#she disappoints everyone yet everyone expects nothing from her so that should be impossible

[whatsitzface]

You guys ever think about how much harder Peter's character would hit if he was a girl. How much more engaging his story would be..

Like, ostracized from the marauders since day fucking one because she's the only girl. Rumors are always flying that she's only in the group because one of the boy's is in love with her or something. And then as the get older, the rumors get worse. Nobody treats her like a real member of the group, a real person, not even her fellow marauders at times.

She was childhood best friends with James. Back when gender meant nothing, and picking flowers and catching bugs were treated equal. Hogwarts came along, and she was naive enough to believe nothing would change. But suddenly he's so far ahead. Shes so far behind. Below. Why does he even hang on to her anymore? And she's jealous, and bitter, and possessive, because everyone in her life is better than her. And she's too far behind to play the game fairly and win. Did anyone ever even let her play the game fairly in the first place?

Everyone's playing the game better than her. Not only does she have to compete with the girls, who are all prettier, and smarter, and cooler, and so unrelatable to her they might as well have been aliens. (Why were they so foreign?) No, she also has to compete with her fellow marauders. She has to fight tooth and claw everyday against the stereotypes. Try to be something more than normal the way women have to be. Try to better. Tries to be equal to the boys, but she really is just a dumb girl. She can never win against the men in her life, and none of the women ever tried to understand her. So here she is. A husk of a girl with her dead, colorless hair. She only ever liked asking silly questions and catching grasshoppers in the backyard. Why does nobody care about her anymore? Was it something she did, or was she screwed from birth?

The blood from her birth painted a girl. Her mother wanted a son. She was surrounded by her boy cousins, and a bitter mother, and James - the ray of sunshine - taught her laughter and lightness. But a boy came along and whisked James away with his stupid pureblood face and - well, it's fine. It's not like she ever had a crush on James, despite all the awful rumors, but God. He was hers, wasn't he? Hadn't she finally had something. But over the years she loses more and more. Everyone took it away from her. Was it always going to be like this? Born a bloody girl, mother begging for a boy. And died a bloodied woman, kneeling to a man.

And maybe it was taught - but what if it was earned? Maybe she was too slow, and everyone left her behind. Maybe she was too dumb, and everyone surpassed her. Maybe she was too disappointing to be a woman. Maybe she was too weak to be a man. Maybe she was only ever a coward. But a coward that killed the sun. Maybe the only thing she could ever beat James at was life.

[annwrites]

—the fox & the flower

playlist | gifset | quotes

& your heart's against my chest, your lips pressed to my neck. i'm falling for your eyes, but they don't know me yet. — gwayne hightower x niece!reader ; ✧ ˚ ·𓆸

“Please, mother, may I go?” You ask excitedly, practically bouncing on the balls of your feet with elation.

Meanwhile, your mother merely stares down at the invitation in her hand, carefully considering.

The corner of her mouth tugs down into a frown and you begin to deflate. 

Her eyes meets yours and she gives you a forced smile. “It is all the way at Highgarden, my love. You would need a royal escort, a chaperone, not to mention—”

“I don’t…”

You pause. “I understand I will need protection. But it is for one night. One evening where I may be someone else for just a few hours. Not the princess that others are expected to prostrate themselves before, not a Targaryen, not royalty. Just…whomever I choose to be. I hardly ever ask you for anything—have been the least troublesome of my siblings, besides Helaena. Please, mother, please,” you beg, taking her hands in yours. 

“But you are a princess, sweetling,” she states, cupping your cheek. “And should be treated as such. Protection will be required. You know this. It concerns me how desperately you wish to play pretend for an evening. What you might…have in mind.”

You take a small step back.

“Have I ever disappointed you? Stepped out of line? Done anything untoward, or sullied myself in any shape or form in my entire life? I’ve been nothing but a perfect, shining example of what a highborn lady—a princess—should be. I hold even myself to an impossibly high standard, because I know I must, lest I let everyone down. Lest I be chastised for there being a…a crack in my porcelain. 

“Please just… Guards may accompany me. But the night of the masquerade, I would prefer to be…my own company. Elsewise, everyone will know who I am, and crowds will flock to me all evening. If I wanted for that, I may as well remain here instead.”

You take the letter from her, clutching it to your chest.

“Please, mother. Soon enough, I will be wed to someone of your and father’s choosing—some stranger whom I may not even love,” tears sting your eyes at the words. “And this chance for one night of joy and celebration forever stolen from me.”

She chews the inside of her cheek. “Perhaps Aemond should accompany—”

You groan, throwing your head back. “So he may complain during the entire journey, as well as all night about how he’d rather be here riding Vhagar, or practicing with a sword in the yard, or getting up to Gods know what else. And he’ll be attached to my side all night, acting the protective elder brother, driving me insane. If he comes with me, so help me, I’ll take his other eye.”

She draws in a sharp gasp. “Young lady!”

You shrink into yourself, your cheeks warming. 

“Forgive me,” you mutter.

“It’s not as if he’s never threatened to feed me to Vhagar,” you mumble.

She rolls her eyes, padding across the room. “A jest, obviously. Not that I am excusing such behavior.”

She turns back to you. “You know he is very protective over you. Aemond would never lay a hand upon you.”

You cross your arms. “I’m done talking about Aemond.”

You know she’s trying to change the subject, even if the mention of him is clearly connected to the matter at-hand.

Finally, she sighs, seating herself upon a lounge near the balcony. “I will need speak with your father about this.”

You shift on your feet. 

“Will he…understand what it is which you’re asking?” You say quietly.

She pats the cushion beside her, so you seat yourself. 

“I’ll go to him first thing in the morn when his mind is most clear and we shall discuss it. But, once I give you our answer—the King’s answer—you must accept it, even if it is not that which you wish to hear.”

You think for a moment.

“What if the two of you agree, and I go, and he…” Your chin wobbles. “He slips away while…”

She softly clicks her tongue, pulling you into her arms, cradling the back of your head while she gently rocks you to and fro. “Let us not think of such things, my sweet girl.”

She pulls away, tucking a silver lock of hair behind your ear. “But if he did…”

She sniffles. “His suffering would be at an end. We would have that to comfort us, my darling. That he would finally have peaceful rest at last.”

You nod, rubbing your fingertips nervously into the palm of your hand. “If I am allowed to go, I will sit with him before. Talk to him.”

Say goodbye, just incase….

She nods with a solemn smile, pressing a warm kiss to your forehead.

Not only have you been given permission from your father, the King himself, but your mother has written to your uncle in Oldtown, asking if he would kindly host you once the celebrations at Highgarden are at an end.

She wishes for you to see the place of her birth, and you also wish to see your brother, and to meet your uncle for the first time in all your life.

He had agreed in kind, promising he shall meet you at the site itself, as he has been invited as well to the ball.

You cannot recall a time where you've felt more pleased or excited than you do now with all you have to look forward to.

You fill with relief when the gossip you’d heard in the gardens proves to be true: more than one head wears silver hair tonight—somehow allowing your own head of such hair to be a disguise for once, instead of a beacon like that atop the Hightower.

You stand off to the side—for once all on your own, and it makes you feel, for the first time in your entire life, like a woman grown.

You sip idly from a crystal glass of champagne, a small smile playing on your lips at the grand ballroom which lies before you.

Sparkling chandeliers lit by countless candles hangs from a high, painted ceiling. The marble floor has been polished so well you can practically see your own reflection upon it. Bouquets of roses and tulips and lilac and more fill large pots, and painted ivy climbs up large pillars throughout the room. 

High tables hold flowing towers of more champagne, and silver trays advertise decadent treats of cake and pastel-colored macaroons, small sandwiches and tiny sausages, fresh fruits and vegetables, among a selection of other finger-foods. 

Lovely music plays from a group of musicians at the head of the hall: a harp, violins, flutes, trumpets, drums… And women in glittering gowns with ornate masks spin round and round as men in well-tailored suits hold them close in their arms.

It’s true: this place—Highgarden—is something out of a fairytale.

Oh, how you never wish to leave.

“I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure.”

You turn with pleased surprise that someone is finally speaking to you—and he is quite handsome, even with a mask, which resembles a golden fox—tied to his face. Tall and lean, with reddish-golden strands and emerald-green eyes, a smirk upon his feline lips.

He comes closer, taking your free hand in his, and he leans down, pressing a firm kiss to the back of it.

“My Lady,” he greets lowly.

You curtsy, blushing. “My Lord.”

He takes a small step closer, gazing into your eyes. “Not the first Targaryen, or Valyrian princess—or, mayhaps, lady—I’ve had the pleasure of encountering this evening, but you are the first to have violet eyes. How did you accomplish that facet of your costume?”

Your lip twitches. “I shall never tell.”

He raises a brow in interest. “I’m most adept at acquiring secrets from comely young maidens. I’ve yet to meet one which is a match for my silver tongue.”

You take another sip of your champagne, staring at him all the while in interest.

He shrugs slightly. “There are…other ways of confirming, of course.”

“Confirming?” You question.

“Mm, if you are who you claim to be. If the hair on your head is merely an illusion, or if you are truly a daughter of the King.”

You blink at him in ignorance. “How would you do that?”

He smirks, sipping from his own glass. “Mayhaps you will allow me to show you later tonight.”

He glances outside, through open stained-glass doors, toward the large, expansive gardens just down the steps that lead out from the castle.

“In the hedge maze?” He suggests, meeting your lovely eyes once more.

You shift nervously on your feet, which he takes note of, knowing he needs treat his prey more gently if he is to win this hunt.

“I…do not know. It’s very large, and I would fear getting lost within.”

He gives you a charming wink. “Lucky for you that I have an excellent sense of direction.”

You force a smile, turning back to the dancing courtiers before you.

He remains silent for a moment, merely admiring you: your curled silver hair done in an intricate style—pearl and jewel pins littered throughout, along with tiny flowers—your lovely pink gown, which flows from your body like water, your bare, slender shoulders, even the finely-designed mask you don—simple, yet beautiful, with its opalescent colors. And round your neck hangs a long pearl necklace that rests atop your soft breasts, your dainty fingers which grip your glass house a few silver rings upon them.

He can only imagine how comely those most intimate parts of you that’re currently hidden from him are in comparison to the rest of you. 

He intends to discover such hidden treasures for himself before this night is through and the morning sun rises high above the clouds.

As a servant with a silver tray balanced upon their palm goes to pass, he rests his glass upon it—being so bold as to take yours as well—before offering you his hand.

“Would you care to dance? I’ve a difficult time believing you decided to attend merely to spectate. And to let a jewel as rare as you stand to the side as a wallflower all night would be a waste indeed.”

You’ve already deigned that he is most certainly a flirt in every essence of the sense, but you know that you are in control of yourself.

That nothing occurs tonight without your say-so. So long as you go nowhere alone with him, all’s well that ends well.

Now that it is dark, you do not intend to leave the castle’s confines anyway, so you take his hand.

“I would like that very much.”

He smiles, flashing a set of brilliant white teeth, sweeping you onto the dance floor. 

You quickly rest a hand upon his strong shoulder, while he continues to hold your other, sliding his opposite to rest in the middle of your back, and the two of you step this way and that, spinning round and round, and you smile all the while with your heart fluttering in your chest.

Yes, you for once feel just like a princess from the stories. And he, a handsome young lord or knight or prince, come to save you from your sorrows.

“So,” he says. “It is up to us to be whomever we wish to be tonight. To make our story as we want it. Tell me, my lovely lady, who are you?”

You smile contentedly. 

“I…” You pause for a moment, thinking. “Am, in truth, a swan."

He raises a brow in interest, chuckling. "Are you?"

You nod. "Indeed, I am. I come from a faraway land, a deep blue pond the color of rare sapphires my home. And, for one night every year, I am given the gift of having a human form bestowed upon me to do with as I wish."

He thinks on what you've said for a moment.

"It seems to me we should make the absolute most of this evening we share, then, should we not? Before you are stolen away from me come the morn."

You lip twitches, deciding not to reply to that. "And who are you, my handsome suitor?"

"I, myself, am merely a lowly huntsman. But naught would know, what with my fine attire and mask which hides my true face."

He pulls you closer to him. "I believe I have for myself a most comely and graceful bird, however."

He lowers his lips to your ear. "And I do not intend to part with my quarry until she disappears into a fit of white feathers, leaving me heartbroken and yearning once more."

You grin, shaking your head in amusement. "Do most ladies usually fall for such an act?"

He shrugs, glancing around the room. "I've yet to hear a complaint in regards to my...chivalrous nature. I do so love to tend to damsels in distress."

You stare up into his jewel-hued eyes, while he begins to slide his hand lower, and lower...and then the song comes to an end, with a room full of people clapping in appreciation.

You break from him, taking a step back, and he bows to you.

You renege on your resolve to remain indoors for the rest of the evening then, deigning that you need air. This room is far too cramped—too hot, and too busy.

You go to walk past the unnamed gentleman before you, until he lightly grasps your fingertips.

"Shall I escort you outside, my swan maiden?"

You hesitate for a moment. "Can...can I trust you?"

He takes a step closer, resting a palm against your upper-arm, growing quite serious. "I would never harm a woman. Nothing occurs between us tonight that you do not wish. I give you my word. I want only those who want me in return."

You fill with relief then, and you nod.

The two of you are silent as you walk through grand gardens, your arm draped over his, occasionally passing giggling girls, or pairs of lords and ladies too enamored with each other to notice either of you.

He glances ahead, toward the seemingly endless expanse of greenery that lies before you. "Shall we?"

You waver. "I've never gone through one before."

"There's a trick to it. You needn't worry: once you're ready to leave, I'll guide you out."

You consider.

You know you most likely shouldn't. That you should turn around and go back inside instead.

But with masks on—with the two of you having no bloody idea who the other is—what would it truly matter if something more is...shared in private corners with only marble statues to bear witness?

You take a small step forward, he following along beside you.

You know you've reached the middle when a large bubbling fountain comes into view—polished wooden benches on either side, and statues of cherubs and women draped in gossamer in each corner.

You break from him, kicking your shoes off your aching feet, and you pick up your skirts as you climb up the stone ledge of the fountain before stepping into the cool water.

Meanwhile, your escort for the evening watches with a wide smile. "Well, you are certainly not a Targaryen princess. That much has been confirmed."

Your lip twitches while you gaze into the distance with a knowing look.

"I told you: I am a swan. We are naturally drawn to water, after all."

He nods. "Ah, yes, how foolish of me."

He cocks his head to the side, and you sway from side to side in interest.

"Have you ever considered allowing those perfect feathers to be ruffled, my little swan maiden?"

You look him over briefly before stepping out, dropping your skirts, and merrily hopping down.

And for the first time in all your life, you throw propriety and decorum to the wind.

"Kiss me."

He smirks, most pleasantly surprised. "Are you sure?"

You take a step closer, fisting his doublet in your hand.

"Kiss me," you repeat.

He leans down, cradling the back of your head while his other hand cups your cheek, and he presses his lips to yours.

And your heart explodes like fireworks in the air.

A kiss. Your first kiss. And on your own terms—by your own deciding.

And as his soft lips move gently against your own, you determine that it is perfect, and everything you've ever dreamt it should be.

He flicks his tongue against yours and you still.

And he pulls back, but only slightly.

"It's alright. You may as well, if you like," he says, encouraging you gently, before giving himself to you once more.

And so you do.

Your tongue dances with his, just as your body had in that marvelous hall, your desire deepening in your core as he kisses past your lips, down your chin, to your neck.

Your eyes flutter closed and you sigh quietly as he slides his hands up your back, holding you impossibly close.

He presses his lips firmly up a hot trail all the way to your ear. "Would you like for me to go further?"

Slowly, your eyes open. "How?"

He smirks slightly. "There are other lips I might pleasure on your body."

You jerky slightly. "I don't—"

He gazes down, into your eyes, the moon casting his red-gold curls in a silver glow. "It is just the two of us. I wish for tonight to be all you want it to."

He kisses you again. "Let me touch you. I beg of you."

He kisses your neck again, mumbling against it, "Let me please you. End my agony, My Lady."

You remain silent—for a long while—he continuing to kiss and tease with delicate flicks of his tongue against your hot, flushed skin.

You shouldn't, but Gods how you want to.

"What if...someone happens upon us—sees?"

He looks at you once more, brushing his thumb against your cheek. "Then they are welcome to spectate."

You frown at him.

"I've excellent hearing," he assures you. "No one will catch us. And if they do, it is not as if any would have an idea of who either of us are. Most importantly you."

Your heart pounds between your breasts while another pulse, which began long ago between your legs due to his experienced lips and hands and words, grows in fervor.

You know your mother would be most disappointed—heartbroken—but all your life you've let yourself be locked in a pretty gilded cage because others have willed it so.

Tonight, you spread your wings.

"Yes."

He sits upon the ledge of the fountain while you sit in his lap with your skirts bunched up around your waist.

He'd refused to look between your legs—telling you that he refuses to 'spoil the surprise' for himself, and it was only then that you finally understood his earlier comment about discovering your true identity in other ways.

You keep one arm wrapped around his neck while you cup his cheek in your other hand—his free arm holding your waist as the two of you kiss passionately while his fingers tease the sensitive pearl between your thighs.

You jerk and whimper and sigh contentedly while his tongue explores your mouth—his fingers exploring elsewhere—as you hum in contentment.

"Gods," you whisper. "Is it always like this?"

"What might that be, sweetling?" He asks between breaths—for his heart does pound as his cock strains against his trousers.

"So...wonderful. Warm and passionate and—oh, Gods."

You ease your head back, biting your lower lip, holding desperately to him.

He circles and circles that bundle of nerves with slick digits, desperate to see you come undone in his arms.

"Only if the man is a very good lover," he answers with a grin that you do not see.

"My body feels as if every inch of me is on fire."

"Perhaps," he grunts—his fingers slipping between your hot folds. "You should cool yourself by unlacing your bodice."

Your eyes meet his—your lips swollen and red and your face flushed as you reach behind you without second thought—tugging with desperation against the strings which bind you.

And then you pull down the top of your dress, exposing your perfect, round breasts to him, and he dives forward, taking a pert nipple into his mouth.

Your jaw falls slightly open at the feeling—at the overwhelming sensation of all of it. Of him.

You feel your body tightening, your thighs attempting to close as you grow ever-closer.

"I'm nearly—"

He kisses between your breasts before crushing his lips to yours. "There you are, darling, show yourself to me. Allow me to see it. Let me watch you."

You press your forehead to his, cupping the back of his head, tangling your fingers in his hair as you squeeze your eyes shut.

You lift your hips, desperate to find your peak.

"Yes, Gods, please—"

He strums ever-faster, like a musician playing the most delectable of tunes upon his lute, and then you shatter.

You whimper and moan and cry softly as you press numerous open-mouthed kisses to his lips, his hand sliding up and into your hair while he chuckles in satisfaction.

"Gods, you are magnificent, aren't you? An astounding spectacle to behold, My Lady."

Eventually, his hand begins to slow, as do your hearts and breaths as the pair of you calm.

Once he has aided you in situating your gown once more, you rub your palm against your opposing arm nervously. "I should...perhaps say thank you?"

He chuckles, shaking his head. "The pleasure was all mine, my Lady Swan."

He steps closer, nodding slightly, shrugging as he settles his arms behind his back. "But, if you wish to repay me, we could come to an agreement."

"Agreement?" You ask with uncertainty.

He cups your cheek. "Come the stroke of midnight, we reveal our true identities to one another."

He presses his lips to yours once more. "I must know who you are. Who it is which I've held in my arms all night. Who it is that I've had the pleasure of pleasing by mine own hand."

You chew your lip nervously. "How...how do I know that by morn all will not know? If anyone discovered—"

He lowers himself onto one knee then and your eyes grow wide. "What're you—"

He takes your hand into his. "I make you this solemn vow, My Lady: I will guard the secret which is your identity with all that I am. That this night—our brief love story—shall follow me to my grave. None shall know, I assure you. You've my word. And my word is my bond."

He is absolutely ridiculous, but you smile nevertheless. "You may be in for quite the surprise when I remove my mask."

He rises again, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "I assume I most certainly will when my lady turns into a swan and flies away home, leaving me adrift."

You snort, shaking your head, soft curls falling over your shoulder. "Are you always like this?"

He smirks. "Only if I can help it."

The two of you listen as the bell tower tolls loudly for all to hear—signaling the end of the most perfect day you've ever had the pleasure of experiencing, and the beginning of a new.

He reaches up, clasping a hand over the front of his mask, reaching around to the back of it.

"Stop."

He stills.

You come toward him, taking his hands within your own, lacing your fingers together. "Before...before we reveal ourselves, I need you to know what this night has meant to me."

You run your fingers gently through his hair before taking his hand within your own again. "My entire life I've strived to be perfect in every way I possibly can. Because I have to be—I've no other choice. Until tonight. Until meeting you, and allowing myself to, for once, be impulsive. Mayhaps even a tad reckless. And I've never felt happier. More...myself. So, one day, when I am wed to a stranger and shipped off to an even stranger land among strange people, I will have this night to hold onto."

You stand on tiptoes, pressing a kiss to his lips.

"I have you to thank for that. So...thank you," you whisper.

He threads his fingers in your hair. "You're most welcome."

"One," he says.

"Two," you continue.

"Three," you each whisper in unison.

He is as handsome as you'd expected him to be—his skin unblemished—small red freckles littered across his fair complexion that is complete with high cheekbones and well-groomed brows.

He crosses his arms, his lip twitching as he nods to you. "Now the wig."

You laugh nervously.

He takes a step forward. "Is it terribly difficult to remove? I would not be surprised, it's excellently made."

You giggle. "It's real, I'm afraid."

You reach up then, tugging against silver strands, before settling your clasped hands against your stomach once again.

His smile immediately fades, the light going from his eyes—all indication of his mischievous nature fleeing him in an instant.

"You—You mean to say—" He swallows thickly. "You are a daughter of the King? One of the Targaryen princesses?"

You nod slowly, coming toward him.

"Oh Gods, what the fuck have I done?"

You shake your head, your eyes growing wide as you quickly take one of his hands again. "It's alright, shh, it's alright, look at me."

You cup his cheek, turning his gaze back to you. "No one will know about tonight—what occurred between us. You needn't worry for your safety; your wellbeing. Just as we agreed: this remains solely between you and I. I would never betray your confidence. Not after what you've given me—how much it means to me in my heart of hearts."

His expression morphs into incredulity.

"You've no fucking idea what we've done!" He shouts, causing you to flinch in fear.

He rips his hand from your grip, stepping away, running his hands down his face.

He doubles over, planting his hands atop his knees as he draws in shallow breaths.

"I don't...I don't understand," you say quietly, tears stinging your eyes.

You take a small step closer. "Please, don't ruin this. I beg of you. Please."

Finally, he stands, wrapping an arm around himself while resting his opposite elbow atop it, cradling his chin in his hand as he stares at you, as if he is contemplating some impossibly important matter within his mind.

And then his arms flail out from his sides, palms slapping against his trousers.

"Well," he says, gesturing to you. "Since I now know your true identity, I suppose it is time I reveal mine own."

You remain silent as he takes a step closer, and then another and another, until only an arm's-width worth of space remains between the pair of you.

"My name is Gwayne."

Your body twitches.

It can't be...

"Hightower," he finishes. "Your uncle."

Your eyes grow impossibly wide as you stare at him, your face growing as red as a freshly-plucked cherry, your body that had felt alight, as if from dragonfire, just a handful of moments ago growing cold.

And then you bury your face in your hands groaning in irritation.

"Pleasure to meet you, niece," he says, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Your lower your hands, tears shimmering in your eyes. "I don't care."

He raises a brow, hands planted firmly upon his hips. "I beg your pardon?" He asks with furrowed brows.

"I care not if you are my uncle," you proclaim. "It makes no difference. Not to me."

He lets out a silent curse, shaking his head.

"Of course you wouldn't. Being," he waves his hand along the length of your body. "What you are—a Targaryen. But things are not...done this way among those like I. Even if..."

He rolls his eyes, searching for the right words.

"I dishonored you. Do you've any idea what we just did?"

"Nothing I did not desire," you reply, holding your chin high.

"Nothing you did not..." he says quietly, trailing off. "Your mother will have my fucking head for this."

"Apologies," he quickly mutters. "Such words are not fit for your ears."

You cross your arms in irritation. "Well, I don't intend on telling her, and I seriously doubt you do either unless you wish to meet the executioner's block."

He seats himself upon the edge of the fountain again.

"I'm...I'm glad it was with you."

He gives you a look of disbelief.

"I am," you state, stepping closer, then seating yourself beside him. "I would rather my first intimate experience have been with mine own uncle—my blood—than some stranger who...who I cannot truly trust. But you, I do."

You cup his cheek, but he bats your hand away, so you then rest it upon his knee, rubbing your thumb soothingly against it.

"I do not regret it. I wish you would not either."

"You are my niece," he reiterates, as if you cannot possibly understand that yourself. "A royal princess, the King's—"

You stand. "I know very well what I am! I need not for you to remind me, as everyone else, including your sister—my mother—has most-assuredly done as such repeatedly since the day I was born! I have a mind of my own, you know?"

He looks up to you then.

"I am capable of thinking for myself. Of...of wanting what I want. I am not some empty-headed doll, despite what everyone else around me clearly thinks when they look at me."

His eyes trail along your body, your gown, before he bobs his head to the side, indicating you should seat yourself again.

And so you do.

"I am meant to take you back to Oldtown with me. To spend weeks at your side. How...how can we be expected to keep one another's company with this hanging between us now?"

You shrug, lightly swinging your feet. "We just do, I suppose."

He hangs his head between his shoulders, his hands clasped between his spread knees.

"My own niece," he mutters quietly.

You stare at the back of his head.

"At least my uncle is a very good lover," you remark, causing his head to shoot up, and you quickly blush.

He shakes his head. "Gods, what have I gotten myself into?"

He plants a palm atop his thigh, leaning back as he stares into your violet eyes. "Was that truly your first experience, or—"

"Do you take me for some trollop?" You exclaim.

He falters. "Forgive me."

"Yes, you were my first. My first kiss, my first...what you did between my legs."

He sighs. "If I had been anyone else—the wrong man—do you've any idea what could've happened to you? Blackmail, for instance. Some power-hungry fourth-born son would not hesitate to threaten ruining your reputation until you gave him...more."

You stare ahead at a marble statue which silently judges you from afar. "Well, that's not what happened here. So I needn't worry."

"Fortunate for you," he grumbles.

Finally, he stands with a sigh, offering you his hand. "Come, I'll escort you back to your chambers. Come the morn, we depart for Oldtown. We each need our rest."

You blink at him for a moment, then resign yourself.

You slide your palm against his and he helps you down before taking your hand and wrapping your arm around his own.

"I think I would've preferred you be a swan now," he says, the corner of his feline lips twitching in jest.

He glances to you.

"I suppose my huntsman nevertheless caught his prey."

He grins. "What a prize it is."

You rest your cheek against the crown of his shoulder.

Your uncle’s retinue makes a midday stop near a riverbank to break for lunch and water the horses. 

You take for yourself a bit of meat and fruit to feast upon, and settle yourself back against a large oak tree as you enjoy the day—colorful birds flitting through the air and singing to one another while small fish jump, breaking the surface of the water before plopping back in. 

Once you’ve filled yourself, you remove your shoes, gather your skirts, and decide to wade for awhile. 

And it is in such a state that Gwayne finds you as he seats himself upon a small boulder, watching you with a smirk playing upon his lips. 

“I see this is repeat behavior,” he calls to you.

You whirl around, silver curls falling over your shoulders as you fight back a smile.

You step up, onto the bank. “You could always join me?”

He chuckles, shaking his head, looking at you from under his lashes. “I would say not, considering what sort of…position that placed the pair of us in last time.”

You shift your weight from one foot to the other. “I thought you said we were not to speak of it?”

A muscle in his jaw feathers. “So I did. Forgive me.”

He retrieves your shoes then, holding them up with a raised brow. 

And then you shake your head, a mischievous grin spreading across your lips as you enter the water once again…and splash him.

He stands. “Young lady!”

You giggle. “You sound just like mother. Gods, the two of you are just alike!”

He rests his hands upon his hips with a raised brow. “I resent that insinuation. I am the fun one.”

You splash him again. “Are you?”

He shakes his head, then doubles over, tugging off his boots, rolling up his pant legs, and he promptly marches himself into the river.

You do not get to splash him a third time as he throws you over his shoulder, carrying you out. 

“Ah! Let me down!” You say between all-consuming laughter.

“Certainly,” he says, seating you upon the very rock he’d previously occupied.

You frown at him. 

“I’ll simply get back in,” you say, attempting to stand.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” he replies, gripping your hips, holding you in-place.

You stare at him, your cheeks warming.

He kneels then, tugging his tunic from his trousers.

Your brows furrow, but for only a moment as he begins wiping your feet dry with the hem of it, staring into your eyes all the while before slipping your shoes back onto your feet with a wink.

The carriage stops and the door swiftly opens as your uncle climbs inside, attempting to escape the sudden downpour.

He slams the door behind him, slamming his fist against the roof, and the wooden wheels begin to roll once more. 

You smile warmly at him before gazing back out the window, enjoying the smell of rain upon damp earth.

Until you are unsettled by the feeling of a pair of eyes consistently resting upon you.

You turn back to Gwayne with a nervous smile. “What?”

He merely shrugs. “Nothing. May I not look upon beautiful things?”

A grin crawls across your lips and you lightly shake your head. 

“You’re blushing.”

You clear your throat, adjusting your skirt. “It’s very warm in here.”

He hums in response. “Is it? Hm, I thought it was a bit cold. I’d considered that, perhaps, I might keep you warm. It would be a great travesty for my darling niece to catch cold while under my protection, would it not? And so early in her trip, at that.”

You grow quiet then, returning to staring out the window. “I feel perfectly well.”

Finally, he sighs, seating himself beside you.

“What’re—”

He interrupts. “How much longer do we need continue with this pretense?”

Your brows furrow. “I’m sorry?”

He turns more toward you, resting an arm behind you. “Ignoring this secret which lay between us.”

You scoff. “It just—it only just happened a few days ago. And you were the one who suggested we…we not speak of it. You suggested the pretense.”

“Yes, well, mayhaps I’ve now changed my mind.”

You throw your head back, groaning as you stare up at the roof. “What would you suggest, then? We write to all corners of the Seven Kingdoms and inform them of our dalliance?”

“Perhaps we just allow ourselves a bit of indulgence, just as we did that night.”

You roll your head to the side, staring at him. “Indulgence?”

He nods, his lip twitching. “Mm, so as to keep our mutual…frustrations at bay. We merely need come to an understanding, I suppose.”

You blink at him, your body growing warm all over at the way he looks at you. “What…do you have in mind?”

You cannot seriously be considering this.

He can’t.

Gods, what has gotten into you since that night at Highgarden? This isn’t like you. Or…mayhaps it is. Just a version of yourself you’ve never had a chance to become familiar with, due to always being forced to bury any form of behavior which is not ‘appropriate’ to court, thus all you know how to be is a pretty, singing bird. A comely talking doll.

He reaches up, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, cupping your cheek. “Nothing more than…courtly romance. All very prim and proper, for your sake, of course—I know how precious your virtue is—just enough to titillate,” he says, leaning in with a grin, gently pressing his lips to your own.

You kiss him back for a moment—nearly losing yourself to the sensation before you pull back. “I believe you mean to corrupt me.”

He snorts, resting a hand over his heart, feigning at being offended. “Me? I am the very image of a perfect, chivalrous knight.”

You do not smile at the jest.

He sighs, growing serious, taking one of your hands within his own, brushing his thumb along your knuckles. 

“I fancy you. I cannot…move past that evening. How we met. Who I initially thought you to be. I know you are my niece. I do. I just…instead choose to see you as a comely young woman who brings me joy. And I merely wish to return the favor and the feelings you stir within me.”

His eyes flit to yours. “Will you allow me that opportunity? So as to make your visit more enjoyable? For the both of us?”

You glance down to his hand. “What am I to you? Some toy for you to play with in your idle boredom between political dealings?”

He shakes his head, scooting impossibly closer to you, tipping your chin up with the tip of his forefinger. “No. You are my niece. My family. My blood.”

He pauses. “My princess. But also a woman who takes my breath away. Who, despite my absolute best efforts, I cannot manage to get out of my fucking head. All I do is want for you.”

He releases your hand, raising his own—palm facing toward you. “Tell me you do not feel the same in the least, and this conversation ends here. We will speak no further of it. You have my word.”

You remain silent, merely staring back at him with an uneasy expression.

He sighs. "You think me trying to take advantage of you."

"How else am I supposed to see this situation?"

"Did you not do the same to me the night we met? You wished for an evening to be someone else, and you utilized me to accomplish that end."

You shift uncomfortably, filling with guilt, until he caresses your cheek.

"I am not faulting you for it. I am merely saying… You are not the only one who is lonely."

You scoff sarcastically.

"I know." He slides his hand down your arm then.

"It is not as if I have any shortage of female suitors. But… They, like with your own, see me for what I am. Not whom. A man of a great house, son of the Hand of the King, brother to the queen, a gallant knight who has won many a joust, a future statesman. The list rows on.

"But when I am with you… For the first time in all my life, I am merely Gwayne. Mayhaps uncle as well, but that is it. A familial bond is far more meaningful to me than a title bestowed upon me in an attempt to garner glory and notoriety."

He presses a soft kiss to your cheek. "Do I not make you feel the same? Do I not make you forget what you are, while instead reminding you of who?"

Your eyes flit between each of his—guilt settling into the pit of your stomach.

Who is to say you are not instead the one to blame here? Your mother raised you devotedly in the light of the Seven. And you have shirked your Gods for what? Continued dishonourment of yourself and they?

You are going to burn the Seven Hells for this.

Your chin wobbles and then you break into a fit of sobs, covering your face with your hands. "I have disappointed the Maiden. I've betrayed the Gods!"

Gwayne sighs, softly shaking his head. Truly your mother's child, he now sees quite plainly.

He wraps his arms around you then, pulling you to his chest while he presses a kiss to your hair.

"I believe in the Gods and pray to them myself. But, let me ask you something: in all your life of confiding in them, have they ever granted you that which you most desire? That which will bring you joy, and save you from your solitude and woe? Or, have they, instead, remained silent pillars of stone?

"Who is to say that this—what we've found—each other, is not a gift from them? It is said they work in mysterious ways. Mayhaps this is their answer to your prayers and mine own: bringing the two of us together in such a manner."

after receiving an invitation from the lord & lady tyrell to attend a masquerade ball held at the grand castle of highgarden, you beg your mother to allow you to attend.

reluctantly, she agrees, as does your ailing father, only wishing—as ever—for you to be happy.

and the night is like something directly out of a fairytale. including the dashing young man who remains by your side all evening, bestowing upon you his flirtatious attentions.

come midnight, the two of you find yourselves at the heart of the estate's hedge maze after having just shared an incredibly intimate moment together. & then you each remove your masks, revealing your true selves.

only to discover that some secrets...are best kept hidden instead.

headcanons:

gwayne comes to love & adore & worship reader with everything he is & has.

spoils her rotten while she is in oldtown.

[alcetryx]

One by One, the Stars Blink Out

Spawn!Astarion, Astarion/FemDurge, Grief, Angst, Very Sad Oneshot, No Happy Ending, Post Canon, Character Death, Violence, No Smut/No Sexually explicit content

Word Count: 4.8k

Based on a prompt I received (@yumaroni), this fic absolutely devastated me but pushed my boundaries because I am not an unhappy endings type of person (though I do love making my characters suffer first).

Astarion hated it when Flora was away. The days felt emptier, the nights lonelier, as he grappled with managing life alone in the scrappy tent they called home in the Underdark for a little over a year. When she had gone to the realm of the surface - the place he could no longer follow her for extended expeditions - he could do nothing but count the days until she returned to his arms. Of course he understood the necessity of her absence… or he had at one time. It wasn’t right to hold her hostage from the sun forever. His perfect Flora deserved to walk in the sunlight, now free from the shadow of the urges that once compelled the Bhaalspawn. And yet, it wasn’t for herself that she chose to walk in the sunlight at all. No. Her absences were all for him.

The woman he loved had never given up on him - she swore to return the sunlight to him too, so they again might walk in it together. For months the sorcerer had been researching ways to cure Astarion’s affliction - and the result was that she would be gone for weeks or months at a time, chasing a lead. Sometimes a person who might know something, other times a magic item, other times a spell. Every time she would return empty-handed, crushed, and disappointed with her failures. Astarion had at some point stopped being disappointed with her- instead just happy to have her home again. Each time he saw her dejected face appear over the ridge, he would run to her, and hold her and kiss her as she wept. In her mind, she let him down again. 

“You can stop looking for a cure, you know, darling,” he had said the last time she was preparing to head out again. He meant it. He didn’t know what she was up to this time - she never shared where she was going… only where she had been. A policy, to avoid getting hopes up. 

He didn’t know how to tell her that he wanted her to stop looking. Didn’t know how to explain that a lifetime in the Underdark with her by his side was better than an impossible task that only left her absent and in danger. He could hardly stand to see her disappointment any longer. 

Even if he had said those things, it would have changed nothing. Flora was a single-minded creature, determined in her task. She would stop at nothing to return the ability for her love to bask in the sunlight again, and to let it shine on his silvery hair. But to him, the warmth of the sun was nothing compared to the warm embrace of her arms. It was nothing compared to the feeling of her lips against his cool skin. 

When she returned again… he swore he would tell her the truth. He wanted for nothing but her, for whatever remained of her fragile human lifespan. Running around Faerun chasing cold leads was wasting their precious years together - the lifespan of a human was nothing to him. If anything, it should have been him on a quest, seeking to bring his love the gift of immortality without the cost of vampirism. 

Astarion didn’t spend all of her absences sulking, of course. No. Refusing the ascension and freeing the spawn left him with a whole headache of unexpected responsibilities that he was wildly unsuited for. Often, his siblings would joke that he and Flora were like the king and queen of the Underdark, with seven thousand mostly-loyal subjects. They were loyal to her, anyway. She was a hard woman not to like. Exceedingly kind and generous, and a confident leader. There were many times where Astarion felt unfit to take over in her absence. Everyone expected a great deal of things from him as an extension of her. Her love. Her partner. 

These days he laughed at the thought of being considered any sort of king. Once he had craved power - but he never expected it to be such a gods’ damned drag. The uncomfortable realization was that he never wanted true power, or at least not power over people. That was far too much work, and too much responsibility. The power he had yearned for was the glamorous kind - the kind that impressed people and let him defend himself and those he loved. He ended up with the dreaded genie’s wish - the worst of both worlds. He had people who watched and looked up to him for guidance (save for his own past marks, who understandably still held a grudge), but also had no power to physically defend his love on her arduous journeys. Her crusades to restore what he had lost.

The reluctant “king” of the spawn still managed to accomplish quite a lot to settle a community of vampires in the Underdark. Although it could hardly be called a town or a city, it was a settlement. Most of the spawn had chosen to stay - though a few had run off into the dark, never to be seen again. They all slowly learned what to do with their freedoms again. Some began calling the settlement “Redemption” - and it was feeling more and more lively with every day that passed. Once some had learned to find alternate sources of food, progress leapt forward in full swing. Many claimed the creatures of the Underdark tasted better, as if specially crafted to the tastes of vampires - a concept Astarion was sour to. They must have been lying to themselves, as many had never tasted blood before escaping Cazador’s dungeon. Starving vampires would take any blood they could find, and the strange and unusual creatures the Underdark produced were the first taste of blood for most. It wasn’t the animals and monsters that tasted good… but the freedom. The ability to stretch their legs again, and to have a second chance. 

 Although he was slowly becoming more self-assured in his leadership abilities, Astarion found himself often relying on his siblings in Flora’s absence. They often grated on him, but some were more reliable than others. Dalyria had a particularly comforting presence, being much more reasonable, patient, and less insufferable than his other siblings. Much like Flora, the other spawn seemed to approve of her. He suspected it was in part due to her pushover tendencies, but of course he’d never say that to her face. She could stand to be more assertive after years underneath Cazador’s thumb. 

Together, Astarion, his siblings, and Flora had formed a sort of council. It almost functioned like one. 

“Astarion, some of the spawn are wondering about the possibility of going to the surface for building materials. Like tools. Wood, stone, things like that. We have some skilled workers here, though they may be out of practice. They want to start building proper shelters.” 

He rolled over on his bedroll, eyes closed, acutely aware of the cold spot where Flora should be.

“Dalyria. Nice to see you still have no concept of announcing your arrival.”

“I’m sorry, Astarion, but you don’t make it easy to speak with you any other way.”

“Are there not trees and stone in the Underdark? We’ve built…. Some things.” Not proper structures, that much was certain. 

Dalyria’s face tensed. As patient as she was with her brother… his callousness still could surprise her. Astarion pushed himself up from the ground, regaining alertness after his trance.

“They aren’t familiar with the materials. Trees that grow in darkness are an entirely different sort from those above ground… or so they say. I’m inclined to believe them. We don’t have many tools to assist. Collecting some from elsewhere would be a great help. We have no shortage of working hands and all of them are growing eager for some normalcy…. Given that we may be here for an eternity now. Everyone tires of camp life.”

Astarion was tired of it, too - but he wasn’t about to dirty his own hands. They weren’t meant for things like building or manual labor - he was a man of the softer things life had to offer. He would sooner burn down a house than build one. The only thing that had made this existence tolerable was Flora. He would have been happy enough to live a camp life for the rest of his life if she was there to keep him afloat. 

And yet, he thought to himself, now that the opportunity was presented… didn’t Flora deserve better? This was his opportunity to prove himself. How proud she would be of him when she returned, to see a major building process underway. Yes. He would make her a real home here (well, not him, specifically - but he would oversee the process), a place where she would want to stay.

“They don’t need my approval,” Astarion finally said, concentrating his effort to make his voice sound controlled and gentle. He crossed his arms.

“No… but they seek it. After so many years of having their… our… every movement controlled and every decision made, it’s no wonder that they seek the approval of a leader.”

Astarion averted his eyes, pacing to the far corner of the tend, pretending to inspect a shoddy patch job. “Don’t get the wrong impression. I’m no leader - they don’t need me. They need Flora. She’s better at handling the… diplomatic things.”

“She’s not here though. You are. And I know she believes in you.”

“No one voted for me. It would be just as well for you to lead them.” 

Power and leadership… two very different things.

“It’s a fine idea. Consider this my stamp of approval.” He waved his sister away.

It was no no avail, for she approached him regardless, pale lips curved into a frown. “Getting the resources will be challenging for us, on our own. Going to the surface is dangerous, when your entire population runs on a fatal hourglass.”

“What more would you ask from me, Dalyria? If I could do something about that, then Flora would still be here.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You accuse others of not being ‘burdened with intelligence,’ and yet you can’t come up with a proper solution? Do you not remember your friends on the surface?”

“My friends?” Astarion scoffed. “What - why - I - what friends?”

“You didn’t defeat Cazador alone,” Dalyria reminded gently. “Your friend, the son of Duke Ravengard. Might he not be someone to ask? Perhaps we could come to some kind of agreement in exchange for supplies.”

“What could we possibly offer them?”

“Well, perhaps an army in times of trouble? Having a second wind of soldiers to operate solely at night might not be a bad deal.”

“Did you… did you think of this all on your own?” Astarion couldn’t hide his surprise.

Dalyria wrapped her arms around her torso defensively, prepared for him to mock her. “What? Why? I…” she trailed off, her eyes dropping to the pendant around her brother’s neck.

A magical pendant, and a gift from Flora - a tiny glass vial of her blood that Astarion kept hanging over his heart in her absence. Enchanted to never open, and to stay warm and red so long as she lived. A reassurance of her safety.

“Don’t get so defensive, Dal. Gods. It’s… a good plan. If only they’ll still speak with me. Flora has met with them since our final battle together, but I have not been so fortunate. Not since fleeing here to the Underdark.”

The blood in the pendant had begun to separate, the denser components creating a sunken layer at the bottom of the vial, leaving a yellowish-pink liquid at the top.

“Don’t look at me like that, it isn’t my fault - it isn’t like they’ve tried to visit m-”

“Astarion.”

“I’ll pen a letter to Wyll though, I’ll try to get it sorted out. I’m sure there’s something we can offer. The Underdark is teeming with rare spell ingredients after all, perhaps a tr-”

“Astarion,” Dalyria repeated more sternly. She cleared her throat.

He wasn’t listening, and had already turned to shuffle through his belongings, oblivious to the concern in Dalyria’s voice. He collected a scrap of paper and a pen and pushed aside some things on the crate that had served as a table for several months now.

“You’ll have to help me proofread it - Wyll and I have never been the best of pals, and I wouldn’t want to come across like too much of a bastard.” He paused before touching the pen to the paper, unsure of where to even begin.

“Astarion!” She repeated again, her tone panicked as it pushed the constraints of her usual volume. Her hands clenched at her sides.

“Ugh. Gods, Dal. What?”

She didn’t answer, only pointed a trembling finger at the necklace that held his lover’s essence. Astarion knitted his eyebrows together in a moment of confusion, before desperately grabbing at it, yanking it up to peer at the contents of the tiny thing. He watched in horror as the liquid began to combine again, disturbed by the sudden movement.

“What?” His voice fell to little more than a fractured whisper, holding all of the fear of a little boy. “No. This is… no. This is a mistake. The enchantment. It must have worn off - it must have -”

***

“You can’t keep running off on your own, darling. Please. How will I know that you’re safe? I can stand to be apart from you, don’t get me wrong. But I could never go on if you simply never returned. It would be unfair to leave me wondering for the rest of my miserable immortal life if you were dead, or if you simply left me behind.”

“I would never leave you,” Flora smiled. Her thin fingers wrapped around either side of his face, cradling his cheeks. “I’ll always come back for you. You must know that by now.”

His hand reached up and rested on the top of hers, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze. He looked into her crystal blue eyes that always left him with a feeling of serenity. Her love for him was an honest one and anyone could see it. Astarion could see it, though it was still difficult for him to believe. Saying “I love you” was simply not something that they ever did as a couple, but it was known. It was felt in the way that she held him, and in every small act of love she indulged him with. How was it possible that the woman before him had once been a Bhaalspawn? Now, free from the grip of her father Bhaal, Flora was finally herself. How she had become such a delicate, kind, and empathetic creature was a mystery to him. The stories of Astarion and Flora had followed similar paths, though somehow she seemed to heal from it all much more gracefully - as if somehow underneath it all she had always been good. Or perhaps she was just better at hiding it.

No one ever would have guessed of her past tendencies to murder indiscriminately in an amnesiac state. The idea seemed preposterous now. So preposterous that if Astarion didn’t remember the night where she almost killed him, resulting in him wrapping her in rope to stop her, he wouldn’t believe it himself.

She was deserving of far more than he could ever offer her. “You might. I couldn’t possibly blame you. Your life is just a blip in the timeline of mine… why shouldn’t you spend it in the sun?”

Flora shook her head, her soft brown waves bouncing around her shoulders. Even though there was no sunlight to shine down here, he could still recall the way her hair glistened like warm honey in the afternoon sun. How unfair it was to have her beauty dulled by the misery and gloom of the Underdark. She pulled him into a long hug, her hands lightly running his tense shoulders.

“Who needs the sun, when I have my star?”

The following day, before Flora left, she presented Astarion with her creation. The pendant. “As long as I am alive, the blood in this pendant will look just as it does in my veins. It won’t separate, and it will stay warm.”

He held the vial in his palm, the delicate silver chain hanging over the back of his hand. He could feel the faintest thrum of it against his palm - the softest echo of her heartbeat. It was nearly imperceptible, unless you were paying very close attention. He didn’t want to think about a world where it stopped.

“Don’t get any ideas now, either. No matter how hungry you get - you can’t open it. It isn’t a snack,” she joked.

Astarion didn’t laugh. Instead, he pulled her into another hug, kissing the top of her silky hair. “Thank you. Please be safe.”

***

He couldn’t believe his eyes. He ripped the pendant from his neck, snapping the chain with such force it cut the skin of his neck and his hand.

“No… no,” his voice fell to a hushed choke as he dropped to his knees. His entire world, gone in an instant. He hadn’t even been the one to notice. 

Dalyria felt his pain and cautiously placed a hand on his shoulder, feeling the tremble of his body. This was not the Astarion she knew. He had always been strong, preferring to play off his difficult emotions with humor or dry sarcasm. Now, he fought to suppress ugly sobs at the back of his throat.

“You could be right,” she offered optimistically. “It could have been a mistake - the enchantment could have failed.” 

Even her optimism could not hide the truth - she is lying to him, and she knows it.

“It didn’t fail. She’s gone,” his voice spat in agitation. 

“I - I’m so sorry, brother,” her hand gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. It didn’t feel right to do anything more.

He pushed her hand away, detesting the feeling of being touched by another person.

“Get out. Get out of my sight.”

Dalyria backed slowly out of the tent, her eyes fixed on her crumpled sibling. His arms fell to the floor, fists banging against the floor of the tent. She hesitated before leaving him alone entirely, unsure of what he would do next.

For the next several hours after, Astarion stayed crouched on the ground until his knees burned, the pendant held still in his palm. He stared at the talisman, unblinking, willing it to return to normal. Praying that it had only been a mistake. Something temporary, that interfered with the magic. But as the blood remained in the same, ugly state, it grew colder and colder, leaving Astarion to come to terms with the knowledge that he would never get to put the body of his lover to rest.

He would never even know what became of her.

If only he had begged her to stay. If only he had told her how she was more important than the sun to him. He needed her. The spawn of the Underdark needed her. With him as their leader, they were surely all doomed. How could she leave him? She knew how helpless he was without her.

***

The pain does not ease with time, and Astarion took no visitors for weeks. He did not leave his tent. He did not leave her side of the bedroll, his nose buried inside of her pillow as he clung to the fading remnants of her scent. Soon, every part of her would be gone. Her few items were those of practicality, and so went with her on the road. She hadn’t had the time to appreciate an excess of things, and never hung onto anything that would hold her down. All that remained of her was the pendant, and the place where she once slept.

Many tried to visit the heartbroken spawn, but all were driven away by angry, incoherent yelling, as he drowned in the tide of his grief. Nothing would pull him back together again, not even as several of his siblings desperately tried to inform him of the string of bodies that had been found throughout Redemption. Several nights in a row, a spawn was found dead, left laying in a pool of their own blood. Of course it was not the blood loss that took their lives - the true cause of death remained a mystery. Spawn volunteered to walk the perimeter at all hours - but still the camp was under siege by an invisible threat. Whatever was killing them knew how to take down a vampire, but also was skilled enough to leave no trace.

Somewhere, Astarion eventually found a brief moment of clarity, where he forced himself to finally pen the letter to Wyll. It was what Flora would have wanted, and he decided it would be the last good deed he would do for Redemption. The way the letter actually turned out, the request for aid was secondary, an afterthought to the news of Flora’s death. With it, he pleaded for Wyll to try and find an answer to her fate. Wyll was a busy man these days, but perhaps he would find the time for Flora’s sake, if not for his. When the sun was setting topside, Astarion finally left his tend for the first time in weeks to return to Baldur’s Gate. The letter was deposited in the mail - Wyll would see it in several days’ time.

In the eerie quiet of the night, Astarion looked around at what had become of Baldur’s Gate. He hadn’t left the Underdark for long enough that much had changed. The mindflayer attacks had caused a great deal of destruction, but now there was little trace of them. The rebuilding efforts must have been going well. He wandered the streets aimlessly, wondering what became of his love. Where had she gone? 

Had she been alone when she died? Scared? Was she killed, or did she die as the result of some terrible accident?

Before long, Astarion found himself standing before the Elfsong. The noise and music that broke free of the establishment cut through the silence of the streets, warm and inviting. The pull of the tavern called to him, begged him to drown his sorrows in drink - a pastime lost to him in what felt like another lifetime. He gave into the temptation, won over by the promise of the nightlife. As if someone else had taken over his body, he was soon sitting at the bar, throwing coin after coin at the bartender and knocking back drinks until he nearly forgot where he was. Forgot who he was, at least consciously. 

No amount of wine could burn Flora from his brain. Drunk, broken Astarion rambled to whatever poor soul was unwise enough to sit next to him, successfully driving away several people in quick order. One man stayed a bit longer than others, a fairly attractive young elven man who wore clothing that suggested he wasn’t local. At first, the elf must have thought Astarion was flirting with him, for he stayed much longer than the others. But Astarion showed no interest back, only using him as a vehicle to vomit his woes. By the end of it all, the man could do nothing but slip away awkwardly after realizing it was no flirtation.

The dawn caught Astarion off guard, and as the sunlight began peeking through the windows and the candles started being blown out, he quickly sobered. He had spent too long indulging, and missed the window to return to the Underdark. He would have to remain in the Elfsong until sunset, and given that he was incapable of drinking himself to death, he would run out of coin eventually. Or the bartenders would grow suspicious. The only solution was to get a room for the day and recover from his wild night.

***

Only, the trance he took offered to rest. It didn’t give him the usual, blissful nothing that he was accustomed to. Instead, his mind filled with a terrible vision as his trance was infiltrated by some outside force.

Looking around, Astarion was transported somewhere chilling and familiar - the lair of Bhaal. Where Flora had faced Orin… and died for it. For all of the good it did now. Sprawled out on the sacrificial stone table was Flora, her limbs bent in such wrong directions that he thought she was surely dead.

He desperately tried to break his trance. This was wrong - he didn’t want to see this.

Flora was not dead. Her eyes blinked at him, tears running down her bloody face as she mouthed the word help, too dehydrated and wounded to speak it properly. Blood was pooled under her back - far more than should have or could have come from her petite body. Carved into her naked chest was a crude imitation of the scar that marred Astarion’s own back - a taunt to him. 

The dark figure that stood over her turned to face him, and he was greeted by the twisted face of Cazador. He shouted in surprise, taking a large step backwards and again begging himself to return to reality. It shouldn’t have been possible for him to have a nightmare like this. Cazador’s gaze met his, fangs visible in a menacing smile that dripped with blood. Her blood.

It was Cazador, but not quite. Something was off about him, as if it were only someone wearing his face. But the vision was painfully real, and he could not escape it, through any methods he tried. He struggled against the trance, failing to pull free of it. Ending a trance was typically a simple thing - something he had done thousands of times before. The menacing laugh that filled his ears did not belong to Cazador, but instead some other sort of unholy being. Cazador turned back to Flora, and plunged a dagger into her stomach, standing to the side and forcing him to watch every moment of it. Flora cried out in agony, the sound ringing in his ears like a horrible song stuck in his head. Cazador’s voice might not have matched that of the original… but Flora’s voice was spot on and unmistakable. It was perfectly crafted to maximize his torment.

Astarion swallowed his disgust and fear as he willed his legs to run to her side. He reached desperately for her. He had no weapon, but it couldn’t matter now. He had to rescue her from the table. The light in her eyes was fading quickly. There wasn’t much time left now - she wasn’t going to survive. 

She’s already dead. This isn’t real.

He found himself stuck to the floor, feet frozen in place. He could do nothing as Cazador dragged the dagger down her stomach, ripping her open, cutting a long gash from her pelvis to her chest. Flora’s gurgling screams would haunt his memory for months, if not years to come.

The gleeful smile never left Cazador’s face. He had always been a violent and vicious man, but even through all of that, a smile was not something he traditionally wore. This was a vision, and this Cazador was not real.

Flora was not real. So why did he feel himself crying out for her specter? Again he begged himself to wake from the trance. He pinched himself. He tried to picture the room where he had been when he slept, but the image was murky and unclear. He watched Cazador drop his hands to the table, cupping her blood in his hands. Then he slowly approached him, hands held open to Astarion, pushing it up to his face. It was so disturbingly real that he swore he could smell it - a familiar, coppery and flowery tang. But no, it actually wasn’t quite right when he paid closer attention to it. This blood was muskier. Less appealing. Wrong. Not hers at all.

This isn’t real. It isn’t her.

Finally he managed to break the trance, coming slowly back to reality - covered in an unusual amount of sweat. He didn’t sweat. As the world formed around him again, he realized that he was no longer in the bed he’d taken his trance in. Instead, he stood in another room of the Elfsong, lit by a sputtering candle that was beginning to drown itself out in its own pool of wax. 

Astarion stood over the corpse of the same elf whose ear he had talked off earlier in the evening - the one who had initially thought he was flirting. He looked down at the familiar dagger in his hands, which were covered in the elf’s blood. A perfect mirror of what he had witnessed in his trance.

A perfect mess he would have to hide until nightfall.

[apexulansis]

@abysswarden

Loneliness; a blessing and a curse, and a feeling Vsentis was so familiar with it was impossible to recall a time he hadn't felt it. Felt it before he could even name it, before he could comprehend it. Save their sibling, there wasn't a soul in the universe, or at least this galaxy, he was convinced, that truly understood him. Even the relationship he held with Zovariy felt… tenuous, sometimes. Strained. Their twin was none the wiser, but Vsentis knew how their eyes bored into the back of his skull when they thought he did not notice them. The envious slant to their gaze, this subtle way of telling him that they, too, thought him undeserving of the expectation he never wanted in the first place, just the same as everyone else.

There was a reason he couldn't wait to get away from them all. A part of his soul pined for connection, but he knew finding it here was wishful thinking. The Dominion fostered no sense of security and comfort. If it did, it surely didn't for him. The first spawn of the Deathless (that counted), the most long-lived being that had ever existed in modern kariian history – others always expected something… Better. Better than him, at least; the lofty accomplishments of his mother had been admired by his people and the other Dominionites for well over a dozen millennia. No pressure. Whatever he did or could do, it was never enough. And why should it be, when he'd only lived the smallest fraction of the same time? Vsentis had studied his mother in school and out of it. The books they made for the public and the ones kept in secret, carved by the hand of a heresiarch. People who saw her for the image she portrayed, and who she was. They all hated her, too, supposedly. He found it hard to believe, but at least he had the 'comfort' of knowing it didn't matter, and they'd have all hated him, regardless.

All the more reason to want to leave.

Sometimes he toed the boundaries, or even outright disobeyed just for a moment of judgeless quiet. The other kariians were the ones he wanted to avoid more than anything. When he asked himself where he wanted to go, the immediate answer in his mind was somewhere they wouldn't. Somewhere a kariian would hate, so there'd be even less chance to come across another one who knew his face and his lineage and how much of a general disappointment he was. He wasn't quite brave enough to choose a desert planet, though, so he settled for another desolate place; right now, a planet in a system that were well over a dozen hyperlane jumps away from home. Still within the Plaguelands, but on its outskirts and closer to the area of wild space that surrounded Eros' core.

Zælifaar's star was a cold red, but it dominated most of the tiny system. Only three planets lay in its orbit, each unassuming yet strangely positioned an exact, equal distance from one another. Vsentis had scanned this place long ago from the safety of Vkrhek Khrûr, only now stealing the chance to visit. Really, it was less a chance than it was a temporary escape; he had at least a few days before his family came pestering him to return to Khrûr. Unfortunately, all the things he wanted space from were there. During the time he could be away, Vsentis was keen to throw himself into the little mystery that he was convinced Zælifaar held. Within five jumps were populated systems, but this one was comparatively empty.

But not completely empty. Vsentis was intent to avoid what little company there was. A hood was drawn over his face, not wanting to take any chances with anybody recognizing who he was. Encounters far from home rarely ended well for him, especially in areas of space the Speaker's eyes might not have been as vigilant. Luckily, he was well trained in avoiding things. So well-trained that when he does run into another somebody, the kariian quite literally jumps in alarm.

“Ah! —”

It was like they melted out of the shadows. One moment Vsentis scented nothing, heard nothing, saw nothing — in the next, a figure that simply was not there before. Having been mid stride, Vsentis almost loses his balance. With his heart-rate spiked and fur momentarily standing on end, he makes a reflexive lurch for his weapon. However, when the brunt of his initial alarm subsided, it took on a different sensation. Alarm of recognition and remembrance; the most distinct sense of deja-vu. He was definitely looking at someone he's seen before, and says as much—

“Wait… I've seen you before.” Between an uneven breath.

Had he? No specific feature seemed especially familiar to Vsentis, yet he didn't even think before blurting the words out. It wasn't quite the face of this other kariian – none of the detail… But the way it looked in his peripherals, when it was vague and blurry and half blending in with its surroundings. A looming dark shadow with eyes like xorthorium chemical burns. A skittish feeling welled up in his chest just trying to meet them for an extended period of time; it felt as dangerous as staring directly into the sun. Maybe he was still just caught off guard. Vsentis wasn't entirely unarmed here, as was not evident by his hand clutching, but not fully brandishing, his sidearm. He took a step backwards, trying to will his frazzled nerves, and looked at them closer. Up at them.

They were… Tall. Taller by two feet, two inches. An older Zehen-Khasiik, then. For a split second, he mistook them for a Vedex-Zekhurr before realising they were a stygian. Melanistic. But those eyes were so bright, they had to be the result of some sort of modification.

Still unsettled, and neck-fur still bristling, it was obvious that he wasn't expecting company. Not to mention, he knew the mostly mistrustful nature of his own species. That equally challenging, hostile nature. “I feel like I have. Your eyes, they're — they're quite distinct.”

[missizzy]

Narrative Interlude: And We Can Love Forever(Wyll/Karlach)

(Takes place in the universe of my first playthrough, where, we've reached Rivington, and had Vlaakith show up to bother us before Karlach revealed she's getting worse again.)

He saw Karlach talking to Sara, and he could very easily tell why. Too easily. In the days since she'd turned from his quarry to his companion, he'd observed Karlach enough that he now had some idea of when her heart was getting worse again.

He didn't know if and when she'd come to him. He didn't know enough about what she wanted from him for that. Really, the only thing he was sure about was the exact nature of his own feelings for her, and even that was a very recent realization on his part.

So as the others retreated into their tents, eager for rest after not only the day's but the evening's Vlaakith-related excitement, Wyll lingered outside, sitting down and gazing up at the sky, now clear and beautiful with the stars once again. He and Karlach had, while in the Shadow-Cursed lands, talked about possibly stargazing together when they were visible again; he'd promised to tell her about the constellations. Obviously he'd understand if she wasn't up to it that night, but he wanted her to know he was available for it.

At first, she, too, went into her tent. Wyll tried to tell himself not to be too disappointed. But then, a few minutes later, she poked her head out, and looked over at him. He beckoned.

"Coming!" she called, and she actually sounded happy, even excited. But as she came over, her walk was slightly unsteady, and she greeted him with, "I'm afraid I'm a little overheated tonight. Not to the point I'd burn you, maybe, but..."

In response, Wyll just held his arm out, and wrapped it around her as she snuggled up against him. He'd let himself one of the members of the group she could be the most touch-feely with, though it might have still been Halsin who'd given her the most hugs. She was running hotter then she had last time they'd touched, a day or so ago.

But it would've had to have been a lot worse for Wyll to not pull her in closer as they lay back for a better view. If he never got anything else from her, he knew, this could still be enough.

Karlach knew of a few constellations already, about the Centaur and the Warrior Woman and the Eyes. But even there, he knew more details of the stories behind them, and he happily regaled her with everything he could remember learning about in his youth. He pointed out some other ones to her as well.

Wyll found himself glad, however, that Mystra's Circle wasn't quite visible yet. She was one of the many powerful entities they were all very unhappy with right now.

For nearly an hour, they lay there, and talked about nothing but the stars. When Wyll's voice was getting a little hoarse, Karlach sighed happily against him, and said, "Thank you so much, Wyll. I needed this so much right now you wouldn't even believe it."

"I think I did, too," he said, because he did. It was the first time he'd felt at all relaxed since the battle in Moonrise Towers and the terrible places below. He pushed back the guilt, then, at the thought that he was lying about with someone like this when who knew what his father was enduring, right at that moment. Seeing Karlach's smile made it easier to do that.

He hadn't expected to talk about anything serious that night, since that clearly wasn't what Karlach wanted. But it was impossible for any of them to get things from their minds completely, and as her smile faded, she asked, "Do you think we'll free this Gith prince? I mean, Vlaakith's claims about him are probably bullshit, but it still could get...everyone killed, or worse..."

She spoke it as if she wasn't sure she should count herself under everyone, as if it was already a given she'd come to the same fate either way. Wyll wanted to protest. But he could only say, "We ought to. I'm certain of that much." Neither of them had gone into the Astral Plane and seen the trapped prince, but Sara, Gale, and Shadowheart's descriptions of him had been vivid enough, and Lae'zel's lack of words as they'd told the story had said even more.

Another victim they couldn't save yet, couldn't even know if they'd be able to save him yet. And while Wyll's father's fate could dictate the fate of a city, this prince's could dictate the fate of an entire race. It was quite a burden to put on the shoulders of someone like Lae'zel. It amazed Wyll that she didn't seem to even realize that.

"You..." Karlach looked a little more anxious. "You're not going to turn on us, or leave us, are you, if we do some truly ugly things to win this fight? Because I'm pretty sure we're going to have to do them."

"I know..." Wyll thought about it for a moment, but then continued. "I do know that sometimes you have to make hard choices. I don't even think the one I made to form the pact with Mizora was the most painful one I made before all this, believe it or not. I always do try to do the ideal thing, or what I've thought was the ideal thing..." He had confided to her already his fear, that they had been others like her, people he'd killed on Mizora's orders who hadn't deserved it, and he couldn't know.

"And I have, too, when I've had a choice about it," said Karlach. "But you do know that sometimes you can't? That sometimes you need to do what'll have the best outcome for people?"

And now her words were very pointed. But surely, he thought, she wasn't...

"I remember what you said, that first night in the Underdark," she said. "About wanting the kind of romance sung about by the bards, about doing things properly. And maybe if we had more time, I could let you. I would've liked it, too. But my life has never allowed me such luxuries, and now it looks like it's not ever going to."

Wyll, too, could remember Karlach having already said something to that effect, though she'd been speaking in much more general terms, then. To some extent, it still made him want all the more to treat her in the way she'd never been treated, much as he heard and understood her arguments against it.

"This has been a rough day for me," she continued. "Even before I started to feel the overheating. When even the circus turns out to not be that much fun...and when I first walked over here, you know, I was telling myself at least I'd end it in the arms of a prince? Because you really are one, and that has nothing to do with your birth, either.

But now, I've been listening to your stories, and don't get me wrong, I've loved hearing them. But...I don't want tonight to be a pretty story. I don't want the prince to dazzle me with things I'll know if the morning I can't really have. I just want the man with horns and scars and fears and uncertainties to hold me close."

"Karlach..." Her name came from him like a breath let out, like he could do nothing besides speak it. His mouth chased his breath towards her, and she came forward to meet it.

And honestly, it felt like a moment from a song, when their lips met. Maybe a little uncomfortably hotter, and a little hungrier, and also with a little more saliva, than the epic poets would've like, but Wyll felt his heart soar just as high, for all that.

That feeling even lasted through a few more kisses, and the air even felt a little exquisite when they paused to breathe it in. "You do love me back, don't you?" Karlach whispered. "I hoped you did, of course..."

"I do. I've been the same." He gave himself another few moments to think, before saying, "I'll hold you tonight. In fact, you don't have to sleep alone again, if you don't want to. I don't suppose we need to mind if anyone knows; we'd hardly be the only pair of beings sharing a bedroll in this camp, after all."

She smiled at that, but said, "But you won't do more than kiss me tonight, will you? I really can't get you to unbend further than that?"

"You're not going to drop dead tomorrow, I hope?" he asked. For a moment, the fear flared up that she actually would.

But she shook her head. "Don't think so. In any case, I'd better not before I get to Gortash...no, I suppose we have at least a little time left. So...you will make love to me, Wyll, before I die? Please, I really want to have that before I go." Her words nearly caught on a sob.

"I will, I promise you that," he said, and he meant it. "But even if we won't wait as long as I normally would, do give me a chance to make it a little more romantic than a desperate fumble coming off a day like this. Please," he said, and kissed her again. "I want to at least give you that much."

"Okay, then," she agreed. "I suppose I really have to love you all the more for that, even if I'm a little disappointed right now. As long as what you can give me will be enough for both of us. It just has to be that."

They stayed out there another hour, even spending a little more time looking at the stars, though much of the time they were quite distracted from them. When Karlach then admitted she was finding the interior of a tent a little stifling, they ended up curling up together on top of a bedroll; the heat coming off her didn't really allow for sleeping in one. When Wyll closed his eyes to sleep that night, he found he was at last doing so without seeing the image of that tadpole entering his father's.

[a-libra-writes]

GoT Imagines - When You're Engaged to Someone Else

Woooo this is a doozy and I'm including new characters, mostly book ones! because i both love my followers and have lost my marbles.

In this preference, you'll be pining with: Ned Stark, Robb Stark, Sansa Stark, Jon Snow, Benjen Stark, Jory Cassel, Mance Rayder, Eddison Tollett, Pre-Reek!Theon, Yara Greyjoy, Victarion Greyjoy, Daenerys Targaryen, Jorah Mormont, Missandei, Grey Worm, Tywin Lannister, Tyrion Lannister, Jaime Lannister, Cersei Lannister, Sandor Clegane, Bronn, Jaquen H’Ghar, Petyr Baelish, Robert Baratheon, Stannis Baratheon, Davos Seaworth, Margaery Tyrell, Brynden Tully, Edmure Tully, Brienne of Tarth, Ramsay Bolton, Roose Bolton, Oberyn Martell, Doran Martell, Arianne Martell, Tyene Sand

Ned Stark

He’s already an expert in suffering in silence, so this should be no different. Although he’s very surprised at the sudden arrangement, and while he isn’t a man to throw his rank around… He wonders if he can’t convince your family to reconsider. If it’s simply impossible, Ned would resign himself to having to stop the relationship. He’s too honorable to ever consider an affair and he’s not a man to start a duel or cause trouble, especially since it would negatively affect your reputation. The heavy combination of missing you, pining after you all over again and feeling like he didn’t do enough is hard. Some days he entertains the idea of still having a friendship, but it doesn’t seem like a good idea. He doesn’t trust himself.

Robb Stark

The young wolf tries to accept it, even if his feelings become more and more angry each day. Robb never threw his name around, but… he was going to be Lord Stark. Wasn't that good enough for your family? For you? He tries to be the bigger man, but if you're miserable with your spouse and they don't treat you well, he can't keep his temper in check. Expect him to have a sudden outburst at a feast and cause a scene. The only thinking keeping him from an outright duel are his parents and his worry about your reputation. But if he was pushed to it….

Sansa Stark

She should've known this would happen. It's the fate of all ladies, yet there's a bitterness that tugs at her when she hears the news. Sansa tries to bury her feelings around others, but she's never done that with you. She expresses her disappointment and sorrow, and swears she'll help if your spouse turns out to be awful. She doesn't want them to be, but she doesn't want you beginning to prefer their company, either. She wonders if her affection for you would wane if she just pined from afar and tried to keep her feelings to herself.

Jon Snow

Ah yes, once again his bastardry is hitting him straight in the gut. Jon knew it was going to happen eventually, he already felt like the relationship was on a timer, and now it’s finally ended. He’s convinced there’s no getting out of it, because even if you did - you’d never be able to be with him in the open. It makes Jon glad he’s going to the Wall; hopefully the distance and cold will dull his feelings. In spite of that, sometimes he’ll tell Sam about you, and he speaks so mournfully it makes Sam think that distance hasn’t done all that much to help Jon’s pining.

Benjen Stark

He should be the bigger person and accept that this is for the best. He’s sworn to the Wall, and you two shouldn’t have been sneaking around. He should be relieved neither of you were caught. None of these thoughts are comforting. Ben tries to cope by making not-so-joking jokes about you running off to the Wall too, or perhaps he should take Yoren’s job and find his way to your court once in a blue moon. Then there’s no joking, and it’s just bitterness. He removes himself from your life after that, not wanting to hurt you with his own negative thoughts. He’d rather you keep the happy memories.

Jory Cassel

He accepts it, not that it brings him any pleasure. Jory's always been proud of his service to the Starks, but he's long understood that his landed seat is not a valuable one. Whenever he married, if he did, it wouldn't be someone as lovely as you. The announcement still hits him in the gut and he dejectedly tries to break it off (though it's easier on him if you do it). If he was in charge of guarding you, he'd switch shifts immediately and begin avoiding you, thinking it'll make things easier.

Eddison Tollett

This relationship already seemed too good to be true, so it’s abrupt end is not surprising. He’s sworn to the Wall and you both were sneaking around to begin with, so this should have been expected, but… it just makes him feel even more tired and dumb. Sam and Jon notice how little he sleeps and that he’s begun to skip meals, and he doesn’t have to explain why. They can do the math. Edd at least doesn’t try to bury any sad feelings or memories. It’s too exhausting to actively try, and it’s something to keep him company while he works. Maybe the feelings will fade… eventually.

Mance Rayder

It's one more reason for him to leave the "South" and go past the Wall. He knew a proper relationship with you wasn't possible because of his vows, but watching you go through this sham of an arranged marriage is just depressing. He'll comfort you best he can until he has to go back to the Wall, though he won't make promises he can't keep. Having to separate from you weighs heavy on him for a long time, and is one of many reasons he abandons the Watch.

Theon Greyjoy

What the hell is this? Hearing the news ruins his whole day, worse if he wasn’t able to hear it directly from you. He’s the heir to the Iron Islands, and his interest in you was clear as day! No, he hadn’t proposed yet… but he was getting to it! Now some mainlander beat him to it? Theon is absolutely seething. He’d prefer to duel your spouse to teach them a lesson in front of everyone, but he’s open to more boring methods like reasoning with your family. If he wasn’t able to change the engagement, he’d be bitter, and more than willing to carry on an affair behind your spouse’s back. He ought to just go the Ironborn route and kidnap you for himself.

Asha (Yara) Greyjoy

When you give her the news and you’re clearly distraught about it, Yara considers carrying you off to her ship right there. If you’re non-Ironborn, you’ll be her saltwife -- and if you’re Ironborn, she wants to have a discussion with whoever the hell planned this when everyone KNOWS you belong with her. You hadn’t expected this possessive behavior, but now you know Yara’s willing to fight for you as soon as someone takes you. No surprise, she’s more than willing to sneak around with you behind your husband’s back - maybe she can goad him into a duel. That would certainly solve a problem, wouldn’t it?

Victarion Greyjoy

He doesn’t understand at first. Victarion had made it clear that you were his, hadn’t everyone known that? No, he never made any sort of formal marriage, but not because he didn’t care. He felt like there was no need, hadn’t everyone known? If your family and spouse are Ironborn, he’ll immediately sail to their keep and raise all seven hells, and marry you right there in front of them. If you were sent away to the green lands, it would take the combined power of Balon, Yara and Aeron to keep him from sailing off immediately and just kidnapping you - preferably after killing your spouse. Victarion is pissed. Someone is going to pay for this.

Daenerys Targaryen

She’s just as mad at you as she is with whoever arranged this ridiculous match. Daenerys doesn’t often entertain arrogant thoughts, but… How could anyone think to match you with someone else, knowing your relationship with her? She feels she ought to be offended, though Daenerys knows this is hard on you as well, and you didn’t ask for it. She’ll think of some clever way to get you out of the arrangement, no way is this person getting away from stealing from her. And yes, that might as well be what it is! While she’s working out what to do, if she so much as hears murmurs of the possibility of your spouse hurting you… all bets are off. She’s taking you back with her, alliance be damned.

Jorah Mormont

The announcement of your engagement is a punch to his gut and a shock to his system. Jorah knew he wasn’t the best husband material, but he was planning to ask for your hand himself - then this happened. What’s worse, he knows as far as practical marriage goes, he has little to offer. He goes into a bit of a panic as he tries to think of what to do. There’s sensible choices, like trying to talk to your family with you. Then there’s not so sensible ones… Maybe running off, maybe just continuing the relationship behind your new spouse’s back, maybe dueling them… While Jorah is in emotional turmoil, he’d do anything for you. Even if you wanted to break off the relationship… or had a plan for him to follow. He’s nothing if not hopelessly devoted.

Missandei

… Oh. Maybe she shouldn’t have expected you to stick around for so long. As close as she is to Daenerys, she really has no fancy titles or things to offer. She understood why your family chose the match, it was a good one, politically speaking… but that does little to soothe her. Quite the opposite, a strong, desolate feeling overcomes her, one she hasn’t felt in a long time. She isn’t sure what to do, if it’s her place to stop the process. Perhaps if you asked her, she could try to make plans. Daenerys would help as well, considering how fond she is of you two, and how much she despises women being forced into arrangements.

Grey Worm

The sudden news takes him off guard, and sends him into a bit of an existential crisis. He was starting to see himself as a person, with his own name and a path he chose to follow… then this arrangement happens, and he’s forced to face what the rest of the world sees him as. It’s not that Grey Worm has a sense of ownership over you, but for once he was allowing himself all these happy feelings and memories with you, and now it’s gone. Of course he wants you back, but he feels paralyzed. What if he makes it worse? Does this have to happen? He starts to become even more withdrawn and distant, worrying Missandei until she decides to help. Grey Worm finally returns to his old self when he has you in his arms again.

Tywin Lannister

His steady composure is hit with such a rage at the news, the servant delivering it goes into a panic. His interest in you was obvious, so anyone doing this was trying to spite him. He doesn’t take the insult well. Perhaps before you’re even able to tell him the news yourself, threats will be delivered to both the spouse’s family and your own - Tywin is especially furious towards them, and won’t forget this - and incidents will be arranged. He refuses to be a man who pines after someone or covets another one’s wife, nor will he allow some lesser lord to take what he perceives as ‘his’.

Tyrion Lannister

The angst hits him like a ton of bricks, and it’s even worse if this came out of left field. It hurts less if he hears it from you, but only just. He should have known your family wouldn’t have accept any proposal he made - and gods know he was ready to do it - it’s just one more log to fuel his self-loathing and bitterness toward this world. But if you knock some sense into him, he’ll snap out of that spiral and begin to plan with you. There’s plenty of choices before the two of you - scandal? Running off? - but rest assured, Tyrion is going to investigate the hell out of this person. He’d never forgive himself if you got stuck with a brute.

Jaime Lannister

The fact he knew this was inevitable doesn't help Jaime's irritation. He can't believe your family arranged for that person to marry you. Seriously? You'd better keep Jaime at a distance from your spouse, because he can't help himself from making snide remarks and sarcastic comments. If he riles up the guy into a duel, all the better. He'll do all sorts of reckless things to begin with, and it's only worse when he's upset. He's also very willing to have an affair behind your spouse's back - you were with him first. You’ll probably have to scold Jaime about you two almost getting caught, but he’s above reproach. His stubbornness and jealousy gets worse the closer you two are.

Cersei Lannister

She’s absolutely infuriated with your family. You were her handmaiden, someone whose been with her for years - and they have the nerve to go behind her back like this?! It smells like a scheme of Tyrion’s, or perhaps Varys, but she’ll deal with them in time. For now, she’ll work out what to do about your spouse. She’ll try to keep you around as much as possible, and her possessiveness comes out in full. You can’t possibly be interested in such a worthless man.

Sandor Clegane

When you tell Sandor, he’s quiet for a discerningly long time before the anger and arguments come out. And then the quiet bitterness. The thing is, he knew this was coming for a while. He knew your time together was limited, he shouldn’t have things like hopes and happiness because it’ll just get taken away. And it is. Even if you explain you’ll try to break off the arrangement, that there’s still a way to get out, he has trouble believing it. He’s seen enough ladies get chained to useless fucking lords, he’d rather not see it happen to someone he cares about, thanks. Sandor will push you away as much as he can, but you could still attempt to convince him to have an affair… or perhaps leave King’s Landing entirely.

Ser Bronn of the Blackwater

He’s only mildly annoyed at the inconvenience. It’ll be a lot harder for you both to sneak around now, and forget about it if you’re having to move somewhere far away. Guess that’s the end of that ‘relationship’ - he should’ve expected it. Bronn is way more willing to stay close if you remain in King’s Landing, and he expects you both to keep fooling around. Now, if he’s actually started to develop feelings about you… he’ll start to act differently. You don’t actually like your spouse, do you? Wasn’t that just some arranged bullshit? He’ll throw smirks and subtle insults your spouse’s way, as if trying to goad them into a fight. More then once you two will almost get caught because he decides waltzing up to your window is totally acceptable, or trying to have a quickie in the middle of the day. A surprisingly jealous side will come out and he’s in total denial about any feelings he might have.

Jacquen H’ghar

This isn’t alarming to Jacquen at first. He knew he could never have such a union with you, and since this Westerosi society is so insistent on marriage, it would happen eventually. Still, your pain hurts him as well. Jacquen would have a variety of plans … anywhere from easily disguising as a guard or servant so he’s always beside you, or perhaps whisking you away somewhere. This isn’t the end of your relationship for him - it’s just a challenge to overcome. He assumes you won’t send him away or break it off.

Petyr Baelish

You being someone else’s wife makes no difference to Petyr, though he’s surprised in himself. Usually he stays out of such affairs, it only causes trouble… But he’s been intrigued by you, and quite frankly, he’s offended that this Lord Whoever from Wherever didn’t take his interest into account. No matter. Petyr has plenty of plans to deal with this pest, though he’s annoyed at his own jealousy whenever he sees you together with your spouse, even if you’re miserable. While he doesn’t want you unhappy, it certainly makes starting an affair and/or disposing of your spouse much easier.

Robert Baratheon

He’s furious and everyone is going to know about it. Robert will complain endlessly to Ned and Lord Arryn about how he found you first, how that useless shit of a husband won’t know what to do with you. Since he does little to hide his disgust, rumors will spread all over court. Hell, he’ll probably say even stupider things when he’s drunk, or he’ll do something stupider, like actually try to aggravate the guy into a fight or a duel. If you’re actually able to get him under control, he has no qualms about having an affair with you… but he may not be subtle about it. So that’s another thing to keep in mind.

Stannis Baratheon

It’s depressingly impressive how willing Stannis is to bury and deny his feelings once he hears you’re promised to someone else. He’ll try to extinguish all the happiness he had with you, bottle up all the memories and feelings that went along with it. This will be fine. He’ll be fine. This iron resolve is easy to maintain if Stannis rarely sees you. If you both are forced to interact even semi-often, it chips away at him, and he can’t help himself from making biting remarks about your spouse when you both visit. He hates feeling this way, he’s never felt it before, and he carries a deep grudge against your spouse and family for making it happen. It’s easier if you write to him, but then Stannis starts keeping those letters and punishing himself by reading them over and over. Eventually he stops entirely, deeming it inappropriate, even if that feels like cutting off one of his limbs.

Davos Seaworth

The old knight is understandably saddened by news of your betrothal and marriage, but it makes sense. Politics-wise, Davos believes he isn’t much of a prize, even when he’s risen to Lord. He should’ve expected this would happen. He’d wish you genuine happiness… But if you were miserable, Davos would feel awful and powerless. If you truly wanted to continue the relationship behind your spouse’s back, his biggest worry would be the secret getting out and your reputation being ruined. He wouldn’t be able to resist forever, but he’d still try to talk you out of it and try to convince you to forget about him.

Margaery Tyrell

She seeks you out the moment she finds out - and that was quickly, because she often keeps tabs on you. Her grandmother warned her about getting so close to her favorite, but it still comes as a terrible shock. Margaery holds you close and promises she’ll make it better, somehow. Maybe she and her grandmother can reason with her family, perhaps you can marry into the Tyrell family, so you both can be together. She’ll fix it, she swears. The thought of someone else being with you is terrible enough, she’ll be even more worried if the person is abusive. Margaery won’t stand for it, and might take a few rare risks for your sake.

Brynden Tully

This stirs up a lot of complicated feelings in the old knight. He knew his relationship with you wouldn’t last forever, that you’d have to marry eventually, and he never wanted to marry…. But he feels like this is his fault, especially if you’re miserable. He could’ve prevented this. Brynden knows he ought to break off the relationship, and he won’t blame you if you do… but he’ll also consider the idea of continuing the relationship. And if you have to go somewhere far away, he’ll still appreciate you sending letters and having a correspondence. The relationship may not be the same long-distance, but he cares a lot about you, and it hurts having you cut from his life.

Edmure Tully

Woe and misery. How much wine is in Riverrun’s stores? He may end up drinking a dent in it by the time the month is out. He almost didn’t believe the news until he heard it from several people, or just you directly. How could this happen? Wasn’t he courting you properly, taking all the steps just the right way? Wasn’t his interest obvious to anyone with eyes? Edmure approaches your family with a bit of a hot head, almost demanding an answer for why they chose whoever over … whoever your spouse is. Edmure doesn’t even care who it is, he hates their guts immediately. More likely than not, he’ll do something foolish, like start a duel. If all else fails, he’ll make sad eyes at you at all the feasts and galas and go into a bit of a depression.

Brienne of Tarth

Brienne is immediately distraught, but also believes she deserves it somehow. This happy relationship just had to come to an end, didn’t it? Well, you two had to be discreet about it to begin with, which didn’t please her … but this alternative feels worse. Brienne switches between trying to stay frosty to make it easier for you two to part, and being unable to hold back her affection and sadness. The best solution she can think of is to stay as your sworn sword, independent of your new husband’s house guards. And gods know, she will come at him with a vengeance if he even dares upset you or lay an unwanted hand on you. That means the relationship could continue, but she dislikes the secrecy even more when you’re married. While she doesn’t like the idea of running away from problems, maybe in certain circumstances, she’d be open to the idea…

Ramsay Bolton

Ramsay is irate, to say the least. Even if you don’t actually know him, you’ve just caught his eye, he’ll become possessive. If you both were romantic before the engagement news, his anger and possessiveness would be even more dangerous. Woe to your spouse if he lives close to the Dreadfort - leave it to Ramsay to think up some “accident” for them to be involved in. And if he finds out they’re involved in some sort of treason or crime, that’s all the better, no matter how flimsy the “crime” is. If he’s feeling especially reckless, he’ll just arrange their murder and take you back right away. Ramsay is a terrible loser, doubly so if it involves one of the few things he actually cares about.

Roose Bolton

On the outside he doesn’t react to the news beyond a silent glare. On the inside, Roose is furious. He had plans for you, plans that may have taken quite a while to get to this point, and now it’s been ruined by someone whose actively working against him… or too stupid to realize what a massive mistake they just made. Roose thinks up various ways to circumvent this and have you to himself. In the meantime, he’ll gladly continue an affair behind your spouse’s back, but that won’t necessarily save them from death. You’ll notice him become increasingly possessive and jealous, even if you have zero interest in your spouse, and you can sense he’ll be holding a deep grudge against whoever arranged this in the first place.

Oberyn Martell

As soon as he hears about the news, Doran has to talk him down from dueling the man…Half his daughters support it, the other half suggest something more subtle. Overyn feels insulted, for one - your affection for each other was obvious, yet your family still made this arrangement. And if he doesn’t get his duel, he will spread all sorts of unsavory, salacious rumors about your spouse, in hopes of creating a scandal that makes your family break the union. Or better, lead to the man dueling Oberyn directly! Oberyn doesn’t even consider continuing your relationship with him an “affair”. You both were together first, and a farce of a marriage you didn’t agree to won’t change that. You just have to make sure he can be discreet.

Doran Martell

While the news of your engagement is depressing, it isn't surprising. He's quite aware of the politics of Westeros, even if his own family doesn't believe it, and he had wind of this engagement. He just thought he could stop it in time. He hides his disappointment, but his family can tell he's withdrawing. Oberyn argues with his brother to go get you and fight, but Doran is a man of silent plans. He'll still love to correspond with you, and you can tell by his letters that he seems hopeful. Maybe he's thought of a way to break it off …

Arianne Martell

Well, isn’t this irksome? Arianne loved having you in her palace and keeping you all to herself, but then this foolish arranged marriage happened… She doesn’t hide her disdain, and she’s annoyed at herself for not doing more to stop it. The princess will spend no small amount of time being angry at the unfairness of it. Once she’s calmed, she doesn’t see why you both can’t continue the relationship behind closed doors. You’re both used to sneaking around, anyway. And Arianne can’t resist ferreting around for some salacious rumors about your spouse… Wouldn’t it be a shame if she found out something that led you to your family cutting the betrothal off?

Tyene Sand

She’s beyond annoyed at this outcome. You were her favorite, in more ways than one, and while she didn’t delude herself into thinking you’d be together forever… well, couldn’t you both have spent your days in court in service to the Martells, or perhaps left forever on a boat to Essos? Why did this have to happen so soon? She’s despondent, much as she tries to hide it, even with her sisters trying to comfort her. She begins to think of plans, just little things … a rumor here, a scheme there. She’ll feel much better if you remain in the Sunspear court, so she can stay close and your relationship can continue.

[jbreenr]

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale × Reader

Summary: You wanted to meet Ransom's family, he wanted to make sure you'd never want it again.

Word count: 3k.

Warning: Poorly written smut (+18 only, please), public sex (prompt 11), fingering, unprotected sex (don't do that, kids. be responsible), a bit of dirty talk, the Thrombeys being the Thrombeys. And I think that's it.

A/N: So, after finding out one of my stories was stolen an translated in Wattpad, I did not know if I should post this just yet but, what the hell? Let's do it. Anyway, this is for @stargazingfangirl18 and @navybrat817 's Shameless Hoes for Chris Challenge so, happy belated birthday! Yaaay. 🥳 Hope you like this at least a little and that it's not as bad as my paranoid brain thinks it is. Also, I just love how the prompts fit perfectly together, don't you? As always, lack of vocabulary and grammatical mistakes abound. *apologizes in español*

Wheel results (just attaching evidence):

ᴹʸ ᵍⁱᶠ

Draining, tedious, exasperating. Those were some of the adjectives Ransom associated with Thrombey family reunions. He'd arrive late, have some sort of conversation with his grandfather and leave early to do whatever that took him away from that big house.

Today though, he had a reason to stay for more than half an hour.

If it was up to him, you two would have stayed at home, happy, relaxed, and most importantly, naked in his bed, having a more pleasant time than the one you were most likely about to have. 

He tried to persuade you. Of course he did! But your insistence and puppy eyes made it impossible for him to say no to your request. 

So, here you were, getting out of his car, cake in sweaty hands and an excited smile on your lips, an expression so different from Ransom's, who seemed to be ready to get back behind the wheel and drive straight to Canada.

He didn't knock; he simply opened the door and held it for you to enter. If the three floor house was imposing from the outside, you felt impressed by the inside. Extravagant sculptures, apparently expensive paintings and other kinds of pieces of art were scattered everywhere, telling you just how wealthy and eccentric Ransom's family were. 

“That's Harlan Thrombey! ” You exclaimed as you stood in front of the portrait of your forever favorite author holding a knife and a book.

“So?” Ransom asked, unconcerned.

You turned to him open-mouthed, the cake almost slipping off your palms as you went to playfully slap him in the arm.

“How come you are related to Harlan Thrombey and you didn't tell me?” Your question was more of a shock than an accusation.

The carefree gesture he did with his shoulders only accentuated his next words. “I did not think you would be interested in knowing.”

“I wouldn’t be interested?” Incredulity, flowing out of your lips. “He’s the best thriller author of all time! He’s like today’s Edgar Allan Poe!”

To say that you didn't believe him was an understatement. He knew for a fact that you liked Harlan Thrombey's books, just taking a look at the bookshelf in your apartment was proof enough of that.

“We call him grandpa here.” Said a femenine voice. A brunette walked in your direction, her pretty features hardening as she looked at your boyfriend. “Don't we, Hugh?”

He seemed to be ready to say something but decided not to. Instead he inhaled and placed his hand on your back.

“This is Y/N, the only reason I’m not telling you what you need to hear right now.”

Her eyes rolled in irritation and then turned to you. “I’m Meg. Let's introduce you to the rest of the family, shall we?.” And she dragged you to the room where more people were gathered together, discussing something, not before sending a deadly glare at Ransom.

Given the distance between you and him, you didn't listen to the heavy sigh he let out before waking behind.

“Everyone!” Meg called, making everyone leave whatever they were doing to look at her –and you, in consequence. “Meet Y/N, Hugh's new friend.” She then proceeded to introduce every single member of the family, including the housekeeper and the nurse, except for the grandfather, who apparently had a moment of inspiration and left them momentarily to put his ideas on paper.

None of them left their seat to go and shake your hand except for Meg's energetic mom, who hugged you and expressed how much she loved your coat even though it was soooo last season.

Sitting on a couch next to Ransom, you half expected someone to ask you about how you two met or how long had you been dating or what was it that you did for a living. Nothing. As fast as their attention was on you, it fell from you to their previous discussion.

You now understood why Ransom jokingly suggested deep cleaning the house instead of attending that reunion.

What you weren't aware of, Ransom thought, was that all of them were behaving wonderfully compared to previous times.

You didn't know if you felt more disappointed or uncomfortable. Ransom had left your side to go to the studio for a second and you had barely had any interaction with his family. All of them, dipped in their own matters to even notice your presence. 

Fran, the housekeeper, was kind enough to take the cake to the kitchen and offer you a glass of water, but after giving it to you, she disappeared along with Meg and the nurse. 

“So,” All at once, the room went quiet as Ransom's uncle spoke. “Have you read any of dad's books, Y/N?” Only until you heard your name was that your head snapped up.

“Oh, uhm… yeah. I'm a big fan.” Taken by surprise, you simply answered.

“Really? Which one have you read?”

And to that question, you felt suddenly included in the conversation since you had knowledge of the topic.

“I'm like fifty pages from finishing 'The Needle Game' and intrigue is eating me alive.” As you heard the excitement in your voice, you tried to compose yourself and said “Though 'Nick Of Time' is my favorite.” You smiled at him, hoping that your answer was a good one.

The woman that was introduced to you as Ransom's mother nodded as she licked her lips. The light of the fireplace, reflecting on her glasses as she moved her head up and down.

“Have you read 'Ultimatum' or 'Drop In The Pocket', dear?” Her tone was curious, but the look on her face said differently.

You responded anyway. “They're not bad. I feel like the ending of 'Drop In The Pocket' was a little vague and out of line but it can always be interpreted as an open ending so…” The change in their expressions told you that you had to add something else to that answer. Maybe it was not time for literature humor yet. “But I enjoyed both.”

She hummed and took her drink, detaching from the talk that continued with courtesy questions until it morphed into a heated discussion between Ransom's father and uncle, who would repeatedly ask for your opinion to back up his own.

The discomfort you felt, dispelled to be replaced by the disturbance of being bombarded with dozens of questions at a time, each louder than the other until they changed to a completely different topic to which you were occasionally included as a neutral point of view.

“She knows what she's talking about!” Said Richard at some point when you confirmed one of his arguments. “Thank you, dear.”

Ransom came back from his obligatory argument with his grandfather to find you nowhere to be seen. 

“She's using the bathroom.” Informed Jacob, who did not take his eyes off of his cellphone. 

Thinking that you went there to hide, he started his way to your potential direction until an overheard observation from his mother stopped him halfway through. 

“… Did you hear how she talked about dad's work? Oh, I assure you she won't make it to next week with Ransom.”

Her and Richard's backs were to him, both of them unaware that their son was listening to their share of opinions.

“And did you see her hands?” Joni joined the criticism contest. “She could use some moisturizer, I tell you.”

As usual, they ignored her attempt to fit in and kept going.

“I know it's contradictory to say this,” Richard paused, as to make his point clear. “But he could do better.”

Despite their whispering, Ransom heard every single word and was glad that you were not there to see what was about to happen… 

Ransom's words stuck on his throat when he saw you making your way out of the bathroom, fixing the skirt of your dress, with such niceness and warmth directed to him as you smiled, oblivious to the fact that the people you were trying to get to like you weren't going to. 

His parents were right. He could do better. He could determine to not see them ever again and it would be the best thing to happen to him… Besides you, obviously.

“What's wrong?” Your concern was evident, just as his annoyance was undeniable.

Cold hands caressed his cheeks and Ransom thought of going back to Joni and tell her to fuck off. Your touch was soft, comforting, and gave him the greatest idea he'd ever had.

“I want to show you something.” Was his answer. It was better if you were the one who decided to never step on that house for the rest of your lives. It didn't matter if it was out of embarrassment.

Taking your hand in his, he guided you up the stairs to the first landing. The creaking sound of the old structure, probably alerting everyone in the other room that you were going to the next floor.

“Are you okay?” The sweet giggle that you let out when he abruptly stopped, almost making him feel bad about what he was seconds away from doing. 

“Better than ever.” And he stamped his lips to yours. 

Taken aback, it took you a second to respond. Hands on each side of his face as his own explored your body. When his fingers lifted your dress to caress your ass cheeks was when you ended the kiss. 

“What are you doing?” You asked in a breathless whisper. “Not that I'm complaining.”

You were cornered against the wall with Ransom towering in front of your smaller frame.

Trying to escape from whatever he had in mind was useless, you knew that much. Though, you were not sure if you really wanted to escape.

“What I've been wanting to do ever since you got a shower without me this morning.” His lips found your jaw and descended to your neck where he sucked to create a bruise. Your eyes closed to the sensation.

“Wait. No, wait.” His fingertip that had started rubbing your still clothed bud paused it's motions as his eyes focused back on your face. “We can't do it. Not here.”

Ransom's finger went back to work, bringing a soft moan that you tried to suppress. “Why not? No one's gonna come here.” His other hand moved up your thigh to lift it. “Even if they did, they wouldn't notice.”

With an expert swing of his wrist, he moved your panties aside, letting the cold air that wandered inside the house hit you before his skilled middle finger entered you while still managing to rub your clit in circles with his thumb.

Adrenaline ran through your veins, fuel activating every nerve in your body and shaking away fear from your brain, replacing it with lust and boldness.

“I'm blaming you if we get caught.” Your hips jolted forward wanting to feel more of his hand, the contradiction between your words and actions, making him smirk.

He added a second finger. Knuckles deep and his cold ring slowly warming against the inside of your thigh, he said, “I'll take responsibility, sweetheart.” Pumping his fingers in and out, he felt your slick running down the back of his hand to his wrist, wetting his overly expensive watch and the cuff of his cozy sweater .“But I can't assure you we won't get caught.”

His words, instead of working as a bucket of cold water as one would expect, increased your need to be touched by him, the yearning for him to take you right there and then. 

“Damn it, Ransom.” One of your hands flew to his shoulder to hold onto him for dear life. “I'm close.”

“You're not cumming unless I'm inside you, pretty thing.” At what point did he unfasten his belt and unzipped his trousers, you had no idea. The friction of his digits was gone in a second but the feeling of his already leaking tip rubbing against your most sensitive parts was enough to make you forget about those trifles.

Your lips opened, ready to tell him to keep his voice down when he suddenly thrusted home, stretching you out so deliciously that you had to cover your mouth to muffle the moan that threatened to inform everyone of your current activities.

Ransom's breathing hitched. Being inside you was a dream come true, feeling your walls enveloping his cock so fucking good… it was like you were made for each other, and he was going to prove it, even if his family didn't really get to know.

His hips started moving. Back and forth, back and forth. Delicately at first, letting you adjust to his size but the second he felt you throbbing around him, he increased the pace. Little by little his pounds gained power and energy.

Your whimpers –stuck in your throat, leaving only soft snuffles that crashed against Ransom's cheek, soon became more rapid, erratic and as his fingers dug in the flesh of your thigh to keep you still while he accommodated to go even deeper you heard a creaking noise.

Your boyfriend's blue eyes met yours, his movements never faltering despite the alert given by the dark wooden floor under your feet.

There was a conflict in your head, and Ransom could tell. The way you tightened and the pleading look on your face told different stories, yet Ransom knew they had the same ending.

Shaking your head, your eyes asked him not to do it, but you knew Ransom well enough to be sure that not even begging could stop him. 

“You love it, don't you?” His smile grew bigger as his change of position allowed him to hit your sweet spot on and on, ripping high pitched whines from you and obligating you to close your eyes. “The thought of getting caught. The image of someone seeing how good I make you feel.” The placement of his foot, making the landing creak repeatedly each time he pushed up accompanying every word. “Fuck, you're talking me so well. Such a dirty girl, uh.”

His big hand yanked the strap of your dress down, exposing your left boob. Your already hard nipple was soon attacked by Ransom's fingertips. He'd pinch and twist it slightly, just enough to make your back arch in search of his touch.

Pleasure was overflowing your senses, you could feel your heart thudding in your ears and your legs losing strength. Your hand left your mouth to grip at the back of Ransom's neck to keep you from falling.

The sight of your lower lip trapped between your teeth didn't please Ransom. In other circumstances, he would've let you stay that way, as quiet as possible so no one would walk on you. This time though, it was his intention to rip the most delicious sounds from your lips so you thought of the possibility of his family listening.

And so, he lent to kiss you, passion and desire transmitted through his breath. His tongue asked for a permission that was not really required, but as you let it in, Ransom took the opportunity to bite down your lip.

With your lips forcefully parted and Ransom's restless hand traveling back to your bundle, you had no other option than to moan with each quick circle his digits drew.

A series of laughs and undistinguished words were heard from a distance. Both Ransom and you turned to see what they were about, stopping in your tracks with him still buried deep inside your needy cunt.

“Guess dinner's ready.” Unbothered about the information he just gave, he hid his face in the crook of your neck and resumed his movements.

A shaky oh, fuck fell from your lips as you felt the familiar knot in your stomach forming. Your head flew back, hitting the wall with a soft thud. 

“Careful. We don't want to be obvious, do we?” You knew you were about to explode, and by the way your walls were clenching and your trembling body tried to separate from him, Ransom knew as well. “Let go, sweetheart.” A roar erupted from him as he felt you tightening around his length. “Cum for me.”

With a last, powerful thrust of his hips, you let out a silent scream. The coil snapped, making you see a kaleidoscope of colors behind your eyelids and listen to a loud ring in your ears. 

Ransom followed right after, cursing as he finished inside of you, coating you with every last drop and making sure everything would stay there.

He slid out, leaving you with a feeling of emptiness as he zipped his trousers and took a step back to let you fix your appearance.

You managed to accommodate your dress just in time for Ransom's family to walk out of the room they were in to see you. Your agitated breathing and blushed cheeks, getting everyone's attention. 

“Are you okay, dear?” Ransom's dad asked.

“She's fine.” Your boyfriend answered for you. “She's feeling a little sick. I better take her home.” He took you by the hand and helped you down the stairs to the door, which you thanked. Had he not done it, you would have tripped taking the first step.

“But she hasn't met grandpa yet.” Meg noted, furrowing her brows.

“It'll be next time.” And with that, Ransom took you out of the house and in the passenger seat of his car without giving anyone the chance to say goodbye.

When you were at a considerable distance, you sighed, letting out the air you didn't know you were holding.

“Just so you know, there won't be a next time.” You informed him, against your want to meet his grandfather.

“Why not?” He asked with a chuckle, already knowing the answer. 

“Cause embarrassment won't let me come back in the near future.”

Behind an eye roll and a tap on your thigh, Ransom hid the triumphant grimace his perfectly carried out plan gave him.

[rocorambles]

Reciprocate

Pairing: Akaashi x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Mafia AU, Kidnapping, Rape/Non-Con, Forced Impregnation, Objectification, Degradation, Humiliation

Summary: You should have known better than to think you could ever truly escape from him, especially when you carry something he treasures so dearly inside of you. 

You reminisce on the early days when you had met the beautiful dark-haired man, when you had been swept off your feet by striking blue eyes and a serene composure. 

Akaashi had never been just normal to you and you remember how he had made your head spin with the air of mystery he carried around him, how your heart whipped back and forth between the always surprising mixture of sharp blunt words and eloquent poetry he entrapped you with. He was a man full of surprises, truly multi-faceted and you remember watching in awe at how quickly he could go from easily and agilely maneuvering his toned athletic body in the gym to lazily reading classic literature with a hand posessively but gently wrapped around your waist as you curled up besides him on the couch. 

There are many words you could have used to describe Akaashi. But dangerous? Dangerous was not one of them. 

Funny how quickly things can change. 

Even as careful as Akaashi is, even he can’t foresee unexpected circumstances, especially when you are more entangled in the webs of his life than he ever meant for you to be. And he is forced to reveal who he truly is to you or kill you when you get caught up in things and with people who shouldn’t have ever even known you existed. 

You wouldn’t be the first woman he’s killed and his mind flickers to numerous dead bodies, corpses of prostitutes and other unfortunate women strewn about when things became too complicated, when they threatened his position and the safety of his clan. But he can’t bring himself to pull the trigger, can’t even bring himself to think about aiming at you. 

You’re not like the other fleeting distractions and for the first time ever, Akaashi Keiji breaks Fukurodani policies by revealing everything to you in the hopes that you’ll accept him as everything he is, that you’ll join him for the long run. 

Blue eyes storm over when you don’t look at him with the love and acceptance he expected of you, only fear and disappointment apparent in your eyes, and his hands instinctively clench into fists when you flinch away from him, scrambling to create space between the two of you when he reaches out to reassure you that underneath the terrifying family name and insignia, he’s still just him. 

Fine. You’re scared? He’ll give you something to actually be scared of.

His fingers dig deeper than necessary as they roughly drag and shove you, movements harsh and rough enough to make a very clear point, but never enough to permanently mark you. He likes his possessions as pristine as possible after all. And he smiles at how quick you are to go limp in his arms, obediently letting yourself be led when Akaashi’s silky voice patronizingly tells you what a shame it would be for your beautiful body to be decorated with bullet holes. 

You know who Boktuo Koutarou is, even if you’ve never physically met him. Everyone in your city knows who he is, his name whispered and murmured in the streets, tales of his erratic temperament and ruthless wildness spread far and wide. The Fukurodani clan has always been a powerhouse in the underground world, has always controlled your city with an iron fist, and Bokuto, even by Fukurodani standards, has more than risen to the challenge of continuing his family’s undeniable reign, garnering respect and fear even among the monsters that share his insignia. So even though you’ve never met him, you know exactly who you’re shoved to your knees in front of, who Akaashi reverently speaks to and asks for permission from to keep you at the base as his pet, and you don’t dare open your mouth or raise your head, absolute terror paralyzing you. 

Gold eyes peer at you in interest. Whores aren’t uncommon in the base, lewd moans and slick sounds sometimes making the base seem more like a brothel than the home of illicit dangerous business and Bokuto has always encouraged and rewarded his men with the best cunts money can buy especially after particularly successful or tiresome raids. But for as long as he’s known Akaashi, he can count the number of times the younger man has partaken in those base pleasures on just his fingers and even then, they’ve always been one night stands, brief flings. So he’s surprised, to say the least, when the dark haired man asks to keep you around as his little toy and he has a gut feeling that you’ll become a permanent extension of the family, but how can he deny the man who’s resolutely stayed by his side all these years, who’s pledged his life and loyalty to him? Akaashi asks for so little and if all he wants is for Bokuto to provide protection and surveillance for one more body to be happy, then so be it.     

You’re no stranger to sharing a bed with Akaashi, but this is different. You had always thought that he had been holding back with you, swearing that you saw a hint of something darker gleaming behind blue orbs only for it to dissolve away as you were swept away by sensual languid pleasure and gentle, attentive words. And you hate that you were right, voice going hoarse as you scream at the top of your lungs as you’re ruthlessly taken over and over again, a coldness in the eyes you had once loved that pierces deep within you, animalistic possessiveness in the way he marks you, long slender fingers leaving bruises in their wake as he holds your writhing body in place as he thrusts in and out of your abused lower lips. 

Day in, day out. All you know is a fitful sumber that exhaustion forces you into and Akaashi. His scent, his touch, his voice. You’re drowning in his essence. Dying. No. That would be preferable. At least there would be an end. And you silently grieve, unable to even cry real tears anymore when you wonder when this will ever end, if this will ever end. 

As much as Akaashi would love to permanently lay beside you, duty and appearances do call from time to time and he reclines across from Bokuto, watching the black and white haired man boisterously chat with Kuroo Tetsurou, the current head of Nekoma as scantily clad women surround the two men, dragging fingernails down their chests and shamelessly shoving their breasts into their faces in the hopes of gaining their favor. They sure do seem to be enjoying themselves and Akaashi grimaces when one of the prostitutes begins to loudly moan as she grinds against his leader’s swelling erection which doesn’t go unnoticed by sharp eyes. 

“Akaashi, don’t be so uptight. Why don’t I send some of them to your room tonight to help you loosen up?”

Bokuto knowingly smiles in amusement when he’s promptly rejected. 

“Ah, that’s right. You still have your cute pet. But you know Akaashi, pets are temporary. Don’t you think it’s time to make it a little more permanent? Maybe put a ring on it? Hell, I love kids. I wouldn’t mind having a few runts running around the base, especially if they’re yours.” 

Their conversation is interrupted by a rude scoff and Bokuto snarls at Kuroo’s taunting words. 

“Because God knows Bokuto isn’t having kids anytime soon. No woman could stand bearing his kids and listening to his loudmouth for the rest of her life.”

Akaashi tunes out their bickering as the gears in his mind churn. 

He had kept you on your birth control pills, not wanting to disturb his time with you as he broke you in and figured out exactly what his plan for you is. He knows he loves you, knows there’s no life for him without you. But he wasn’t a dreamer. He’s fully aware just how dangerous his life is, how impossible it is for the both of you to be able to grow old together, how much more likely it’ll be that both of you end up dead side by side in a turf war gone wrong. Yet now all he can think of is what you’d be like as a mother, how you’d look pregnant with his children and when your pills run low, he tears your prescription to shreds in front of your eyes. 

You have more fight left in you than he thought you would and he’s enraged by how much you despise the thought of carrying his children, every desperate plea for him to not cum inside of you while you’re unprotected, a direct insult to him and his love for you. All he sees is red as he breeds you over and over again, stuffing you full of his cock and his seed, never stopping until you’re filled to the brim with the sticky proof of his adoration, stomach heavy and sloshing with his declared affection. 

Turbulent emotions ransack you and you wish you could blame it solely on the hormones raging throughout your impregnated body, but you know it’s deeper than that. It had been so easy to become numb to being used, being known as nothing more than Akaashi’s pretty pet, being the victim of a cold, ruthless stranger you realize now that you never really knew. But it’s agonizing to once again see the hints of the man you had fallen in love with and your heart aches at how gentle and considerate Akaashi is to you once more as your belly begins to swell, a comforting hand rubbing your back and holding your hair away from your face as morning sickness has you heaving over the toilet bowl. And you feel something break and shatter into a million pieces inside of you when one night, as your due date quickly approaches, he kneels in front of you, slipping the engagement ring of your dreams onto your trembling hand. 

“I know this isn’t how you dreamed of any of this happening, but I promise you, once the child is born, I’m going to give you the wedding you always wanted and do my best to be the husband and father you deserve and want. I love you.”

You sob, tightly returning Akaashi’s embrace, burying your face in his chest, wishing with all your heart that things could have been different, that you could go back to those early days, that everything in between was a dream, a nightmare. 

But this is reality and as you cradle your baby bump, you know that you need to do something, anything, now that it’s not just your life on the line anymore. 

For the first time in a long time, it seems like fortune is finally on your side as Akaashi relinquishes his leash on you, trusting that your growing bump will permanently tie you to him, that you won’t even think of trying to escape in your current state. And you play your role perfectly, smiling and leaning into his careful touches, accepting the gifts and attention he lavishes you with, looking to all the world like an excited expecting mother perfectly matched with her doting fiance. 

Akaashi resumes taking up longer projects and jobs, no longer seeing a need to keep as careful of a watch over you or a need to remind you of your place besides him every night. And seeing one of their higher-ups relax makes everyone else careless, no one paying you much attention, no more armed men outside your door and windows when Akaashi is away. 

Really, it’s embarrassingly easy for you to escape, so easy that you wonder if this is a trap, almost expecting Akaashi to appear from around every corner and drag you back to the prison he had created for you, and you shudder when you can almost feel his hands against your skin, his voice murmuring cruel cutting words into your ear. 

But no one stops you and you slowly, but steadily make the long journey to Inarizaki territory, discreetly settling in and making a new home for yourself, starting a new life. Inarizaki and Fukurodani have never dealt much with each other, their territories so far apart that it’s pointless to clash or ally with each other when there are so many other enemies and friends closer to both their homes to deal with. You pray that it’s enough to hide you, to allow you to leave your wretched past behind. 

It seems like your prayers are answered as month after month passes, as your belly grows and grows, as you give birth to a beautiful baby girl. You can barely remember a life outside of motherhood, your heart overwhelmingly full of love and happiness as you watch your daughter grow. And as you watch her take her first few wobbly steps as her first birthday passes, you let yourself finally believe that you can really move on and look forward, locking the blue-eyed demon of your past behind you once and for all. 

Except that demon doesn’t want to be locked up, that demon is far too strong and cunning for your flimsy padlock, and you clutch your daughter to your chest when your door slams open one night and your apartment is swarmed by men with the Fukurodani insignia, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes when one last final figure makes their way past your threshold and you stare into familiar blue eyes. 

As if your daughter can sense your anxiety, your fear, your hopelessness, she begins to loudly wail and bawl, wrapping her little arms around your neck and drenching your neck and shirt with her tears and snot, reminding you just how much is at stake right now. 

You do your best to fake some semblance of calmness, drawing on your maternal instincts to still the quivering of your voice as you gently whisper soothing words in her ear, telling her everything will be fine, telling her that these are just mommy’s old friends, all the while watching your ex-lover gracefully make his way towards the two of you, subtly shielding her little body with yours as he approaches. 

Realistically you know there’s not much you can do if he does mean harm to her, but you’d gladly die defending her to the best of your abilities if it came down to it, already ready to beg for her to be spared and for just you to be punished for your transgressions and your betrayal. You finch when you feel his weight settle besides you on the bed as he sits on the edge of the mattress, heart pounding as you feel his familiar presence, and you quickly turn to face him, only to be completely stunned by the softness in his eyes as he gazes at your daughter. 

Relief floods through you and you hesitantly shift, allowing him easier access to see her, something bittersweet trickling inside of you as long slender fingers gently reach out to caress tear-stained cheeks, as your daughter’s sobs die down and curious eyes peer at the stranger who’s touching her. And deep inside you know Akaashi won’t harm her, will fiercely love her, as he tugs her out of your arms and pulls her into his lap, a sad smile pulling on your lips as you watch father and daughter reunite. 

Deep inside you also know that you won’t be as lucky and your fears are confirmed when Akaashi stands, still cradling your giggling daughter in his arms, blue eyes pinning you down with a look you recognize all too well. There’ll be hell to pay for your actions. 

You feel nauseous, body already aching and throbbing in anticipation of your punishment. But you plaster on a smile for your daughter as she happily plays with one of her favorite toys in the backseat of the car between Akaashi and you, peppering her tiny face with kisses as Akaashi and you tuck her into the gorgeous nursery he’s prepared for her, and wishing her good night as Akaashi leads you back out, continuously waving until the nursery door is firmly closed. And only then does your act drop and you sob as a hand harshly grips your wrist, tears only flooding down more as you recognize the hallway you’re being dragged down, body shaking when you’re shoved into a room and a bed you had tried so hard to forget. 

Clothes are being torn from your body and you thrash around as lips descend upon you, a mouth hungrily molding with yours, yelping when teeth harshly bite on your lower lip before pulling apart. You feel so exposed, so helpless, so vulnerable as icy blue eyes glare down at you, Akaashi’s body pinning you in place as he takes in your figure, scrutinizing every line and curve of your body, mapping every familiarity and difference from the last time he’s seen you. But you lay still, wincing when his grip on your wrist becomes bone crushing when you try to instinctively cover yourself from him. 

“I trusted you. I love you. And this is how you repay me? Running away from me? Keeping my daughter away from me?” 

You open your mouth to stutter out some feeble excuse, but gasp when a hand wraps around your neck, warningly tightening before relaxing. The weight of his palm still against your throat keeps you silent. 

“There’s no excuse for what you did. But I promised you that I’d be a good husband, so I’ll forgive you if you show me how sorry you are.”

You nervously watch as he completely lets go of you, eyes trailing after him as he settles his back against the headboard of the bed, beckoning you over to him with a single finger. And you can’t help but feel like foolish prey walking into a trap as you obey, body quivering in fear as he pulls you in and positions you so that your legs straddle his thighs, back arching and a cry slipping past your lips as he teasingly captures one of your nipples in his mouth and sucks. 

“Still so sensitive.” 

You hate how well he’s trained your body, how easily your body betrays you even after being separated from him for over a year, how well he knows every inch of you inside and out and shame and humiliation lance through you when a long digit easily slides into your already dripping heat. 

“I think you’re more than ready, darling.”

Even past your wanton moans, the clanging metal of his belt unbuckling echoes throughout the room and you whimper as something hard presses against your entrance. 

“Come on, love. It’s time for you to apologize. Do you know how much effort and time I spent searching for you?”

You yelp as the hands resting on your waist dig into your flesh before relaxing and rubbing soothing circles into your skin. 

“But it’s okay because you’re here now, you and our daughter are here now, and neither of you are ever leaving me again. Right?”

You vigorously nod your head as blue eyes sharply stare at you, relaxing when they soften and a small smile plays on his lips. 

“Good girl. Now prove it to me.” 

You almost wish Akaashi had just forced himself upon you, finding it so much more demeaning to sink down on his cock all by yourself as he impassively sits back and watches you. But you’re sure that’s the whole point of this, for you to show your submission and acceptance through your actions. After all, nothing he ever does is meaningless. 

And you truly do feel broken, like nothing more than a good wife, a good pet as you wildly shake your hips, bouncing up and down on his cock in a way that makes your breasts jiggle, pussy clenching even tighter and gushing even more when he orders you to look him in the eyes all the while. 

“You’re making me feel so good, sweetheart. You’re so beautiful. You were made for my cock, made for me. Tell me who you belong to.”

In hindsight you’ll be embarrassed by how quick you are to babble his name over and over again in response. But here and now? All you can think about is the warmth in your chest as he praises you, the warmth in your belly as something pleasant and overwhelming builds inside of you. And Akaashi groans at how tightly you squeeze around him as your peak nears, almost cumming from just the hazed over arousal in your lust-filled eyes, pulling you in for a sloppy kiss and swallowing your cries of ecstasy as you reach your high, body convulsing and twitching in his arms as he holds you steady, lips still locked with yours as he thrusts up a few more times before finding his own release and spilling deep inside of you. 

You slump onto him, exhausted body collapsing and still twitching from the onslaught of pleasure. But as the fog from your mind begins to ebb away, you involuntarily tense at the whispered “I love you” that sounds like nails scraping against a chalkboard, hesitating too long to respond in kind. And you know you’ve made a huge mistake when blue eyes are coldly regarding you once more, shivering from both the cold and fear as he pulls back from you before shoving you onto your back and settling between your legs.

“Looks like you need a little more encouragement to reciprocate my feelings. That’s okay. We have all the time in the world for me to show you just how much I love you.”

[darkacademicfrom2021]

It’s very ambiguous

Pairing: Loki x reader (gender neutral)

Summary: You have finally come to age; your soulmate mark draws itself in your skin. You can't figure out who it connects you with, but, oh dear, you can only hope and wish it is to him. But Loki won't make it easy for you to find out. Will you both overcome the pride and fear that would involve your love?

Word count: 4.6 K

Warnings: a bit of angst. (English is not my mother tongue and it’s my first time writing fanfiction in english, so forgive me if there’s any errors, and feel free to correct them!)

Sighing at your reflection, you stared for the Norns know how long to the fresh image that drew itself in the side of your abdomen.

You thanked it was easy to hide; saving you endless mockery from your friends if they saw that. The vivid portrayal of who you loved the most, in the most ambiguous drawing you could’ve ever gotten. How ironic.

What the Heavens would that mean, you asked yourself at least five times until the impatient knocking on the bathroom door pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Hurry up, we’re late”, said Sif. You knew she was already all dressed up for the Ball, and she would kill you, seeing you were still on your robes. You opened the bathroom door slowly, with burrowed frows. You couldn’t hide it, as much as you tried to. “Oh, for God’s sa…” she started complaining, but stopped as soon as she realized you were in a terrible state of mind.

“I got it”, you explained after she made you get out of the bathroom and sat you on the edge of the bed. “I got the mark. Impossible to guess”.

“Don’t worry about it, you’ll know who they is when the time is right”, said she, comforting you and eyeing the outfit you’d chosen earlier. “But crytime is over. Guess what time it is now. Yes, you guessed right. The Ball”.

The last thing you wanted to do in that moment was to dance; or to stay in a chair drinking wine the entirety of the night, for that matter. You didn’t need another reminder of your frustrated attempts at making him notice you. And you knew he wasn’t the one (if he were your soulmate, it would’ve already happened years; no, decades ago). But you still couldn’t help but falling in love at every little smirk, every little comment, every little thing he did. Dear, you were lost, completely gone in love.

That’s why you knew you wouldn’t find your soulmate for a long, long time. At least not until your crush for Loki had finally gone away.

“I’d rather stay”, you stated, and she rolled her eyes.

“Well, I want to go, and I can’t go alone. Please, at least do it for me”.

“Why would you want to go? Ever since we’re on age of being asked to dance, we have only gotten invitations from… well, anyone except them. And in the Balls we can’t even be their friends”.

“We can be friends, if they talk to us first we can talk back”.

“Yeah, we could, but they don’t talk first. They never do”.

Both of you were completely lost for the princes. But, unlike you, Sif had a chance with Thor. She was graceful, divine, a wonderful woman; a whole Goddess, an amazing warrior. There was no question Thor would sooner or later find love in her friend. But you… why would a prince like Loki lay his eyes on you? Romantically, he never showed a single trace of interest in anyone, much less someone in his friendgroup. You were the closest to him, yet he never said a thing.

He probably knew you drooled over him. He must have noticed how you looked at him in the library when he read to you, how you always defended him from everyone else’s mockery, how you intentionally pretended like you didn’t know any better in spells so that he could help you out. How your heartbeat raced when he fell asleep on your lap. He must have noticed, yet he said nothing.

She finally managed to convince you to go, with the condition that if you weren’t asked to dance at all, or even talk, you’d go back to your manor early.

You got in your best clothes, and undressing the best attitude possible, you both arrived at the palace and entered the ballroom as quick as your feet let you. The ambient was marvelous. Subtle lighting, most of them by candles. The golden details that characterized Asgard so well were everywhere. Both King and Queen were sat in their thrones, waiting patiently for the rest of the royal family to arrive before giving the annual speech and getting the party started.

“Do you think they’re not coming?” asked Sif as you got comfortable in your seats, eyeing the entrances.

“They can’t miss it, they’re sort of the hosts”, you said, “but… well, I don’t know. The other day after training, Thor mentioned something about this year being particularly difficult for them”, you added in such a low whisper that Sif had to pull closer.

“What did he say? He didn’t mention anything to me”, she whispered back. You two looked like you were merely gossiping, if it weren’t for the lack of giggling that would usually follow.

“He said… he said something along the lines of ‘we’re expected so much more than before in these dances, they’re more than just for fun now’, and, Sif, I think he meant…”, but she abruptly interrupted you.

“Courting? Oh, for the Norns, they’re not expected to choose a partner now, so soon, aren’t they?”.

“Soon? Sif, they’re already at each other’s throats for who’s becoming King, and they have been for a while”.

“They’re not exactly competing, anyways. You don’t have to worry about this. It’s not like Loki’s the one winning” said she, earning a subtle kick in the leg. “Auch!”.

“Would you stop being so hard on him?”.

“You know I’m right!”. 

“You know it hurts him. If you think so, at least keep it to yourself, Sif”.

You could’ve kept lecturing her if it weren’t for the sarcastic clapping of the Queen upon seeing the arrival of her sons. You read the ‘you’re late!’ on her lips and the apologetic looks on their faces. But nothing of that distracted you from admiring how marvelous Loki could get sometimes. Just when you thought he couldn't look any better, he outdid himself. You let out a sigh and Sif laughed.

“You’re staring”.

“And rightfully so. Look at him”.

But no matter how much you looked at him for the whole evening, you couldn’t get even a gaze from him. He didn’t even eyed you from the distance. You would’ve even gotten actually mad at him if it weren’t for the fact that he wasn’t looking anywhere. He didn’t seem like he was avoiding you; he was actively staring at the floor, with the saddest look on his face. And Thor looked pissed off.

“There’s a story in there and I will ask for as many details as possible once Loki spills the beans to you”, said Sif, elbowing you.

“I don’t think he will. Look, it looks like more than a fight. He looks so upset”.

You could only wish you were brave enough to break the stupid rule of the royals approach first so you could take his hand tightly and comfort him in whatever he was going through. As you always did. As he always let you.

The music played for three hours. Everyone was on their feet, dancing away, drinking away and chatting away, as one should in a Ball dance. Everyone except you and certain dark prince you didn’t even bother staring at anymore. You gave up looking for his attention an hour after the dance properly started, and it did nothing good to your pride to have been trying for that long anyways.

Sif got her chance, of course. Thor took his time, but after long he gave up with whatever quarrel he was having with his brother and approached her decisively. You were past pissed. Disappointed. After another sip of your wine, you couldn’t resist and stole a glance to Loki’s seat. To your surprise, you met his gaze. The God of Mischief was staring at you, and he apparently has been for Gods know how long. He quickly dropped his head and went back to looking at the floor, now with a completely red face.

You soon realized he was even more upset than before, as he watched Thor and Sif dance. And then you understood. Everything fell into place. Of course. Of course he liked Sif. Who wouldn’t. That’s why he fought with Thor. That’s why he was so worked up. You didn’t even need to read his mind to confirm it. 

You waited, still holding your eyes on him. You waited for another half an hour, but your patience was already on thin ice and he didn’t look like he would do anything more, anyways. So you did what you should’ve done hours ago. You got up and left.

“No, brother, you can go, I’ll let Mother know I’m staying”, said Loki from his room.

He could hear Thor’s patience shatter in pieces from the other side of the door.

“Don’t be ridiculous, we can’t miss the Ball. Father will kill you”.

“It’s not my problem”.

“I think it is quite your problem, brother”. Loki sighed. He wasn’t in the mood for his mockery. Thor sensed it and lowered his tone of voice, insisting. “Tell me what it is, Loki. I promise I’ll try to help out”.

But he only scoffed and locked the door, to start pacing around the room, feeding his anxiety even more. He covered his arm with his palm and tried his best to make it go away. It’s just an accidental illusion. I’m making it out of nervousness. I need to make it go away, he kept saying under his breath. But it didn’t go away. It wasn’t an illusion.

“Oh, FOR THE NINE REALMS”, he kicked his chair as a sudden burst of anger ate him alive.

“Loki, let me in!”, insisted Thor. “I’m going in”.

“You can’t help me”.

“I might, if you just tell me what is it. You love the dances. Come on”.

“I do love dances, Thor, I’m not particularly fond of the weight this one has on us; not this year” he growled from the floor, knees on his chest. “Not with what I had planned, I can’t do it now” he whispered. Thor pretended like he didn’t listen to that last bit.

Loki had been circling around the idea of asking you to dance for the last few months. It was all he wanted; to caress your hand and gently hold you by the waist, to move at the pace of the music, to feel your heart on his chest, his rising heartbeat with every breath you took. He wanted you, and if that wasn’t possible (and he was sure it wasn’t) he wanted to dance with you all night long.

But now, he would have to court you and marry you if he did. And, of course, it was what he wanted. It was definitely all he wanted. But he knew you wouldn’t. And he wouldn’t risk your beautiful friendship over anything in the world. What if he lost you forever? He could never bring himself to lose you, in any form or way.

“Brother, let me in. Or get out of the room. We’re late”.

“You’re late, Thor. Must I repeat myself? I’m not going”.

“I’m kicking the door”.

Loki sighed, and waited to hear Thor’s intense footsteps get closer and closer to the door to open it just in time and see him land on his face. Thor got up off the floor with blood on his nose.

“It combines with your crimson cape, brother, no need to worry” said Loki mockingly.

But Thor paid little attention to his silvertongue. Instead, his eyes were fixed on his arm. Then, he understood exactly why he was acting so terrified. Loki covered his arm as soon as he realized, mortified, but it was now too late and Thor had already seen it.

“Do you need any other reason to invite them to dance with you?”, he said with a grin of pride.

“It's not them. I’m certain”.

“How are you so certain? It’s such an ambiguous drawing, and you haven’t seen theirs!”.

“They doesn’t even have a soulmate mark yet. They told me the other day”.

“You didn’t have one at that time either, it must have changed. Come on”.

Loki sighed and put on a long sleeved outfit, while letting Thor rant about how much he was sure you’d reciprocate his feelings. And Loki couldn’t say anything against it, because it would only bring ruin to everyone; to spill the obvious secret that haunted him everyday.

The fact that you lusted over Thor.

And it hurted him like anything else, because he knew even though you didn’t say anything. He knew he was the lesser prince. The one that gets looked over. The shadow in his brother’s spotlight. The always-prince, never-King. It hurted like Hell.

But there was nothing he could do about it. And now he had a mark that linked him to the Norns know who, but he only had eyes for you.

Because you were always there. You were the one to defend him against his own insecurities, and everyone else’s accusations. The one to laugh the loudest at his jokes, the one to hold him the tightest when you were in fear, the one to call him first to anything. And you were perfect. But you, for obvious reasons, didn’t think the same of him. You thought the world of him, but not in the way he wished.

And he wouldn’t even get to see you happy from someone else’s love, because his brother didn’t even have eyes for you. The idiot of Thor could not see your brightness, and Loki wondered how could anyone not fall in love with you.

“You need to try, Loki, you’ll never know if you don’t risk a little”.

“A little? To you this is a little? Do you have any idea what would happen to me if I lost them forever? If the person that I love the most leaves me because I just decided to stop hiding my feelings?”, yelled Loki, completely angered.

“Ah, there it is. If I decided to stop hiding my feelings”, repeated Thor, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes.

“What is that supposed to mean?!”.

“You are afraid; so incredibly afraid of letting anyone know you fully. That is your problem, Loki. They’ll accept you no matter what, because they already know you. You think you’re hiding, well, you’re not so good with this little lie of yours”, said finally Thor, tired of biting his tongue about it.

“You know nothing about their feelings”.

“I know enough”.

“Believe me, you don’t. And you don’t get to say a word about my love life, or anything about this situation, for that matter. You don’t get to make light of my situation, as you do with everything regarding me. Now, leave. Me. Alone”.

They continued fighting about it until one of their tutors had enough of their unpunctuality and came to look for them. Both entered the ballroom still highly upset at each other and said nothing about it all night. Frigga knew exactly what they were talking about, and didn’t make too much of a fuss about the delay in their arrival.

Loki tried to not look at you in the entirety of the night; avoided all the eye contact he could with anyone, specially you. He was too afraid you’d choose that exact time to practice your special abilities at mind reading (since you’ve done this at previous dances, when Loki didn’t approach you), and if he didn’t see you, you couldn’t do it. Because if you dared reading his mind you’d only find yourself. And in those little moments he got to glance at you, while you were distracted with something else, he sank in sadness, because all he wanted was to embrace you and dance with you. You looked as fantastic as you always were and more. You looked especially excellent. And it didn’t go unnoticed to him that you looked annoyed. From the eye-sided glances he got to steal from you, he saw you staring at the seat he and his brother were in. You were expectant. You wanted to be taken out to dance. And Loki’s suspicions about your crush on Thor only got reassured when he asked Sif for a dance and you looked the most annoyed you’d ever looked in ages.

You left the dance early. After about ten minutes Loki decided to go after you. Outside of the ballroom you could still be a friend; that was the whole point of swallowing his feelings. He wandered the palace until he heard fireballs collapsing against the huge walls of your typical training spot, but he lingered his entrance to observe you in an incredibly angry state of your magic.

“You’ll set the palace on fire” said a gut-wrenching familiar voice. Of course Thor was there. Of course Thor would get earlier to comfort you in something that he destroyed.

“Then so be it”, you answered with a crack in your voice. Loki didn’t mean to invade your privacy, but he couldn’t help himself but to listen.

“I know why you’re upset. Believe me, it upsets me too”.

“You have no idea what upsets me”, you answered, and Thor chuckled. Loki could sense that Thor was thinking about how similar you and Loki were. You threw another fireball against the wall.

“Let me guess”.

“Enlighten me, your majesty”.

“You didn’t get to dance with the man you like”.

“You know nothing about the man I like”.

“When will you all stop treating me as if I were blind? Come on, why won’t you tell me? I’m your friend. I know you’re burning up in love and you still think you don’t have a chance because… because what? Because he’s the prince of Asgard?” said Thor. You stopped your magic and stared at him with teary eyes.

“Because the prince of Asgard I love, is in love with Sif. And there’s nothing I can do about it” you answered. Loki’s heart broke. Hearing you admit your raw feelings to Thor that way, and Thor not even understanding you were talking about him.

“What makes you think he’s in love with Sif?!” insisted, still clueless.

But Loki didn’t need to hear any more of that. He ran through the halls of the palace until he got to lock himself in his room.

“What makes you think he’s in love with Sif?!”, Thor asked, and you scoffed. You lowered your gaze to the floor, trying to make the tears go unnoticed. They didn’t, and Thor hugged you tightly.

Thor was almost like a brother to you. You grew up together, but it was more than that. You were always for each other. He never had to ask about your love for Loki, he always knew. And you never had to ask about his crush in Sif; it was transparent. So you both supported each other. You didn’t even bother telling him how she felt about him, it was bound to happen. Now, you and Loki, on the other hand…

“He is, you can’t deny it”.

“I’m denying it, I assure you”. You wiped your tears away and touched your mark over your clothes. He smiled. “You got the mark, didn’t you?”.

“Yeah”.

“What is it?”.

“Ugh, it doesn’t matter. Maybe I should just forget him and start looking for my soulmate. If the mark showed up today, then it must be for something. There has to be a reason”. Thor nodded, still smiling. “What are you so happy about, dumbass? My heart’s broken".

“Nothing. You keep on looking. Can I see it?”, said he, patting your back.

“It’s too ambiguous, you won’t guess it”.

“So I expected”.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Do you know anything?”.

“Nothing whatsoever”.

You got in your fighting position. Loki bent down in his seat, focusing on the next fight. He was sure you’d win; he has been teaching you new moves and you completely mastered them. And your rival didn’t know any better, anyways.

One kick from your opponent; you avoided it and threw a punch. Another kick. Another punch. The rival grabbed your leg, making you lose your balance and almost fall down, but you used that impulse to push him away and get him to the ground. He got up and started using magic. A blue light shone around him and started getting closer to your feet. You closed your eyes and focused intensely; soon, water drops started emerging from the tips of your fingers. They quickly transformed into a stream of water that wrapped your opponent from head to toes, making his electricity magic attack him, instead of you. Loki smiled.

Your rival pushed further his strength and one of the electrified waterjets hit your leg. You fell to the ground with a scream. It hurted, a lot. Loki gasped and Thor had to grab his shoulder to remind him it was just a training fight. For his tranquility, you got up on your feet soon and started using your magic again.

An aura of sparks and wind formed around you while you closed your fists, extremely concentrated. Your opponent waited without attacking, but behind the shield of his armour. Loki saw Thor smile proudly; this was the part he taught you. For your fire side of your powers, Thor was the one to train you thoroughly. Loki sighed, frustrated because you haven’t yet shown what Loki had taught you with such enthusiasm. He still observed you with attention.

“This part is awesome, look, brother”, whispered Thor in his ear, which only made him angrier.

“I’m sure it is. They is awesome. And wait until you see what I taught them”. Thor chuckled.

“No need for jealousy, Loki. They’s all yours”. Loki rolled his eyes and directed his attention to the fight again.

The sparks and wind grew bigger and bigger around you, circling your whole body. Once the sparks became fire, you directed your whole energy to your opponent, sending him against the wall. If it weren’t for the gigant fire-proof shield, he would’ve gotten completely roasted.

You put your guard down, and as you did so, the wind and fire around you dispersed. Loki got to see you again once the magic flew down, and realized you had your clothes slightly lifted up. He tried not to look out of respect, but Thor gasped, and that drew his attention directly to what surprised his brother. And it did not disappoint. Loki’s chest got as tight as it has ever been. His breathing became irregular and unsteady, and his face got completely red. You didn’t notice your shirt had lifted up, so you didn’t realize what was going on. You got closer to your defeated rival and shaked his hand.

“You win. I see you’ve been well trained”, he said.

“I have”, you answered, and directed your gaze to the princes who were watching the fight. You walked closer to them to chatter, as you always did, but Loki got up fast and ran out of the training room. Thor told you to follow him, and Loki heard your footsteps behind him for the entirety of the hall, until you two got to the gardens.

Loki was shaking. He didn’t want you to be there. He didn’t want you to see him that vulnerable. And you knew it, so you didn’t get closer than two meters apart.

“Loki”, you said after a while, behind his back. “What’s wrong?”.

He turned around, face still red. He was usually cold, but at that moment he was burning up inside and out. Maybe he was burning out of love for you. Maybe out of anger, for being so pessimistic and making himself a martyr when his brother was clearly right. Maybe out of rage to himself, for waiting so long to make a move and losing so much time lost in his own head. But you were still standing there, concerned. And he had to say something, because you still didn’t know anything.

“I saw your mark”, he stated. Now you were the one with the red face.

“Oh… I, I don’t, uh…”, you stuttered, and he got closer to you. He grabbed both of your hands and you looked at him in the eyes, clueless. “I try not to give it that much attention”.

“Why?”, he asked. “It’s your soulmate. The person you’ll love the most”.

“I already love someone” you said, in a burst of confidence. Loki swallowed in nervousness. Your hands started to get sweaty. “I… ugh. Sorry. I don’t want to say…”.

“Who? Tell me, I’m your best friend”.

“I don’t want you to be”, you finally said. “It’s you, Loki. It’s always been you. I don’t care about this stupid soulmate mark, because I know I’m in love with you and I always have been”.

Loki stayed silent, which only made your anxiety increase. He finally looked at you in the eyes and formed a subtle smile.

“I thought you loved Thor”.

“What? Why would I…?”.

“I heard you after the Ball; you said the prince you love was in love with Sif”.

“Yeah, you”.

“I’m… what? I’m not… I’m not in love with Sif, darling”.

Your heart stirred, and you weren’t sure if it was because of the pet name he just gave you, or the fact that you got it all wrong. He wasn’t in love with Sif?

“I’m sorry, did we both think…?”.

“We’re idiots, apparently”.

You both laughed. That was it; that cotidianity, that normality that felt, even in the most embarrassing and intense moments, completely fine. Because you were, before anything, friends.

You hugged him. He returned the hug and caressed your neck and back with one hand. You felt his heartbeat rise, and from that position, he whispered in your ear with that beautifully deep and raspy voice; “I saw your mark”.

“I don’t care about it. I don’t want to ruin our friendship, ignore my feelings if necessary. But my heart only beats for you”, you whispered back. He sank his nose on the crook of your neck and felt his mouth form a smile against your skin. You shivered and felt warmth in your stomach.

“I don’t want to ignore your feelings”.

“I love you”, you said once again, regretting it in that instant. You couldn't stop your words from falling out of your mouth. You felt like you sounded desperate.

“I love you too, my dear”.

You, in shock, looked at him in the eyes. He kept smiling, and putting a strand of your hair behind an ear, placed a small kiss on your red cheek.

“I don’t know what to do next. I like being your friend”, you said. “And I don’t think we’re meant to be. I got a mark, and you haven’t, so it’s obvious we won’t end up together anyways. And I want you by my side for all my life; even if it’s just as a friend, you know? I don’t want to lose you”. Loki chuckled at your rant. “What?”.

“What makes you think I didn’t get my mark yet?”.

“Well, I… I don’t know. Did you?”.

“Yes”.

“What does it look like?”.

He smiled.

“It’s very ambiguous”, said he, sarcastically.

“Hard to guess, is it?” you chuckled, realizing what was going on. Loki lifted his sleeve, uncovering an identical soulmate mark to yours.

“Hard to guess, yet so obvious”, he said. He grabbed your waist and neck and both melted in a long, desired kiss. You sank your fingers in his hair, caressing his scalp. “Yours?”

“It’s very ambiguous too, you know?”.

[folkloreguk]

🍒Cherry Ice Cream🍒

A/N: Happy July! I planned this almost a year ago and finally got around to writing it...I hope you like it! As always, I appreaciate feedback a lot! Hope everyone has a lovely day <3

pairing: optional bias (male) x reader (gn)

words: ~ 3.7 k

genre: fluff, comedy, lifeguard!bias, reader is the most awkward and chaotic person ever (are we at the public pool or the circus?? seriously I’m so second hand embarrassed for her lmao), bias is the hottest man in existence, the universe has something against the reader apparently (rip)

PART 2 (nsfw, both parts can be read independently)

You approached the front entrance of the public swimming pool. Everything was still going by plan. Ever since the weather had gotten warmer, you’d had swimming on your mind. And every single person in your life had been made aware of it. Despite the friendly asking and the occasional begging, you still hadn’t found anyone to accompany you to the public swimming pool. You had heard all the reasons: Work, already planned vacations, a sick pet, a hatred of water, a hatred of people, you name it. After all the searching you had come to the conclusion that you were tired of waiting. Nothing could possibly rob you of your excitement about swimming pools. You’d go alone and have a wonderful time. It would be a relaxing day with loads of time just for you. So you had told yourself. But let’s face it, nothing could have prepared you for the utter chaos you were about to walk into.

It began before you had even set both feet into the facility. Your steps were light, and you beamed, ready to enter after you had paid. The strap of your sports bag had caught in the turnstile in the entrance area. Stubborn as you were, you yanked on it, instead of turning around and manually freeing the fabric from the steel contraption. You had put your entire weight on the line, tugging and pulling, when the strap finally came loose from the turnstile. As expected from such antics, you tripped and struggled in your flip-flops, blundering into the compound like a baby giraffe walking for the first time. By the time you tried to compose yourself to look cool and relaxed after such a mistake, you noticed him.

He, who looked like a Greek god blessing you with a visit on earth. He was all tan skin, red life-guard swim trunks, perfectly sculped shoulders, pushed back hair, a smile that put the sun to shame and sunglasses sitting on top of his head. Instantly you thanked yourself for not seriously injuring yourself. The young godman crossed the lawn, presumably to take his seat by the pool, watching out for the visitors. Only he made it look like he was strutting on a runway at Paris fashion week. All you could do was pray that he hadn’t seen you entering his workplace headfirst like some impatient six-year-old.

As people passed you, you realized you were standing in the same spot where you had almost fallen a minute ago. Manifesting that this was just the silly beginning to a perfect day, you paraded into the shaded grassy area to find a spot to set up your things. Countless groups of friends, families, and lone visitors like yourself had already settled down, but you managed to find a fine spot. It was the superb balance between sunny and shady and not too far from the swimming pools and water slides. In seconds you had shed off your clothes to reveal your swimsuit underneath. Although you could barely keep yourself waiting, you decided it was best to stay there a short while before you threw yourself into the waves. Just until the sunscreen had absorbed into your skin. Meanwhile, you would unpack the catchy book you had recently begun to read.

Now and then you raised your head and peeked at the cute lifeguard. You seriously had no intentions of coming across like a creep, but you couldn’t stop yourself. The way he patrolled the side of the large pool had more coolness than the prettiest shot of a hot movie star in a film. You allowed yourself a few seconds, then you’d go back to your novel. The sounds of summer floated through the air – children laughing, water splashing, birds chirping above you – and the scent of the sunscreen catapulted you straight on cloud 9. It felt like your own small piece of paradise. Little did you know, the universe had so much more in store for you.

You hadn’t been buried in your book for even 10 minutes when a group of kids ran by. They were passing a water ball from one to the other and giggling uncontrollably. You saw it coming in your peripheral vision but had no time to react. As they had reached your level, one of them punched the ball especially hard. And instead of catching it, the dark blue ball bounced off one child’s hands and straight into the side of your face. It knocked your sunglasses off the bridge of your nose, but more importantly gave you the fright of your life. You dropped your book while the children’s mother scolded them from the side. After the initial surprise you couldn’t accept their apologies quickly enough. Anything if it could spare you from even more attention from random guests around you. Impulsively, your eyes searched for the cute lifeguard. But he was looking into the opposite direction. At least fate had saved you from embarrassing you in front of him. The last thing you wanted was to look like more of a clown than you had when entering the facility earlier. But against your expectations, the train of unfortunate events was only beginning.

Surely things would be more peaceful in the water, you had thought. When you finally entered the cool pool, it felt like heaven on earth. Fearing a case of recurrence, you avoided the shallower areas, where the children crowded and went straight for the deeper waters. Finally experiencing some form of relaxation, you swam and dived a few laps around the pool. Now and then you caught a glimpse of the lifeguard on the far end of the pool. Just to make sure he was still there. Just to make sure he’s still as handsome as when you first spotted him. And you weren’t disappointed. Gesturing kindly, he helped an elderly woman find directions to the restaurant on the far end of the site. From up closer, his smile and his jaw were even prettier – even though it had seemed impossible for him to become even more perfect.

After a while, your limbs became tired and you retracted into less busy waters, close to the exit and entrance area of the swimming pool. As you paddled your way through bodies, a bug startled you. It had by all appearances chosen you as its victim, as it took direct flight into your face. Even when you swat it away and turned around to change directions, it kept chasing you and only you. Like some crazy, obsessed stalker, it followed you to the edge of the pool. Eventually, you became tired of running and turned to it. If some random flying beetle wanted to fight you, so be it. To the untrained eye, you might have appeared like a lunatic, fanning the air, and squinting against the bright sunlight. But it was war, and you would square up against the most annoying of bugs. After a while, you realized that you were waving off the air – no more bug in sight. Only then you noted the little girl laughing in your direction from the poolside. You were way too mortified to turn into his direction at first, but when you found the lifeguard, he was conversing with one of his co-workers. Once again, you were safe.

Your next approach at a good time was the colorful waterslide close by. Certainly, these heights would not include micro-aggressive bugs. Instead, they included something far more unsettling. Considering there were toddlers going down the waterslide, you deemed it safe and fun. Your mind changed in the first sharp turn, when you tumbled over and hit your elbow from the sudden change of direction. Maybe you should have just stayed in the ring with the bug instead of choosing this more than violent escape. But it was too late. Once on the slide, you had to make it through to the finish line – more or less in one piece. Your grand finale composed of a semi-somersault off the edge of the waterslide into the pool. Although it wasn’t intentional, you still hoped it looked somewhat graceful to the audience at the bottom. Hint: No, it didn’t. You looked like a baby monkey that had been sent down a self-constructed-waterslide in someone’s backyard. It was a disaster.

Feeling over-heated and exhausted from the sun and your embarrassing antics, you found a drinking fountain by the showers to refresh yourself. Patiently, you waited in the short line until it was your turn. As fate wanted it, the next messy incident wasn’t long in the coming. In fact, it only took four sips of water before you accidentally inhaled some of it. You stepped back, choking, coughing, and gasping for air all at once. A helpful woman showed mercy with you and your awkward behavior and softly pat your back. “Are you okay, dear?” she asked. Unable to speak just yet, you smiled and nodded gratefully. Great. Maybe you should add “clown” onto your previous professions in your CT. By now, half the visitors probably knew who you were – a walking safety hazard to yourself.

After retreating to your bath towel set-up in the shade for a while, you had almost found new hope that the universe wasn’t against you that day. You managed to lie there, for a whole hour, without any issues. But then, slowly, another idea crept up on you. After all, what was summer without ice cream? By chance, you happened to know the little ice cream truck next to the yellow waterslide sold your favorite brand of ice lolly. So off you went, money in hands and wild determination in your head. The visual of the handsome lifeguard lingered in your mind even after you had passed the chair he was sitting on by the poolside. You acquired your ice lolly successfully and ripped the wrapper right away. It tasted like summer in food format, and you reveled in the cold treat for a while, as you strolled back in the direction of your bath towel.

Fully aware that you would have to walk by the insanely cute lifeguard again, you tried your best to look cool, next to the large pool. In your imagination, you were glowing in the sun, hair slightly flowing in the warm breeze and steps bouncing happily. You were the personification of summer bloom and radiating everything good about the season. For a moment, you closed your eyes and actually indulged in the warmth on your face. That was when the next mishap struck.

You didn’t even understand what was happening at first. Someone accidentally bumped into you – or did you bump into them? Upon the impact, you opened your eyes. Your ice-cream had vanished from your hands. Turns out, you had dropped it and it had landed only two feet from you. Out of balance, you stumbled ahead even after the impact. And of course, only a second later your foot stepped directly onto the ice lolly. Inevitably, you skidded and struggled to stay on your feet by means of flinging and waving your arms in the air. As if you were some stranger, trying to attract the attention of an aircraft whilst stranded on a desert island. One thing was for sure, you had everyone’s observance tied to you. With an involuntary but comedic performance of theatrical extent, you fell and hit the water surface.

The cool hit you so suddenly, you had swallowed a gulp of water before your instincts had time to set in. Quickly, your limbs began paddling to get you back to the surface. At that instant, a pair of arms suddenly linked under your armpits and swooped you up from underwater. Your brain processed what was going on. Without a doubt, someone had jumped after you and was pulling you out of the water. Stubbornly, you tried to avoid the idea of the cute lifeguard helping you out. Christ, that would really be the peak of all your embarrassing moments. No, it was probably the person you had run into, or someone who had already been in the water.

When you were placed by the poolside and blinked against the blending sun, your worst concerns came to pass. There he was, so close you could have touched his face. His worried expression changed when you opened your eyes, and he smiled, relieved. “Is everything alright?” he asked. You’d think this would make you into the most shamefaced person on the planet. And yet, all you could wonder was how two people’s genes could combine so flawlessly, so beautifully, to create such a man. When he got no answer from your moonstruck figure, he furrowed his eyebrows in alarm.

“Oh my- my god,” you stammered. “Yes! I’m fine, I’m sorry!”

You weren’t sure why you were apologizing. For worrying him? For inconveniencing him? For causing another scene? Either way, he grinned, and you felt your cheeks heat up terribly. You had to get away from there before something cringy came out of your mouth. Although you weren’t sure there was any way you could have made this more awkward than it already was.

“Make sure you have no injuries, okay?” he asked, helping you up. “If you need any medical assistance, just let me or one of the other lifeguards know.”

“Um…okay,” you said. Wow. That was no way to flirt with the most attractive person you had ever met. With all this drama you had gone through on that day, the universe could have at least blessed you with a romantic, your-life-savior-realizes-he-just-met-the-love-of-his-life moment. But no. The movies really were one massive hoax.

“It’s probably best you take a little break from the surprise, before you go back into the water,” he advised you. “And don’t hesitate to ask, if you need any more help.”

If only he knew how many times you had already tried to take a break from the surprise after everything on that day. You stood on your feet safely but felt like a cat that had fallen into the bathtub. At last, you managed a smile in the lifeguard’s direction. “Thank you.”

Funny enough, the stares people gave you bothered you only slightly as you walked back to your spot under the trees. Maybe you had used up all your embarrassment for the day. Nothing could intimidate you anymore. That meant, whatever happened from now on, it couldn’t get worse. Somehow after the pinnacle of chaos, you finally felt some inner tranquility. You went back to your novel, now and then keeping an eye out for potential water balls coming your way. But everything was calm. As time went on, you lost yourself completely in the story line and forgot about everything around you. Maybe this was all meant to happen. Perhaps it was a message, that you should have waited for your family to have a free day, or for your friend to come back from vacation. Would the same things have happened? There was no way to tell. Just as you reached a specifically exciting scene in the novel, a figure suddenly appeared in front of you. You couldn’t believe your eyes.

“Hey,” the handsome lifeguard stood there, smiling kindly. Wide-eyed, you straightened up and greeted him shyly.

“I couldn’t help but notice how happy you were about that ice cream earlier,” he said. “But then you…lost your ice cream.”

“What an interesting way of saying I stomped on it and made an absolute fool of myself,” you smirked. He chuckled.

“However you want to put it, I thought maybe you could use some cheering up,” he went on. “So I got you a new one.”

He pulled two ice-lollies from behind his back. “One for you, one for me.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. “You bought me this? I don’t want to sound rude… but aren’t you supposed to be looking out for the next victim to repeat my foolery?”

“I’m on my break,” he laughed. His eyes crinkled up cutely when he smiled, and it only made your stomach flutter more. “If you want me to leave, I will. I’m not trying to be weird or obtruding. Just making sure you’re okay, because I noticed you’re here alone.”

“Oh. No! Feel free to stay here for as long as you want!” you said, and now maybe you were the one sounding obtrusive. You scooted over and let him take a spot on your bathmat. You thanked him for the ice cream and gleefully unwrapped it. “My friends and family weren’t available today. But I really, really wanted to come here today. Maybe not my brightest idea.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve seen way worse plunges than yours. You were lucky, really. You got away with a small shock and nothing more. It was pretty impressive, actually.”

“I’m glad I have entertaining qualities, at least.”

“I’m just messing with you,” he laughed. “I’m glad you’re fine. This place gets a little wild during the afternoon, especially on weekends.”

“You don’t say,” you chuckled.

“I recommend coming here in the mornings or late evenings, if you want a little more peace and quiet.”

“Thanks, I’ll probably consider it. Do you work here full time?” you asked.

“No, this is just a summer job,” he said. “It’s great. I get to swim for free and be outside a lot. Not to mention this is one of my favorite places in town.”

“You love swimming too?” you asked and regretted it right away. A lifeguard who hated swimming made no sense, after all. But he didn’t seem to think your words were silly.

“I do! I come here a lot to swim, when it’s not as busy and I don’t have to work,” he said. The thought of seeing him again when you came back in a few days – which you already knew you would – made you feel some sort of way. You had been embarrassed, but his sweet words had appeased you. You could definitely get used to seeing his face all summer long. The two of you talked for some time, while you both finished your ice cream. You learned his name, which was just as beautiful as its owner, and that he thought you had actually looked pretty cute (!) when you fell into the pool. You swore he wasn’t even real. Perhaps he was merely a hallucination, a product of your imagination, to cheer yourself up after your messy day. Either way, your head was up in the clouds as long as he was sitting there, next to you, with his perfect shoulders and charming voice. Soon, he had to excuse himself, though. His break was over and as he had put it, he needed to prevent any more ice cream-murders from happening.

After your conversation, the universe had apparently shifted in your favor. You spent the entire rest of your day without any more misfortunes. Like you had talked to a lucky charm who had done miracles for you, you had a fantastic time. You were even brave enough to face a few more go’s down the ever-so-threatening waterslide. As it got later, more people went home, and just as he had predicted, things calmed down. And you were convinced you would stay until the bitter end. Only when a female voice announced over the speakers that the swimming pool would close in 30 minutes, you slowly started to pack up your things.

As you approached the exit, you scanned the area for your favorite lifeguard. But he was nowhere to be found. You assumed he had already finished his shift and gone home. But as luck would have it, as you neared the bicycle stands to retrieve your bike, you saw him already there. His eyes beamed when he noticed you.

“Wow, you held out a long time,” he said. “Had fun?”

“I did,” you said. You could only be grateful your ice-cream massacre was the sole of your antics he had witnessed that afternoon. Who knew how he would look at you if he had experienced your full chaotic capacity? “Thank you again, for making sure I was fine. And for the ice cream.”

“It was no big deal,” he said. “It’s what I’m here for.”

“To buy random girls ice cream?” you teased.

“No, only the special ones get the ice cream.”

“Define special.”

“To be honest? I was genuinely concerned you would feel down. I’ve seen you almost trip over when you first came in, you got hit in the face by a ball, I’ve witnessed your little quarrel with that bug and your somersault from the waterslide looked pretty rough. After all that you choked on water and then ended up falling into the pool and losing your ice cream. I supposed you could need some serious cheering up.”

Oh my god. If only you could have opened a portal straight to hell, you would have taken the chance on the spot. All this time he had been watching you? It couldn’t get more mortifying than this.

“Sorry, I sound like some creepy stalker,” he said. “I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just you-“

“I looked like a clown in a neon suit?”

“You’re really pretty,” he said. Your cheeks warmed up and you could have yelled out loud.

“But you have to admit, at least the clown part is true.”

“Maybe,” he joked. “Don’t be embarrassed. I thought you were – are – adorable.”

“Thank you,” you managed to say. What the hell were you doing? The most handsome guy was complimenting you. You had to take your chance. “Maybe sometime I could buy you some ice cream too? If you feel like it-“

“I’d love that,” he smiled. It was only the beginning of summer, but it was a glorious one. You already knew it could only get better. Instead of cursing the universe, you had to say your thank you’s now. Without your string of bad luck, things would have never led this way. Perhaps fortune was on your side, after all.

[linkspooky]

Tall Buildings Falling Down

It’s especially important that Uraraka was the one to hear this, a hero overhwhelemd by the demands of saving people, deciding to just give up and quit his job. Important because, out of all the characters in class 1-A Uraraka is unique for two reasons. One, Uraraka is perhaps the only student in her class who admitted she’s in the hero business for the money, she joined because it’s a lucrative job. 

Second, despite the fact that Uraraka only wanted to become a hero for the money, she idolizes heroes just as much as the rest of her class does. This has led Uraraka to question herself as times, because she doesn’t believe her motivations for being a hero are as good as the rest of her classmates. 

Uraraka is also attached to the overly idealized image of heroes that was sold to the rest of her classmates, that heroes always save people, that heroes are righteous, heroes are good and everything that gets in the way of heroes is bad. Heroes are here to protect us, heroes make people happy. Uraraka carries this overly idealized image of heroes inside of her.

However, ideals always fall short of the reality. When Uraraka saw Deku struggling with all of his might, that’s when the first cracks began to appear. Because Deku, he was hurting himself even as they fight Chiaki. 

Who protects the heroes when they need protecting? I think Uraraka means this especially in regards to Deku. Being a hero is hurting Deku. Deku pushes himself to such an extent that he breaks his body over and over again. Being a hero is supposed to be a good thing, but under the current system even being a hero causes Deku to suffer because it requires so much out of him, he must continually break his body again and again in order to keep up with the others. All Deku thinks of is saving others, he’s more heroic than most, and yet, the current system isn’t designed to stop this behavior. More than anything else it’s focused on strength, on Deku learning to strengthen his quirk, not learning how to take care of himself. The system values powers over people, but Uraraka is so empathic she sees Deku as a person and notices that he’s suffering because of it. All Deku wants is to be a hero, but what is a hero under the current system? Someone strong enough to win and beat all the bad guys. 

It’s clear that in hero society, heroes are valued much more for winning, rather than saving. When saving is what is needed especially in this chapter. Uraraka sees someone who became a hero for all the wrong reasons, just giving up and quitting. In the same chapter where Uraraka’s thoughts are literally just, there must be more people, there must be more people I can save, just over and over again. 

Uraraka herself has become more and more selfless, as she’s progressed as a character, more focused on saving people especially after watching Deku push himself to such extremes in the name of saving others. However, that’s not necessarily true for the adults around her. Uraraka who began all of this by just seeing heroics as a job, sees an adult who just treats it like a job too, giving up. 

As buildings are falling down all around her, Uraraka’s idea of heroes begin to fall too. To be fair, no one person could ever deal with a disaster of this magnitude all on their own. Society’s expectations of heroes were too high in the first place, no one can be perfectly selfless all the time, the perfect savior that saved everyone that all might tried to create was never going to save everyone. However, at the same time heroes get away with a lot, because people uncritically see heroes as “good” no matter what they do, to the point where the kids rejected any and all criticism of the heroes around them. However, in this chapter after fighting with everything they had to defend those same heroes, they meet the disappointing reality. 

The same adults who brought Kaminari Denki to the battelfield when he wasn’t ready, because they weren’t strong enough to fight the evil on their own, who insisted that they needed to fight the villains in this surprise ambush and start with war. 

The same adults that told them everything would be alright, that the heroes would always win, that they would go home and go back to school after all of this are now lying dead in the ruins of the cities they failed to save. 

ANd, what are we meant to take from this? Heroes can’t save everyone, that’s obvious. Heroes are flawed and make flawed choices. However, the students in looking up to their teachers idealize them a little too much, to the point where it becomes impossible for them to accept any criticism of the heroes. 

However, the kids are starting to see that heroes aren’t perfect. Theymake mistakes. They’re flawed. The problem with the kids isn’t that they liked heroes, it’s that their ideals were completely black and white. Heroes good, villains bad. Heroes always save people. Heroes can’t ever be selfish, self-serving, or flawed as the rest of us, because well they’re heroes. 

If heroes are supposed to save people, then what about the people they don’t save? That’s the question that Himiko brings to Uraraka, however, Uraraka can’t even understand the question. In Uraraka’s idealized reality there is no situation where heroes fail to save someone. Heroes are always well-meaning. Heroes always do their best to save others. There’s nobody who’s been failed, or even hurt by heroes. Uraraka doesn’t understand that people like Himiko have been disappointed and failed by heroes over and over again, and some of them like Dabi have been outright abused. Uraraka cannot understand that the heroes that are helping her, the quirk therapy system that never hurt her, could have harmed someone so thoroughly as it did Himiko that she believes that the only way to survive is to fight back and even kill. Uraraka just hasn’t seen a reality where heroes fail to save people. In Uraraka’s world, heroes are good, heroes are selfless, heroes are kind. Himiko can’t possibly have a reason. If Himiko wants to hurt people, she must have chosen to do that on their own. If Himiko wants to hurt people then she must be a bad person.

Heroes save people, so if Himiko questions heroes, or tries to fight back against them, then Himiko is just getting in the way. Then Himiko is just being selfish. She’s putting her own needs, and her own hurt feelings over all of those innocent people that are in need of saving. See, Uraraka can’t understand that heroes can hurt people too, so she doesn’t understand that someone like Himiko who has been hurt by the heroes, by the people supposed to save her, might be in need of saving. 

Uraraka can’t perceive of a reality where heroes would disappoint, or would hurt others. So, Uraraka’s declaration is partially made in ignorance. She says that Himiko has to live with the consequences of her actions, but Uraraka at the same time isn’t living in the same reality that Himiko is. She’s been protected, sheltered so far, and her point of view comes from that fact. The same system that helped Uraraka, has also hurt Himiko, and Uraraka can’t grasp that. Uraraka first fails to save Himiko, and then this chapter she’s met with the same thing. 

Uraraka learns the harsh truth in this chapter. That not all heroes are invested in saving other people as she is. That not all of them are doing this out of the goodness of their hearts. 

If a hero can stare at this wreckage where so many innocent people are screaming for help, and then just give up. Just say, it’s too hard to save all these people. How many kids in this wreckage are going to get helped? How many are the heroes going to take care of? How many are they just going to give up on because it’s too hard? The thing is, every single kid in this broken down city could turn into another Himiko, because people aren’t good or bad. Circumstances are good and bad, they shape people in good and bad way. The same way that the children asking for help in this city are victims of circumstance, Himiko too was just another victim of circumstance, just another child that didn’t get saved. The only difference between her and the others is that she grew up and fought back. 

Heroes don’t save everyone and something needs to be done about that. Heroes aren’t perfect, however, closing your eyes to that reality and pretending they are, pretending that everything just fine means that nothing is going to change and nothing is going to improve. It’s only when the kids see the flaws in the adult heroes around them, that they can see how they as the next generation can be better than them. Go beyond plus ultra, right? If this manga is about becoming the best hero you can be. Then, the kids should be thinking about how they can save, even the ones that the adult heroes have given up on saving. 

[charlie-minion]

Could the same SPN finale make a little more sense with some additions/changes?

I’ve had the idea for this post stuck in my head for days now, but with every new conspiracy theory and every new eventuality in the fandom, it became difficult to cool down enough to write something less ship-related and more narrative-focused.

What Supernatural and non-SPN fans have to understand is that a lot of us have expressed disappointment and frustration after 15x20, not because of Destiel (that’s just one part of the whole problem), but because the finale doesn’t make sense. Everything was leading up to something beautifully crafted until the end of 15x19. Beyond that, it’s hard to understand what happened. The story rendered all the character growth irrelevant, invalidated the themes of free will and “family don’t end in blood”, regressed to the original brother codependency they spent 15 years trying to overcome, made a queer non-binary character in a male vessel and a deaf female character basically disposable, and kept the show’s reputation of queerbaiting and misogyny until its very last breath.

That’s not going out with a bang! At least not a positive one. We all were ready to mourn Supernatural, but we wanted to feel proud of its legacy, and somehow TPTB managed to tarnish that legacy in less than 45 minutes. What a way to ruin the other more than 13,600 minutes of story!

It doesn’t matter who is to blame (The CW, Robert Singer, Andrew Dabb). It doesn’t matter why it happened (homophobia, censorship, marketing for Walker, bad writing). What matters is that at the end of the day, the finale that aired is what we got and that’s going to hurt for a long time. It hurts even more when we realize that the same finale could have easily made more sense, even without being perfect.

That’s what I want to do in this post. I want to show you how things would have been less jarring (for the fandom), while still keeping the goal to please the general audience.

Before I begin rewriting 15x20, I have to mention that I talked to my conservative boomer sister about the finale. She hasn’t watched the second half of season 15 yet (she’s waiting for Netflix to have it), but she’s been watching the show for a long time (she introduced me to it 8 years ago). She’s the perfect example of a viewer from the general audience. Loves the show but doesn’t give a second thought to it and definitely isn’t paying attention to character development or themes. Doesn’t engage with fandom, actors, or any of the show’s social media. Pure GA! When I told her the series finale had aired, she asked me about it and I refused to give her spoilers. Because of that, she told me the ending SHE wanted. She said she would be happy with either of two possibilities: the boys retiring and finally living a normal life OR they going to heaven and finding peace at last. She saw Sam and Dean as a unit, which means: both retiring or both going to heaven. AND she saw Cas as part of that, too. She wasn’t so sure about Jack. And for her, we could use the “Eileen who?” and it wouldn’t be a joke. She didn’t remember her.

NOW IT’S TIME TO WRITE A NEW VERSION OF 15X20 (KEEPING 15X18 AND 15X19 EXACTLY THE SAME AS THEY AIRED). This will be a very long post:

The opening remains almost the same. No “Carry on my wayward son” to induce feels. Too soon and too predictable! (Reasoning: Everyone was expecting it to play right there, so it would bring more tears at the end)

In the opening, after the scene where Jack says “People won’t need to pray to me or sacrifice to me”, we also see the scene from 15x19 where he says “I won’t be hands on”. Then we see the rest of the opening as it was. (Reasoning: People needed to be reminded that Jack would NOT intervene and that’s why later on, he would NOT save Dean).

We get the same montage, but when Sam takes a break from his morning run, we see him reading a message on his phone. A simple: “Hey Sam, what’s new?” from Eileen. Sam smiles fondly and begins to type a response we don’t get to see. The next scene continues the same, Sam making breakfast. (Reasoning: A text was a very simple way to show that Eileen was alive and still in communication with Sam).

The montage slowly ends as Sam enters the library (not after he sits down). He seems to be talking on the phone but we only hear an “I’ll tell him. Bye”. As he walks towards the table, he tells Dean: “Charlie says hi. Mentioned something about Stevie’s perfect scrambled eggs we have to try.” Dean’s answer is “Awesome!” (Reasoning: Just ONE line was needed to unbury Charlie and her girlfriend. ONE LINE).

Sam sits down, opens his laptop and everything continues the same. The title card shows for the last time.

YOU SEE? In the first 4 minutes they could have acknowledged that THREE WOMEN were alive and safe: Eileen, Charlie and Stevie. It wasn’t hard! Don’t blame bad writing on Covid! Now let’s continue.

Sam and Dean arrive at the Pie Fest just the same. Dean goes to get some “damn pie” and Sam takes out his phone. He dials and when someone picks up, he says “Hey, Jody, how are ya?” We don’t hear the rest of the conversation. The scene moves to Dean coming with his 6 portions of pie. Dean sits down and Sam tells him, “Talked to Jody. The other hunters haven’t had much work lately.” “That’s good, isn’t it?”, Dean says. All we get from Sam is “Yeah.” So, Dean looks at him and asks “what’s wrong?” like it happened in the episode. (Reasoning: Again, a couple of lines to make sure the people that were killed in 15x18 are safe and remembered by the boys in 15x20. Why is this important? Because they’re family!)

The conversation about Sam’s sad face happens the same. Sam is the one that mentions Cas and Jack. (Reasoning: Because this episode was so Sam-centered, it’s obvious he was the protagonist in the finale. If we see him communicating with Eileen, Charlie, and Jody, then it’s NORMAL, even expected of him to be the one to bring up Cas and Jack). Without these additions, it’s harder for people to understand that most of the finale was NOT from Dean’s POV but from Sam’s.

Dean’s “if we don’t keep living, then all that sacrifice is gonna be for nothing” stays the same. (Reasoning: I believe it’s necessary that the show sticks to the importance of “letting go” and “what is dead should stay dead” for the first time ever because the message is “even when you lose someone you love, you can still find some form of happiness and keep living, for you and for them, because that’s what they would have wanted”. Bringing someone back means “I can’t live without you”, and that’s just more codependency. It’s how the demon deals began in the Winchester family –Mary being the first one to do it. This would explain why Dean didn’t ask Jack to bring Cas back, as he asked Chuck. He understood Jack was NOT going to interfere anymore and accepted it. Besides, when Cas saved Dean from hell, Dean thought he didn’t deserve to be saved. This time that Cas saved him, Dean finally feels worthy enough to accept that YES, HE DESERVED TO BE SAVED ALL ALONG, just as much as he deserved to be loved by that angel of the Lord. In this scene, Dean also says that the pain is not gonna go away, which means that from HIS PERPECTIVE, it still hurts that Cas is not there. The problem is that the finale is not showing his POV but Sam’s.  

Sam pies Dean on the face just the same. (Reasoning: That part was just to avoid ending the scene on a sad note).

Everything related to the case happens exactly the same. (Reasoning: At this point, people don’t really care about the MoTW, they care about Sam and Dean).

NOTE 1: The case is important to show that even when the Winchesters are finally free of Chuck’s influence, they CHOOSE to keep hunting. It isn’t something they do out of revenge or because it is their destiny anymore. Maybe they were forced into the life at first, but they’ve learned to find joy in saving people. Being hunters is who they are. However, the fact that a job application was shown on Dean’s desk is also important because it means he was willing to explore what else was there for him besides hunting. Maybe he could find a balance? Maybe he was thinking it was time to quit? We will never know! The thing is that Sam only finds out about it when he goes into Dean’s room after his brother is dead, so maybe that’s when it hits him that Dean wanted to explore his options, and Sam starts to think it’s time for him to do the same.  

NOTE 2: I believe the masks the vampires are wearing is something we can blame on covid. If they had their faces covered, it was easier to use people from the SPN crew for some scenes, instead of using more actors unnecessarily.

NOTE 3: When Sam and Dean arrive at the barn, we get 3 visuals to remember Cas in the same scene (those are for the fandom, not for the general audience): a) the barn, obviously; b) the bag that resembles Cas’ trenchcoat so much that many people thought that’s what it was; and c) two feathers hanging on Dean’s right when he opens the trunk.

The scene with the throwing star happens the same. (Reasoning: The episode is still told from Sam’s point of view, so it makes sense that he fondly sees his brother as a man child).

Jenny the vampire? Uhhh… I mean, it’s not the best piece of writing I’ve ever seen, but it’s not the worst, so okay. That stays the same. (Reasoning: There is none, but she’s not what really ruined the finale, so whatever!)

Dean still dies impaled on a rebar. (Reasoning: OK. HERE ME OUT!!! I hate as much as everyone else that Dean is killed. I think it’s lazy writing, but that’s what we got and I can’t change that in this re-write, so if killing Dean is what we have to work around, then, memes aside, death by rebar is better and here’s why. There’s no one to blame for Dean’s death: no Chuck (the boys were willingly hunting even after Chuck was defeated), no vampires (they were all killed and were no real threat, so it was impossible for Sam to begin a quest for revenge against all vampires. What was Sam going to blame? A rebar? Can you kill it? Hunt it? NO. It was an ordinary death, a stupid accident. Just like any person can die at any moment by slipping on a banana peel. Is it a good death? No, but it’s good to know he doesn’t die trying to save Sam or Cas, because Dean Winchester is NOT willing to give up his life in exchange for anyone else’s anymore.

Sam takes out his phone and says he’ll call for help, but his phone is more visible to the audience. He dials and it’s almost to his ear when Dean stops him and Sam hesitantly hangs up. (Reasoning: People have complained that Sam didn’t call an ambulance, but actually he tried to. It’s just that people missed that part, maybe?)

After Sam puts his phone back in his pocket and says “OK” to Dean, he adds, “I’ll pray to Jack”. Dean’s immediate answer is: “No hands on, remember?” “But Dean”, Sam says, and Dean interrupts him with “OK listen to me” and tells Sam what to do with the kids they rescued. (Reasoning: Jack is God now and how come Sam didn’t remember? The viewers remembered, so it was necessary to include a line that ruled the option out and that showed Dean didn’t want Jack to intervene. The rest was fine).

The lines “You knew it was always gonna end like this for me. It was supposed to end like this, right?” disappear completely from Dean’s monologue. (Reasoning: This is the most problematic part of Dean’s dying speech. He fought God and earned free will, he is no longer controlled by fate or destiny. Accepting that he is supposed to die on a hunt regresses his character development and denies his desire to keep living. This was a total mistake and should be removed).

Instead, if going to heaven is the ending TPTB wanted to give Dean, at least he should say something more empowering. Sam tells him that both of them are going to take the kids somewhere safe. Dean answers and the scene follows like this: “No. Sammy, we made our choice, didn’t we?”, he smiles with difficulty. “We were free to write our own story and we did. We decided to keep saving people, hunting things. Because it’s what we love despite the risks.” (Reasoning: If Dean’s going to die it doesn’t have to feel like it was always meant to be that way. He should die knowing that he exerted his free will until his last breath).

The rest of the dialogue between Sam and Dean happens almost the same. Except that instead of Dean saying “‘cause when it all came down to it, it was always you and me. It’s always been you and me”, he says “’cause when it all came down to it, we’ve always had each other’s backs. Always.” And instead of Sam saying “Don’t leave me”, he says “I still can try to save you.” (Reasoning: It sounds way less codependent without diminishing the importance of their love and support for each other).

Besides, let’s change Dean’s “I’m not leaving you” for “You don’t have to be alone. You’ve still got family.” The rest stays the same word by word. (Reasoning: Dean reminds Sam that “family don’t end in blood” and there are still lots of people out there who love Sam and will be with him).

“I love you so much, my baby brother” stays exactly the same. (Reasoning: Dean always had trouble to express the big L word. I always believed and said many times that before Dean could say “I love you” to Cas or any other character, he had to say it to Sam. So, this is important as part of Dean speaking his truth).

The last part when Dean insists Sam tell him that it’s okay stays the same. (Reasoning: It’s the final moment when the codependency cycle breaks. No more running in circles).

The forehead touch between them stays the same. (Reasoning: I think I would do something similar if my sister were dying. I know there are w*ncest shippers out there, but it shouldn’t matter because the moment feels appropriate for that kind of goodbye). 

See? There are changes but not too many. That’s why I’ve been saying that it was easier to get it right, yet they still managed to screw it up.

The second montage stays the same. (Reasoning: Life goes on, but of course Sam has to mourn).

The call about a case in Austin remains the same. (Reasoning: It’s the only part of the episode where someone from the found family is mentioned, so I think that Donna’s name is perfect in that moment. However, without the other additions I’ve made in this re-write, that off-hand mention feels too little. Its purpose was to tell the viewers that if Donna was alive, so were the others, but the way the episode was executed gave us an isolated Sam, incapable of having friends and a family without Dean).  

After 30 minutes of Sam’s POV, let’s finally see the last bit of Dean’s POV that we’ll ever get.

Dean arrives in Heaven and Bobby receives him. All their conversation stays almost the same, except that after mentioning Rufus and before saying “and your mom and dad…”, Bobby adds an “Ellen and Jo let me borrow their place”. (Reasoning: If you’re gonna put the man outside the Harvelle’s place, at least mention them for Jack’s sake!).

Besides, after Bobby tells Dean that Sam will be along and that time in heaven is different, Dean gives a small smile and says, “Well, there’s no rush. I want him to have a long, happy life.” Bobby answers with: “I would expect nothing less from you, boy” and tells him he got everything he could ever want, etc., just like it happened in the episode, and finishes by asking “What are you gonna do now, Dean?” (Reasoning: It’s important we know for sure that Dean is NOT codependent anymore and that he doesn’t expect to have a miserable afterlife just because his brother is not there yet).

Instead of saying “I think I’ll go for a drive” Dean says, “I think I know what I want” and walks towards baby. Bobby still tells him to have fun. (Reasoning: “Know what I want” is ambiguous enough to help us introduce the last piece of the puzzle, the one thing Dean’s wanted for many seasons and has never been able to express).

 The biggest change is coming:

Dean gets on the Impala and has a moment of silence while he contemplates the wheel. He begins to pray: “Hey, Cas, you got your ears on? I hear you’ve been busy working on this updated Heaven with Jack. You were right about him, Cas. You had faith in him and he saved us all. You could always see the best in everyone, even when they couldn’t see it themselves. Even when I couldn’t see it myself. There’s so much I want to tell you. Maybe you can visit sometime. I hope prayer’s still a thing up here.” (Reasoning: Dean’s side of the confession was unaddressed and that was terrible writing. If there was no way to get him to speak his truth textually, at least take him as close to it as possible).

We listen to a flutter of wings and a “Hello, Dean” from the back seat. We don’t see Cas, but the camera shows us Dean’s cocky smile and he says “Took you long enough.” He turns around slowly. End of scene. (Reasoning: The flutter of wings confirms that angels have their wings back and ties that loose end. The final “hello, Dean” was highly anticipated and it made sense. If Misha couldn’t be there to film, for whatever reason, or if the problem was the kind of conversation Dean and Cas would have, then don’t show it, but leave the door open. Let us know that the two characters were reunited and will talk, but whatever Dean has to say is so private that it’s not for us to hear, only for Cas.  

We finally hear “Carry on my wayward son” and get a montage that begins with Sam playing with his kid. Then we see Dean driving, super happy, and Sam living his life to the fullest. We still get Sam’s Blurry Wife, BUT… we see pictures of Eileen in the living room (not just of John, Mary, Sam, and Dean). We also see photos of Jody, Donna, Charlie, and AU!Bobby. (Reasoning: FAMILY DON’T END IN BLOOD).

The scene where Sam is wearing the party wig and looks miserable inside the Impala is cut and nobody talks about it ever again because it never existed. We get a scene of Sam teaching his son how to fix the car instead. (Reasoning: First of all, don’t give Sam a life where years later he’s still in pain. Second of all, the fucking wig was a crime).

Sam’s dying scene stays the same. The only thing is that his son signs a couple of phrases to him before actually speaking. (Reasoning: More confirmation that Dean Jr. is Eileen’s son).

We hear the final “Evanescence-like Carry on my wayward son”. Again we see the photos and there’s family other than the Winchesters there. (Reasoning: Obvious at this point).

The rest is exactly the same. The show began with two brothers and it’s okay if the last scene is with the two brothers reunited in Heaven. At this point, the other parts of the story are acceptable enough for us to feel happy that they get to see each other again after years of a happy (after)life.

Now look me in the eye and tell me this was too hard to execute. I still think that bad writing is a thing we can’t deny here, adding to the possible meddling of the Network. Maybe Dabb wanted us to hate the finale because he couldn’t get away with what he truly wanted. If that was his intention, then kudos to him. He and The CW really gave us a finale that only 30% of the fandom liked.

I hope you guys have enjoyed this and it helps to give you some peace of mind. In my heart, this was the finale we got. It wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t drop the ball either.

[benedictscanvas]

sage-coloured glasses - spencer reid x reader

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral!Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: This is just a barrel of soft cardigans thrown in your face, with just the smallest mention of nightmares

A/N: This is technically a 2nd part to ‘a shared heart’, but there are only vague mentions of it and this can easily be read on its own. I simply wanted some soft Spence in his natural habitat and I hope this can be of some comfort to you too, if you’re in need of it <3

---

His hair was oh-so-soft underneath your fingertips but the thought felt forbidden. You hadn’t expected him to have soft hair. It always looked soft, yes, the small, unruly strands that he regularly curled behind his ear looked like the fluffy hair of a man who felt most at home in a library and wore cardigans. But in the line of work you were in, you were used to things having hard edges and sharp corners.

Not Spencer’s hair. It delivered on its visual promise as you slowly wove your fingers through the strands and tattooed the memory of them into your skin, let it sink into your very bones. When his head had hit your lap on your flight back home with a murmured question of permission, it had been like a magnet. Your hand was in his hair before you even gave him your answer, but it was an answer in itself.

“‘Course, Spence.”

A reassurance. His only response was a grateful hum as he tucked his legs up onto the sofa and you shuffled to make as much room for him as you could. You were slightly falling off the end of the sofa, getting cramp in your toes as you put your weight into your left foot to keep yourself in place. The armrest was digging into your hip and it should have been uncomfortable.

And yet, it wasn’t. Not when you lightly scritch-scratched at his scalp and he turned further into you, the curve of his nose pressing into your knee. Comfort wrapped itself around you like a warm blanket and you could only hope he was swathed in it too.

“Sleep,” you mumbled a few moments later, “I’ll wake you when we land.”

Silence. A rustle of fabric as he brought his arm up from his side, graced your knee with a feather-light squeeze then let his hand rest against your knee, right by his nose. A relieved exhale.

Twenty minutes passed. His breaths were deep and even, bordering on a snore every once in a while. Your fingers hadn’t stilled their dance through his hair, although they had slowed down in time with the rise and fall of his chest. Your neck ached and your heart did too.

Emily crept over with some paperwork after another ten. You reached over and took it with a nod and a smile, grateful that she kept silent too as she returned to her seat next to Derek. There was a little nudging and whispering as she sat back down, Dave turning in his seat to glance back at the two of you sporting a smirk that spoke volumes. No matter, as long as Spencer’s shoulder kept digging into your thigh for the rest of eternity.

It was tricky to complete the paperwork over his head without anything to lean on except your own hand. Another worthwhile sacrifice. Cases like this one were difficult for everyone. It was the type of case that set up camp in your mind in preparation for the nightmares that it would guest star in for the weeks to come. When you relayed that analogy to Spencer a few months ago, he’d laughed. Only someone who understood the feeling could laugh like that.

“Sorry I crashed on you,” Spencer spoke up just as you were forging his signature on a document that you’d all have to sign in time. He’d done it for you before, an unspoken agreement to save each other time.

(it was similar to the unspoken agreement to care when no one else had the time to, or the silent pact to share ‘good morning’ muffins whenever they were available, or the wordless understanding that he was your person and you were his)

You glanced down at him and were surprised to see that he’d rolled to lie on his back, just to stare up at you. Your hand was, embarrassingly, still carding through his hair each time you placed your pen between your teeth to read something through and you couldn’t imagine the angle he was staring from was your most flattering. Still, his eyes sparkled under the overhead aeroplane lights, which you wouldn’t have thought possible. It was likely a matter of perspective.

“Don’t be,” you waved him away, focusing your attention back on the paper in your hand before you gave it all away. Your hand fell limp in his hair, if only because you were too stubborn to remove it. Removing it now, after all, would only be an obvious admission of something you had been failing to hide for months now, “I’ve been told I have a comfy lap.”

“By whom?”

“Cats, mostly.”

He huffed a small laugh that travelled right the way up your spine.

“Cats are intelligent,” he mused quietly, resting his hands on his stomach, one on top of the other. A grounding technique that made you blink, “You can’t be comfortable though, doing paperwork like this.”

“What can I say? I’m a generous person.”

He hummed in lieu of an answer, but you could tell he felt guilty for the position he’d put you in. If only he could see that you were practically hanging off the seat, see the ridge that the armrest was definitely imprinting into your side, then he’d really feel guilty, but of course, that was the last thing you wanted him to feel.

(of course, there was also a part of you that dreamt of apologies whispered into your skin, of fingers skimming over fabric, of delicate kisses pressed to your hip-bone. of a guilt that melts away with each murmured confession of adoration. of a blissful atonement for a sin you’d already forgiven)

“Honestly, Spence, you’re fine. I would’ve moved you if I was uncomfortable.”

And you would have moved by now if you really felt that bad, you thought to yourself, relishing in the fact that he hadn’t moved yet, that you could still feel his gaze on your chin as you pretended to skim over the words on the page, once, twice, once again.

“You want me to take over paperwork duty?”

“I told you to sleep,” you said instead, “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“I did sleep, for at least 30 minutes, which we both know is good for my standards.”

His rebuttal was punctuated by his hands both reaching up, making grabbing motions towards the stack of papers you were pouring through. Knowing how much faster he would be at getting through whatever was left, you heaved the pile into his hands with a sigh and watched as he held them up in front of his face and began reading, blocking your view of him entirely. It was impossible not to feel cheated.

When he reached a section he had to write in, he held his hand up for a pen. You gave him one from your jacket pocket rather than the one that had been in your mouth, knowing that he would be grateful if he knew. When he’d finished scribbling, you’d take the pen back from him, lean your head against the headrest until the cycle repeated. Occasionally he shuffled his head in your lap and your hand would slide a little further into his hair, but nothing was said. You took it as a cue to stay right where you were.

As expected, he finished the paperwork far sooner than you would have done. When he reached behind his head to put it on the table next to you, you took it from him before he could pull a muscle in his shoulder and he muttered his thanks. Now you could see him again, it was difficult to fight off a smile. Maybe the paperwork in the way had been more beneficial than you thought.

Briefly, you wondered how many of your signatures he’d forged in the documents he’d gone through, wondered how much better he was at forgery than you, but you didn’t check the paperwork in case he thought you were checking his work was up to par.

“You just saved me an hour’s work,” you sighed happily, “My angel once again.”

It was a nickname that had stuck around. From the time he’d shared his muffin around a month ago, you couldn’t shake the sentiment off. Not only had you grown closer - bolder - in that time, you’d also adjusted your language accordingly. Angel made a regular appearance, if only to bring the dusty pink to his cheeks that you treasured.

“It’s nothing, you know that,” he insisted, that very same pink blooming up his neck as you basked in the glow, “Besides, you’d done half already.”

He was being ridiculously kind, because you’d be surprised if you’d made it a third of the way through. There was no use arguing it, because compliments were far from Spencer’s strong suit and you’d already got the upper hand using the word angel. Better to agree to disagree.

“Thank you anyway,” you decided would be a good compromise, and from the smile on his face as he stared up at you, it seemed he agreed. It was funny that agreeing to disagree with Spencer mostly just felt like being on the same book, same page, same line. Unfortunately, you couldn’t quite tell exactly which word he’d gotten to, because if you did, you might have kissed him a long time ago.

(and goodness had you thought about it enough times)

When he abruptly sat up from his place in your lap, you suppressed your whine of disapproval as best you could, but there was still a small noise of disappointment that you couldn’t contain. He smiled at the sound, face the right way up now with lines and grooves in all the right places, around his eyes, his mouth, his cheeks. Smile lines are notoriously pretty on people whose smiles are the highlight of your very existence.

“I’m not as comfy as you thought, hm?” you teased, mainly to prevent him from seeing any of the hurt shining in your eyes. He saw it anyway.

“Nope,” he said easily, already sliding all the way over to the other side of the sofa, each inch of distance deepening your frown, “Now I, on the other hand, have it on far better authority that I provide a comfortable lap experience.”

“And whose authority would that be?”

“Henry, of course, and I know you trust his judgement above all others. Come on.”

He actually patted his lap and the swooping of your chest was enough to make you slightly lightheaded.

“Are you sure?”

He gave you a withering look that gave you no choice but to scoot over towards him. Lying down, you mirrored his previous position as your head came to tentatively rest in the little dip between his thighs, as near to his knees as you could get without becoming uncomfortable. He was unspeakably warm and it seeped into your very soul.

“Better?”

“You’re not that comfy.”

A lie. Blatant to both parties as you snuggled into him a little more, allowing his leg to take the weight of your neck. Before you knew it, his hand was resting in your hair too and even though you knew it wasn’t as soft as his, you hoped it was enough. It didn’t move, save for the sporadic slow sweep of his thumb through the strands, but it didn’t matter. He was always more than enough, after all.

“Sleep. I’ll wake you when we land.”

His words were an exact repeat of your own. There was no chance of a long sleep, not with your nerve endings flaring at each and every point of contact between the two of you, but there was also no use arguing. Rest, in place of sleep, was better than nothing. You smiled up at him one last time before closing your eyes, drifting into a half-slumber that consisted mostly of vague musings about the individual notes of his cologne.

Occasionally, when you simply couldn’t help yourself, you’d open one eye, maybe even two, and peek up at him. He looked ethereal, even from this angle. It was likely a matter of perspective.

(it just so happened that spencer thought you looked positively celestial from all twenty seven of the angles he had painstakingly catalogued into his memory. that was likely a matter of perspective too)

---

if you made it this far, thank you for reading! i’m not currently tagging people, since i was away for a while and i don’t want to tag people who are no longer interested - if you would like to be tagged in my fics from now on, send in an ask and i can add you to a main taglist or a character-specific one <3

[forever-rogue]

hi babes! could u do a javier peña x reader where the girl works w javi & steve and she and javi have been the closest friends ever but javi develops feelings for her and after he sees her back home from a date all happy he gets super jealous and finally decides to tell her he loves her and she says it back, something like that xx

I love this so much 🥺 Enjoy 🥰💕

Javier x Fem!Reader; warnings: language

Javier Masterlist 

»»————-　♡　————-««

Its Friday night and Javi is bored. Not bored bored...but bored. The excitement of the week has left him buzzing with energy and he's not quite sure how to get it out. He's decidedly not going to the bar or to spend the evening with temporary company. No - that hadn't been his deal in some time...not since you. But he'd never admit that. Despite the fact that you knew - everyone knew. 

Instead, he comes up with the plan to do what the two of you often end up doing at the end of a hectic week - unwind with some bad television, cheap beer, and even cheaper pizza. Its become a bit of an unspoken tradition and you relish in it - both of you. Its a thing that's so easy, so effortless but fun for the both of you. 

So, he's at your door, pizza in hand and a six pack tucked under his arm knocking loudly. He's eagerly waiting, humming with nervous energy just at the mere thought seeing you. Javier wasn't sure when he'd turned from an experienced grown man to a nervous boy, but you always had that effect on him….and he didn't mind.

When you opened the door a few moments later, his jaw almost dropped as he took in the sight of you, looking more beautiful than anyone should be allowed to. You offered him a big smile, the one he most definitely fell in love with, when you looked him over. Your hair and makeup was done and your dress was enough to make him weak on the knees.

And then, as you put in your earrings, you realized you'd completely spaced on telling him that your weekly plan wasn't going to work tonight.

"Wow, you look beautiful-"

"Javi, tonight's not going to work-"

You both started at the same time. As soon as his words you hit your ears, a flush of warmth rose up in your face. Sure, he'd told you that you've looked nice before, but something about how he had just said it was...different. 

"Oh."

"Yeah," you offered him an apologetic look, "I'm so sorry, Javi. I completely forgot to tell you - it just happened so fast." 

"You...you have plans?" his face dropped slightly as you nodded, an odd wash of disappointment clouded over you. 

"I...I have a date," you were staring at your feet as he cleared his throat. Gods, you were already regretting this. But...but Javier had never asked and you weren't sure if he ever would and oh gods, the idea of asking him seemed impossible and this had seemed like a good distraction at the time. The almost painful look on Javier's face, quickly concealed into an emotionless mask was enough to make you regret your decision, "umm...Eric. He asked me out today."

"And you said yes."

"I said yes," you agreed with the accusation, "I wasn't thinking...I completely forgot its Friday and if I would have realized I wouldn't have said yes."

"No, don't worry about it. It's fine," the tone of his voice suggested that it was anything but fine. You were tempted to just stay in with Javi and cancel your plans. Maybe if either of you would finally just say something - anything, "you should definitely go out with Eric. It'll make his whole year. Have fun, Dulzura…"

"Javi," you tried to grab his free hand but he quickly pulled out of your grasp, the gesture harsh and biting, "Javier! I don't have to go…I can stay."

"And why would you do that?" he turned around, his eyes narrowed as he tried to get a read on you. It was a challenge - to see if either of you would willingly break. 

"You know why," you insisted firmly, wishing you could just say the words. But both of you were too steadfast and stubborn to give in, "say it and I'll stay. But I need you to say it."

"There's nothing to say," he said sharply, the slightest bit of crack to his voice, "have a good time. With Eric."

"Javi," you called after him, eyes stinging and threatening to spill over with unshed tears as he refused to turn back around and walked back to his own apartment. He couldn't have meant it...right? Surely he didn't… "Javier!"

He heard you. Of course he did. The whole building easily could have.

But he didn't stop. And you didn't go after him.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Eric was...nice. Kind, funny, charming, and handsome. He was everything a woman could dream of; you'd known him for a while and it was easy to see why someone would fall for him. When you got to the restaurant, he pulled out your chair, and ordered a nice bottle of wine. 

Conversation was polite - funny and flirtatious. Everything you'd expect on a date.

And yet...the whole time, your mind was absent. You were there, smiling and laughing at the appropriate times, but your mind kept wandering. No matter how much you wanted to like him….it all went back to Javier.

You didn't want Eric - you didn't want anything like him.

You wanted Javier. Him and only him. 

Even if he didn't want you, you were going to tell him. You couldn't keep up this silly little dance, skirting around the issue and never talking about it. You had to do this.

That's why you left the date early, making up a shitty excuse you were sure he could see through. You felt bad - he was nice, but you had to do this. 

As you ran into your apartment building, heels in hand, you were making a beeline for Javier's apartment. But instead of making it to his palce, you stopped when you spied a figure in front of your own door.

"Javier," you were breathless as you stared into this soft brown eyes. His gaze was locked onto yours as his chest and rose fell heavily.

"Dulzura," he reached for your hand and pulled you tightly against him, "fuck what I said earlier. Fuck Eric and whatever we've been doing. I-"

"I'm in love with you," you quickly cut him off, watching as a look of surprise crossed his features before a small tugged on the corners of his mouth, "you're a jerk and an asshole sometimes, but damn - I'm in love with you."

A hand tenderly went to your cheek as he watched you closely, his eyes searching yours as you just gently nodded at him. He slowly raised his other hand to your face, cradling it gently before crashing his lips onto yours. 

Finally. Finally. Finally.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as you pulled him close, carding a hand through his dark locks. The way he kissed you and you eagerly kissed back was like the two of you had done this a million times before. There was no awkwardness, no tension, no hassle - it just was. And it was utterly perfect.

Kissing Javier Peña was better than you could have ever dreamed. And after all this time it was finally a reality.

Your hand went to his shoulders and onto his chest as you slowly broke apart for a breath of air. He was looking at you in such a reverent manner, but his eyes were nervous - a quality you almost never saw in them. His warm, large hands found purchase on your waist as you leaned in for another kiss, this was soft and gentle before he chased your lips with a few of his own. You drank in the moment, nuzzling your nose against his as you felt him smile against your lips.

"Me too," he whispered softly, but paused when he realized this wasn't enough - he needed to do this properly, "I love you - I'm in love with you."

"Good," you beamed at him, making his heart melt. Gods, that how he knew this was right - no one had ever had this effect on him, not even his former fiancé, "this would have been awkward otherwise."

"Sorry for being such an asshole earlier," he grimaced at the thought of what could have happened if the two of you hadn't both suddenly hit a revelation, "I just…"

"I know," you shushed him by putting a finger to his lips, "I know. Maybe this is exactly what we needed - a push in the right direction."

"Yeah," he agreed, grinning gently at you, "I just...the thought of you with him made me...I hated it."

"I know," you nodded towards, "do you...do you want to come inside? Its Friday night after all."

"Hmm," he kissed your forehead, a knowing grin exchanged between the two of you, "I'd like that a lot, Dulzura."

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[verymuchimmortalcat]

Familiarity

For Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month Day 3: Identities

ao3

@maribat-bdbwm

part 1

Marinette couldn’t quite put a finger on it but there was something about the Waynes that felt familiar. Rose would say it’s because they’re family but Marinette knows it not that. In fact, they remind her of the Bats. The simultaneous inclusion and exclusion, the chaos, the feeling of knowing them, everything.

She isn’t quite sure yet if she likes the idea of her family being the Bats but she does know it would explain a lot of things that have happened in the two days since she arrived at the Manor for the first time.

.oOo.

Steph watches as Tim and Marinette plan out pranks, it’s creepy how well the two of them work together. It’s almost like they’ve worked together before. From the way Cass is analysing Marinette, Steph knows she’s picked up on the strangeness of it all too.

Duke had told her they’d asked Marinette to join so they could get to know her better and to spite B, who had told them not to drag her into their chaos. They hadn’t really expected her to be so good at planning pranks. From what she’s learnt she was brought up as an only child. Not that it really matters, they’re going against Babs, they’re going to need all the help possible.

Duke looks thoroughly lost, Steph doesn’t blame him, Tim’s thought process is hard to follow normally but Marinette and Tim, Steph’s just as lost. As the three of them stare at the two of them in the middle of their planning, Steph can’t help but feel they’ve been here before. Which makes absolutely no sense she’s never even met Marinette before today.

.oOo.

His sister’s time has been monopolised by Drake, Cassandra, Duke and now Stephanie. Planning, probably. A pointless endeavour, he's going to win in the end, just because his team has lesser people doesn’t mean they’re going to lose.

However, he has spoken to her. She’d approached him the first day and while their conversation had been awkward and stinted, it had been a conversation. Damian wasn’t planning on telling Grayson but speaking to him had helped.

But what’s been bothering Damian is that it feels like they’ve had that conversation before. Which they haven’t, Damian’s sure he’d remember if they’d somehow met. Jon says he should talk to her but Damian’s sure he can figure it out on his own.

.oOo.

Tim has a theory: Marinette is Ladybug. He doesn’t bring it up with the others, if she had wanted them to know her identity, she would have told them herself a long time ago. Besides, it’s just a theory and even if he is right, he remembers the feeling of betrayal when B had told Steph his identity, so he doesn’t pry.

.oOo.

Cass knows Marinette. She’s not able to place it and it makes absolutely no sense, but there’s something very familiar about her. For someone who walks into objects at least three times a day she carries herself with a grace that Cass hasn’t seen outside vigilantes or dancers and Marinette denies being able to dance. Even if her new sibling is one of the Parisian heroes, Cass doesn’t know the Parisian heroes very well, having met them only a few times. Their training had mostly been taken care by Dick, Tim and Damian, since the three of them spent the most time at the Tower. She leaves it alone, Tim mentioned that the miraculous holders' identities were protected by magic, it would be impossible for her to figure it out.

.oOo.

Dick had wanted to see if he had left his phone in the gymnasium, when he enters the room, Marinette’s there. He watches in shock as Marinette leaps and flips her way through the gymnasium. She’s a surprisingly good gymnast for a civilian. A lot of the moves she uses are familiar to him. Things that he had taught to some of the younger heroes as fighting sequences. He wonders what kind of teacher she must have had to be taught that.

When she finishes, he claps and she turns back in shock, her eyes widen in recognition and she becomes a vivid shade of red. He holds back the urge to laugh.

“That was amazing! Where did you learn all of that?”

“Oh, uh here and there, I went to classes for a while and I have a friend who’s really great at gymnastics.”

Dick frowns, she sounds unsure of her answer, but he lets it pass.

“I’d love to meet that friend of yours.”

She looks like a deer caught in headlights for a second before her expression smooths over and she grins at him and says, “I’ll be sure to ask him!” before skipping out of the room.

Dick is officially very curious.

.oOo.

Thursday morning, she’s informed by Duke that they usually have family dinners on Thursday and a few of Tim’s friends would be attending today too. Marinette’s excited, it’ll be fun to meet Tim’s friends.

Alfred’s banned all pranks for the day since they have guests visiting in the evening. There’s some complaining but in the end they all give in. Tim heads to his room saying he has something he wants to work on, Dick and Damian are going out for the day, she can’t find Duke, and Jason isn’t at the Manor. She’s currently searching for Cass. When Marinette finally gives up and returns to her room, she finds Cass waiting for her there.

“Want to join me and Steph? We’re going out.”

Marinette agrees and the two of them leave the manor to join Steph in the actual city. They spend the day roaming around, eat enough junk food to give Alfred a heart attack and just pass time. Steph returns with them to the Manor in the evening for dinner. They’re late but only by a bit, they’d hopefully only get a disappointed frown from Alfred.

Alfred lets them in with a sigh of disappointment. The three of them offer him sheepish grins before running off to the dining room. They can hear all of them laughing, Marinette doesn’t pause to analyse their voices.

She wishes she had.

It’s not surprising really, she’d already known how highly possible it was but nothing had prepared her to be staring at Kon, Cassie and Bart.

Jason notices her staring and asks, “why’re you looking at them like they’re aliens?”

She takes another second to finish processing, and then grins, “Well, Kon is half alien.”

Their reactions are priceless. Plagg would be proud of the chaos she’s unleashed.

Jason’s staring at her in shock. Tim’s yelling, “I KNEW IT!” Dick and Cass look like things make more sense now. B, Steph, Duke, Kon and Cassie. Damian’s jumped onto his seat and is pointing his katana at her. Bart had attacked her in a hug, yelling, “Bug!” which had thrown her to the floor.

Groaning she gets up, “not wearing a super suit right now, Bart.”

“IforgotI’msosorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh my, what is going on here?”

They all turn to look at Alfred who’s standing at the entrance.

There’s a lot of apologies as they sit in their seats and everyone settles down. She ends up sitting next to her father.

“So,” he starts, “you’re Ladybug.”

She smiles, “and you’re Batman.”

Before she can reply, she’s dragged into the others’ conversation. Her father offers her a smile and returns to his food. Marinette grins and joins the argument about the stupidest villains.

[wonder-kid-pugh]

Wildest Dream - Jessie Fleming

Inspiration for this was the the song - Wildest Dream by Thomas Gold, Kosling and Matthew Steeper and I highly recommend listening to it while reading this I suppose. Also warning this is very long so be prepared. Hope you enjoy!!!

"Y/n! C'mon!"

The small 7 year stops running and hunches over hands on her knees panting heavily as she watches her best friend run in front of her. The small freckled faced girl stops running as she turns back to her tired friend, "Keep up Y/n!"

But the girl just shakes her head still gasping for breath, "That's not fair Jessie! Your too fast for me!" The girl just frowns as she sees her friend was not a bit out of breath, "How come your not tired?" Jessie just shrugs with a big smile, "C'mon let's go play!" The child with no other choice sighs as she chases after her friend who starts kicking the ball towards the goal.

Normally the child wasn't one for soccer. Sure she played it but that was only really because of Jessie. She played soccer because Jessie loved soccer and she would do anything for her best friend. Just how Jessie would always listen to Y/n play music even though she could barely play the triangle.

Their parents found it comically how the two got along. The two children couldn't have been more different yet they were the best of friends. Jessie was always active and running around outside and loved sports. Y/n on the other hand was the opposite. She preferred to stay inside and always had a thing for music. While she did like playing games, she definitely didn't love it as much as Jessie.

Honestly her parents think she wouldn't leave the house if it wasn't for Jessie.

But the girls were inseparable. You wouldn't find one without the other. Which is why when Jessie said she wanted to go play soccer, of course Y/n said yes.

"Y/n/n! Watch this!" Jessie screws her face up in concentration as she tries to juggle the ball just like how she's seen her favourite players have done it countless times on the TV. But she can only do it 6 times before the 7 year old loses control of the ball. While the small child pouted at the ball which rolls away from her, she isn't deterred as her best friend is clapping for her. "Woah that's so cool Jessie!" Y/n says in awe. Jessie smiles and straightens up as she picks up the ball happy to impress her friend but can't help but blush at the praise, "Thanks! I want to be a soccer player like the ones on the TV!"

At the bare age of 7, the small girl couldn't understand why when she said this to some adults  they would just chuckle and smile at her. She had even been told by some of the boys in her class that soccer is a boy's sport. But Jessie didn't care she just wanted to play soccer. She didn't know why people thought it was an impossible dream for her. Like her dad always told her, you should dream big or else what's the point of dreaming?

"That's so cool. When your a big famous soccer player, I'll come and watch all your games!" Y/n says giving her a toothy grin. Jessie nods returning her smile, "Yeah. And I'll score a goal for you".

"What do you want to be when we're older?" Jessie asks. Y/n plays with her hands and shrugs, "I don't know...". The junior soccer player tilts her head and thinks for a second before she perks up, "You could play music! You always make some cool sounds when we play!" The other girl thinks for a second before she smiles and nods, "Yeah that would be cool".

Jessie smiles before holding up her pinkie to her best friend, "Let's make a promise". Y/n tilts her head at her before Jessie continues, "Let's promise that when we grow up, we'll follow our wildest dreams!" The musician beams back at her and intertwine their pinkies locking in the promise, "Promise!"

The two 7 years stood there full of hopes and dreams for their future. Neither knowing much better as their innocence still protected them from the world. But neither cared. Because they had each other and they believed in each other. And because of that they felt like they could do anything.

***

The now two 15 year olds walk home from school. Even after all these years the two girls still best friends. Their promise still remaining fully intact. They always came home a little later after school. Whether it be because Jessie had soccer practice or Y/n lost time playing in the music room. But the two never failed to walk home together. One always waiting for the other to be finished.

"I don't get you" Jessie sighs as she shoulders her bag up higher. The musician of the two looks at her weirdly, "What are you talking about?" Jessie sighs once more, "Why won't you sign up for that talent show?" Now it's her turn to sigh as Y/n runs a hand through her hair tiredly, "Can you please just drop it Jess?"

But Jessie doesn't let up, "No I don't understand Y/n why you won't sign up! Your incredible when it comes to music. You can play almost any instrument I can name! You could win that talent show easily so why won't you sign up?!"

Y/n avoided her friend's gaze. She knew she meant well. Jessie was her best friend of course she only wanted the best for her. But Y/n had been keeping a secret. From everyone. Even Jessie. But it didn't mean that Jessie hadn't noticed. Jessie knew there was something up with the girl. She never wanted to show off her music. She had an incredible talent but refused to show it off. It was like she had stage fright but not really. She never had a problem playing for Jessie but when it came to anyone else she wouldn't even pick up an instrument.

What Jessie didn't know is that things hadn't been good at home for the musician. The musician tried to stay at Jessie's for as long as possible. But eventually she had to go home. Only to come home to a screaming match between her parents. They were always arguing about something or other that Y/n had just gotten use to the screaming and the occasional sound of smashing plates. 

The only time they seemed to agree on something was when they both agree that her music is a complete waste of time.

Y/n had to suffer quietly as she didn't want anyone to know. She had grown use to her parents ignoring her existence. She had gotten use to the disappointment. She had gotten use to that when her parent finally did give her attention it was for all the wrong reasons. She had to live with the fact that the very people who were meant to encourage her and care for her, did the exact opposite.

So when her parents tell her that music is a waste of time and should give it up. There was only so many times she could hear it before it started becoming true in her mind. As her parents always told her, where would music get her in life? Would it pay her bills in the future? Would it bring her success? Would it make her any money?

What it did give her was purpose

But her parents didn't care. They had drilled it into her so much that it was ingrained into her. Nothing good was going to come from music so what was the point in trying?

Jessie had caught the brief flash if sadness across her best friend's face. It was so quick that if she hadn't been watching she wouldn't of caught it. "Y/n..." She starts but she doesn't get to finish as Y/n seems to speed up and hurries into the Fleming household before her. Intent on finding out what's wrong with her friend she chases after her determined on helping her friend. She sees Y/n already halfway up the stairs and starts to climb after her throwing a quick call over her shoulder to notify her parents that they were home.

But before she could make it so much as 3 steps her mom's voice rings throughout the house, "Jessie! Y/n! Can you come here quickly!" This makes the two girls pause looking at each other questioningly. But they both comply and move to the sitting room where everyone else was.

"Yeah Mom?" Jessie asks as the two friends stand beside each other ready to step in at a moment's notice in case one needs to step in to comfort the other. The two parents share a look which worries the girl but they completely miss the smiles from the other kids in the room. What didn't go unnoticed by everyone was the fact that Y/n's finger went to wrap around Jessie's pinkie before the soccer player held her hand properly squeezing it lightly for reassurance.

The two adults in the room smile softly at the action before remembering what they called them down for in the first place. "We got a call from canwnt.." her mom starts. Jessie tilts her head, "Oh is there another camp on?" Her father smiles down at her, "Yes but this camp is going to be a bit different". Jessie looks at the two clearly confused. Apon seeing this Y/n steps closer to her friend this time it was her giving the reassuring squeeze.

"What do you mean?" Jessie asks. Once more the parents share a smile but before they could tell her, her little sister beat them too it. "You got called up to the national team!" Elysse sequels. The two friends freeze for a second before Jessie looks to her parents for confirmation. But they just smile and nod. "I got called up....to the senior team?" Jessie whispers lowly as if to see how it sounds coming out of her mouth.

But it was only a minute after that it truly hit her

"I got called up!?!" She yells before launching herself towards her parents to hug her fiercely. Y/n stands back as she watches the family celebrate the fact that one of their member's Wildest Dream are coming true. She watches how her brother and sister join in the embrace as they tell her how proud they are of her achieving her dream. They all knew how hard she worked to get here and it was truly incredible that she achieved this at such a young age.

But what did they expect from the overachiever that was Jessie Fleming

Although she was immensely proud and happy for her best friend. Y/n couldn't help the tiny bit of bitterness followed by guilt that crept up on her. She could felt but felt bitter as she watches her practically second family celebrate Jessie's dreams. Their family had always supported Jessie's passion in the pursuit of soccer even when others thought she was aiming too high. They were always there to encourage her and was always cheering for her at every one of her games.

Y/n wished her own family was like that. That her parents were supportive of her own dreams. Instead of shouting abuse at each other and only give her attention when she didn't meet their standards.

But she quickly pushed it down as Jessie turned to her and practically tackled her in a hug. Y/n hugs her back just as tight as she nuzzles herself into Jessie's neck, "I knew you could do it Jess! I'm so proud of you". Jessie gives her a tight squeeze before pulling back just enough so she can look at her friend's face, "Now all you have to do is fulfill your part of the promise!"

It took ever bit of willpower to make sure her smile didn't falter in front of her. Her problems were her own and she didn't need to drag Jessie into them especially on what is supposed to be such a joyous celebration for the teen. So instead she held face in front of her best friend and nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah I do"

***

"Y/n?"

The girl hums telling her that she's listening even though her eyes remain fixed on the guitar. Jessie bites her lip wondering how best to approach this without saying the wrong thing. But eventually she sighs as she looks softly at the girl she had grown feelings for.

"Why do you only play for me?"

Y/n picks her head up as her eyes lock with Jessie's. The brunette not knowing how heavy the question she asked truly is.

The two were now both 17 and both harbouring feelings for the other not that they would ever admit that to the other. Jessie had been with the national team for a while now and preparing to go to college next year....in America. While Y/n didn't know what she was going to do. But the thought of them two being separated hurt the both of them.

But Y/n had still not fulfilled her half of the promise.

But she did go to nearly every one of Jessie's matches. And Jessie would swear that even among the thousands of fans, she could always hear Y/n cheering above anyone else. It was only after Jessie's first cap with the national team did she realise that she had fallen for her best friend as she saw the musician with her family in the stands wearing her jersey.

The two had something that was untouchable by anyone else. It was unbreakable. But neither wanted to ruin it in fear of the other not feeling the same. So things remained the same.

Expect for Y/n

Jessie could see the gradually change in the girl. If it was even possible, the girl retracted into herself even more than she always was. Many didn't notice as the girl had always been on the quiet side and had tended to keep to herself and maybe a handful of friends.

But Jessie did.

Jessie saw how that light twinkle in her eyes faded. She watched as her friend lost the sparkle in her eyes. Her smile didn't seem as big. Her eyes lost their light. The fire the girl once had been extinguished. It was only when they were 16 did Jessie find out why.

When the girl showed up to her house in the middle of the night in tears and a bruise starting to form on her cheek did Jessie find out about what her friend had been keeping from her. How her parents had been arguing for so long that she had practically become desensitizied by it. How she would go for weeks on end without the slightest bit of acknowledgment from her parents.

But that night was the last straw

Y/n was finally sick of all the shouting and yelling and arguing. And when she make that known to her parents, in a fit of rage her father hit her. That was the breaking point of their family. By the time Jessie's parents got to the house her father was already gone and they hadn't heard from him since.

And while the arguing had stopped, nothing had changed between the mother and daughter. Y/n's mother was hardly home and the family only had small interactions between each other. And those small interactions included telling Y/n that she needs to focus on her future and not silly music. Jessie had slowly been coaxing her out and back to her normal self but it was a slow process.

And she still refused to play for anyone else other than Jessie.

"W-why do you ask?" Y/n whispered softly. Jessie watched as the musician fiddled with the neck of her guitar. "You never play for anyone but me. You even record stuff for me when I'm away for camps and make me playlists. But never for anyone else. Why?" Jessie asks softly.

Y/n licked her lips trying to decide how to tell her without saying it's because she felt safest with her. That she could trust her with anything. Because she was her best friend. Because she loved her.

"Because....your the only one that would like it" the musician admits quietly. Jessie scrunches up her face, "What?" But Y/n just shrugs, "No one would like it anyways so why even bother". Jessie just stared incredulously at her crush not understanding why the girl could possibly think that. "Y/n...your the most talented person I've ever heard. When you play, it's like the whole world stops to listen to you play. You are the greatest musician I've ever heard".

But Jessie is even more confused when she just shakes her head with traces of tears in her eyes. "Please don't Jess..." She whispers. Jessie tilts her head at her, "Don't what?" Y/n sniffles, "Don't lie. Your just saying that cause your my best friend". Jessie stares at her for a second as she scoots closer to her.

"Your right"

Y/n's head snaps up only to find Jessie staring at her determinedly. It doesn't even register to either of them how close they really are as they are only focused on the other. "Your right I am saying this because your my best friend. And as your best friend I'm telling you the truth that by hiding your music from everyone, you are robbing the world of your talent. And whoever thinks otherwise doesn't deserve you in their life".

Y/n sighs as she looks away, "My parents think it's a waste of time. That it's not going to take me far in the future". Jessie's heart break hearing her friend sound so defeated. Jessie absentmindedly brushes some hair behind Y/n's ear as she states straight into her eyes. "You shouldn't give up on your dream so easily" Jessie whispers, "Do you remember the promise we made back when we were younger?"

A small smile spreads across her face as the musician thinks back to simpler times back when she had no worries at all and nods. Jessie smiles, "Then you'll remember we promised to follow our dreams together". Jessie moves to intertwine their fingers, "I believe in you Y/n/n and I always will. No matter what everyone else thinks".

And just like that it was as if the dam broke.

The years of bottled up emotions, all the secret family problems she kept hidden, all her insecurities. Everything she kept locked up and away from prying eyes came flooding out. All with that one declaration. All because she knew she had her best friend and crush there with her and because she believed in her. She didn't need anything else but her. In that moment she didn't care that her father left her, she didn't care he had another family without her, she didn't care that her mother was never there for her or that she deemed work more important than her own daughter.

Because she had Jessie

The dam broke, her walls fell, everything came crashing down. But Jessie was there and she caught her. She took her in her arms and held her. Jessie acted as her defence and protected her from the rest of the world reassuring her that she was there for her. And after what seemed like hours of crying which was only half an hour in reality her sobs subsided enough for her to turn to Jessie.

"Jessie?" Jessie just looked down at her showing her she was listening. Her grip on Jessie's t-shirt tightened as she moved in closer to her as she leaned into her chest, "Please don't leave me as well. Please don't forget about me when you go to America...promise me".

Jessie didn't even need to hesitate she just shakes her head, "Never. Your my person Y/n. No one could ever replace you. It's always going to be you and me. Always".

And just like that Y/n never felt more safe and secure. And if at all possible Y/n felt as if she fell more in love with the soccer player.

***

Jessie took a slug of water as she looked through the crowded stadium. They were just after beating Utah 2-1. And with a great performance by the team and herself, Jessie was happy with the win.

But she felt almost euphoric when her eyes locked on a familiar figure in the stand.

"No way!" Jessie gasps lightly causing her teammates to look at her. But before her teammates could even ask, the Canadian was already running towards the stands, running towards someone specific.

Even though she was hidden behind a baseball cap and sunglasses, Jessie could pick her out anywhere. Honestly Jessie didn't even care when she jumped up and pulled herself up to the stand. The musician laughs as she holds Jessie making sure she doesn't fall or slip off the tiny foothold she was balancing on, "Jessie!" But Jessie just throws her arms around her best friend, "You didn't tell me you were in LA!"

But Y/n just hugs her back and nuzzles her have into the girl's neck, "Well I made a promise to watch all your matches". Jessie couldn't stop the smile spreading across her face as she just hugged the girl tighter. Both ignored all the eyes on them as people tried to figure out who was the girl with Jessie Fleming.

It had been a while since the two friends had seen each other. Jessie being busy between school and soccer. And while Y/n didn't go to college she finally took Jessie's advice and finally started releasing music. Her music went viral overnight. Within days everyone knew of the new up and coming DJ Y/n L/n. But with the fame of being the latest rising star in the music industry it also came with a strict schedule.

It didn't help that she couldn't leave her house to get a coffee without it being in the paper that she's sneaking away to meet up for a secret rendezvous with some hidden lover.

But it didn't mean that she didn't watch every single one of Jessie's matches.

"You should go. Your team is waiting for you" she murmurs into the column of Jessie's neck. But Jessie in response to this just tightened her hold. Y/n smiles knowing that her best friend missed her just as much she missed her, "Look I have a show later. How about you and the team come and we can meet up after?"

Jessie takes a second before nodding, "Okay". Y/n smiles moving her nose up and down on the small patch of skin before her ear before she taps her hip, "You better go Jess. And go shower. You stink". The soccer player scoffs slapping her on the shoulder, "Shut up". The musician chuckles, "I'll text you in a bit". "Okay" Jessie nods. And in a moment of courage she quickly and discreetly kissed her cheek before she carefully climbs down from the barrier.

Y/n can't help the blush as her eyes follow Jessie as she jogs back to her teammates immediately being brought into questioning no doubt about her. Not wanting to wait around and risk being recognised she decided to leave the stadium. Y/n grins as she walks out of the stadium among the crowds. Besides she had a show to prepare for.

And a girl to impress

***

"Jessie how did you get us in?" Ashley asks as the team moves deeper into the club. Jessie smirks as she shrugs. The team had been badgering her all evening wanting to know who was the person she was talking to. They were even more surprises when she suggested they go out tonight. To this particular club. This was unusual for the quiet Canadian who they usually have to drag out of he dorms for a night out.

And here she was, getting them into a club for a sold out gig.

"Seriously Jess how did you get us in here?" Teagan asks. But before Jessie could even open her mouth the gig was about to begin, "Everyone! Please give it up for Y/DJ/n!" The team all stared at her with slacked jaws while the London native smiles widely and clapped as her childhood friend bounced onto the stage. 

Jessie loved seeing her on stage. Her friend looked so free up on stage. It's like all her worries melted away. She had seen Y/n grow in the past few years. She completely detached herself from her family and throw herself into music. Starting small and working her way up. She started on YouTube but was quickly picked up. And ever since then it's been hit after hit for her. But whenever she was on stage, she was always having fun. The smile never left her face as she was always bouncing around having fun.

The show went off without a hitch. Y/n went through all her favourite songs. Along with playing her own remix of UCLA which Jessie most definitely knew was a nod at her and her teammates. She finished the night by playing the song that started it all. The very first song with blew up on YouTube. The song that made her famous around the world. Ironically a song that was made around the promise she made to Jessie all those years ago about following their wildest dreams. A song that Jessie didn't know was inspired by her back when they sat together that day. Back to that day at age 17 when Y/n discovered she was in love with her best friend.

The team could have swore they saw the DJ send a wink in their direction. But thought nothing of it as they kept dancing. It was only when the show had ended and they were about to leave only to be stopped by a guard did they start to question everything. They were lead backstage into a separate room with the only instruction from the big bulky security guard being "Wait here" before closing the door behind them. Ashley blinked at the closed door as she sighs, "Well that wasn't suspicious at all". The team nods but Jessie just grins and moves towards the snacks laid out on the table knowing there would be chocolate covered strawberries there. Even though Y/n didn't really like strawberries, she always made sure they had them in her dressing room for Jessie knowing how much her best friend loved them.

As Jessie started helping herself to the treats at the table her teammates looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Uh should you be going at the food Jess?" Anika asks as she watches the Canadian take another bite out of a strawberry. Before she could answer though someone beat her too it.

"Well I did get them for her..."

The entire team watched as the DJ strides into the room. Her face slightly flushed and a light layer of sweat as she dabbed at it with a towel. The team look at her gobsmacked while Jessie smiles and walks over to her enveloping her in a hug. "Hey Rockstar great show" Jessie says as her arms wrap around the musicians waist. Y/n throws her head back with a laugh as her arms wrap around her shoulders as they start to sway lightly, "Thanks Superstar".

But of course their moment was interrupted

"Woah woah woah hang on a second here!" Teagan exclaims causing the two to break apart. The goalkeeper points between the two, "You know each other?" Jessie just scrunches her face as she looks at her teammates confused faces, "Of course I know her. You guys knew that, I talk about her all the time". Karina scoffs, "We didn't know you were talking about the Y/n L/n!" Y/n watches with an amused smile present on her face as she watched her friend guffhaws at her friends throwing her hands up, "I literally have a picture of us on my desk!"

It was true. She never hid her friendship with the rising music star. She had multiple picture of the two in her room. Hell her phone screen was a picture of the two of them together.

"Just when you think you can't get cooler...you know a famous celebrity" Sunny mumble causing everyone to laugh. It's only when the laughter dies down that Y/n realises that everyone is now looking at her. She sheepishly scratches the back of her head, "Uh it's nice to meet you all. Jessie speaks very highly of you all". The team smile but it quickly turns to a smirk as they all see Jessie slip her hand into hers and they see the musician visibly calm down sending a smile to their teammate.

As they hung out it became painful clear that the two were harbouring feelings for the other but neither wanted to talk about it. The team found it amusing how comfortable she was with the musician. They watched as Jessie was splayed out across the couch, head resting on Y/n's lap as the musician mindlessly ran her fingers through her soft brown strands. It didn't help that they spotted the red number 17 Canadian jersey under the musicians flannel shirt. They had never seen their Canadian teammate so comfortable with someone like this before. So as it started to get late they decided to head off. Not only to get some rest but to also allow the two some much need alone time together.

The pair sat silently in bliss as Jessie closed her eyes focusing on how soft and delicate Y/n was while running her hand through her hair. "Thank you for coming tonight" Y/n whispers softly almost sacred to break the peaceful atmosphere between the two of them. Jessie just opens her eyes and intertwines her fingers with Y/n's other hand, "Of course. I love seeing you play. Even though I prefer when you play guitar". The corner of her mouth twitched upwards, "That's special. That's for only you. I don't mind everyone listening to my other stuff. But I only play the guitar for you".

The overnight sensation looked down to see that a small faint blush had tinted Jessie's cheeks. Without even thinking her hand moves from her hair to cup her cheek as her thumb grazed her cheekbone. She only snapped out of it when she saw that Jessie's face had now turned fully red leaving her to resemble a tomato. She was about to pull her hand away not wanting to make the girl uncomfortable but stopped when Jessie instead leaning into her hand.

As Y/n stared down at the soccer player, something just surged through her. It was like everything just clicked as she took a deep breath, "There's something I have to tell you". This catches Jessie's attention as she squeezes the other girl's hand, "What is it?"

Y/n picks her lips trying to figure out best how to tell her, "Have I ever told you where the inspiration for "Wildest Dreams" came from?" Jessie thinks for a second before shaking her head. Y/n hesitates for a second wondering if it was too late to turn back now, the fear starting to crept back in. Jessie sees this and sits up so she can look at her properly, "Y/n?" Y/n sighs running her hand through her hair, "Well it was about the promise we made when we were younger and then back when we were 17 when you said I shouldn't give up on my music. It was a really important day for me".

Y/n takes a deep breath stopping herself from rambling as she mentally scolds herself. Why was this so hard? It was only when Jessie moved a stray strand of hair behind her ear and gave her hand a squeeze did she look back at her. "Are you okay Y/n? You seem really distracted..." Jessie asks visibly concerned. Y/n just nods slowly, "Yeah...it's just I've been thinking about that promise we made lately. About how we would follow our dreams". Y/n looks directly into Jessie's brown chocolate orbs almost making Jessie forgot how to breathe, "Well there is something else I've been dreaming about for a while and I'm scared".

Jessie frowns wondering what could possibly be wrong with her best friend that has her this much out of it, "Why are you scared?" Y/n's eyes dart down at Jessie's lips for a split second before looking back up with a small fearful whisper, "Because I'm scared you'll hate me for it..." But Jessie barely let's her finish that sentence before she stares fiercely back at her, "I could never hate you".

Something broke between the two in that moment. This was the only reassurance Y/n needed before she started to close the already small gap between the two giving Jessie enough time to pull away in case. But that wasn't necessary as Jessie also leaned in as her hands latched onto her neck almost fearful that she would disappear soon after.

The kiss turned from shy and timid to deep and passionate, both trying to convey how long they have wanted this and wanting to make up for lost time. When they both pulled away they looked at each other trying to find any hint of doubt or regret in the other's face. But when they found none they both smiled brightly. Y/n pulling Jessie in closer so that her legs now laid across her lap causing Jessie to sequel only to be silenced by Y/n's lips meeting hers.

And to think that this all started with a promise to follow their dreams. Only to realise that they were each other's greatest dream.