#the whole thing was a mess but written prettily enough to appeal to some people but that is a topic that’s been covered

[afarthestarsarewaiting]

One day I will stop looking up triggering things on the internet I promise

[aliveanddrunkonsunlight]

Amazing race or Modern P&P?

Amazing Race - So, uh, this has been sitting in my Google docs for over a year. It’s never going to get written, so I’m gonna post all of it.

The first day of the race is the hottest day of the year in London. Brienne said goodbye to her dad, making sure he knew where all of the production office phone numbers were, in case he needed to get in touch with her. “I’ll be fine, love.” He said and kissed her on the cheek. “Have a lovely time.” They’d exchanged a long hug in the entryway, guilt clawing at her chest, before she swung her backpack onto her shoulders and walked out to where the scheduled car waited for her. 

The Race had been a popular show in the States for over a decade. With ratings dropping, the producers had decided to partner with media companies across the world and open the competition to participants worldwide. Instead of having competitors audition for the show in pairs, or “teams” as the producers called them, this season was also different because everyone auditioned individually. 

Once Brienne learned she was going to be on the show, she received an email which included fact sheets on all the other participants. Contestants were supposed to look at all the profiles and narrow down their choice for a teammate to three or four people. On the first day of shooting--today--they would have a chance to meet, interview, and pick their teammates. She was dreading that bit. Despite her size and strength, she’d always been picked last for team sports in school, and she could do without being retraumatized by it as an adult. She’d been diligent about doing her research on the other participants and stuck her top three list in her back pocket.

The car takes her all the way to the north side of Tower Bridge, where Brienne has instructions to get out and walk across. Her driver wishes her luck and hands her a bottle of water as she loads on her pack. She’s going to be a sweaty mess before she even arrives at the start. 

Reminding herself of her yoga breathing, Brienne stares out at the slow moving water of the Thames for a few seconds before she starts her walk across. She has to dodge around tourists, her pack gets jostled as people pass, and Brienne starts to understand why the producers asked them to do this. It’s good training for the rest of the race. She knows they will be traveling through tight spaces with their backpacks and probably in hotter conditions than London’s. Once she reaches the south end of the bridge, she can see people in purple Race shirts. “Hi!” One of them greets as she approaches. “You must be Brienne Tarth?”  

She can feel her adrenaline kick in and all she wants is to do this. To get started. The young woman gives Brienne instructions, but she’s barely listening. At the bottom of the stairs of the bridge, someone else wearing a Race shirt directs her to the right. 

Brienne blinks, trying to take in the scene. There’s a small park, which is blocked off for filming, and she can understand why they picked it, as it’s nestled between City Hall and Tower Bridge. Not to mention that on the other side of the Thames is the Tower of London and a view of a few of the modern skyscrapers added to London’s skyline in the last few years. “Brienne?” she hears a familiar voice and looks up to see Catelyn Stark striding towards her, her long auburn hair piled up on her head in a messy, but elegant bun. Catelyn was half the reason she was here at all. “We’re starting to gather all the contestants so we can start filming you choosing your partners.” 

The older woman gestures for someone and a minute later, a young woman with a slightly upturned nose and glittering brown eyes is standing in front of Brienne, dotting her face with a makeup brush. “You have lovely skin,” the young girl tells her. “Just taking away some of that shine for camera.” 

Surveying her fellow contestants is a surreal feeling. She recognizes them all, due to the producers’ email, and her own time spent narrowing down a top three list. Brienne has to wonder if the others did as much research on her as she has on them. Her gaze continues around the circle until she spots him. 

He is somehow even more beautiful than his pictures. His golden hair glitters brightly in the sunlight. He’s cut it since casting, it’s cropped closer now, but it doesn’t make him look any less attractive. There’s a slight smile on his face, as if all this is entertaining more than anything, and he keeps raising his eyebrows when anyone meets his gaze. He hasn’t noticed her staring. Yet. 

The strangest thing about him is while most people are dressed in athletic wear, he’s wearing a white button up shirt. Anyone else might look out of place, like they’re wearing their father’s suit, but he has the sleeves rolled up, showing off his tanned forearms, and he looks relaxed. She hates him for it because she feels as if she’s about to lose her breakfast. 

He folds his arms across his chest and she can see the swell of his bicep through his shirt. Seriously, fuck him. 

Except he had the best resume by far. He had grown up splitting time between Spain, Denmark, and the United States, so he had knowledge of several languages. Had played all variety of sports his whole life, although he preferred lacrosse and football. He’d even played in a professional league, but when he injured his right knee, he’d had to give up any burgeoning professional career. 

She knows she’s probably not even on his radar, so she’ll have to approach him quickly once the producers give them permission. Cameras and crew seem to be circling around, so perhaps it’s time. Brienne feels her gut tightening with nerves. Catelyn comes to the middle of their circle, a clipboard under her arm, and makes a short welcome speech. “Okay, once I step out of the circle, a horn will sound, and you are free to approach each other to choose your team.” She tosses a wink at Brienne and then the horn buzzes. 

She’s taken all of a single step when she notices Jaime striding towards her. “Hi, I’m Jaime.” He smiles and she expects two rows of dazzling white teeth, but she notices a couple of his bottom ones are crooked. It makes him all the more appealing, somehow, knowing someone who looks like him has flaws. He extends a hand, shaking hers. 

“Uh, hello, yes, I know. From the producers’ email?” She stutters, eyes averted. He’s too pretty to look at for too long. She takes a breath, steadying herself. “Anyway, I’m Brienne.” 

“Hello, Brienne. So why should you be my teammate?” 

Now she looks him levelly in the eye. “I’m strong.” He crooks an eyebrow up at his, perhaps impressed by her candor. “I’ve done sports for most of my life. Fencing, football, rowing. I came in fourth at Olympics qualifying three years ago.”

“Brava,” he says, slightly snidely, but pushes on. “Any languages?”

“Italian. A little Greek.” When this earns her another surprised look from Jaime, she explains, “My father is a classics professor.” She is about to ask why she should pick him, even though she’s mostly had her mind made up about him for weeks, when another contestant, a slim girl with long brown hair curled carefully, comes over to Jaime and touches him on the arm. 

“Hi, I’m Margaery.”

“Uh, hi,” Jaime says, a little distractedly, and Brienne can understand why. Unlike most of the other women here, who are wearing tank tops and leggings, Margaery is wearing only a sports bra, her midriff bare, showing off her tiny waist. Not to mention her sports bra appears to be a push-up one--Brienne didn’t even know they made those, but of course they do--because her breasts have an amazing amount of cleavage for someone so petite. Jaime can barely keep his eyes on her face. She lets out a sigh, realizing her top pick for teammate all too easily has fallen for the nearest pretty thing. But before she can step away to talk to her second choice, Jaime manages to tear himself away from the young woman long enough to tell her, “It was nice to meet you, Brienne.”

Maybe hope isn’t lost after all. 

When the twenty minutes are up, they all stand in a circle again and announce their top choices. There are some complicated rules about what happens if multiple people pick the same person, but they’re fair rules, so Brienne is fine with it. She’s too busy trying not to freak out that she didn’t plan this strategically enough, because now it’s obvious to her that everyone will want Jaime as a partner, and she should have selected someone else as her first choice. But it seems too late to change it now. She’d spoken with her second and third choice and they’re both lovely, but they’re not Jaime. To her, he was the only partner who could match her athletically, thus giving them the best chance of winning the grand prize: a million dollars.

Her heart hammers in her chest. The announcement is alphabetical, so it means she probably has to go first, except the cameraman is setting up in front of someone else. Addam. Oh thank god.

Another cameraman approaches her, but she barely has time to think about it, because Addam is already announcing his pick. “Margaery.” Margaery’s eyes widen, but she covers quickly, smiling prettily and giving him a small wave.

“Brienne,” the cameraman whispers, prompting her. “Jaime,” she says solemnly. He smiles politely and nods at her, his expression giving nothing away about how he feels. A couple other people pick him as well and they’re not even through the first half of the alphabet yet. It doesn’t really matter, she tells herself. It’s over. Jaime will pick Margaery and Margaery will pick him. 

She’s so caught up in her thoughts she’s barely paying attention when the cameraman finally focuses on Jaime. He flashes that million watt smile and says, Margaery. “Brienne.” 

What? She opens her eyes--she hadn’t even realized they were closed--and stares at him, mouth half open. Oh god, she is an idiot. He lets out a small laugh and winks at her.