#once she realises that *this is serious* it's like a facade is dropped in terms of her going over to hit kreese

[hmshermitcraft]

Gem sees empires as a game. It isn't a real thing to her, being a god like all the other hermits. She assumes everyone else on empires is just like her. She's the goddess of the moon.

With empires being a game to her, she doesn't see any of the relationships as serious. She starts dating Katherine, pulling the princess away from Shelby. She enjoys watching the way Shelby seems so desperate to gain Katherine's attention again.

But then, at a moments notice, she abandons Katherine for Pearl. Pearl (goddess of the sun) is Gem's actual girlfriend. Pearl likes watching Gem mess with them. Pearl knows it's not a game to the emperors, having been one of them herself. She loves watching Gem break them down and how carefree Gem is about it.

Sausage has been... Slowly catching on. He notices the way that Gem seems in control of every single moment. He notices the way she never breaks, she never cries. But he also notices the way her life seems like a facade. Before the hermits came through, he kind of assumed that she was just closed off but he can't shake the feeling that something is wrong.

False, the goddess of blood, also disguised herself as an emperor. Gem had invited her there. False has realised very fast that no one views what happens within empires as a game like Gem said it was. She's tried telling Gem over and over but Gem never listens.

Gem eventually snaps with False. She decides that False needs to be taught a lesson. So she breaks False down the same way she does to the emperors. Pearl is in on it as well, pretending that her and Gem broke up. Gem seeking support from False and then the flirting begins.

Gem never leaves False alone. Constant gifts, hugs, kisses. Until she takes it away. She gets mad at False for every little thing. False obeys her, of course. False does whatever Gem needs and wants. After a while of toying with her, Gem drops her. She goes back to Pearl and completely abandons False. No matter what, she ignores False and everything to do with her and so does Pearl.

After all, as a god, life is a game. Right?

Sausage is the one left to pick up the pieces. It feels like he's been doing that a lot, lately. He helped Shelby and Katherine, getting the two back on friendly terms again (even if they haven't completely repaired that relationship.)

He does the same for False. He can tell something is wrong, something about Gem and Pearl is... Off (as much as he hates to admit it.) But he doesn't dare get in-between them.

So he looks after False. Helps her regain her confidence. Make her see this isn't her fault. It hurts, that people he once considered friends can do this. But all Sausage can do is chase behind and clean up the mess.

[variousqueerthings]

sort of a musing on Amanda LaRusso

Amanda was never good at “caring” the way people expected a good little girl to care. She got bored with other peoples problems quickly. 

She was biting too. Never good at pretending. Always got to the point. Realized early on that you were a winner or a loser, and that she hadn’t been born on the winning side. It wasn’t until she started to get older and figured out how to tailor herself to others’ expectations - a bit of wit, a tight dress, a smile to mitigate the sting of her words - that she began to change all that.

It was wrong, anyway. All those people who thought she was cold or whatever. Women were meant to be emotional and empathetic and she wasn’t those things, but she did care. She cared about not fitting in, she cared about making something for herself, she cared about smoothing down her rough edges until they were invisible, unless she wanted to cut you. Sometimes she even cared for whatever boyfriend or girlfriend she kept around for longer than a month, extended her little bubble around them until they burst it and she had to excise them. 

And she cared about Daniel. She hadn’t even wanted to care about Daniel, but he got under your skin in some incalculable way (she’d learn years later just how many peoples skins he’d gotten under, so she could be forgiven for falling into his endearingly unintentional trap). 

She’d started out competitive, thinking about all the ways to win, but she was always practical. They worked better together. Best sales team in the valley. Getting married made sense. He was on the way up and so was she. They’d pull each other up. They were attracted to each other (he was a giver from the beginning - a rare gem amongst men). And she cared about him. That made him practically unique until the kids came along.

Mr Miyagi was an odd, but welcome addition. That was another thing about Daniel. Apart from the family he didn’t bring any baggage with him (she thought back then). Amanda could deal with the fact that his mom and her didn’t like each other too much. Daniel was all hers. Miyagi was unobtrusively present in everything that Daniel did. He grounded Daniel into something less flighty than Amanda suspected he would be if left to his own devices. 

Amanda did the rest. 

Smoothed out some of his rough edges the way she’d smoothed out her own. Best sales team in the valley, best dealership in the valley, a perfect couple. A kid was an expectation too, to cement that picture; one that she felt fine about, because Daniel wasn’t the kinda guy who’d push her into some mothering, “caring” role once the baby was born.

Not that she didn’t care. 

From the moment she saw Sam, she thought: This one might be yours, but I’ll make sure she doesn’t get hurt like me. She’ll learn to smooth out her edges much quicker, be the kind of girl who doesn’t get left out. The kind of girl who doesn’t make the mistake of trying to be too much herself. She’ll be fine. 

I won’t let anyone hurt her.

[nearlymanaged]

9. James The Owl

It was one of those nights; the ones that mocked Sirius with the sounds of deep, steady breathing of his sleeping roommates. He had been lying in bed for hours, not a trace of sleep in his own tired eyes. Instead, he was left with bad memories that kept replaying over and over again in his head. He thought about how much had changed and wondered about how much was yet to come.

He’d always found it easy to give and receive affection - in spite of being deprived of both growing up - but on a night like this, his mind had wandered to a dark place, deep beneath his usual facade of careless charm and mischievous lovability. He wondered if he was truly capable of ever experiencing genuine love. He wondered if he deserved it, if he was too much of a Black for it.

But his train of thought came to a sudden halt, his heart nearly leaping out of his throat, when the gentle quiet of the night was shattered by a loud gasp. He sat up, fumbling with the red curtains of his bed, until he saw Remus propping himself up on his elbows.

“What’s the matter?” Sirius whispered.

“I-I hurt someone…” Moony panted, glancing around and blinking fiercely. “Is it full moon again?...”

Without thinking, Sirius pulled himself up and plopped down on the edge of Remus’ bed. This wasn’t the first night that had been interrupted by werewolf nightmares.

“We’ve still got a week left until the last full moon of this year, my love…” Sirius froze momentarily, realising what he’d just said and how effortlessly it had tumbled out of his mouth; Remus, however, didn’t seem to have noticed it. “It was just a dream.”

“It was…”

“Yes. You’ve never hurt anyone in your life,” Sirius murmured. 

“Bloody hell…” Remus’ breathing was frantic still, as if he’d been running. “It seemed so real…”

As Sirius squinted at him in the dark, he could just make out his horror-stricken face. “Are you alright? Do you want some tea or something? Hot cocoa?”

“N-no, I’m fine. I just need to…” He swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “I think I just need to take a little walk.”

“Where are you going to walk to?” Sirius couldn’t keep the note of mirth out of his voice.

“To er… Maybe just down to the common room, I suppose. I just need to stretch my legs…” And with that, Moony got up and quietly walked over to the door. Before it swung shut though, Sirius grabbed his wand and followed him out.

“Are you sure you don’t need anything?” He asked again, a little louder now since they were out of their sleeping friends’ earshot.

“No… Thanks, Sirius.” Remus started pacing around the old sofas and armchairs. “Sorry I woke you up. You can go back to sleep, you know. I won’t drop dead or anything.”

“Eh, sleep’s overrated anyway.” Sirius pointed his wand at the fireplace and mumbled Incendio.

“I feel so childish,” Remus breathed out after a few minutes filled with the cozy crackling of the flames; he’d stopped in front of the fireplace, his back turned on Sirius who was now sitting on a sofa. “Having night terrors…”

“Childish? Moony, you’re quite possibly the single bravest person I know.”

“Kind of you to humour me,” he turned around. “You know many sixth years who can’t fall asleep after a nightmare?”

“You know many sixth years who turn into a werewolf every month and yet somehow remain to be the loveliest people that anyone could ever hope to know in their lives?” 

Remus shuffled from one bare foot to another for a moment, his expression turning into an embarrassed smile that was threatening to melt Sirius’ heart into a puddle. Then, the black haired boy patted the seat beside him and Remus walked over and sat down, hugging his knees to his chest, while Sirius pointed his wand at a stack of folded blankets in the corner of the room and summoned one.  

He watched Moony lie down on his side, resting his head on the opposite end of the sofa, then threw the blanket over him. They stayed like that for a while, quietly, without talking. Some ten minutes later, Sirius leaned over to take a look at Remus’ face.

“Are you asleep?” He breathed weakly.

“No, it’s too quiet,” Remus answered without opening his eyes.

“I can read for you.” Sirius summoned a copy of Witch Weekly that someone had left in the common room. 

“You never told me you can read, Sirius!” Remus mumbled.

“Oh yes, I know all the letters. You see, I had to learn them since my parents wouldn’t read The Tales of Beedle the Bard to me.”

There was a pause filled with stifled laughter. “You just had to go there…”

“I had to,” Sirius smiled down at Remus, then opened the magazine. “Here we go: ‘How to Bewitch that special Wizard this Yuletide’!”

“Oh dear…”

“Yule Season is a mystical time of the year, blah blah blah… Hm… Okay... Offer him a mince pie with Amortentia (or a cheaper alternative) infused filling or slip a couple of drops in his egg-nog if--”

“Are you serious?” Remus sat up to peek at the magazine.

“Yes. And you’re Remus,” Sirius answered, unable to stop himself, causing the other boy to smile involuntarily and shake his head.

“That should be illegal.”

“Okay, let’s move on. Ah! Those of you who have older living relatives, ask your grandmother or your great auntie to teach you some fun, old-fashioned tricks. Once having reached an unprecedented peak of popularity in the 1900s, the Entrancing Enchantments are making a comeback. Just don’t forget to make sure the spell doesn’t wear off halfway through your date--”

“Unbelievable!”

“Alright, this is clearly not working. If only I had a copy of A History of Magic…” Sirius threw the magazine onto an armchair. “Or something you couldn’t argue with…”

“Oh, I could easily argue with A History of Magic. Don’t even get me started on The Werewolf Code of Conduct of 1637!”

“Right. I forget how much of a huge swot you are… How about I...talk about something in French, so you actually can’t argue with it?”

Silence followed the suggestion as Remus stared at him with a kind of bemusement etched in his face. Sirius felt the strongest urge to either look away from Moony’s impossibly green eyes or to kiss him. Instead, he cleared his throat. “I mean, I don’t have to…”

“No, no, that sounds nice. I forget you speak French…” Remus looked away and lied down on his side again; this time, the top of his head was no more than a couple of inches away from Sirius’ thigh, his hair brushing against it.

“D’accord, très bien. De quoi devrais-je parler?” He gazed down at the side of Moony’s face. “Je ne pense pas du tout que tu es enfantin. Je pense que tu es très fort. Je sais que ça doit être dur, je sais que ça fait mal ... Je t'ai vu passer par la transformation plusieurs fois, et ça me fait aussi mal. Mais tu voilà, si fort et si beau... J'aimerais avoir le cran de le dire en anglais. Je suis tellement attiré par toi. Pourquoi tu ne vois pas ça? Je veux vraiment t'embrasser. Merde...tu entends mon cœur battre? Il vaut peut-être mieux ne pas t'embrasser. Je pense que mon cœur pourrait exploser...”

As it turned out, Sirius found it really easy to come up with things to say. He thought he could have spent the whole night telling Remus things in French that he wished he could have said in English. But he fell silent eventually, when Remus’ breathing slowed and deepened. Sirius got himself another blanket, put his feet up on a red velvet pouffe, and slowly dozed off too; thinking about how glad he was that he could be there for Remus, how nice it was to love. 

* * *

“Prongs, can you do me a favour?”

“Always.”

“Can you ask Remus if he likes me?”

“Of course. I doubt he’ll tell me though.”

“How so?”

“He won’t think I’m serious.” There was a pause, the two boys staring squarely at each other. “No pun intended.”

“None taken.” At this, they both burst out laughing.

“You know, you’d think you’d be able to figure this out on your own, seeing as he practically slept in your lap last night.”

“If only…”

“Alright. I’ll try my best, but know this - I don’t like this. I still think, if you’re going to pine and moan about it that much, you need to talk to him yourself.”

“Yes…” Sirius screwed up his face in mock gravitas. “Perhaps I should start yelling ‘go out with me’ at him all throughout the day, in the most random places all around the castle?”

“How dare you!”

It took James a few days to find the right moment to bring it up. With the approaching full moon and end of term, there always seemed to be a hundred little things to do and to worry about. He finally found himself alone with Remus after their Herbology lesson; the boy stayed back to finish pruning his Venomous Tentacula after everyone had gathered their things and left. James hung around to wait for his friend, thinking that he was unlikely to get a better opportunity to have a go at it in the next few weeks. But his luck didn’t end there - just as he was racking his brain, trying to think of what the best way to start the conversation was, Remus opened his mouth.

“Are you still hung up on Evans?”

“Ehm… S’pose you could say that. Why? Did she say anything?” He momentarily forgot that he was on a mission, excitement kindling in his stomach.

“Not to me. I don’t know, I was just wondering. 

“Anyway, what about you?”

“What about me?” 

“Do you fancy...anyone?” James was pacing around, mindlessly running his fingers over leaves of plants and dusty pots.

“Well that is neither here, nor there.”

“So it’s a ‘yes’?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“So a ‘no’?” James stopped and smirked at his friend; he was obviously evading the question.

“You really should stop pushing the cotton bud in when you feel resistance, James,” Remus drawled, finally finishing up with the plant and sweeping all the bits of leaves and dirt off the table.

“You have shared your biggest secret with me and you said it yourself - you told me that never for a single second did you ever feel like I started looking at you differently. So why are you so embarassed to tell me who you fancy, mate?”

“A-ha. Trick question,” Remus tapped the side of his nose, carrying a terracotta pot in his other hand. “I never said I fancy anyone at all.”

“So you don’t?”

“I don’t know, maybe that’s my biggest secret?”

“Fine. What if I told you that I know that someone fancies you?”

“I would gasp dramatically and wait for the punchline.”

“How do people think I’m an insufferable smartass?” James frowned, pouting a little.

“Don’t you have somewhere else to ask stupid questions?”

“Nah, I’m free until after lunch,” James pulled his mouth in a smug smirk. 

“Perfect. It’s almost lunchtime,” Remus grabbed his bag and walked past James, tapping him on the back with a big grin. “You coming?” He glanced around at the door leading out of the greenhouse.

When James came back to the Gryffindor tower after the Quidditch practice that evening, he beckoned Sirius on his way up the stairs to their dormitory. This was the first time they could get some privacy since James had spoken to Remus, and he was eager to put a stop to Sirius unrelenting questioning as soon as possible.

“You can stop pestering me. I asked him.”

“And?” Sirius leaned towards him, his whole body eager with anticipation.

“I couldn’t figure it out,” James shrugged, pulling his shoes off.

“What do you mean? What did he say?”

“Not much at all, now that I think about it… I reckon he might be hiding something though. He didn’t give me a straight answer.”

Sirius fell backwards onto his bead, draping his wrist over his forehead and sighing dramatically. “I wonder if Evans knows something. He’s always whispering and giggling with her. Although, on second thought, I haven’t seen them together in a little bit… Hm.”

“You don’t think…” James spoke quietly now, a faint frown distorting his face. “You don’t think he likes Lily?”

“Well shit. I hope not. Ah, you’re jealous!” Sirius sat up, goggling at James gleefully once he noticed his friend’s sour expression.

“No, I’m not.”

“Maybe you should try going out with someone else. Maybe she’d even find it in herself to feel jealous then?”

“But I don’t want to go out with anyone else! I like Lily!” James explained a tad too shrilly than he meant to and Sirius wasted no time in mimicking him and making himself chuckle.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh at your misery…” He wiped his eye with a single finger. “It’s just that desperation looks hilarious on you--”

“Fuck you, Pads,” James mumbled as a mischievious smile returned to his face. “Do you think Moony likes me? Do you think he’ll want to get married? Do you think he’ll notice if I steal his clothes and sniff them at night?” Now it was his turn to tease his friend with accompanying gestures of clutching his face and fanning himself.

“It was one time! I put his T-shirt on once, by accident!” Sirius bellowed pointing a comically threatening finger at James. “I’ve seen you pick up single red hairs off furniture and rugs in the common room!”

At this, James gasped dramatically and pulled his wand out. “Don’t you dare drag sweet, beautiful Lily into this!”

“Or what, Potter?” Sirius drew his own wand out of the pocket of his jeans and flashed a devilish grin. 

“Levicorpus!” James yelled at the same time as the dormitory door flung open and Remus walked in.

Everyone froze - James, with his wand held high, pointing at Sirius who now hung upside down, letting his arms dangle and his shirt bunch up around his shoulders and neck, and Remus, still in the doorway, eyeing his friends with palpable curiosity mixed with relish. The latter then became animated again, looking down at Sirius’ face as he strode over to his bedside table to grab a bottle of ink.

“Sirius, if I were you, I’d use this distraction to your advantage,” he uttered on his way out and before James could do anything, he felt himself being dragged through the air and turned upside down, his ankles held by invisible forces; both him and Sirius howling with laughter. 

* * *

Remus was ready to dart out of the classroom as soon as the bell rang, but the moment he stood up, he realised both of his shoelaces had gotten untied. He bent over, mumbling to himself in mild confusion. A moment later he stood back up to find the room empty, but for the teacher. He was pleased to see that Lily wasn’t lingering around, trying to talk to him this time, but his vague smile faded when he walked out into the hallway - there she was, leaning against the wall, obviously waiting for him.

“Oh, it’s you,” he blurted and kept walking.

“What’s the matter with you?”

He didn’t bother offering a better answer than a small shrug of his shoulders. However, before he reached the end of the empty corridor, his legs zipped together out of the blue, making him topple over and hit his shoulder against the wall.

“Ouch!”

“If you won’t talk to me voluntarily then you leave me no choice.” Lily walked up to him, her wand still clutched in her hand. 

Remus couldn’t help but be impressed with her for a brief moment, for she always seemed so sweet and innocent and absolutely not the type to jinx people in the hallways. Then he scowled at her. “Leg Locking Spell? Very mature.”

“Why have you been avoiding me?” Lily demanded, folding her arms over her chest.  

“I haven’t.”

“Do I really look that stupid?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?”

“I thought we were friends? Did I do anything to you?”

“Hm, let me think…” Remus finally managed to regain his balance and push himself off the wall. He rapped his fingers against his chin in mock contemplation, but in all honesty, he didn’t know how to express his frustration without sounding over-dramatic and desperate. “If we’re friends, then how come you told Price to go chat Sirius up?”

Whatever the sensible way to bring it up was, this wasn’t it, he knew immediately. But at least, he could tell, Lily knew exactly what he was talking about. Her lips parted, her eyes full of surprise, but then her auburn eyebrows dipped low in a frown.

“First of all, if you must know, Marlene is not interested in Black in the least bit,” she shot him a stern look that Remus’ own mother would have been jealous of, he was sure. “She’s into girls.”

“What…” Remus gaped at her as if he had just been Confunded. “What are you talking about?”

“I would have explained to you what I’m talking about ages ago but seeing as you refused to so much as look at me for weeks, that hasn’t been exactly easy.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well… I had some suspicions and I reckoned, if I did a little test to confirm that Sirius really wasn’t interested in someone else coming onto him very strongly…”

“What?” 

“I’ve heard things… And I wondered, too... And that day when you were at the hospital wing, before you both realised that I was there…” Lily continued to utter disconnected phrases as though she couldn’t see Remus’ confused face right in front of her. “But even before that… I started paying more attention and I started seeing all these little things… And I wanted to see for myself... Sirius really cares for you a lot, have you noticed?”

“Er… We’re friends, we’ve been friends for a little while, I would hope that he cares.” Remus couldn’t deny having noticed how attentive and accommodating Sirius had been acting but, surely, that was nothing out of the ordinary when you had been friends with someone for years.

“He couldn’t keep his eyes off you at the surprise party, the whole night.”

“Uh-huh…” Remus squinted at her now, wondering whether Lily was trying to play a prank on him or if someone had actually Confunded her.

“Well, he played dumb when Marlene approached him, he wouldn’t even acknowledge that she was openly flirting with him! And when has Sirius Black turned down a pretty girl asking him out?”

“Well regardless,” Remus rolled his eyes, “poor planning on your behalf, if you will allow me to be so blatant. I know for a fact that Sirius fancies someone. Do you mind?” He motioned at his legs, still glued together, and Lily waved her wand impatiently, freeing him.

“How so?” She looked as though she’d just been smacked across the face.

“I heard him talking about it to James and Peter. He even told me himself when I asked.”

“Who is then?!” She demanded, her voice going up.

“Dunno.”

“But… I really thought he fancied you…”

Remus couldn’t stop himself from emitting a bitter laugh. “Me? Where'd’you get that from?”

“Well,” Lily started slowly. “There’s rumours going around about how Sirius downright rejected three or four people that asked him out this year. Four or five, if you count Marlene… So now some people think that he must have his eye on someone specific. And, well, I thought - since he hasn’t been seen with anyone - it must be someone that he’s reluctant to make a move on...because maybe that someone is an old friend…” She trailed off, looking embarrassed now. 

Remus stared at her blankly as his brain worked to process what she had just said. “Sorry, what?”

“Well… Don’t you agree that that would make sense?”

“I would, but then we’d both be wrong. This theory of yours makes Divination seem like an exact science.”

The thought of someone seriously considering this to be a plausible scenario took Remus by such surprise that he didn’t know how to react to it. It sounded as though Lily was getting carried away with it all, perhaps not considering his feelings too much. What made it worse was that there was this prickling, nagging thought in the back of his mind sometimes; a thought that maybe Sirius suspected that Remus fancied him and found it humorous. That maybe, whenever he did or said something unexpectedly flirtatious, it was meant to poke fun at him. Like that night a little while ago, when Sirius had called him ‘my love’ so casually, like a perfectly delivered punchline to a joke. 

And Remus felt secretly gratified to see Lily’s abashed face. If she’d come to him with her ludicrous plan first, he’d have made her swear she wasn’t going to actually do anything. He wasn’t exactly delighted at the idea of playing these absurd games with Sirius. And, on top of that, getting someone else involved in the whole thing. But he still felt a little twinge of affection in his chest - after all, Lily seemed to have acted this way out of kindness and with good intentions.

“I thought if I…” She muttered. “I suppose I can sort of see now how this was a er, flawed plan of action…”

“Forget it. It’s fine, you interfering trout,” Remus mumbled, allowing a warm smile to stretch across his lips and Lily matched it with a significantly more guilty looking one. “I’m flattered - by the looks of it, you seem to really have believed this laughable idea of yours.”

“Honestly! I simply don’t understand why you’re so adamant that you’re categorically unlovable. You’re funny and kind and smart and attractive - yes, I said what I said - and yet, you cling to this persona of a weird outcast of a monster.”

Remus stared down at her with an amused expression; if she knew what he was, she would understand how comically accurate the last part of her statement was. “You’re only saying that because you feel bad now.” He tugged at her arm and started walking down the hallway; they were going to be late for Care of Magical Creatures.

“Oh, you’re impossible!”

“You know what, James will be overjoyed when I tell him you jinxed me.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“You’re not that different from that delinquent Potter boy after all,” Remus smirked sideways.

“This was different and you know it!”

“Different goals, perhaps. Same means of reaching them…” As they rounded the corner, Lily’s protesting squeals and Remus’ hearty laughter echoed off the stone walls.

[honestlyhappyharry]

Night Changes

A/N: This is based a little more on the music video with a different ending than the song.

Holmes Chapel in the winter was lovely, anyone who had visited or lived there could tell you that. While you still didn't understand your parents' decision to move here from central London, you knew why they fell in love with it.

Unfortunately, you only got to visit a few times a year and it was usually over the holidays when you weren't busy with University. You could still remember one of the first times you were up after you'd helped them move in.

Early 2011

"Hi, dear. You must be Y/n, I was just stopping by with some casserole for your parents." You had looked up from the garden where you were planting flowers to see a woman standing near the end of the driveway with a warm smile.

You stood up and went to talk to her. "Yes, I'm Y/n. It's nice to meet you." You hold out your hand and she shakes it.

"I'm Anne, I live a few houses down. Are they in?" She had the warmest tone about her voice and a really nice smile. She was also very beautiful.

You shook your head. "I'm sorry, they just popped out to the shops. I'm sure they'll be back soon but you're welcome to come in." You could see she was thinking it over.

"Sure, there were a few things I wanted to speak to your mum about." You invited her into the house and she happily walked in. Neither of your parents had talked about her but she seemed to know where things in the house were.

"Would you like some tea?" You ask walking into the kitchen. She followed and paced the dish on the counter.

"If you don't mind." Once you'd gotten her a cup you sat with her in the living room for a while and talked. "I've been told you go to boarding school in London." You nod, that was always something you parents mentioned first to new friends. "How did you decide on that?" The usual question was how do you like it so the variety was nice.

"Well, I picked it when I was going into high school." You told her. "I had a few close friends that also went there and I guess as a young teenager I wanted to get away from my parents a little." She laughed again along with you, there was something warm about her presence. "It's such a great school and I'm very sad it's the last half of my last year."

She sipped her tea before speaking. "I've also been told you're on the leadership team there." You nod with a smile. "I suspect my own daughter had the same few reasons to go to Sheffield Hallam University."

You did recognise the name of the school. "I have a few friends in older years who got accepted and they love it." She smiled at that. "Has your daughter graduated?"

She shook her head. "No, she's on her second year."

"Y/n, we're home." Your mum said as she walked in the door, your dad following with a bag from the bakery.

They rounded the corner into the living room and both smile at Anne. You got the bags from your dad and set the table for lunch as your parents sat in the living room.

"I'm sorry, I was just bringing over a casserole. I didn't know you were having lunch." She apologised and stood up, getting ready to leave.

Both your mum shook her head. "No stay, set an extra plate, Y/n, Anne will be joining us for lunch." You nod and take an extra plate from the kitchen, putting it on the table.

That lunch you learnt a lot about Harry and Gemma Styles from Anne and your mum, who seemed very excited for you to meet Harry.

Christmas 2012

"Okay, kids pack that up dinner is on the table." Almost 2 years later and you found yourself sitting in Anne's living room next to Harry and Gemma playing Cluedo.

In those 2 years, your families had become so close you were now spending Christmas together. You had graduated from school and gone off to university in southern California and you had become good friends with both Gemma and Harry. You put your cards facedown so Harry couldn't see them and went to stand up. Both the Styles siblings following you. "You know, Y/n is such a cheat." Harry declared as you followed Anne into the dining room.

Your mouth dropped open as you turned around to look at him wide eyes. "I did not cheat once." You justify. "Harry's just a sore loser." You all took your seats, your dad and Robin at the ends of the tables with your mum and Anne sitting next to them. You sat next to Anne and Harry next to you with Gemma sitting on the other side of the table by your mum.

"Okay, no fighting you two." Anne scolded and you glared at Harry who smirks back. "It is Christmas after all."

"Fighting or flirting," Gemma said quietly as she sipped her drink causing both you and Harry to stop looking at each other and look at her.

Your mum smiled at Gemma which made you glare at her too. She had always been a Harry and Y/n shipper, even if she didn't know what it meant to ship someone. "Okay, let's eat." You said a quick grace before getting stuck into the meal. There was ham, roast vegetables and lamb. All of the typical English Christmas dinner favourites.

Like all of the other Christmas dinners, you've had this one was full of laughter and plenty of jokes. Harry was almost flirting with you, but he seemed to do that with all the girls you knew. It wasn't serious flirting or Harry being a player, it was just innocent fun between him and girls. Plus he was a cute teenage guy.

"So, got anything planned for New Year, Harry?" Your dad asked in the middle of a light-hearted conversation.

Harry gulped. "I'm actually going to New York to spend it with Taylor." Everyone else's conversations had, with bad timing, stopped at that point and all eyes were on Harry. The silence was louder than the laughter and more than uncomfortable.

You could feel your mum's eyes on you, waiting for how you would react. You weren't an idiot though, the news reports had told you long ago what was going on with them so it wasn't a surprise. You didn't even mind, Taylor made amazing music and they both needed whatever was going on for their popularity, not that you wanted to be a sceptic if it was real.

"Oh, I'm sure that'll be good." Your dad spoke before drinking some more wine awkwardly. Harry coughed also awkwardly and forced a smile and a little nod.

Eventually, the conversation got back to its normal cheerful state but you noticed Harry barely looked over at you. There was no more flirting or touching of feet. Something also felt off inside you but there was no way you were going to talk about that so you forced your mouth up into a smile for the rest of the night.

"Hey, you." Harry playfully spoke as he walked into the kitchen where you were getting a glass of water. It was nearing midnight and all of the parents had gone to bed. Gemma and you were gossiping in the lounge and Harry had gone to get some work done. "I'm sorry about dinner..." He trailed off, looking a little uncomfortable and scratching the back of his neck.

You shook your head. "Don't worry, Harry. It's not any of my business what you do." He looked sad and walked near you.

"It's a PR stunt, love." It always made your heart flip when he called you that and standing in the kitchen with his messy, long curls, plain, white t-shirt and tanned skin made him quite attractive and it was an odd mix between weird and natural to think of him like that.

There wasn't much else you could do but nod. "It doesn't matter to me whether you are seriously dating or not." Lie. It did matter because, and it was only now you were realising but, of course, you didn't want it to be true.

"I know, but we're not." He let out a sigh and sat down on a barstool at the island. There was a feeling in the pit of your stomach he was about to say something you didn't want to hear. Maybe it was the breath that he just sucked in, almost gasping for air. Pink lips falling open before he spoke. "Anyway, I wanted to ask if you wanted to go up to this ice skating rink when I get back, the 3rd."

Your head involuntarily shook but in the seconds after while you thought about what he had just asked you were thankful for it. "Harry." You breathed out his name. It was only now your vision focussed on him before it was on his face but it was all blurred as to not see his emotions. Hurt flooded his face, poorly masked by a facade of understanding. Like when you can see tears in someone's eyes with they smile. That was Harry Styles, sitting 10 feet away from you in all his beauty after just asking you out.

"Okay, I'm going to go." You hadn't realised how much analysing you were doing, forgetting to speak that filled your head. He made a quick dash to the door, a lot more awkwardly than when he came in.

You knew you had to. "Wait." As you come to terms with the news he turned back towards you. His eyes were on your face as he analysed what was going through your head even thought that wasn't fair. He had just thrown this idea out there and now he looked to be trying to figure you out.

"Don't feel obligated to for our friendship or anything. I just wanted to ask, see if you feel what it do, but you don't so now I can just leave it." He was very clear in what he was saying, even though his face still said 'sad'.

In your heart, you know you want it. Every minute of his time. Just the two of you doing couple things. You two in love. It felt like fireworks inside you, all these feelings finally lit up but in a scary way as well.

Now you had to play it cool, there was no point in trying to pretend you were someone else when he clearly felt something for you. "You already have a girlfriend." Good, your brain was still fighting the feeling. Is that good? You tried to block off some of your thoughts. Think rationally, think rationally.

Harry's face had fallen a little but he didn't look concerned, more like he was in a thinking state. Much like how you imagined your own face. He took two steps into the kitchen. Now he was closer than when he was seated. "She's not." He said with a shake of his head.

"As far as anyone outside this house is concerned she is." It came out a lot harsher than you wanted, making you feel a little bad by Harry's facial expression.

He was formulating a response. "I." He began before stopped, a hand running through his hair brought you back to the fact this was happening in front of you. "Just please come out with me." He wasn't begging but he sounded desperate.

Your heart took over for a minute. "Okay." As soon as you said it you knew it it was exactly what you wanted.

"Thank you." One last smile and he was out of the room. Leaving you there with no idea what had just happened. Harry had just asked you out. No that can't be right. Not the Harry Styles. And the even bigger question: did you like him?

~

"You have to trust me for this to work." Harry's soft voice was all you could hear. There wasn't anyone around you anymore. Just you and him on the ice. There was a slight chill in the air but for this time of year in Holmes Chapel, it wasn't too cold. Or maybe it was just the fur-lined coat, knit sweater, black jeans and ice skating shoes that were keeping you warm.

Fairy lights sparkled on the walls surrounding the rink and made Harry's green eyes even brighter and his lips perfectly pink. He was dressed in a black coat, a scarf and his own black skinny jeans.

A giggle left your lips as you let yourself relax a little into the date. It was a first date but it didn't feel like much of one but at least it felt like more than a friendship hanging out. "I do trust you." Your hands were in his soft ones as you move on the ice.

"Relax, baby." The pet name fell off his lips naturally and again it gave you that weird yet normal feeling, like it was something you've always needed but still new. "Just close your eyes and I'll pull you." You let your eyelids fall closed and relaxed your body as Harry gently guided you on the ice.

As you opened them he was still grinning at you as you slid over the ice. He gently let go of your hands and you felt like you were on top of the world as you glided on the ice. "I'm doing it, I'm doing it." You cheer as you propel yourself further and Harry watch you gliding.

He skated over towards you once you've stopped on the edge of the rink. "That actually wasn't too bad." He joked as he nudged you, making you giggle. At that moment you were right back to Harry just being Harry.

"C'mon, we're here all night so let's get skating." He took your hands and pulled you so you spun in front of him. Quicker than you could think and he was pulling you towards him. His hands ended up on your waist and yours on his neck.

Your faces were millimetres apart but Harry waited a few seconds, or maybe it was years, to stare into your eyes and then finally his lips were on yours and it felt like magic. Everything second seamless and perfect as his lips were on yours. It didn't feel odd anymore, just natural.

Pulling away a few seconds later, Harry looked all blushy and nervous. "Was that alright?" His gentle voice spoke with a nervous tone. He looked a little like he regretted it but his slight smile made you sure that he hadn't.

"Perfect, Harry." It really was. It was no secret that Harry was perfect anyway but standing in front of you with his perfect body, perfect hair and perfect lips after he had kissed you, he was all you wanted.

His nod and the grin adorning his face made you not need to ask how he found it.

Christmas 2020

"Come on, Aud," Harry called as he stood on the ice across from where Audrey was sat down in her winter coat, peach coloured jeans and jumper with ice skates on her feet. Harry was still in black jeans, all these years later as well as a long coat and knit sweater.

There were small snowflakes falling on you and everything around just looked blue. It was only a few days before Christmas and there was no better time of year.

"Ahhh!" Noah squealed, your attention turned to him as he started sliding on the ice very slowly. His feet were pointed together so he wasn't moving very fast but the expression on his little face was enough to make all of you laugh. Like his father, Noah was in his own pair of black jeans, a puffer jacket and a jumper.

"I'll help you, Noah." Anne shuffled over to Noah and took his hands in hers as she attempted to help him. All these years later and Anne still looked as young as ever, despite losing Robin. "Come on, you can do it." She encouraged as she pulled him over to his twin sister.

Audrey had finally gotten onto the ice and was reluctantly standing with a much older but still beautiful Gemma.

"Why do you insist on putting these five-year-olds on ice?" Gemma asked looking over at Harry with a frown. He skated over past Gemma and to you where he took your hands and pulled you on the ice, spinning you in a circle before standing behind you and wrapping you up in his arms. The warmth you felt in his arms would be able to warm the coldest days up.

He kissed your cheek and pulled off with a grin. "Because ice skating is why we have this." He motioned to everyone standing around.

"Not really, we'll always have this. You two are the reason we have Audrey and Noah." She fired back. They were still so totally Harry and Gemma.

"Alright you two, let's just skate." Anne scolded them both before you continued to skate.

"Sorry, we're late!" Your parents were suddenly on the ice with you all of the rest of you. And at that moment your family was complete. Maybe with the addition of the baby you'd just found out you were pregnant with.

[kl4us4]

AHOY (Steve Harrington x Reader)

Request: Hi do you wanna bless the world with a steve harrington x reader where you're dustin's older sister and y'all are on a mission (like in s3 for example) and you slowly fall in love with each other and dustin annoys you with it?😅 or make a hc instead of all the little things/habits steve loves about you. Thank you🙈❤

general masterlist

You push the door open to Scoops Ahoy, stumbling back when Erica and her friends storm out. You give her a look of shock as you gesture for her and her friends to walk out. Erica looks up at you, her brown eyes analyzing you and your new clothes. 

“Here for Steve?” She interrogates, holding her icecream in one hand and resting her other hand on her hip. 

“Yes.” You respond, “He is my best friend.”

She just gives you a smirk before shrugging up at you and turning to follow her waiting friends. Shaking your head, you let out a sigh as you walk to the counter. Unbeknown to you, Robin spots you, eyes widening before she turns back to the back room and calls out for Steve.

He’s quick to run out to the front room, hands crossed over the embarrassing uniform that you’ve laughed at him for a thousand times. “Ahoy, Y/N!” He exclaims, giving you a smirk as you laugh at him. 

“Is it protocol to say that every time?” You ask him, as he leads you to a vacant table, leaving Robin to fend for herself. 

“Ha. Ha.” He lets out a sarcastic laugh, leaning back in the booth. “Did you bring it?” He now gives you a serious look.

“I brought it.” You confirm. Pulling out the small book from your back pocket, you place it on the table. Steve grins, his hand moving to grab the book but you slide it away from him. “Not so fast, Harrington.” You state, leaning your elbows on the table and giving him a serious look.

Steve narrows his eyes at you, crossing his arms as he leans forward on the table, closer to you. “Are you going to make me bargain for it, Y/N?” He asks, his voice low.

You tilt your head at him, a small smirk on your lips. “Maybe.” You admit, holding the book up in the air and looking at it. When you lean back and flick through the book, Steve almost sighs at the loss of closeness. “Beginners English to Russian translation... What could you possibly need this for?”

Steve shrugs, his confident facade dropping. “Translating...” He mumbles, “Russian.”

You fire back, “For what?”

“My... cousin is Russian.”

“Boy or girl?” You ask.

“G-boy.” He answers.

“G-boy?” You repeat, raising an eyebrow at him. It’s kind of fun seeing him squirm for an answer under your intimidating glance, especially after how confident he was two seconds ago.

 Steve pauses, looking into your eyes before answering with confidence. But as quick as he answers, you’re there with another question. “Boy.”

“Name?”

“St...an. Stanis.” Steve nods, looking at you closely and examining if you’ve fallen for it or not. 

God, he’s bad at this. He literally almost said his own name. You throw the book on the table, giving him a nod and a fake smile. “Okay, cool!”

His eyes light up. “Really?”

“No.” Quickly, you grab the book from the table, standing and heading for the door as Steve rushes behind you.

“Wait, wait, wait!” He pulls you back by your arm, causing you to look at his gentle hand, “I need that book.”

“Why?” You inquire, giving him a plain look, “And don’t lie to me. Even Eleven knows friends don’t lie.”

He pauses, hearing that dreaded word. Friends. It hasn’t been easy coming to terms that he was in love with his best friend... it took a lot of thinking and talking to Robin. Honestly, Steve never realised how perfect you two were together until after he graduated high school. It took leaving the pressures of King Steve for him to realise he’d be happy if you were the only person in his life. 

“Yeah, alright.” Steve eventually sighs, letting go of your arm, “Well, it is for translating Russian but... Shit, Dustin would kill me if I told you.” He lets out a small laugh before seeing your expression.

“What have you gotten my brother in to now?” You question him, “And why am I out of the loop?”

“Hey, love birds!” Robin shouts, ignoring Steves wide, angry eyes at the term, “Once you have the book, can you do your job, so that I can do mine?” Robin speaks up, shouting across the counter to you. 

“Good to see you again, Robin.” You smile at her, waving a hand. Steve gazes at you fondly, admiring how pretty you look when you’re happy. When you glance up at him, he just laughs awkwardly and shakes his head at Robins comment. “How are you doing?” You ask her as she makes her way to the two of you.

She crosses her arms, a tired expression on her face, “Busy. Russian broadcasts don’t translate themselves.”

“Robin!”

“Wha- Russian Broadcasts?” 

“Steve, you told her?!” Dustin appears at the foot of the table, his arms raised as he glares at his friend. “We had a plan!”

“What plan?” You narrow your eyes at Steve. Robin stands there looking at the ground awkwardly.

“Robin told her, I’m an innocent bystander!” Steve defends himself, raising his hands as he points to Robin who just stands there idly before stealing the book and heading to the counter as more customers come in. 

Dustin's eyes drift towards yours as you stare at Steve, eyebrows raised incredulously. Attempting to escape his sister's wrath, he tries to head for the door. “Sit. Now.” You order him. Steve watches you in anticipation, hanging on to your every word, glance, and expression, “You too. Sit down." He does as told, the two boys sit in the booth and you take a seat beside Steve. “Spill.”

“Never.” Your brother says, making you glare at him and Steve steps in.

“You know his walkie talkie thing?” He asks you, moving closer to you in the booth as he lowers his voice. 

“Yeah, annoying as shit and old as dirt.” You nod, ignoring Dustin as he tells you it’s the best thing to ever happen to him.

Steve ignores him too, leaning just a little closer and you frown at him. “Your brother intercepted a Russian-”

“A secret Russian-”

“A - sorry, yeah - Secret Russian Communication,” Steve whispers to you before moving away. There’s a long pause. The two boys await your response with big grins. 

“So?” You ask. Their faces fall.

“So?” Your brother repeats, giving you a look of disbelief, “It’s the communists! We have a chance to figure out what they’re saying, what if we could be heroes, save Hawkins... save America!” When you just stare at him, he turns to Steve, “Told you she wouldn’t get it.”

“Get it?” You repeat, “I get it, I just don’t think a little boy and a... sailor can do much about Communists.”

“Little?” Dustin gasps.

“Sailor?” Steve raises his eyebrows, crossing his arms and leaning back in his seat, “I’m clearly a captain.”

“Y/N,” Dustin announces, “This could lead to something big!”

“Which is why you decided to keep this a secret from me?” You wonder, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, like you haven’t kept secrets from me!” Dustin rolls his eyes, earning a confused look from you.

“What are you talking about, Dustin?” You frown at your brother who is getting on your last nerves. 

“Don’t act dumb!” He points a finger at you which you slap away.

“What?” You almost laugh at his childishness.

“You keep secrets from me and Mom!”

“Dustin,” you announce, a smile on your face, “I’m so good at keeping secrets you wouldn’t know if I were keeping any secrets because that’s how good at keeping secrets I am!” You tell him.

“You threw up at our doorstep when you were coming home late at night two weeks ago and you said you had food poisoning from studying at Tammy’s house, but I know for a fact that it was because you were drinking at Steve‘s secret party!” Dustin blurts out. Silence follows. 

You face Steve, waiting for him to look you in the eyes. What else has he told your brother about you? “Thanks.” You smile angrily.

Steve mouths a ‘sorry’ as Dustin continues. “Unless you want Mom to know about that then I suggest you help us, okay?”

Thinking it over, you remember how mad your mom got last time you lied to her about studying with Steve when in reality you went to Carol’s party. And it was such a bust too, boring as shit, definitely not worth being grounded over. If she knows you were drinking, with Steve no less, she’d forbid you from ever seeing him - or the sun - again. 

“Did Camp No Friends teach you how to be so manipulative?” You ask your little brother, watching him as he stands from the booth.

Dustin just lets out a fake laugh, standing from the table and heading to the back room of Scoops. 

“My bad.” Steve tells you, giving you an apologetic smile, “It must’ve slipped.”

“Mhmm, I guess it must have.” You respond, turning to him as you both sit in the booth, “Luckily he doesn’t know about Tommy H’s party, right? Would be a shame if someone-”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Steve holds back a laugh, incredulous that you’d bring that night up, “Dustin would hate me if he knew I kissed his sister.”

You nod up at him, trying so hard to ignore how close his lips are to yours. “Yeah, he would.” You smile, raising your eyebrows mischievously. 

“Alright!” Steve tilts his head at you, pouting his lips, “I’m sorry for not being able to keep my mouth shut.”

“And?”

“And for getting overly friendly when I’m drunk.” He jokes, making you both laugh before together.

You and Steve follow Dustin to the back room of Scoops, where a very displeased Robin complains about how she had to close the shop on her own because Steve was ‘too busy making goo-goo eyes at Y/N.’

And now, here you all are. Plus Erica. Looking into a weird metal box. Steve opens it slowly and you all watch with curiosity as cold air flows out of it. “What the hell?” You remark.

“It’s definitely not Chinese food.” Steve states, looking back to the rest of the group, “Maybe you guys should, you know, stand back.” Gently placing his hand on your arm, Steve gives you a serious look before he pulls you behind him. Dustin protests. Loudly. 

“No.” Dustin shakes his head, looking into the box as he stands beside Steve.

The older boy pushes his little friend back slightly, “Seriously, come on, step back.” 

“No,” Dustin repeats, looking up at Steve with a serious expression, “If you die, I die.”

You watch the interaction, letting out a big sigh before stepping from behind Steve, who turns to you. “Not you too, come on, just-”

“You die, he dies, I die.” You shrug, giving Steve a nod before sending a small smile your brother's way. Dustin remains serious, giving you a curt nod back as if he’s some kind of US soldier. You and Steve both share another look before you give him a reassuring nod, mouthing ‘It’s okay’ to him.

 “Okay,” Steve mutters back, looking back to the cold metal. A few noises click as Steve opens the cylinder, pulling it out to reveal... “What the hell?” You and Steve both exclaim in unison.

“What is that?” Robin asks, eyeing the bright green liquid. 

Suddenly, the room shakes, making you grip onto your little brother's shoulders. “Did the room just shake?” Dustin asks, looking to you with wide eyes.

“No, no, no, I’m sure it’s all... fine.” You tell him, looking back to Steve with a less than convincing expression. 

“Booby traps.” Whispers Erica, her face full of fear. It’s a new look for her. The room shakes again. Your head snaps towards Dustin, whose eyes are even wider than they were two seconds ago. 

“You know what?” Announces Robin, moving to Steve and taking the vile from his hand, “Let’s just grab that. And go.” Dustin springs to action, moving to the buttons while you watch as Steve puts the container back. 

Steve turns to you, placing a hand on your shoulder, “You okay?” 

Trying to hide a smile, you shrug, “Yeah, I’m-”

“Which one do I press, erica?” Dustin calls out, his voice filled with anxiety at the fact that none of the buttons is working.

“Just press the damn button, nerd.” She shouts back as Robin places the vile inside her backpack.

“I’m pressing the button!” Dustin exclaims, making erica begin to shout louder. Robin then joins in on the shouting, causing Steve to sigh and examine the panel. The room shakes again, this time a red wall comes down, shielding you all from the exit. 

“What the hell did you do now?” You curse, rushing to see the panel of buttons, some lit some not. More noises. You look around, your heart speeding up as you wait for something else to happen. 

Suddenly, all at once, the elevator begins a descent into God knows where. Robin begins screaming, everyone clings to whatever they can. For Steve, that means you. He wraps his arms around you out of instinct, holding you close to his chest as the wind whips around the elevator. Your hand holds Dustin's as you fall together. 

“Shit, shit, shit!” You curse, squeezing your eyes shut as your free hand grips onto Steve’s shirt. You can barely hear him but you know he’s saying words of comfort as he holds you, trying to steady you two when the elevator suddenly stops. The air is knocked out of your lungs as everyone crashes to the ground. You land beside Steve, one leg over his. Grunting as you sit up, you look around for your brother, whose hand you lost amidst the crash. "Dustin!” You call out, ignoring the pain in your head, “Are you alright?”

“Perfect!” He grunts in frustration, standing up and immediately heading for the still closed door.

“Is everyone okay?” You shout, sighing with relief when you hear a string of yes, “Ugh, thank God.” You throw your head back, closing your eyes for a moment as you catch your breath.

Steve sits up slowly, placing a hand on your thigh to balance himself. He looks down at you, breathing quickly as you lay down. Steve places a hand on yours, “Why do we always get ourselves into situations like this?” He mumbles, eyebrows furrowed as he frowns and rolls his shoulder back and forth. 

“Shit,” you sit up to look at him, “Are you hurt?” Steve just shakes his head but you know he’s lying as he stands up, holding his hands out for you to take. He helps you stand and one of his hand lingers on yours. “Are you sure you’re okay?” you ask him, giving him a harsh look, “I know when you’re lying.”

A small smile makes it’s way to Steve’s lips as he gazes at you, slowly nodding. “As long as you’re alright, I’m alright.”

You look down, knowing your cheeks are probably turning red. “You must’ve hit your head pretty hard.” You smile up at him, raising your eyebrows at his demeanour. 

Steve stands still for a moment, shaking his head before looking up at you. “No, not at all.” He mumbles before gently placing both hands on either side of your face. You feel your cheeks heat up even warmer but you lean into his touch anyways. “Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“I, um-”

“Is this really the right time, guys?” Robin inquires, looking between the two of you. “Trust me, I want this to happen more than anyone. More than Steve, even, just so I don’t have to hear him talk about you every shift. But we‘re about to die in an elevator.”

You both pull away from each other and you immediately look to the floor, not meeting Steve or anyone's eyes whatsoever. “Yeah, you’re right,” Steve mutters, shaking his head slightly. He leans towards you, pressing a kiss to your cheek before turning to the group, “So, now what?”

[sinfulsoulx]

Summary: Dean x Reader are in a long term relationship. Reader gets possessed by a demon that’s intent on breaking her soul mate, lover & best friend Dean by making him believe she has never truly loved him. 

Warnings: angst, tears, heartache, language, possession, gun.

Word count: 1′282

Mun note: This hurt. That’s all I gotta say about this. Feedback is always welcome and wanted and if you ever wanna be tagged in future stuffs, drop me a dime! 

Y/N walked almost aimlessly into the bunker. Sweaty, dirty, a little bloody and over-all quite a state. And still, your boyfriend appeared, wrapping you in his arms with no hesitation. “Y/N, you’ve been gone two days...” Leaning back, he cupped your face and searched for an explanation.

Your mind was screaming. You had left to kill a vampire and somehow, ran into a demon. No time to call for help, you had to fight, but the demon caught the upper hand. They burned through the anti possession tattoo on your wrist and took you captive. 

Hell, it was a field day once they knew of your connection with the Winchesters, specifically the elder one. Rather than taking you, this demon wanted to destroy Dean - as many of them wanted the same thing, that part wasn’t surprising. What was frightening was the fact that they were going to make you do it. 

Dean was your everything, as you were his. You knew his every insecurity, vulnerability, fear, therefore, so did the demon - you didn’t even need to wonder how the black eyed creature was going to break down your lover. 

“We need to talk.” The demon muttered. In those two days, the demon had attuned itself perfectly to your every mood, tone, trait, memory, right down to the way you walked. It wanted to be convincing, it wanted Dean to fully believe this was you who was about to break his whole world.

No, no, no, no! Please! Please don’t do this. Take me, use me, just leave - leave, don’t- don’t hurt him! Your inner voice was wailing inside your own head. You couldn’t physically stop the words or the serious pair of eyes as they gazed into those beautiful green ones you adored so much it took your breath away. 

“I’m moving out, Dean.” The demon’s voice was as small as the one you would have whenever you were about to hit home with something emotive. “I- I wasn’t really on a vampire hunt. I needed some space. From hunting and- from you,” The demon forced your gaze to the ground, cleared your throat and wobbled your head. 

You could only watch in horror, as though you were watching a movie, but this was no chick flick, this was a hell-beast using you, your body, your mind, your voice, every inch of you, in order to break your boyfriend. And you knew, if he didn’t see the burned off possession tattoo, that he would believe it.

Dean was very insecure when it came to love, specifically, believing people outside of his brother, Sam, could love him unconditionally. That’s how you and consequently, the demon, knew this would work. It’s why the demon had put on your jacket, to cover the tattoo that would give the gig away.

“Y/N...” Dean didn’t know what to say, he didn’t understand. He was looking at you like you had just slaughtered a little puppy in-front of him. “Please, please don’t make this harder. I’m not happy, D. I’m- I’m miserable, I-” The demon perfected the way you would choke on your words when you were trying to explain something that upset you.

Honestly, you felt nauseous, so much so you damn well hoped it would impact the demon controlling you, but it didn’t. Of course it didn’t, that would be too easy. “Miserable?” Dean picked out that word, in a quiet tone, one you had never, ever heard before. He sounded... Nervous. Fuck, he sounded broken. 

“I don’t love you anymore, Dean. I’m not even sure I did at all and- and I’m sorry,” the demon forced tears to your eyes, flailed your hands out at your front, just like you would do when you were panicking. “I’ve been so lost and then I found you and Sam and- Well, you know, you know it was after I lost my father and,” the demon put hands over your face and arched forward briefly. 

“I’ve been realising lately that what I thought was love, was just security. You made me feel safe and... I don’t need that anymore. I can look after myself. And I’m sorry... I’m so sorry because... Because I know how hard it is for you to let someone in and I can’t believe I’m doing this to you but- It’s not right for me to lie.” Inside your own head, you hadn’t stopped begging the demon to stop, although it was obviously no use.

“You’re such a good man, Dean, you deserve everything... You deserve happiness and love and... I’m just... I’m not the one to give it to you.” God fucking damn, this demon almost had you convinced. Even if Dean wasn’t insecure, how the hell could he refuse this Oscar winning performance? 

Those words struck him like a lightening bolt, you could tell. The pain in his eyes was instant, the hitch in his breathing that seemed to get trapped inside his lungs, the glassy eyed vision that was born from him holding back tears, the clenched fists and jaw... And still, he was silent. 

For what seemed like a decade, he was quiet. He was studying you and you hoped and prayed that instinct would outweigh insecurity and he would know you would never, ever do this. “D, say something...” The demon whispered. 

Dean sucked in a breath as the first stray tear drops dropped like a fall from his eyes. “It’s okay.” He muttered. “What?” The demon whispered, continuing the facade of you perfectly. “I said it’s okay, Y/N,” Dean repeated.

His voice was broken. Defeated, but he smiled. God damn this beautiful, tragic man, he smiled, however heartbroken and betrayed, he didn’t yell at you. “Hell, I always thought I was punchin’ above my weight with you...” Dean shifted his footing, his shoulders tense, the tears obvious on his flushed cheeks. 

“You do what you gotta do for you. I won’t be the reason you’re rollin’ in the dirt.” Dean stepped to the side, as if to let you go to your room and pack. You were sobbing, screaming. Was that it? Dean thought that little of you? No. No. You had to remind yourself this wasn’t about you. It wasn’t. 

This was about decades of his own fears of losing people, or rejection. You’d fight this. Somehow you would fight this and make it right. Apparently luck was on your side because as the demon started to pass the elder Winchester, you were fuelled with that much rage and grief that something burst. 

You wobbled, eyes darting around, only needing a split second to realise you had taken control back. “Dean-” Spinning around, you gripped his arm and used your other to roll the sleeve of your jacket up. 

“Dean, it’s not me, I wouldn’t d-ahhh!” You cried out, hands flying to your head as the demon quickly forced you back down into your subconscious. “Y/N,” Dean yelled. He’d seen the broken anti possession tattoo. He knew. That’s what mattered. That’s how you knew everything would be fine... Right?

“Well,” The demon, in your voice and now with a set of pitch black eyes, pulled the gun from your jeans and aimed it towards Dean. “I only wanted to break your spirit. I guess now I gotta kill you. Can’t be lettin’ a Winchester roam free while I’m riding his girl,” the demon giggled in your sweet, soft tone. 

“You let her go right now or I swear I-” Dean’s tone was vicious, but was quickly halted as the demon turned the gun and pressed it under your chin. “Ah, ah, ah. You wouldn’t want me to pull this trigger now, would you, Winchester?”

TAGS;

@teddyboobear @dean-winchesters-bacon @akshi8278 @meganywinchester

[fulcrum-agent]

Prompt 14: Validation

((This is really long. Also, so as not to have much hit my inbox over it, pay attention to the way Ashla phrases things, as it gives a great deal of clarity to many things that make eyebrows raise.))

"I can deal though love. I will do what I have to make sure you are protected and safe. Part of my Oath as an Ashesworn," he answers, smiling at her as he squeezes her hand.

Her gaze moves to his hand as he squeezes it, though her brows furrow at his latter words.

"I...am still trying to get used to that terminology," she mentions to him, "typically the terminology is Royal Guard."

Now it is his turn to incline his head, asking, "Yes, but they are not Paladins like I am correct?"

"Most are, in fact, Paladins. The Lion is an anomaly for them; a single instance that such is granted, when someone from a family who has long served the Guard has no talent for magic," she explains to him. "They are allowed to select a different path, should they prove worthy of their family's position within the Guard."

He nods to her as he listens to her words, thinking aloud, "Oh, so different terms for different lands. Still, I do like the idea of being Ashesworn more than your Royal Guard. Makes me sound more devoted to you..."

He looks into her eyes for a moment, looking like he is trying to say something else but, can't yet.

She inclines her head slightly, a faint flush flickering over her cheeks as he speaks, turning a darker shade of pink the longer he stares at her. After a couple of breaths, she looks away from him, her gaze falling back to her hands.

"I can understand that, but that...is not something that should be making the rounds within the resistance. Were it to be believed that the princess was...in a relationship, that may not be accepted if the other person is not a native Dalmascan," she explains to him. "When we are in public, you must be the Royal Guard, not the ah, Ashesworn."

Something causes him to smile for a moment, hearing her say one thing made him look like he had won a Blitzball Tourney. "In a relationship huh? I am courting you it seems," he asks, his smile remaining on his face for the moment.

There's a startled expression, as she leans back reflexively, blinking two or three times at him; her nose and cheeks turn pink again, a vivid shade thereof.

"Th-that was not n-necessarily what I m-meant," she manages to stammer. "Tis w-what our...interactions would be t-taken as, I am sure. L-leo seems to believe as such, despite my words to him."

He watches her for a moment, thinking about it before he nods and stands up. Pacing back and forth as he breathes in and out, looking around for something round, getting the first piece of fruit he sees. Dropping it down, then catching it with his foot, he begins bouncing it up and kicking it around like he was 'dribbling' a Blitzball.

As he stands, her gaze follows him, watching as he takes the piece of fruit, blinking a little as instead of taking a bite from it, he begins to treat it much like a Blitzball. This is the first time she has seen him do anything related to the sport, which causes her to tilt her head, watching curiously.

Moments later, he stops, catching it on his foot before kicking it up and catching it in his hand. He moves back over to Ashe he sits beside her and looks to her eyes, as he states plainly, "Lady Ashla, I ask you to let me court you."

Once he stops and moves back to her, she begins to smile until he speaks again, at which point her eyes widen again; she seems unable to speak, her lips falling open in shock, yet no words sounding.

He looks into her eyes, doing his best to stay calm; waiting, waiting, waiting. He keeps the gaze on her, and what might be five seconds seems like fifty years in his mind right now. Abruptly, he smirks, before becoming frozen solid, and he doesn't say a thing. His face pure white, with a panic of perhaps breaking her mind with the question, his own starting to drift along the river of anxiety that threatened to breach his calm facade.

She notices the colour draining from his features, the subtle changes in his expression as he continues to stare at her, how the smirk doesn't entirely move properly, even if he means to hold it. This does make her realise that she should say something, even though she can't fathom what to say in response.

"W-what would that entail, Jon?" she manages to inquire, in something akin to a whisper. "I...did not get the chance to study such, even though Leo suggested doing so."

His response is less than measured, as he informs her, "Well, it's a relationship. One where we get to know each other, much like we are doing, as we decided if there's to be an engagement. So it would be much like what we do now, but with knowing more so where we are headed in everything."

At first, she nods at his words, until he gets to the last two words of his first sentence. She goes incredibly still at that point, a conflicted expression crossing her features as her gaze flits down to her left wrist, not so much as looking at the leather strip around it, but at what it hides.

"So...tis a serious arrangement?" she asks in low tones. "Tis a ...precursor to betrothal and marriage?"

There's less than a breath, before he nods to her, replying, "Yes, kind of..."

She blinks as he confirms precisely what the meaning of courtship is, keeping her gaze cast downward. Absently, her free hand reaches up to touch the stone pendant, toying with it as she considers everything.

"Jon, I---," she hesitates for a moment, before replying in a hushed voice, "I have always had th-this strange feeling that my parents would p-prefer, perhaps even demand, that I m-marry a Dalmascan. I-- I---..."

Her voice fades, as she doesn't find the words she's searching for, or perhaps she doesn't want to say them at all; it's difficult to discern.

"My parents wanted me to marry a person once to and I picked to live my own life. I picked to leave, to find my own way," he reminds her. "That led me to the Coliseum where I learned to fight. Where I won honours and was recruited as a Sultansworn. Thus leading me to learn the meaning of an Oath..."

He smiles at the redhead, reaching up to turn her face to look to him as he continues, his voice warm, "Then it led me to you...where my true Oath was waiting for me to take it. Where I felt a real calling, something I believed in and someone I believed, in with all of my soul and heart."

She continues to fidget with the necklace as he explains, biting her lower lip a little, rather realising the gravity of much of what he's saying before he even reaches to turn her face to his. She scarcely startles at the touch to her cheek and jaw, looking up to him from beneath her lashes until his touch levels their gazes.

"What-- what if I am the Princess, Jon?" she asks in a whisper. "What if-- if that is not what is expected by my parents, and the kingdom?"

Failing to see the problem, he smiles and states, "Then it's a good thing I'm of Noble birth, love."

Again, she bites her lip, then haltingly shakes her head a little, frowning at him.

"That-- that tis not precisely what I meant of the questions, Jon," she states, her voice shaky. "The people of Dalmasca would expect their princess to marry another noble Dalmascan..."

Her voice trails off, and she again tries to look away from him.

"Am I not such now? Didn't you say I am of Dalmasca when you knighted me, love?" he again reminds her, as he lets her turn away, not wanting her to see the bit of pain in his eyes at that moment.

There's a hesitation, as she searches for how to phrase it all to him in the least painful manner, her conflict writ across her features as she thinks.

"Your family, the nobles you came from, they are not Dalmascan. While you may be a Son of Dalmasca by the authority of the Sword," she deliberately states, "such does not extend to your family. I-- I would have to ask the Captain whether loyal service would...be enough."

She looks back to him, biting her lower lip again, conflict and guilt fighting for dominance on her features.

"Ashe, it's your choice..." he replies, unable to entirely hide the pain in his voice. "I'm sure your people would want you to be happy..."

Silence settles for a heartbeat after a heartbeat, as she considers what to do about the situation, her expression continues to flicker back and forth between guilt and conflict.

"I-- I think I would like to speak to Leo, before giving an answer, Jon," she states after a long moment, looking away again. "He...is like to have a better idea of such matters."

Sigh, he averts his gaze to look down himself, murmuring, "Leo can't tell you how you feel though, Ashe."

With a light sigh, she turns to look back at him, hesitating before responding to his words.

"No, he cannot, you are correct in that matter," she answers him in a hushed voice. "He can, however, explain to me what my responsibilities are."

This that makes him concede, and he nods a bit as he kisses her hand delicately, assuring her, "When you are ready than Ashe."

She manages to smile, though the motion is slight, and she nods to him.

"Thank you for understanding, Jon," she answers him, her overall expression morose. "I-- responsibility to a family is one thing, responsibility to the kingdom is another."

He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing escapes it as he shuts his mouth with a nod. Heading to the door, he opens it for her, waiting for her to lead the way.

Her nose wrinkles faintly as his mouth opens and closes, concern etching upon her features as he stands and moves away. She stands as he holds open the door, moving across the sitting area of the safe house.

She turns her gaze to him as she reaches the doorway, inclining her head to him, asking in a low voice, "Are...you all right?"

He looks to her for a moment, then he nods for a bit, saying what he wanted to before. "You have the responsibility to your family... your kingdom... but don't forget the responsibility to yourself."

The comment strikes her as something much like Leo would state, though she nods at him, pausing for a long moment before displacing them both to the estate in Limsa, nearer to the door than to the gate this time.

Once she was sure that they were both stabilised, she leads Jon to the door and actually knocks first.

The nobleman looks up, hearing rhythmic drumming against the door to his home. He gestures to his maidservant to get the door as he pours over his old texts, wine in hand, as ever.

The pair would be greeted by a blonde Miqo'te in maid garb, a light pink outfit made of delicate silk, satin, and lace, complete with frilly cuffs, and frilled brim.

"Leo's downstairs," she says rather gruffly, a surprising disconnect from her outwardly ladylike appearance. The door creaks slightly as she holds it open for the pair to enter.

She nods to the maid, smiling cordially to the woman as she leads Jon through the doorway, leading him across the dining room, to the stairwell, and down into the study.

The suitor follows, bowing his head to the maid as they pass her by. Upon seeing the elder nobleman, once he reaches the foot of the stairs, he nods to the man. "Cap'n."

"Leo..." she calls out in a hushed voice, looking towards his desk.

"Ah, Lady Ashla and Ser Corwell," he murmurs with a half-smile. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I...have a number of questions of import for you, Captain," she answers him, motioning to the couch. "You....are sober enough to walk to the sitting area, right?"

For once, she pauses to wait for a reply before moving away, gaze trained on the man who believes she sees him as a disgrace and nothing more, noting as he furrows his brow at her statement and question.

"Clearly," the highborn knight replies flatly, a faint sigh escaping his lips. It would seem despite their heart-to-heart the other evening, she was as cold as ever. He shrugged, taking it as a sign she was well enough.

"I am in the middle of securing a source of magicite for resistance weaponry. Pray tell, what is on your mind?" the noble asks, manoeuvring past the pair and helping himself to a seat in his armchair as the maid stands beside.

The suitor sits down, waiting for her to start. His face lacks the usual happy-go-lucky cheerful Blitzer the nobleman has seen every other time they have met.

For a moment, the mention of magicite is almost enough to distract her from their original reason for being here. She inclines her head as she sits, distinctly curious, but she shakes her head a little, murmuring, "...we shall have to discuss that at another time, undoubtedly."

She takes a long, deep breath, momentarily looking to her suitor before she looks back to the well-to-do knight.

"Do you recall all the noble etiquette from Dalmasca?" she inquires first.

"I am relatively familiar, why?" the noble asks, visibly surprised. "Frankly, I am shocked to see you here asking me about etiquette," he adds with a laugh, though upon seeing the other man's expression, he cuts himself short.

"Does this have to do with the Knighting?" the noble asks, his role as the new Captain giving rise to his past sense of duty.

No sooner than the question was asked, the suitor replies, assuring that such is not the case, from his view.

"I asked her to let me court her."

As her suitor speaks, she focuses on keeping her gaze more on the man in the armchair, instead of letting it flick between the Captain and admirer; she pauses briefly to consider her words.

"As such, it does indirectly relate to the knighting," she explains, selecting her words with great care. "Tell me, would it be of disappointment to the people of Dalmasca for their princess to marry a foreigner?"

The noble quirks an eyebrow and flashes a knowing smile as the suitor speaks, though he is almost not surprised at the revelation. Young love tends to move fast- a phenomenon that he lived through on his own.

"That depends. Are you the princess?" he inquires as, after recent events, the elder Dalmascan was certain of his own conclusion, however, he wanted to hear it from her directly.

Her head inclines, looking at the noble for a long moment, again selecting her words with care before she asks in kind, "Am I? I believe you, of all people, would be able to tell the difference."

She shrugs at him, continuing before the highborn man can respond, "Tis not a matter of whether I am or am not. Tis a matter of what would be proper considering the eyes upon us."

"Frankly, I care not. I daresay the scattered Dalmascans of the resistance would care much either." The nobleman replies flatly. "Where will I get my next meal? Will the skies be fair on the morrow?' These are the questions that weigh much more heavily on the mind of common folk, my lady. Worry not and be happy. If you see happiness in this man, then, by all means, seize it."

The elder knight then pauses to take a sip of his wine before setting it down atop the wooden table.

"Even the Lion himself had the chance to marry for love," the noble quipped.

"Courting is also the start of it all, Ashe. We would have time to see how your people react to the news, and handle it as we see fit," her suitor adds, as he looks over to her again. "And like the good captain said: they have a lot of other thoughts on their mind. Fairly, your finding a man that feels strongly about you and your cause, to the point of wanting to court you might bring a bit of joy in their lives more so than causing pain."

She considers both of the noblemen's words, before looking back to the other Dalmascan again.

"There is a distinct difference between the Lion and the Princess, that being Raminas," she answers that noble first, sighing. "While the Lion is a hero of Dalmasca, the princess is the daughter of King Raminas. Tis not something that is like to be lost in the horrors of war - if anything, tis more of a beacon of hope."

She glances at her suitor, before stating to the man who more and more acted as a father, "It is like that there was to be an arranged marriage before Nalbina fell and Raminas died. I wish to know if such was expected, or not."

At that, she looks to Jon, smiling dolefully, answering his words as well, "Tis possible that those remaining within the kingdom, and those scattered without shall find themselves fond of the idea that such a person exists, however, I would like to be sure of everything beforehand."

"It seems to me like you've your mind already made up, Lady Ashla." The nobleman replies with a shrug. "I see I am not the only one you hold to an unreasonably high standard - you seem to try to adhere to such yourself. While oddly commendable, it is not healthy for your own happiness. Know that I will not judge you one way or another and that Dalmasca's people might pleasantly surprise you."

After another long sip, the noble finishes his glass of wine; the maid swiftly begins to refill his glass.

"It is not a crime to pursue your own happiness. Even if it is not with Ser Corwell," the drinking man adds, with a small measure of caution, "I believe it is something you would do well to mull over."

Nodding, the suitor again chimes in, "I agree. I am going to be here for you either way. Like I said with my Paladin oath: you have my heart, always with you." He reaches over to place a hand on hers, as the other nobleman shudders visibly, having horrid flashbacks of himself saying those exact words to countless women in his past.

Her eyes had gone wide as the elder Dalmascan spoke, her jaw dropping a little, rather shocked at his words; she rather looks like he punched her in the gut, or of similar degrees.

"I-- hold myself to the standard that is required, Captain," she begins to answer, pausing as her suitor's hand comes to rest over hers; she does not startle this time.

After a long moment, she tries to finish her thought, "I plainly wish to do what is best for Dalmasca, Leo. That is all."

"I'm sure Dalmasca wants what is best for you, love," her suitor says with a smile, having noticed the fact she did not startle at his touch, this time.

The ageing hero smiles at them, though his attention shifts to her rather expeditiously.

"Of course, everyone in this room wants the same, Lady Ashla," he states, before taking a brief pause, the nobleman once more raising his glass to his lips. He lets out a satisfied sigh and continues to speak in a polite, even tone. "And when the war is ended, what then? When there are no battles left to fight?"

There's a long, poignant pause, as Ashe looks away to the fire again; at least her hand doesn't move from beneath her suitor's.

Inescapably, she looks back to them, replying in a low voice, "I refuse to think of such matters because of far too many people seeking my death. I prefer to expect the worse - that someone will take Garlemald up on the offer to fetch me for them, or return with my head as the bounty may have changed from the last update; I am expecting to die in this fight, I always have."

"That is too bad," the noble replied, shaking his head, clarifying with a murmur, "I fully intend to live and retire to a new home in Rabanastre when all is said and done. There are no shortages of people who want me dead."

Tugging the collar of his shirt and revealing the grisly scar across his chest as he firmly states, "I will not let them tear hope away from me. Once you do, you've already lost."

Her eyes are locked on the scar on the hero's chest, having noticed the scar at the start of their conversation last night, but now glimpsing the severity of the scar. Her expression becomes haunted, her eyes wide, yet full of concern, her lips forming a thin line as she purses them.

"Okay, then may I speak genuinely plainly, Ashla?" her suitor asks, leaning forward so as to look her dead in the eyes.

The focus on the scar is interrupted by Jon leaning forward, into her field of view. She blinks a number of times, reflexively leaning back ever so slightly, his words drawing her attention; her expression remains one of horror and concern, faint traces of fear flickering across her features.

"You are welcome to speak plainly whenever the three of us are the sole attendants," she answers him.

"If you are so sure you will die than tell me: how would you rather die - having been alone in life with no sense of love, or with me as your husband giving you a life full of love?" her suitor inquires, his hand still resting upon hers, his eyes keeping focused upon her own.

All the horror and fear upon her face vanishes at the suitor's statements and question, being replaced with one of shock, her eyes widening dramatically.

"I-- I c-cannot fully answer th-that, I-- I have n-no idea about any of th-that," she stammers to him, blinking again.

"Then think on it, Ashla," the man beside her requests, pausing before adding, "Just...don't say no for your people, when this is your life we are talking about. I...I care about you and want to make you happy."

There's another long moment where Ashe is altogether still and silent, blinking at an even rate as she looks at her suitor. Her attention flickers to the older noble, briefly, as she tries to consider everything.

"People...do not change overnight, I believe Leo of all people would understand such," she explains, in an oddly compassionate tone. "Such...ideas are entirely foreign to me, I shall need time to ah, come to an understanding with them."

"I don't expect an answer tomorrow, Ashe." the man beside her replies, laughing a little as his free hand reaches up to scratch the back of his neck.

The other noble has been nods along as the younger one spoke, listening attentively and agreeing with him, as the Dalmascan had tried to explain such concepts to her before, albeit in a much broader context.

"You deserve as much, Lady Ashla. Be it with Ser Corwell or otherwise, think on your future. We need more to fight for than lofty goals and ideals," the nobleman explains, hesitating before adding, "I...daresay I lost sight of what was truly important, seeing the truth after I had already lost everything."

She had looked back to her suitor as he spoke, smiling faintly at his answer, before the elder noble's words cause her expression to shift again. Her eyes fall to where the scar is on his chest, that haunted expression flickering over her features.

"I would be curious one day to hear your entire thoughts on what is truly important, Leo," she replies in a soft voice. "But perhaps now isn't the time. Tis rather late."

"Shall we head back to the barracks love?" the man beside her asks, looking from her to the man in the armchair, and back again.

Hesitating, she glances to the nobleman, seeking whether he had more to say.

"People," the ageing hero replies rather matter-of-factly. "People are important. What is a country but the sum of its citizens?" Concluding such with a nod.

"Aye, the hour is late and you've much to mull over, Lady Ashla," he concedes with a nod, his expression signalling for her to mind her words. "I will speak with you tomorrow at Krystallos, I am sure. Safe travels, you two."

Her suitor waits endearingly, wondering if she will return with him to the Hall, or remain at what is essentially her present home.

To the other Dalmascan's first words, that vague look of horror shifts to one of conflict, before she nods to his latter words.

"Aye, I am sure," she answers him, looking to her suitor with a small smile. "Let us head back to Ul'dah, Jon - allow Leo another night in his own, more comfortable bed."

"Allow him another month; I enjoy having you in bed with me," the younger noble replies, smiling as he stands and heads for the stairs, intent on opening the door for her.

She turns bright pink at her suitor's choice of wording, refusing to look at her kinsman as she stands and heads to the stairs after the younger knight, murmuring, "...we must work on your phrasing, Jon..."

"I said something wrong?" he states from the top of the stairs, looking over his shoulder as he moves for the door to add, "You are incredibly nice to rest with, Ashe; means a lot having you in my arms."

He laughs a bit, opening the door and standing to the side so she can exit.

Instead, she pushes the Blitzball player out of the door, without saying another word, letting it shut behind them, having never looked back at the Captain, who was assuredly smirking at all of it.

[ashe-xiv]

Validation

“I can deal though love. I will do what I have to make sure you are protected and safe. Part of my Oath as an Ashesworn," he answers, smiling at her as he squeezes her hand.

Her gaze moves to his hand as he squeezes it, though her brows furrow at his latter words.

"I...am still trying to get used to that terminology," she mentions to him, "typically the terminology is Royal Guard."

Now it is his turn to incline his head, asking, "Yes, but they are not Paladins like I am correct?"

"Most are, in fact, Paladins. The Lion is an anomaly for them; a single instance that such is granted, when someone from a family who has long served the Guard has no talent for magic," she explains to him. "They are allowed to select a different path, should they prove worthy of their family's position within the Guard."

He nods to her as he listens to her words, thinking aloud, "Oh, so different terms for different lands. Still, I do like the idea of being Ashesworn more than your Royal Guard. Makes me sound more devoted to you..."

He looks into her eyes for a moment, looking like he is trying to say something else but, can't yet.

She inclines her head slightly, a faint flush flickering over her cheeks as he speaks, turning a darker shade of pink the longer he stares at her. After a couple of breaths, she looks away from him, her gaze falling back to her hands.

"I can understand that, but that...is not something that should be making the rounds within the resistance. Were it to be believed that the princess was...in a relationship, that may not be accepted if the other person is not a native Dalmascan," she explains to him. "When we are in public, you must be the Royal Guard, not the ah, Ashesworn."

Something causes him to smile for a moment, hearing her say one thing made him look like he had won a Blitzball Tourney. "In a relationship huh? I am courting you it seems," he asks, his smile remaining on his face for the moment.

There's a startled expression, as she leans back reflexively, blinking two or three times at him; her nose and cheeks turn pink again, a vivid shade thereof.

"Th-that was not n-necessarily what I m-meant," she manages to stammer. "Tis w-what our...interactions would be t-taken as, I am sure. L-leo seems to believe as such, despite my words to him."

He watches her for a moment, thinking about it before he nods and stands up. Pacing back and forth as he breathes in and out, looking around for something round, getting the first piece of fruit he sees. Dropping it down, then catching it with his foot, he begins bouncing it up and kicking it around like he was 'dribbling' a Blitzball.

As he stands, her gaze follows him, watching as he takes the piece of fruit, blinking a little as instead of taking a bite from it, he begins to treat it much like a Blitzball. This is the first time she has seen him do anything related to the sport, which causes her to tilt her head, watching curiously.

Moments later, he stops, catching it on his foot before kicking it up and catching it in his hand. He moves back over to Ashe he sits beside her and looks to her eyes, as he states plainly, "Lady Ashla, I ask you to let me court you."

Once he stops and moves back to her, she begins to smile until he speaks again, at which point her eyes widen again; she seems unable to speak, her lips falling open in shock, yet no words sounding.

He looks into her eyes, doing his best to stay calm; waiting, waiting, waiting. He keeps the gaze on her, and what might be five seconds seems like fifty years in his mind right now. Abruptly, he smirks, before becoming frozen solid, and he doesn't say a thing. His face pure white, with a panic of perhaps breaking her mind with the question, his own starting to drift along the river of anxiety that threatened to breach his calm facade.

She notices the colour draining from his features, the subtle changes in his expression as he continues to stare at her, how the smirk doesn't entirely move properly, even if he means to hold it. This does make her realise that she should say something, even though she can't fathom what to say in response.

"W-what would that entail, Jon?" she manages to inquire, in something akin to a whisper. "I...did not get the chance to study such, even though Leo suggested doing so."

His response is less than measured, as he informs her, "Well, it's a relationship. One where we get to know each other, much like we are doing, as we decided if there's to be an engagement. So it would be much like what we do now, but with knowing more so where we are headed in everything."

At first, she nods at his words, until he gets to the last two words of his first sentence. She goes incredibly still at that point, a conflicted expression crossing her features as her gaze flits down to her left wrist, not so much as looking at the leather strip around it, but at what it hides.

"So...tis a serious arrangement?" she asks in low tones. "Tis a ...precursor to betrothal and marriage?"

There's less than a breath, before he nods to her, replying, "Yes, kind of..."

She blinks as he confirms precisely what the meaning of courtship is, keeping her gaze cast downward. Absently, her free hand reaches up to touch the stone pendant, toying with it as she considers everything.

"Jon, I---," she hesitates for a moment, before replying in a hushed voice, "I have always had th-this strange feeling that my parents would p-prefer, perhaps even demand, that I m-marry a Dalmascan. I-- I---..."

Her voice fades, as she doesn't find the words she's searching for, or perhaps she doesn't want to say them at all; it's difficult to discern.

"My parents wanted me to marry a person once to and I picked to live my own life. I picked to leave, to find my own way," he reminds her. "That led me to the Coliseum where I learned to fight. Where I won honours and was recruited as a Sultansworn. Thus leading me to learn the meaning of an Oath..."

He smiles at the redhead, reaching up to turn her face to look to him as he continues, his voice warm, "Then it led me to you...where my true Oath was waiting for me to take it. Where I felt a real calling, something I believed in and someone I believed, in with all of my soul and heart."

She continues to fidget with the necklace as he explains, biting her lower lip a little, rather realising the gravity of much of what he's saying before he even reaches to turn her face to his. She scarcely startles at the touch to her cheek and jaw, looking up to him from beneath her lashes until his touch levels their gazes.

"What-- what if I am the Princess, Jon?" she asks in a whisper. "What if-- if that is not what is expected by my parents, and the kingdom?"

Failing to see the problem, he smiles and states, "Then it's a good thing I'm of Noble birth, love."

Again, she bites her lip, then haltingly shakes her head a little, frowning at him.

"That-- that tis not precisely what I meant of the questions, Jon," she states, her voice shaky. "The people of Dalmasca would expect their princess to marry another noble Dalmascan..."

Her voice trails off, and she again tries to look away from him.

"Am I not such now? Didn't you say I am of Dalmasca when you knighted me, love?" he again reminds her, as he lets her turn away, not wanting her to see the bit of pain in his eyes at that moment.

There's a hesitation, as she searches for how to phrase it all to him in the least painful manner, her conflict writ across her features as she thinks.

"Your family, the nobles you came from, they are not Dalmascan. While you may be a Son of Dalmasca by the authority of the Sword," she deliberately states, "such does not extend to your family. I-- I would have to ask the Captain whether loyal service would...be enough."

She looks back to him, biting her lower lip again, conflict and guilt fighting for dominance on her features.

"Ashe, it's your choice..." he replies, unable to entirely hide the pain in his voice. "I'm sure your people would want you to be happy..."

Silence settles for a heartbeat after a heartbeat, as she considers what to do about the situation, her expression continues to flicker back and forth between guilt and conflict.

"I-- I think I would like to speak to Leo, before giving an answer, Jon," she states after a long moment, looking away again. "He...is like to have a better idea of such matters."

Sigh, he averts his gaze to look down himself, murmuring, "Leo can't tell you how you feel though, Ashe."

With a light sigh, she turns to look back at him, hesitating before responding to his words.

"No, he cannot, you are correct in that matter," she answers him in a hushed voice. "He can, however, explain to me what my responsibilities are."

This that makes him concede, and he nods a bit as he kisses her hand delicately, assuring her, "When you are ready than Ashe."

She manages to smile, though the motion is slight, and she nods to him.

"Thank you for understanding, Jon," she answers him, her overall expression morose. "I-- responsibility to a family is one thing, responsibility to the kingdom is another."

He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing escapes it as he shuts his mouth with a nod. Heading to the door, he opens it for her, waiting for her to lead the way.

Her nose wrinkles faintly as his mouth opens and closes, concern etching upon her features as he stands and moves away. She stands as he holds open the door, moving across the sitting area of the safe house.

She turns her gaze to him as she reaches the doorway, inclining her head to him, asking in a low voice, "Are...you all right?"

He looks to her for a moment, then he nods for a bit, saying what he wanted to before. "You have the responsibility to your family... your kingdom... but don't forget the responsibility to yourself."

The comment strikes her as something much like Leo would state, though she nods at him, pausing for a long moment before displacing them both to the estate in Limsa, nearer to the door than to the gate this time.

Once she was sure that they were both stabilised, she leads Jon to the door and actually knocks first.

The nobleman looks up, hearing rhythmic drumming against the door to his home. He gestures to his maidservant to get the door as he pours over his old texts, wine in hand, as ever.

The pair would be greeted by a blonde Miqo'te in maid garb, a light pink outfit made of delicate silk, satin, and lace, complete with frilly cuffs, and frilled brim.

"Leo's downstairs," she says rather gruffly, a surprising disconnect from her outwardly ladylike appearance. The door creaks slightly as she holds it open for the pair to enter.

She nods to the maid, smiling cordially to the woman as she leads Jon through the doorway, leading him across the dining room, to the stairwell, and down into the study.

The suitor follows, bowing his head to the maid as they pass her by. Upon seeing the elder nobleman, once he reaches the foot of the stairs, he nods to the man. "Cap'n."

"Leo..." she calls out in a hushed voice, looking towards his desk.

"Ah, Lady Ashla and Ser Corwell," he murmurs with a half-smile. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I...have a number of questions of import for you, Captain," she answers him, motioning to the couch. "You....are sober enough to walk to the sitting area, right?"

For once, she pauses to wait for a reply before moving away, gaze trained on the man who believes she sees him as a disgrace and nothing more, noting as he furrows his brow at her statement and question.

"Clearly," the highborn knight replies flatly, a faint sigh escaping his lips. It would seem despite their heart-to-heart the other evening, she was as cold as ever. He shrugged, taking it as a sign she was well enough.

"I am in the middle of securing a source of magicite for resistance weaponry. Pray tell, what is on your mind?" the noble asks, manoeuvring past the pair and helping himself to a seat in his armchair as the maid stands beside.

The suitor sits down, waiting for her to start. His face lacks the usual happy-go-lucky cheerful Blitzer the nobleman has seen every other time they have met.

For a moment, the mention of magicite is almost enough to distract her from their original reason for being here. She inclines her head as she sits, distinctly curious, but she shakes her head a little, murmuring, "...we shall have to discuss that at another time, undoubtedly."

She takes a long, deep breath, momentarily looking to her suitor before she looks back to the well-to-do knight.

"Do you recall all the noble etiquette from Dalmasca?" she inquires first.

"I am relatively familiar, why?" the noble asks, visibly surprised. "Frankly, I am shocked to see you here asking me about etiquette," he adds with a laugh, though upon seeing the other man's expression, he cuts himself short.

"Does this have to do with the Knighting?" the noble asks, his role as the new Captain giving rise to his past sense of duty.

No sooner than the question was asked, the suitor replies, assuring that such is not the case, from his view.

"I asked her to let me court her."

As her suitor speaks, she focuses on keeping her gaze more on the man in the armchair, instead of letting it flick between the Captain and admirer; she pauses briefly to consider her words.

"As such, it does indirectly relate to the knighting," she explains, selecting her words with great care. "Tell me, would it be of disappointment to the people of Dalmasca for their princess to marry a foreigner?"

The noble quirks an eyebrow and flashes a knowing smile as the suitor speaks, though he is almost not surprised at the revelation. Young love tends to move fast- a phenomenon that he lived through on his own.

"That depends. Are you the princess?" he inquires as, after recent events, the elder Dalmascan was certain of his own conclusion, however, he wanted to hear it from her directly.

Her head inclines, looking at the noble for a long moment, again selecting her words with care before she asks in kind, "Am I? I believe you, of all people, would be able to tell the difference."

She shrugs at him, continuing before the highborn man can respond, "Tis not a matter of whether I am or am not. Tis a matter of what would be proper considering the eyes upon us."

"Frankly, I care not. I daresay the scattered Dalmascans of the resistance would care much either." The nobleman replies flatly. "Where will I get my next meal? Will the skies be fair on the morrow?' These are the questions that weigh much more heavily on the mind of common folk, my lady. Worry not and be happy. If you see happiness in this man, then, by all means, seize it."

The elder knight then pauses to take a sip of his wine before setting it down atop the wooden table.

"Even the Lion himself had the chance to marry for love," the noble quipped.

"Courting is also the start of it all, Ashe. We would have time to see how your people react to the news, and handle it as we see fit," her suitor adds, as he looks over to her again. "And like the good captain said: they have a lot of other thoughts on their mind. Fairly, your finding a man that feels strongly about you and your cause, to the point of wanting to court you might bring a bit of joy in their lives more so than causing pain."

She considers both of the noblemen's words, before looking back to the other Dalmascan again.

"There is a distinct difference between the Lion and the Princess, that being Raminas," she answers that noble first, sighing. "While the Lion is a hero of Dalmasca, the princess is the daughter of King Raminas. Tis not something that is like to be lost in the horrors of war - if anything, tis more of a beacon of hope."

She glances at her suitor, before stating to the man who more and more acted as a father, "It is like that there was to be an arranged marriage before Nalbina fell and Raminas died. I wish to know if such was expected, or not."

At that, she looks to Jon, smiling dolefully, answering his words as well, "Tis possible that those remaining within the kingdom, and those scattered without shall find themselves fond of the idea that such a person exists, however, I would like to be sure of everything beforehand."

"It seems to me like you've your mind already made up, Lady Ashla." The nobleman replies with a shrug. "I see I am not the only one you hold to an unreasonably high standard - you seem to try to adhere to such yourself. While oddly commendable, it is not healthy for your own happiness. Know that I will not judge you one way or another and that Dalmasca's people might pleasantly surprise you."

After another long sip, the noble finishes his glass of wine; the maid swiftly begins to refill his glass.

"It is not a crime to pursue your own happiness. Even if it is not with Ser Corwell," the drinking man adds, with a small measure of caution, "I believe it is something you would do well to mull over."

Nodding, the suitor again chimes in, "I agree. I am going to be here for you either way. Like I said with my Paladin oath: you have my heart, always with you." He reaches over to place a hand on hers, as the other nobleman shudders visibly, having horrid flashbacks of himself saying those exact words to countless women in his past.

Her eyes had gone wide as the elder Dalmascan spoke, her jaw dropping a little, rather shocked at his words; she rather looks like he punched her in the gut, or of similar degrees.

"I-- hold myself to the standard that is required, Captain," she begins to answer, pausing as her suitor's hand comes to rest over hers; she does not startle this time.

After a long moment, she tries to finish her thought, "I plainly wish to do what is best for Dalmasca, Leo. That is all."

"I'm sure Dalmasca wants what is best for you, love," her suitor says with a smile, having noticed the fact she did not startle at his touch, this time.

The ageing hero smiles at them, though his attention shifts to her rather expeditiously.

"Of course, everyone in this room wants the same, Lady Ashla," he states, before taking a brief pause, the nobleman once more raising his glass to his lips. He lets out a satisfied sigh and continues to speak in a polite, even tone. "And when the war is ended, what then? When there are no battles left to fight?"

There's a long, poignant pause, as Ashe looks away to the fire again; at least her hand doesn't move from beneath her suitor's.

Inescapably, she looks back to them, replying in a low voice, "I refuse to think of such matters because of far too many people seeking my death. I prefer to expect the worse - that someone will take Garlemald up on the offer to fetch me for them, or return with my head as the bounty may have changed from the last update; I am expecting to die in this fight, I always have."

"That is too bad," the noble replied, shaking his head, clarifying with a murmur, "I fully intend to live and retire to a new home in Rabanastre when all is said and done. There are no shortages of people who want me dead."

Tugging the collar of his shirt and revealing the grisly scar across his chest as he firmly states, "I will not let them tear hope away from me. Once you do, you've already lost."

Her eyes are locked on the scar on the hero's chest, having noticed the scar at the start of their conversation last night, but now glimpsing the severity of the scar. Her expression becomes haunted, her eyes wide, yet full of concern, her lips forming a thin line as she purses them.

"Okay, then may I speak genuinely plainly, Ashla?" her suitor asks, leaning forward so as to look her dead in the eyes.

The focus on the scar is interrupted by Jon leaning forward, into her field of view. She blinks a number of times, reflexively leaning back ever so slightly, his words drawing her attention; her expression remains one of horror and concern, faint traces of fear flickering across her features.

"You are welcome to speak plainly whenever the three of us are the sole attendants," she answers him.

"If you are so sure you will die than tell me: how would you rather die - having been alone in life with no sense of love, or with me as your husband giving you a life full of love?" her suitor inquires, his hand still resting upon hers, his eyes keeping focused upon her own.

All the horror and fear upon her face vanishes at the suitor's statements and question, being replaced with one of shock, her eyes widening dramatically.

"I-- I c-cannot fully answer th-that, I-- I have n-no idea about any of th-that," she stammers to him, blinking again.

"Then think on it, Ashla," the man beside her requests, pausing before adding, "Just...don't say no for your people, when this is your life we are talking about. I...I care about you and want to make you happy."

There's another long moment where Ashe is altogether still and silent, blinking at an even rate as she looks at her suitor. Her attention flickers to the older noble, briefly, as she tries to consider everything.

"People...do not change overnight, I believe Leo of all people would understand such," she explains, in an oddly compassionate tone. "Such...ideas are entirely foreign to me, I shall need time to ah, come to an understanding with them."

"I don't expect an answer tomorrow, Ashe." the man beside her replies, laughing a little as his free hand reaches up to scratch the back of his neck.

The other noble has been nods along as the younger one spoke, listening attentively and agreeing with him, as the Dalmascan had tried to explain such concepts to her before, albeit in a much broader context.

"You deserve as much, Lady Ashla. Be it with Ser Corwell or otherwise, think on your future. We need more to fight for than lofty goals and ideals," the nobleman explains, hesitating before adding, "I...daresay I lost sight of what was truly important, seeing the truth after I had already lost everything."

She had looked back to her suitor as he spoke, smiling faintly at his answer, before the elder noble's words cause her expression to shift again. Her eyes fall to where the scar is on his chest, that haunted expression flickering over her features.

"I would be curious one day to hear your entire thoughts on what is truly important, Leo," she replies in a soft voice. "But perhaps now isn't the time. Tis rather late."

"Shall we head back to the barracks love?" the man beside her asks, looking from her to the man in the armchair, and back again.

Hesitating, she glances to the nobleman, seeking whether he had more to say.

"People," the ageing hero replies rather matter-of-factly. "People are important. What is a country but the sum of its citizens?" Concluding such with a nod.

"Aye, the hour is late and you've much to mull over, Lady Ashla," he concedes with a nod, his expression signalling for her to mind her words. "I will speak with you tomorrow at Krystallos, I am sure. Safe travels, you two."

Her suitor waits endearingly, wondering if she will return with him to the Hall, or remain at what is essentially her present home.

To the other Dalmascan's first words, that vague look of horror shifts to one of conflict, before she nods to his latter words.

"Aye, I am sure," she answers him, looking to her suitor with a small smile. "Let us head back to Ul'dah, Jon - allow Leo another night in his own, more comfortable bed."

"Allow him another month; I enjoy having you in bed with me," the younger noble replies, smiling as he stands and heads for the stairs, intent on opening the door for her.

She turns bright pink at her suitor's choice of wording, refusing to look at her kinsman as she stands and heads to the stairs after the younger knight, murmuring, "...we must work on your phrasing, Jon..."

"I said something wrong?" he states from the top of the stairs, looking over his shoulder as he moves for the door to add, "You are incredibly nice to rest with, Ashe; means a lot having you in my arms."

He laughs a bit, opening the door and standing to the side so she can exit.

Instead, she pushes the Blitzball player out of the door, without saying another word, letting it shut behind them, having never looked back at the Captain, who was assuredly smirking at all of it.

((Source))