane of her stomach tensing, one hand to the back of Solana’s head. Solana keeps at it, picks up the pace of her tongue and fingers, even as Julia’s thighs tremble on either side of her head, as modded hands tighten in her hair, as her sun unravels above and around and before her.

There's nothing but the two of them in an off-grid office, no shady past or torturous secrets; just two souls with nothing to hide.

Solana stands up once she's drunk her fill, wipes her mouth on the sleeve of her shirt.

“That was fun,” Julia grins, and runs her hands through her loose hair. “C'me here, we're not done yet.”

“I have to go,” is all Solana can say. At least her voice doesn’t shake, doesn’t betray anything but how sorry she should feel about running away. No, not that. She’s not running, she’s walking. Deliberately. Minor victories.

“So soon?”

“You’ve got a meeting, don’t you?”

The look Julia throws her is painful. Solana is weak, knows she would stay if Julia asked. And that same small part that should have stayed buried wants her to.

She leaves before Ortega gets the chance.

[breeeliss]

.exertion

allurance

//

“Agh, okay, time! Time out!” 

Allura dropped her staff and slicked back the baby hairs that had come out of her bun. “Oh you baby, I almost had you.” 

Lance scoffed, resting his hands on his knees and gulping in lungfuls of air as he let his broadsword clatter to the ground. “You...almost...killed me.” 

“Oh please, don’t you think you’re exaggerating just a bit?” 

“Am I!?” 

Allura rolled her eyes. “Alright, I might’ve gotten a bit close to your head there.” 

“You almost lobbed it off!” 

“Aw, but you blocked it! You’re getting so much better at handling that sword. I’m so impressed with you.” 

Lance held a finger up at her. “Stop making me forget to be mad at you by complimenting me. That’s foul play. Fluttering your lashes is an illegal move, I’m calling it.” 

Allura made a show of looking put out. “Shoot. That was going to be my finishing blow. Now what’ll I do?” 

He pouted his lips as he collapsed onto the floor. “Could i get some water please?” 

She picked up a water bottle from the corner of the training room and threw it at him. “We’ll take a couple of minutes to catch our breath but then it’s back up again. You have to build up your endurance fighting with that sword.” 

Lance poured the water into his mouth before letting it spill all over his face. “I don’t have the Altean biology to fight with this thing...” 

“Nonsense,” Allura waved off. “I talked with Shiro. Your history is filled with humans who fought with swords just like this. It’s all a matter of getting in the correct headspace and training in the correct way.” 

“Allura, those men were probably monsters. And, don’t get me wrong, I’m ridiculously hot, but I’m not that buff.” 

Allura leaned over and squeezed Lance’s bicep. “I don’t know. You’ve been filling out quite a bit lately. Your tank tops are actually starting to look tight on you. Are you doing the arm and chest exercises I’ve been telling you to?” 

“Everyday.” 

“And you’re running?” 

“Four miles a day.” 

“And isn’t it easier to lift and wield the sword?”

Lance narrowed his eyes at her. “I know you’re trying to use logic to prove your point, but I’m going to keep pouting.” 

Allura smirked. “What were your exact words to me? ‘I’ll do it so long as it turns me into a motherfucking beefcake like Shiro’?” 

Lance grinned. “Okay, first of all, you cursing like a human is adorable. Second of all, how dare you repeat that, it was said in confidence. And don’t tell Shiro I said that!” 

“What? Don’t tell Shiro that you called him a beefcake? That’s a very high standard to hold me to. Probably not wise. I am seeing him later.” 

“Allura, stop!” 

She stuck her tongue and picked up her staff. “Come on! Up you get! One more go and then we can stop for lunch. I know you can do it.” 

Lance wiped his forehead with the edge of his tank top, muscles flexing just before hefting the sword up and slipping down into a solid stance. He saw Allura staring at his feet before he widened it and waited for her nod of approval. Admittedly, the broadsword training that her father had put her through was a little bit fuzzy, but she knew enough to bring him through basic stances and get him to hold his own during a fight. The rest would surely come with practice and instinct. 

Allura waited for him to make the first move. He clutched the grip with both hands and swung the sword over his head so quick that Allura actually struggled to bring her staff up quick enough to block the blow. They smirked at each other for a moment before Allura shoved him off, twirled her staff over her shoulders, and tried to sweep his feet out from underneath him. The first time she tried that on him, he landed roughly on his back and couldn’t train for the rest of the day. But he was getting quicker now, already rolling out of the way and bringing his sword up to block her next blow. 

He was awfully hard on himself, Allura realized. He had a habit of comparing himself to others instead of measuring his improvement by tracking where he started and where he was now. Obviously Lance was never going to be on the level of traditional Altean warriors who were stronger, older, and had trained for deca-phoebs longer than he had. But the amount of progress he’d made just by training with Allura every day for a couple of months was ridiculously impressive. Allura didn’t expect a human to handle such a weapon so gracefully. It was like Lance was meant to wield it, and she hoped he realized that. 

It wasn’t easy for a human to make her put in enough effort to break a sweat. 

They kept parrying back and forth for a few more minutes before Allura tired him out -- he hesitated for a moment when his sword ended up getting too heavy, and she used the opening to shove her staff under his chin and get him to yield. Lance’s arms were shaking from exertion as he dropped his sword and lifted his hands. “Admit it. I had you against the ropes for a second there.” 

“You’re adorable,” she teased. “But you’re not that good yet.” 

Lance shook out his arms. “God, they’re tingling! I think I overworked them.” 

“Just means the blood’s flowing. Give yourself a second.” 

Lance pouted and draped his arms over her shoulders. “Oh God Allura. I think they’ve stopped working. They’ve got a mind of their own.” 

Allura laughed as he backed them up against the wall. “Lance, stop it, you’re going to make me trip!” 

“Oh golly gee, I think my legs are going, too. Allura, help, it’s like my limbs have a mind of their own!” 

His arms curled around her neck and she felt her back collide with the wall as he hung off of her like a child. “You’re such a baby,” she scolded gently. “I’m all sweaty, get off of me.” 

“What, and I’m not? We’ve been sweating on top of each other all morning. Maybe I want a hug.” 

Allura pet the top of his head. “I’m more than happy to give you all the hugs you want when I’m clean and showered.” 

Lance hummed and yanked Allura down by her neck until they were sliding down and sitting on the floor. “No. I want a hug now. You can shower later.” 

“I probably smell, Lance.” 

“You smell perfect.” 

“Lance...” 

“What?” he laughed, resting their foreheads together. “Stop worrying so much, just sit with me. I’m tired and I don’t feel like getting up.” 

“Tired you out that much, huh?” 

Lance sighed. “You always tire me out. Staring at you takes all the breath out of my body and I get all lightheaded. I don’t know how I survive.” 

Allura rested her hands on his biceps, ignoring how indulgent it must have seemed. “You’re too smooth for your own good.”

His nose brushed her own and his head tilted slightly. “I’m only this smooth around you.” 

She bit her lip and placed a short kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Don’t I feel special.” 

“You should. This is Grade-A material I’m handing you.” 

"Oh dear, I might swoon.” 

“Are you swooning right now?” 

Allura giggled. “A little bit. Will you catch me?” 

She fell against his lips, and Lance’s arms slid down to cup her jaw and pull her against him. All the giddy laughter made their teeth clash and turned the kiss awkward, but Lance stroked her cheeks and slowed it down until she was sighing into his mouth. In the back of her head, she knew that they only had the room for a few more minutes which meant anyone could catch them like this, but she was too busy letting Lance coax her into his lap to bother. It wasn’t until Lance bit down on her bottom lip and made her moan loudly into the open room that Lance pulled back in a fit of giggles. 

“Maybe we should go.” 

“Can we go shower now?” Allura pleaded. “I want to be clean before lunch.” 

“But I don’t wanna leave you...” 

Allura looked away. “I mean...you could maybe come use mine...if you wanted.” 

Lance’s grin turned wolfish. “Are you asking me to shower with you?” 

Allura smacked his shoulder. “Shut up! Don’t make fun of me.” 

“No, I’d love to,” Lance assured. “Sounds like fun. I take really long, hot showers. I hope that’s okay with you.” 

Allura gave him three quick pecks. “Of course. Should leave us plenty of time for other things.” 

Lance winked. “Race you?” 

“You’re on.” 

[404gendernotfound]

Road Trip (Lance x Reader)

Summary: This one shot takes place after season 7. You are going on a road trip with the guys from Voltron and you end up in a room with Lance and Cosmo at your first road trip stop. Everyone kind of knows that you really care for Lance and Cosmo seems to have a plan how to get you two together.

Contains: lots of fluff

Warnings: none

Wordcount: 3,2K

Enjoy!

________________________________________________________________

It’s been a while since Voltron came back to earth and the paladins fought against Sendak. After all of them recovered, earth started to rebuild its cities. Now, a year after the catastrophe, they decided to go on a road trip and asked me to come along. And of course I couldn’t decline that offer. I’ve started to be friends with them especially Lance after they were brought to the hospital. I was looking after them and we started to become really good friends. So now we were packing the two trucks for our road trip.

“Do you have everything, Shiro?”, Allura asked while still packing some stuff into the trunk of the second car. “I think so. Everyone put their stuff in the car?”, he asked and we all nodded.

“Then I guess we are ready to take of”, Allura said and we all laughed.

We then got into the cars. We leased 2 trucks with 3 rows to sit in so that we would have enough space for our bags and all the other stuff we needed for the road trip. Shiro and Allura would be driving the two cars. The paladins and I would be riding in Shiros car and the others would be with Allura. We nearly fought over the seats and then I ended up with Lance on the backseat. Hunk and Pidge were sitting in the row in the middle and Shiro and Keith would sit in the front. Allura and Coran would sit in the front of the other car, behind them Krolia and Romelle and Cosmo of course would lie in the back and sleep.

“Why do I have to sit with Lance?”, I protested and heard Pidge laugh in front of me.

“Cause you’re the only one that can handle his crap without losing their mind”, Keith said from the passenger seat.

“Hey!!!”, Lance instantly shouted which made Shiro laugh.

“Allura, are you guys ready?”, Shiro asked through the communicator Pidge had installed in both cars.

“Yes, we are ready. You drive in front of us and we follow”, Allura answered and Shiro started the engine.

“Ok guys. Now lean back and let’s go”

We first drove some miles on the highway and then changed to a country road. (And of course we all started to sing “Country roads”.) Lance started to annoy me pretty fast so I decided to put on my headphone and listen to some music to relax. After some time we stopped and I put my headphones down. Shiro looked back at us.

“I’m gonna fill the tank and you guys can get some snacks from the shop if you want to”, he explained and Hunk, Lance and Keith already left the truck.

“I’m gonna stay here with Pidge”, I announced and Pidge nodded.

Shiro left the car too and now we were all alone. Just us two girl and some awkward silence. I heard Pidge clear her through before she started to speak.

“Soooo…how do you guys get along?”

I looked at her confused.

“I mean you and Lance. You seem to hate each other pretty much”, she continued and I laughed.

“Nah…Lance…he just gets on my nerves a lot. I don’t actually hate him and I think he feels the same. We just joke around a lot and make each other mad for no particularly reason. It’s just fun to see how the other one gets angry”

“So you two do like each other”, Pidge said with a knowing smile.

“Yeah…WAIT! WHAT! NO! IT’S NOT LIKE YOU THINK IT IS”

I felt like she caught me. I would always decline to like Lance. I mean like him more than a friend. I just had the feeling that they would start mocking me if they knew that I actually really cared for Lance.

“Girl you don’t need to hide it from me I can see right through you. I know that you like Lance a lot.”

She leaned over the backrest and whispered the next part.

“And you don’t have to worry. I won’t tell anyone”

“Am I that obvious?”, I asked smiling defeated.

“I guess as a girl I can sense when someone likes someone else. But trust me the boys have no idea”, she explained laughing and I joined her.

“You’re right. They are too dumb to notice stuff like that”

“Who is too dumb to notice what?”, I suddenly heard Keith from the front and my heart nearly fell to the ground.

“How long have you been there already?”, Pidge and said completely in sync.

“Not long. Don’t worry. I didn’t hear anything”, he said while winking in my direction.

Oh he definitely heard what we were talking about.

“Keith I swear. If you tell someone I’ll kill you”, I said while gesturing with my hand that I would slit his throat.

“I wanna see you try”

I just threw him an angry gaze and then turned my attention back to my phone. I had a new message.

Lance: Do you want some chocolate?

Me: Yeah why not

Lance: The dark one as always ;P?

Me: You know me too well

As I looked up from my phone again I saw Pidge and Keith looking at me with a grin on their faces. Keith then formed a heart with his hands and made a kissy face making my head heat up.

“Oh I hate you so much”, I shouted while throwing a pillow from the backseat at Keith.

He caught it and just laughed throwing it back at me. Pidge turned to me again and put her hand on my shoulder.

“Don’t mind him. He is just stupid.”

Then the car doors opened and Shiro, Hunk and Lance came back. Hunk went to the trunk of the car to put away some stuff while Shiro and Lance already sat back on their seats. As Hunk sat down again and closed his door Shiro made sure that Allura and the others were ready to go again. We then continued to drive to our first location. A small vacation house at a beautiful lake in the middle of nowhere. On the ride there I continued to listen to music. After some time I felt Lance tap my hand and turned my head to see that he was holding a bar of dark chocolate in his hands. I took it with a smile and then looked at it. There was a post-it on the back of the bar. “Sorry for annoying you ~ Lance” was written on it and my heart started to beat faster as I read it. I then turned around to him and gave him a big smile. I put my headphones down and opened the chocolate.

“It’s ok…and thank you, Lance”, I said while breaking a piece off the bar and giving it to him.

“You’re welcome”, he said and then put the chocolate into his mouth.

I knew that Lance really liked dark chocolate so I always shared mine with him. We continued to eat the chocolate until there was nothing left of it. It was already getting dark and I heard Lance yawn next to me.

“How long will we still be on the road until we get to our first location?”, I asked and Keith looked at the navigation system.

“We should be there in about 2 or 3 hours”, Pidge said while typing on her laptop.

“Man, I’m getting tired”, Lance said and yawned again.

“Then get some sleep”

Lance took a pillow and leaned it against the window. He then laid his head on the pillow and tried to sleep in this uncomfortable position. I saw how he tried to fall asleep but failed. There was enough space here to just lay down on the seats. But he would have to lay his head on my legs so that’s probably what he tried to avoid. I tapped on his shoulder so that he would open his eyes and look at me. He turned to me and I tapped on my lap.

“You can lay down here. That’s a lot more comfortable”

“You sure?”, he asked and I think I saw a light shimmer of pink on his cheeks.

“Yeah. Just lay down already before I change my mind”

He laughed and then laid down. His head rested on my lap facing the backrest in front of us. I didn’t know what to do with my arms so I just placed one hand on his shoulder and the other awkwardly behind my head. I heard him laugh and looked down at him.

“You can put your hand in my hair if you want to”, he whispered and a slight blush creeped onto my face.

“Uhm…ok”, I whispered back and softly put my hand into his hair.

Wow. It was so warm and soft. I kinda automatically started to run my hand through his hair and at the same time caressed his arm with my other hand. He didn’t seem to mind so I just continued to do that. He started to move after some time and turned to face me.

“Do you have some calming music on your phone? I can’t sleep like this”, he explained.

“Sure.”

I pulled out my earbuds and gave them to him then connecting them to my phone. I searched for some slow ballads or other songs that were perfect to fall asleep. I found the song “Fix you” and pressed play. I gave Lance my phone to adjust the volume and then he gave it back to me. He now still laid with his face facing my stomach which made me get really nervous but he didn’t seem to want to turn around so I just let him stay like that. I then put my headphones on to listen to the music with him. I was so glad that it was possible to connect about 8 different headphones to this phone being able to listen to music with a lot of friends without disturbing other people. Lance seemed to dose off pretty quickly and I just continued to watch him sleep and listen to some calming songs. After some time I dosed off too.

~time skip~

“Aww look at them. Do you see how cute they are?”, I heard Pidge say before I opened my eyes.

“Oh I think she’s awake”, Hunk whispered and I looked around.

I put my headphones down and saw that Lance was still sleeping on my lap. Pidge was leaning on the backrest and taking pictures. The others were just watching us. I felt really uncomfortable right now.

“Are we already there?”, I asked still a bit sleepy.

“Yeah. The others already checked out the house and brought some stuff inside. We just couldn’t wake you two up. You were so cute.”, Keith explained and made a ridiculous face, like he was fangirling over us.

“Oh just shut up. Go inside already. I will wake Lance and then we’ll join you.”, I announced and Keith, Hunk and Pidge left the car.

I cautiously pulled the headphones out of Lances ears and then softly shook his shoulder.

“Lance, wake up. We arrived”, I whispered.

He still didn’t move so I shook him a bit more. He started to move and slowly opened his eyes.

“What’s wrong?”, he said stretching his body and turning to face me.

“We’re here already”, I repeated.

“Oh. How long did I sleep?”, he asked and rubbed his eyes.

“I actually don’t know. I fell asleep too”, I said laughing.

“We should join the others in the house”, I then proposed and he nodded.

Lance sat up and left the car with me. We took our bags from the trunk, locked the car and then went inside. It was already pretty dark but still bright enough to see the outline of the vacation house. The house was big enough for us all and had 3 rooms for 4 people each. We walked into the living room to see Hunk, Allura, Krolia and Romelle in the kitchen, while Shiro, Keith, Coran and Pidge tried out the gaming console that was installed in this house. Cosmo was just chilling on the couch watching the others play. I sat down next to Cosmo and started to pet his head. He laid down on my lap and pressed his body against me.

“You want me to hug you Cosmo?”, I asked and he nodded as if he understood me.

“Who’s a good boy? You are”

I hugged him and continued to run my hands through his fur. Lance sat down on the other couch and looked amused at us.

“Man. I wish I could hug someone too”, he said laughing.

Not even a second later Cosmo teleported and dropped me onto Lances lap and then teleported back. We both instantly turned red like a tomato and I stood up fast to go and scold Cosmo.

“I told you not to just randomly teleport people, Cosmo”, I told him and heard Keith laugh.

“Oh come on. Don’t be angry at him. He just wanted to fulfil Lances wish”, he said smiling.

“That doesn’t make it better!”, I protested.

I sat back down and looked at Lance.

“Sorry”, I apologized.

“Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t that bad”, he said laughing and made me blush.

“Hey guys we should talk about the rooms. Who is going with whom?”, Allura asked.

“I already made a plan”, Pidge announced.

“We girls sleep in the room on the first floor. The boys sleep in the room on the second floor to the left and the rest sleeps on the right”

“But wait. We are 5 girls and 5 boys and Cosmo”, I realized.

“Yeah. That’s why you, Lance and Cosmo share the third room”, Pidge said and I nearly chocked on my spit.

“What?”, I asked at the same time as Lance.

“You two are best friends so there shouldn’t be a problem right?”, she asked and Lance and I looked at each other.

“I guess”, he said shrugging his shoulders.

“OK, so it’s settled”

After we had lunch we spend some time in the basement. There was a room with a billiard table and Lance and I won all rounds. We had a lot of fun. We decided to go to bed around 10 pm and walked up to our room. Every room had his own bathroom right next to it so that we wouldn’t have to share one bathroom. I put some stuff out of my bag and walked to the bathroom door.

“I’m gonna shower first if that’s ok with you”, I said to Lance.

“Yeah. Go ahead.”

After I had showered and got dressed in my pyjama I walked over to my bed to find Cosmo sitting on it. Lance walked to the bath while I tried to bring Cosmo to get down from my bed.

“Oh come on. Please let me sleep here Cosmo.”

But instead of moving he just spread himself out even more. If he would continue to do that I would have no choice to sleep with Lance in the other double bed on the other side of the room. I tried so hard to move Cosmo while Lance was in the bathroom but he didn’t even move an inch.

“You really don’t want me to sleep alone do you?”, I asked him and he whined.

“So you want me to sleep with Lance in one bed instead”

He began to swing his tail excited. This wolf tried to be so smooth just to get us two together. I can’t believe I’m saying this but I’m actually kinda glad.

“Well if you insist on it. Then there’s no turning back.”

I heard Lance open the door and he walked in with just a pair of boxer shorts on. I nearly couldn’t look away from his naked upper body. He walked over to his bed and sat down.

“Looks like Cosmo is occupying my bed.”, I casually dropped and Lance laughed.

“So you’re gonna sleep on the floor?”, he asked laughing.

“I though about sleeping in your bed if you don’t mind me joining you…I mean sleeping with you…I mean next to you…oh crap you know what I mean”

I blushed more with every part of the sentence and Lance seemed to be really amused about me being flustered.

“I don’t have anything against it. As long as you don’t steal my blanket”, he laughed.

“Ok. So you’re gonna sleep like that or what?”, I asked pointing at his upper body.

“I normally sleep like this but I can put a shirt on if you want me to”

“No no. It’s fine”

I walked over to the bed and laid down on the right side while Lance laid down on the left side. I turned my body around so that our backs would point to each other. We laid there for some time until Lance started to whisper.

“Are you still awake?”

“Yeah”

“You can’t sleep either?”

“Yeah”

“Wanna turn around and talk?”

“Why not”

I turned my body around so that I was facing Lance. He smiled at me and I just smiled back at him.

“I think Cosmo is doing this on purpose”, I started the conversation. “Yeah. I think so too. First the teleporting and now occupying your bed. It seems like he wants us to get together”

“Weird. I thought the exact same thing. And he even reacted really exciting as I asked him if he wanted me to sleep with you in this bed. I guess he really likes the thought of us being together”

“Who wouldn’t”, I heard Lance mumble and then he suddenly went silent.

“You didn’t hear anything. I’m just gonna stay silent for now”, Lance said and turned to look at the ceiling.

“Wait a minute Mr. McClaine! Did you just say you like the thought of us being together?”, I asked.

“Well…maybe I said that…is that bad?”, he asked kinda shy.

“Um…actually…I like that thought too”, I stuttered and saw Lance turn to me again.

“Really? I thought you didn’t like me”

“What? NO. I do like you. I like you a lot. Just because I was mocking you from time to time doesn’t mean that I don’t like you”, I explained.

“Wait. Does that mean we both like each other a lot?”

“I guess so”

I was starting to get really nervous. Lance was just a few inches away from me, so close that I could grab him if I wanted to.

“If we both like each other a lot, is it then ok for you if I cuddle you?”, Lance asked while scratching his neck nervous.

“It’s more than ok for me”

Lance scooted closer and put an arm around my waist pulling me against his chest. I put my arms around his body too and pressed my body against him.

“Is it ok like that?”, he asked whispering.

“Yes”, I mumbled against his chest.

We laid like this for some time before he started to speak again.

“Good night princess”

“Good night sharpshooter”

[chenziee]

Do you have any ereri fic recommandation? I read the 6th ward yesterday (and I'm still slowly moving on, it was so sad ;-; but in a weird way it made me accept Sasha's death in the manga more easily, and it's all good), so preferably a long one please. Thank you for being awesome!

Aaahh, thank you ;__;

Hmm, I have a few fic recs but I’m not sure what you have and haven’t read so I’ll just throw in whatever has stuck with me through all these years and I can think of off the top of my head meaning these might be fics that have been recced a million times over already because they are good. If you want more/something else, let me know :)(On that note, I’d like to direct you to @fuckyeahererifanfic who have a large and beautifully categorized database of ereri fic to fit any specific needs

I’m only going to link COMPLETED fics, because I tend to only read those AND I have a particular track record of fics being abandonded after I pick them up and now have trust issues but if you want some in-progress fics, I can rec some too.

The Little Titan Cafe by @pocketsizedtitan (66k words): Modern, coffee shop AU and the cutest thing.

Just another cliche AU in which Eren works as a barista in his mother’s café, specializing in latte art. And then there’s Levi, who’s not exactly your typical patron, because, well, he’s blunt and rude (which Eren supposes isn’t that much different from regular customers) but mostly he just confuses Eren’s poor little homosexual heart. 

Nuthatch (31k words) and the sequel Sparrow (116k words) by @sugarplum-senpai Canonverse. Pining and slow burn at it’s finest. All I’m going to say about it.

After the war has ended, Levi finds himself thrown into coerced retirement. With nothing but time on his hands, he buys an old house, and throws himself into renovation work to fulfill himself an old, almost forgotten dream: opening a tea shop. If only he could forget about expressive, green eyes and a smile like sunshine. Luckily, he’s still got Hanji.

[Prequel to “Sparrow”]

After the war has ended, Eren’s life is finally good. He’s seen the ocean, is back at HQ where he trains the new Scouts, and he has dinner with Levi every single night. So yes. Things are just as well.

[Sequel to Nuthatch | can be read as stand-alone work]

The Old Boat House by @oppa86oppa (102k words): Modern/fantasy AU, Levi is a merman (fitting to read during mermay no?) Has some andgst and some fluff, a bit of everything, really.

One night after Eren and his friends share a bottle of whisky, two bottles of whatever Annie brought and a couple of ghost stories, they walk the path along the gravel road, through the wheat field and past the small forest and stumble upon the old boat house. Inside they find something that’s sleeping on the bottom of the lake, someone clearly not human. One of them comes up with the idea they should catch it, probably fucking Jean, and in their surprise they actually succeed. However, in mere seconds the situation is suddenly turned completely upside down.

Eren doesn’t fall into the water, he doesn’t jump, he’s pulled down.

Art of War by catsonfire(53k words): Modern AU, fluff and comedy

Noisy neighbors, nursling dinosaurs, satanic box cutters, shitty convenience store management, the word ‘fuck’, hereditary (but not really) homosexuality, beer and ramen, pennies, truckstops, strippers, closets, semi-public defacing, rings, house parties, “recreational” drug use, accidental rendezvous, toxic stew (don’t eat the stew), nice abs, housewives–batteries not included, over-educational movie sessions, copious domesticity, kittens named after landlords, a shit joke at participating locations, and many, many happy endings.A modern AU in which Eren moves into the apartment directly above Levi’s.

Do you want me or do you want me dead? by fmaloser (82k words): Modern not-your-typical-high-school AU. A personal favourite of mine and the amount of kudos is a sacrilage. Although yes, it’s dark. There is blood and gore. The relationship they have is not healthy. Lots of angst. Boys are both broken and break other peoples’ bones, but I love them for it. (Read the tags before reading the fic.)

It’s decided that the school douchebag, Levi, needs a tutor to help get his grades back up. It’s also decided that high school senior, Eren, is perfect for the job.At first, the two hate each other. But after their pasts come back to bite them in the ass, they realize that maybe that’s not the case.

An Unlikely Alliance by @monsoondownpour (117k words) Arranged Marriage Between Waring Kingdoms AU. Everything you want from a good fic.

When Scouting Legions main trading partner, Wall Maria, is experiencing economic strain from constant attacks by the neighboring kingdom Titan, the leaders of the two nations come to an agreement: Scouting Legion will provide military protection in exchange for land and financial aid for the still growing nation.Their new alliance will be sealed with the union of King Jaegar’s son Eren to the Scouting legions strongest soldier, Lance Corporal Levi. But how will the cold, impassive soldier warm to his new husband, who is far from the weak, spoiled princess he was expecting?

Witch’s Vein and Bloodstains by @monsoondownpour (38k words) Fantasy AU. Not that long but so beautifully written it’s unreal. The atmosphere and how it’s delivered is honestly something I aspire to.

In a land of sentient forests and unpredictable magic, it is never wise to venture far without a witch.  

The Survey Corps is in dire need of a replacement after a tragic accident took Ilse’s life in a quest gone horribly wrong. Eren might not be what anyone expected, but he has raw talent and curious allure that even Captain Levi can’t deny. When circumstances conspire to pit the squad against the same adversary that took Ilse barely a year ago, will they be able to handle the challenge a second time round?

Fallen Star @monsoondownpour (31k words) Modern AU. Lots of angst. Actually it’s mostly angst because even the ridiculously fluffy parts hurt. (But spoiler: happy ending, yay!)

Detective Levi Ackerman had his life in order; a steady job he enjoyed, a close circle of friends, and a spitfire little sister who was all the family he could ever want or need. His world was a simple one until ballet prodigy Eren Jaeger stumbled into it.Someone like Eren didn’t belong in his world.Now he wasn’t sure how he would live without him.

Lists by Trick_Fantasy (72k words) College AU. Can be highly triggering for anxiety, there is emotional manipulation, and VERY toxic friendships. It’s about learning to get past all of that. Read at own risk. But it’s an amazing fic and will forever be one of my favourites.

The story of Levi (“Why bother trying to make friends when you can learn to control people instead?”) and Eren (“Because you can control people better when they think that they’re your friends. They don’t even know they’re being manipulated.”) coping with social interaction at college in their own different ways.

Augenfresser by @foxicology (75k words) Modern/Fantasy AU. Horror/Thriller. Deals with heavy stuff, the ending is up for interpretation and known to fuck people up. Be warned.

Monsters did not like to hide under beds, as his father had told him. No; he found the monster hiding in his closet.

Love.exe by @cofferi (70k words) Modern AU. Finishing off with more fluff/comedy so I don’t seem like such a psycho. Definitely a fun read.

All Levi wants to do is drink tea, run his goddamn convenience store, and not have to deal with this kid who keeps coming in to leech his wifi bringing down high-end corporations.

Also literally anything by @sciencefictioness is a sure bet. Just saying.

Also going to take the oppotunity to throw in my own AO3 because why the hell not (although it’s mostly oneshots).

I’m very sure I’m missing some amazing fics and authors but this is what I could think off at 1AM and not make it a mile long post. I hope you find something you haven’t read and that you enjoy these gems anon :)

.

.

.

Also I can’t help but throw this fic in:

Tinsel Town by TheWonderYears (33k words) Modern AU. Psychotic-murder-boyfriends AU. Seriously. It’s very graphic. Blood, gore, torture, all the fun stuff. I love it. My ultimate fave, always and forever.

There’s Definitely Something In The Water.

Aaaand there goes my ‘I’m not a psycho’ claim.

[savetheblackpaladin]

Hey I love your blog! It's my favourite! Could you do a Shiro imagine where it's years after Voltron and him and his s/o have children and it's all cute and fluffy! 💖💖💖

ok, so I got a lot of this type of request so I’ll just do random HC’s, yeah? Mostly because if I broke these all up they would probably be extremely similar

Shiro’s got twin girls and he’s Blessed™ every morning he gets to see their beautiful faces

we’re continuing with the twins from earlier posts: Astrid and Hayden

if you didn’t think he cried when he got his first ‘#1 Dad’ you’re fucking wrong because this man bawled

it’s his favorite mug

until his daughters grow up more and start making him one every year, then those are his favorite

also he loves the crazy ties they choose for him each year. 

you thought he was romantic before marrying him? Well buddy, i have some news for you

takes every opportunity to say “Wifey” any time he possibly can. You are his ‘wifey’ and he loves saying it.

or ‘husband’ if that is what you prefer. every time. “Hey Husband.” what is your name? Husband.

flowers/chocolates/food/gifts weekly. just because he likes the look on your face when he comes home

you know that Roseanne post where dan gets her flowers? Yeah, that’s him

date night every wednesday (bc Fridays are busy) and sometimes it’s fancy, other times it’s not (”What do you mean Panda isn’t romantic? This is peak romance right here.”)

randomly massages parts of your body without asking

“What are you looking at Shiro?” “Only the most beautiful person in the universe.” “You’re a loser.” “But a loser who’s in looove~”

*soft sigh* “How did I get so lucky?” you’d think you’d be used to this, but it still makes you blush years later

“You’re so perfect, absolutely perfect.” “Shiro…I’m picking up dog shit.” “Yeah~”

has pictures of you, your daughters, and your pitbulls (3) all over his work area

there’s a small voltron dedicated area too, but it’s tiny compared to his family area. Lance is appalled.

“You won’t believe how cute my girls were this weekend!” proceeds to whip out the new 63 photos long album on facebook

speaking of, amateur Dad Photographer Shiro

he’s got a fancy Cannon with a bunch of different lenses

weekend daughter photoshoots are a hoot

your girls grow up loving it, being dramatic, imitating tyra banks, wearing ridiculous outfits, they are owning that back yard

they continue pretty much until the girls are like 13, because “It’s embarrassing dad!” “Ok, but I’m supposed to be embarrassing?” 

Soccer Mom Shiro

he’s got shirts that say his daughter’s names and numbers for every sport

he’s got noise makers and flags

the obnoxious parent who heckles the refs

“Hey ref! Did you come from FootLocker!? Because that was BULLSHIT!”

“oH SCREW YOU COACH! YOU WANT ME TO COME OVER THERE AND SHOW YOU HOW A REAL ELBOW GETS THROWN??!!”

he gets red carded, a lot.

you don’t even fight it anymore

the team loves him though because he’s super supportive of the other girls and he brings some killer snacks

not homemade though, he can’t cook for shit

remember his Expedition? He finally traded her in for a new version and is the official Mom Car™ for team/friend trips

let me repeat, he can not cook for shit. but for some reason he can throw it down of the barbecue

convinced it’s a perk you unlock after childbirth

very protective of his daughters, but respects their right to privacy and right to do their own things

but he taught them how to fight, so every fuck boi within a 10 mile radius knows not to fuck with the Shirogane Twins

he chugs that Respect Women Juice

wants to break a kid the first time a daughter cries over a romantic partner. but then he remembers murder on Earth is illegal. 

overly supportive in whatever his daughters and you choose to pursue

just overly supportive in everything really

he basically lives for you guys 

doesn’t get sick for some reason, so whenever someone is sick in the house, Nurse Shirogane/Dad is on it

“Who wore their shoes in the house?? Seriously?”

*pinches his nose with a deep sigh* “I’m sorry, my daughter punched Travis. But frankly, he kept harassing her even after she told him to stop snapping her bra strap. So the question we should be addressing here, Principal, is why your teacher allowed this sexual harassment to continue and did nothing to help my daughter?” Guess who got detention? Not his daughter.

Wants to cry a bit when his daughters start asking questions about sex

but he’ll be damned if they don’t know everything

it was actually a good family talk, after the initial awkwardness

The Hot Dad

his daughters’ friends all have a crush on him and he can’t figure out why

it’s totally not because he’s hot

or that he’s actually interested in what they have to say

or that he does yard work shirtless

or that he remembers random facts about them that they thought he would forget

nope

his daughters are grossed out

you think its hilarious because you get to tap that

drops off his girls at school

“Have fun! I love you! Make good decisions! I miss you already!”

“OmG DAD GO HOME!”“GROOOOSSS!”

goes to pick them up and has a little sign like people do at the airport that says “Shirogane” with like glitter and hearts and shit

the twins are embarrassed each time but they secretly love it

threw up the first time he had to change a poopy diaper

he did it though. he did it.

sings around the house a lot, just little random song parts or to the dogs

“Where oh where are my pup-py dogs~?” the dogs come slipping and sliding around the corner every time you guys come home

*badly and purposely out of tune* “And there’s the love of my liiiiife!!!~” “Oh stop it Shiro!” “She thinks I’m talking about her~. but I’m talking about the noo~odles~” *you throw a noodle at his head*

accompanied by bad dance moves

speaking of puppy dogs, has 3 pitbulls that look vicious as hell but they’re just as sweet as him

they are wonderfully trained and big babies

his ‘other children’ 

wouldn’t hurt a fly, but ain’t nobody fuck with you guys on walks

Their names are Mr. Murder (Murds for short), Cupcake (Cakey), and Rebel (Bells). He didn’t name them. The girls did.

There is also a grumpy house cat that nobody knows how old it is or how you acquired it. The Captain has just, always been…

Cappy showed up one day and never left

he’s a solid grey Blue Russian/Siamese mix with green eyes that rules the dogs

only loves Shiro and tolerates everyone else (he loves you guys really, but Shiro is his person)

Shiro baby talks him, “Who’s a good murder cat? You are! Yes! You!!!”

the house cleaner, his house and yard is spotless.

once broke out a ruler to measure the grass. you made fun of him.

“I swear to God, if Jim’s nasty ass tree grows over the fence this year, I will cut it down. I don’t give a fuck.”

fond of power washing

hot mechanic, does his own car work

head kisses for everyone! you are a well kissed family

also you’re the couple that’s always got your hands linked, arms wrapped around each other, or just leaning against each other

you’re always touching. always.

family Halloween costumes

Halloween is his JAM

lives for Halloween decorating

watches House Hunters religiously

The one who drags the family to World Market and Kohl’s for house decor

the house is definitely decorated for every major holiday

and he’s actually really good at decor? Like, you wouldn’t think so given with his clothing style and bad hair cut, but wow. you’ve got a nice house. (yes, i’m dragging Shiro)

you’ve come home routinely to the girls doing is hair and makeup and nails

“Hey honey, look how pretty I am. Didn’t the girls do a wonderful job?” “Just…marvelous dear.” “Right? Your turn is next.” oh no…

doesn’t wash off the nail polish, nobody makes fun of him. nobody.

tries to make you breakfast in bed on your birthday and valentine’s day

he can only make harboiled eggs and toast

when the girls get older, it gets more elaborate because they can help

super excited to teach the girls how to drive, but worried about dying

screamed more than once in the car and tried to slam on his invisible break

“Please…stop… you’re making my hair whiter…”

“I said SLOW, THIS IS NOT SLOW!!!”

Hands are pressing on the roof of the car and he’s twisted in the seat trying to brace himself

one day he figures out how to work the crockpot and can now contribute to family meals

loves taking you guys camping

tent camping, because RV camping ‘isn’t real’

a pyromaniac

everyone needs a personal bear mace and a dog at all times

the cat goes too, on a harness

family snuggles in the hammock for star gazing. including said pets. it’s a big hammock. 

everyone has an absurd knowledge about space. he was an astronaut and lived in space for a few years, so yeah

routinely uses Scary Aunt Allura as a threat

selfies!!! he has a lot of surprise ones where he just comes up and kisses you and takes the picture

the girls are selfie queens too family pictures happen. a lot.

“Family selfie!!” “We’re at Albertson’s????” “Don’t care, get in here.”

just, embarrassing but totally authentic dad!Shiro melts me

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