#because making sure team isn’t picked on is more important than what anyone else thinks or knows about him

[thebroccolination]

Standing up to your best friend to protect your crush during a game of spin-the-bottle: truth edition?

This is the cutest thing Win’s ever done and I want it etched on my tombstone.

[leclercsluvs]

LN4 | Our Forever Moment

an: i still don't really know how much i like to make written fics, but i have ideas for them so i'm going to continue to try and write them, i think. my first language is NOT english, so sorry if there's any mistakes <3 pairing: lando norris x fem!reader, vasseur!reader (this is gonna be fun, lowkey not important, gets mentioned like a few times because i forgot) warnings: swearing (like twice) inspired by: mine - taylor swift word count: 6.2k

As she’s being dragged to another race, she wonders when her dad is going to realize she's always running off and never in the garage of his own team, she doesn’t know that he’s fully aware she’s never there. She’s been welcomed by everyone she’s visited though, which does make him happy. She mostly goes to Mercedes and Red Bull, but lately Mclaren has been looking quite interesting. 

“Are you going to stay in the Ferrari garage today? Or am I gonna have to send someone over to Red Bull or Mercedes to find you?" Fred looks at yn with a playful smile.

“I didn’t think you noticed.” She's quite shocked. He always seemed to switch off being a dad whenever they stepped into the garage, so it never even occurred to her that he even wanted her there.

“Who do you think sends someone after you at the end of the day?” He turns back around as they get closer, “I think you, Charles and Carlos would be great friends if you gave them a chance,” they turn and walk into the Ferrari hospitality. “Oh speaking of boys, have you found a boyfriend I need to approve of?” He quickly looks back to see her surprised face before he turns back to see where he’s going, even though he could probably navigate it blindfolded.

“Well first of all, you wouldn’t need to approve of him, this isn’t the middle age,” yn lets out a small laugh, “and second, all of my relationships have failed, you’re partly to blame for pulling me to almost every race, and then I guess I’m just not girlfriend material.” She follows her dad around, because even if she does get pulled to all races, she usually doesn't hang out here for more than 5 minutes before she’s off to find Max or George. 

“Chérie, anyone not willing to spend the short time you're home isn’t worth your time,” he stops in his track turns around and puts a hand on her shoulder, “and I’m not sure if I ever said it, but if you truly would prefer to stay home and only travel to a few, that is fine. I would understand.”

She gives him a reassuring smile, “I know. You wouldn’t have been able to drag me out of the house if I didn't truly want to be here.”

He gives one quick smile before continuing walking, and before she knows it, she’s left to herself because he’s needed for something important.

~~~

It doesn’t take long for Charles to spot yn, sitting by herself, because apparently everyone else is busy today. “Yn? what are you doing here? I thought you’d be off doing something with Max?” Charles looks around to see if Max is around and he just hadn't seen him, but it’s a lost cause, which he should have realized, Max wouldn’t be seen anywhere near anything related to Ferrari. Except for Charles of course.

“No he’s busy. Everyone suddenly got busy.” She looks back down at her phone and the messages between her and her friend, however it would be rude to text back while Charles is in front of her, so she turns it off and stuffs it in her pocket. “I don't really remember the last time everyone, well except for you I guess, was busy at the same time.” 

“Well, I’m meeting Lando and Oscar for lunch, do you want to join us?” Charles asks with a smile, flashing some cute dimples. Not that anything could ever happen between the two. As attractive as Charles may be, her dad was his boss, and nothing good was going to come out of that. 

“I think I’d like that,” she smiles back as she picks up her bag with her essentials, “it’s nothing fancy right? I didn’t really get dressed for something over the top.” She looks down at the ripped jeans and the oversized t-shirt that she’s wearing. Not exactly the cutest outfit.

~~~

“So you still live with your dad?” Oscar asks curiously, they all seemed fairly happy she was invited by Charles. And Oscar, who she hadn’t really spent any time with, has been asking a lot of questions. 

“I do. I may be 21, but living at home is just a little easier. And I like spending time with my dad, even if I run off to other teams at the first chance I get.” She answers as she takes another bite of her food. Lando has been awfully quiet and it didn’t go over yn’s head. She was fully aware of how glued his eyes were to his food. 

“Is it weird? That your dad is responsible for a Formula 1 team?” Oscar almost forgets to eat, because of all the questions he’s asking.

“It was in the beginning, but I've gotten used to it by now,” she takes a sip of water. “Is he always this quiet?” yn looks at the way Lando is poking his food “and is he always just poking his food?” She questions, making Lando's eyes move up for just a split second and then back down to his food.

“No. He’s usually pretty chatty, maybe he’s just nervous for tomorrow," Oscar says, finally eating some of his food. “He doesn’t usually get like this before a race though,” Oscar leans his head a little to the side as if thinking about it, before poking a finger in Lando’s side making him jump a little. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” Oscar asks.

“Maybe he’s got a new crush,” Charles jokes, taking a bite of food just as Lando suddenly coughs and gulps down water.

“Are you okay?” Yn asks as Lando suddenly gets up from his chair avoiding any and all eye contact.

“No, I’m actually not feeling so great. I think I’ll have to cut this short if I want to be good to go by tomorrow.” He quickly gathers his things as everyone looks confused. “Bye!” And then he’s out of there.

“Well that was weird.” Oscar says as he goes back to eating

“Do you think it was me?” Yn looks at the rest of the men sitting around the table, a little sad that she may have ruined their lunch.

Charles smiles. “Yes,” he says, looking at yn, “but in a good way. I think I might be right, even if it was just a joke.” He lets out a laugh. “I’m sure there’s some truth to it.” He goes back to eating, and so does yn, deciding that maybe she’ll talk to Lando in private.

~~~

On his way back to the hotel, Lando struggles to figure out his emotions. Of course yn is absolutely gorgeous. But considering she’s Fred's daughter he wouldn’t dare to think of her as anything but a friend. He may not race for Ferrari, but he still has a lot of respect for the man. And Lando knows about his reputation of not being able to keep his relationships going for long. Hopefully he can just subtly ignore her. Because the feelings, and thoughts he had during that lunch were not friendly. And before he even considers anything, he needs to make sure his feelings for her are romantic, and not just him finding her pretty.

~~~

Lando spent close to 4 months avoiding yn to the best of his abilities, and when he wasn’t ready and she caught him off guard he made up some weird excuse about needing to look at data, test the car, try some new Mclaren merch for photoshoots. Yn usually knew they were lies, and wondered why Lando was so set on avoiding her. To be quite honest, it brought down her mood, and she spent more and more time in the Ferrari garage and hospitality. Her dad sensed something was wrong. She was rarely there and suddenly she never left? Something was going on and he was going to get the bottom of it. 

“I see you’re spending time here today,” Fred sat across from yn. She was eating lunch. Alone. That was how she spent most of her time lately. All alone. Lando had unknowingly made her really anti-social.

“I guess.” She poked a little at the salad she had bought. She didn’t really want it anymore. 

“Did the others have plans?” Fred asks, looking around.

“I’m not sure.”

“Is something bothering you?” Fred asked, concerned for her daughter who used to have a lot to talk about. A lot of people to talk to, and who never spent time at lunch alone in Ferrari.

“Nope.” Fred sighed. He wasn’t going to get any answers. If it was because she genuinely just didn’t feel like talking today or if there was something wrong, he wasn’t sure. But he was gonna ask Max, or maybe Lewis to talk to her. He didn’t want her to be lonely. He got up from his chair. He had to get this started immediately. 

Fred’s quest to find Lewis was surprisingly easy. He found the soon-to-be Ferrari driver hanging out with Charles and Carlos near their own garage. “Lewis! Can we talk?” Fred called out before he reached them. Lewis just nodded and started walking towards Fred.

“Is it about my contract?” Lewis asked cautiously. He knew he hadn’t been performing that great in the Mercedes this year and was afraid Fred was going to only make it a year so he could be finished with him.

“No. I need you to talk to yn. She's suddenly spending a lot of time with Ferrari, but alone. Which, as you may know, isn’t where, or how, she usually spends her time.'' Fred looks really concerned, and it’s like it’s transferred to Lewis immediately. He’s known yn ever since her dad started dragging her along. She would usually spend time with George when she went to Mercedes, but sometimes when George wasn’t there and she just wanted to be somewhere else, Lewis and yn would play some games. Usually chess. Lewis was definitely better than yn but she still loved it. They could often lose track of time and suddenly one from the Mercedes team would come and get Lewis to either do some media related stuff or because it was time to get ready for a race.

“Of course! Now that you mention it, I haven't seen her around Mercedes for quite some time now. I’ll see what I can do, if I can't figure it out, I'll have Max ask her. They’ve always had quite a special bond I don't understand” Lewis gives the man a reassuring smile and a clap on the shoulder “Don’t worry, we’ll get her back to her talkative self very soon.”

“Thanks Lewis,” Fred looks relieved, but only for a second when his eyes widen. “Do you think Max did something to her? To make her feel this way?” He looks around as if he's scanning the surroundings for Max. And good thing he isn’t around. It wouldn’t have been a good outcome.

“I doubt it. He’s always been nice. Especially to her,” when he realizes how that may sound to the man in front of him and the way his eyes narrow, he quickly adds “as a friend. Not romantically. I’m pretty sure he’s actually in a relationship.” Fred seems to almost relax at those words and gives Lewis a quick pat on the shoulder

“Hurry up and get my daughter back. I miss her.” and with that he walks off. Hopefully not to find Max. And if so, Lewis sure is glad he isn’t Max right now.

~~~

When Lewis finally finds yn sitting just on the outside of the track he’s surprised she was allowed. But then again she probably just mentioned being Fred's daughter and she was allowed. “Hey there. Looking cozy. Mind if I join you?” He doesn’t wait for a response, just sits down next to her on the grass.

“What do you want?” She asks. Not really feeling the company right now.

“You haven’t been spending much time with George lately. Have you been spending more time with Max?”

“No.” Straight to the point. But not really the point Lewis was looking for.

“Have you been spending time with Charles and Carlos? Since you’re spending so much time with Ferrari at the moment?”

“Would that be a crime?” She looks at Lewis, and he sees something different. Her eyes don't look as alive as they usually do. They’re missing the glow that makes yn herself.

“Yn, is something wrong? You know you can talk to me. Or Max,” he waits for a second, not sure if he should continue, but as she starts plucking at the grass without answering he decides she needs to know. “Your dad is worried about you.”

“Oh.” She answers, plucking a few more grass straws

“Did something happen?” Lewis asks, trying a different approach.

“I don't know. Maybe you should ask Lando.” Lewis is unsure what Lando has to do with this entire situation, but he promised Fred to get to the bottom of it, so he will.

“Did he do anything?” Lewis is ready to fight Lando. “If so, I’ll gladly talk to him”

“Well, maybe he’ll talk to you,” yn shrugs and gets up from the grass. “I have no idea what I did to him. He seemed happy enough about me being invited to join him, Oscar, and Charles for lunch a couple months ago, and then during lunch he was so quiet, barely looking up from his food and then he suddenly said he wasn’t feeling great and needed to leave.” Yn turns around and looks at Lewis, tears starting to form in her eyes. “He has ignored me ever since. Every time I’ve tried to talk to him he either runs away or makes up some dumb excuse to get away from me,” she wraps her arms around herself as if to protect herself. “I’m sorry,” she says, shakes her head and turns around again and starts walking away. “I shouldn't have put all of this on you. I'm probably just overthinking it anyway.”

"Wait!" Lewis is quick to get up from the grass and gets a hold of yn’s arm, ”I’m glad you told me. Let me talk to Lando. See if I can figure out why he’s avoiding you. Maybe there’s a reason,” yn smiles a small smile, but it’s better than the empty expressions she's had lately. “Nice to see you’re still capable of smiling.” Lewis returns it with a smile of his own and guides her towards the Mclaren hospitality. “Now let’s get to the bottom of this.”

“Thank you. Not just for this, but also for always putting up with my bullshit.” Yn looks straight ahead. She wasn’t exactly planning on saying any of that, but oh well. It won’t hurt anyone. 

Lewis just laughs and pushes her lightly. “You should be grateful. It's impossible to keep putting up with it.” If he wasn’t laughing while saying it, she would have been hurt, but she just laughs with him and follows him, to hopefully get some answers from Lando.

~~~

Lando was not expecting to see Lewis, so he wasn’t able to run off as quickly as he usually does, and when he spots yn behind Lewis, he tries to make up some excuse about having to talk to an engineer about a possible car problem but Lewis stops him. “Lando. That’s enough.” He puts a hand on Lando's shoulder before he gets a chance to run off. “Why do you keep running away from yn?”

Lando sighs, he can’t run away from it anymore. “I kinda would prefer for this conversation to happen between just me and yn.” He runs a hand through his hair and down the back of his neck. 

Lewis looks back at yn, then at Lando, then back at yn, “are you fine with that?” He asks, while she nods and follows Lando into his drivers room

“So.” Lando starts, not really sure how to get the conversation going.

“Why have you been ignoring me for the past 4 months?” Yn asks, wanting to get this solved as soon as possible. “Did I say something that upset you so much during lunch that day?” Yn can feel the tears threatening to spill over, but she would like to get through this conversation without crying.

“No! Oh my god. Not at all!” He turns around because he’s not sure he can look at her while telling her this. “I think I might, sort of, have feelings for you.” The room is filled with silence. Lando is almost afraid she ran out of the room, If it wasn't for the fact he could hear her breathing. 

“So you decided the best action was to avoid me?” Yn asks, with a playful grin. If she had known this was all it was she would have had someone talk to him earlier. 

Her playful tone makes Lando turn around with a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have ignored you or run off every time you tried talking to me. I was just afraid I would end up spilling a full love confession, and I’m not sure your dad would be too happy with that.”

“Well he doesn’t get a say in my love life.” Yn closes the distance between her and Lando. 

“I suppose you’re right.” Lando takes a step forward, making the distance between them smaller.

“So are you going to be doing anything about it?” Yn tilts her head slightly.

“When I have planned it,” Lando smiles and takes a step back as he feels a vibration in his pocket. “Damn, I actually do have to go now,” a text from his engineer asking him to come back for a meeting. Lando grins and walks towards the door, “but you're totally free to stay here until I’m back. And trust me, I’ll be spending the entire meeting planning the perfect way to ask you out.” He flashes a quick smile before he's out of the door and yn is left alone in the room. But this time being all alone is different. She doesn't feel all alone. She’s the happiest she’s been in four months.

~~~

“I have the perfect plan.” Lando and Oscar are doing a track walk just to have something to do and make sure the track is fresh in their memory for the practice the next day. 

“Yeah?” Oscar isn’t really sure it’s going to be as perfect as Lando thinks it is. “Are you totally sure about that?” He questions, raising an eyebrow, while taking in the surroundings of Monaco.

“I’m 100% sure.” Lando nods. He knows exactly what he’s going to do. He’s in fact not going to ask directly. He’s made a fun little game, and got a few drivers in on it. “Just promise me to not ruin it when she comes to you.” Oscar sighs. He obviously isn’t going to spoil it.

“How are you going to ask her? If you aren’t doing it directly.”

“That’s a surprise.” And no matter how much Oscar pushes, Lando doesn't tell. Just smiles and shakes his head.

The next day when yn arrives at the paddock Alex greets her as soon as she’s arrived. “For you.” He says and hands her a letter.

“For me?” Her face is full of confusion as she opens the letter. 

“Dear yn, I’ve made a little scavenger hunt for you. I hope you’re going to have fun. At the end you’ll find a surprise. Here’s the first clue.”

That’s the end of the letter. “So what's the clue?” If anything she's even more confused now, it doesn’t even say who it's from. It could be from George. But she doubts it. He’s never done anything like this before.

“Oh right, I almost forgot,” Alex rushes and pulls a small lego car from his backpack. more specifically a Mclaren lego car.

“So I'm guessing I have to go to Mclaren?” She questions and looks at Alex who just shrugs. So that’s where she heads to next. Who knows how long this is going to last. She does think it’s going to be fun though. She’s always loved clues.

As she gets closer to the Mclaren garage she finds Oscar standing looking around holding a letter in his hand. As he notices her, he walks towards her. “Here. From a mystery man.” He says, hands her the letter and walks off trying to look mysterious.

Yn laughs and opens the letter. This time, there’s no text. Just a card. “Happy fathers day.” She reads out loud. That’s all the card says. “I guess that means i’ll have to go to my dad?” She wonders out loud. Would this person involve her dad? Would her dad want to be involved? “Hm, probably just ferrari.” She says as she notices the card is mostly red.

She walks over to the Ferrari garage but can't find anything and decides it might be at the hospitality. As she enters the building she notices Carlos standing with a smile on his face and a whistle in his hands. “Here you go.” He hands her the whistle as she reaches him. 

“That's it? Not a letter? Anything to guide me more than-'' she looks down at the whistle now in her hand, “a whistle?” She looks back up at Carlos who looks around.

“Consider the first letter of the whistle.” He whispers and quickly walks off, whistling. 

“The first letter of whistle is w. So..” she thinks for a second. “Williams?” She laughs and quickly walks over to the Williams hospitality, but to her surprise finds no one, and decides it must be their garage then.

Here she finds Logan happily holding a small boat toy. “For you.” He says and hands it to her. Happy to be included. She smiles and wonders if this is the last one.

“Thank you, Logan.” She sends him a smile and walks to the dock to find a boat. Not really sure which type of boat, big or small. But she’s determined to find it. 

When she gets to the dock, she fears it’s going to take a long time, until she spots Charles casually sitting on a yacht. As she approaches she notices a full basket of red bulls sitting beside him. “I guess I’m going back to the track. To Red Bull. Their garage?” She is sure to get those 10k steps she’s supposed to get every day. 

“Yeah, if you want something to drink on your walk, I have plenty,” he pushes the basked towards yn and gestures for her to bring it, “in fact, let me join you on the way back, I was only sent here to give you the clue, and I don't drink Red Bull, so I can return it.” He smiles and gets up, taking the basket full of cans. “Are you having fun so far?” Charles starts walking back towards the track with yn following.

“Yeah. It’s a lot of fun,” she answers as she opens a can of the regular Red Bull, "I'm excited to see who set all of this up though” she looks ahead and takes a sip of the can.

“I can’t wait for you to see who arranged it,” he says. And that’s all he says. Yn tries to get more clues about who it is, but Charles’ mouth is shut. He’s not letting anything slip. And they arrive at Red Bull way earlier than yn was expecting so she doesn't get nearly enough time to interrogate Charles about who it is. 

“I see you’ve come to terms with the fact Red Bull is the best.” Max teases as Charles and yn are within hearing range of a normal voice. While holding a bouquet of flowers?

“Ha ha ha,” Charles smiles, as he hands Max the basket full of red bull cans, “I’m just keeping yn company, and decided to return these as I won’t be able to drink them.” Charles laughs and gets into a conversation with Max until yn clears her throat, reminding them she’s still there.

“I’m looking for a clue,” she says, begging that it's close to being over because she’s tired of walking from one side of the track to another over and over.

“Oh right,” Max hands her the bouquet of flowers he was holding. She takes them in her hand and her eyebrows furrow.

“What kind of clue is this?” She looks at Max whose eyes go wide.

“I forgot this.” He pulls a letter out from his pocket and hands it to her.

“Another letter. Is this the last one? I don't know how much more walking I can do.” She looks so defeated but reads the note.

“If you received this letter, that means you figured out all the clues. I know you were just there, but you can find me on Charles’ yacht. Where the big surprise is waiting.”

She looks up as she finishes reading. “He’s got to be kidding. I swear to fucking god, if this is George and he just made me walk from that yacht, back to the track and then back to that stupid yacht i’m going to go insane.” You look back at the letter. 

“My yacht isn’t stupid.” Charles pouts as Max hits him on the arm. “Ow?”

Yn sighs, “I guess I’ll get going. Thanks for the flowers I suppose.” 

“Oh they were not from me. They were from him. Just hurry up,” Max looks down at his phone, “practice starts kinda soon, and he can’t be late.” Yn starts walking back towards the yacht. She can't wait to kill the man that made her walk this much.

Lando however has been setting everything up ever since yn and Charles left. Strawberries covered in chocolate, and since he doesn't like chocolate, strawberries without chocolate, candles on a small table on the sun deck. As yn gets closer, Lando walks down to greet her. “I swear to fucking god George if this is yo-” her sentence gets cut short as soon as she sees Lando. “You set all of this up?”

“Yeah. You didn’t seem to like it that much?” Lando rubs the back of his neck. He wasn’t the best planner of a scavenger hunt.

“I kinda wasn’t the biggest fan of walking all the way out here, back to the track and then back here again.” She crosses her arms, but seeing the concerned look on Lando’s face she relaxes her arms and walks onto the yacht with a huge smile. “It was still kinda fun.” 

They spend a little while on the boat, sitting with their feet almost touching the ocean. Lando is not really sure if he should put an arm around her or not. He decides not to move too quickly and they just sit next to each other. “Oh I almost forgot,” she turns and looks at Lando. “I was supposed to tell you to hurry up, practice starts soon and you can’t be late,” she looks down at the strawberries, “but you distracted me.”

“Oh shit!” He gets up quickly and puts his shoes on, “meet me at the track! I would love to spend some time with you between practice 1 and 2!” He hurries up and practically runs all the way to the track.

~~~

For the next couple of weeks Lando spends a lot of time wondering how quickly to move forward. They spend a lot of time sitting near water, almost like the first time, except they don't have access to Charles' yacht every day. Every time Lando wonders if he should put an arm around her, but he never does. Until one day, when they’ve been sitting at the end of the gangway on the dock, their feet so close to the water, if they stretched them out their toes would be dipped in the water, and Lando’s arm comes closer and closer to making its way around yn. “Just do it already,” she says and leans on him, putting her head on his shoulder, “I've been waiting for the last many weeks for you to do it.” Lando can’t help but let out a small laugh and put his arm around her. 

“I wasn’t sure if you even wanted it.” He looks down at her quickly before looking back at the water. 

“I've been waiting for you to make some sort of move, so I knew if it would be appropriate to do this.” She says, as she sits back up straight and puts her hands on Lando’s cheeks and pulls his face closer. He puts his hands on her waist and pulls her closer while making sure none of them fall into the water. Her lips meet his softly, a tentative brush that sends a wave of electricity through her body. The kiss deepened, growing in confidence, and everything else faded away. All that existed was the two of them.

When they finally break apart, Lando puts his forehead against hers, a smile stuck on his face. He would never be able to forget this moment, and she wouldn’t either. “I’ve dreamed of this moment ever since that time Charles invited you to lunch.” Lando shares, not aware that yn has shared the same feeling since he shared that he had feelings for her.

“I was sure you’d do something about it sooner.” Yn lets out a small laugh and leans against Lando’s shoulder as he puts his arm around her.

“I was too afraid you didn't want to,” he says and lets out a sigh. “And I guess I just never thought to just ask.” 

“Well, you should have.” She smiles, before looking up at him, and he can’t help but smile back. They sit like that for a while. Just enjoying each other's company.

~~~

A couple weeks later, when they’re lying on the couch in Lando’s apartment, watching a movie, yn can’t help but smile, thinking about this moment, and how she never thought this would be a reality in her life. “Can you believe it?” She says in a soft whisper, her voice barely even audible.

“Believe what?” Lando asks, while his other hand mindlessly runs through the soft strands of her hair.

“This. Us. I never thought I’d be in such a happy relationship while traveling so much.” She says, softly tracing small circles on the back of his hand, that’s draped across her waist.

“Well I’m glad you're happy,” He says, placing a kiss on the top of her head, earning a soft hum from the woman. “You know, you could bring some stuff here. Just enough for a drawer if you don’t want to get too serious.” He mumbles, nuzzling his head into the crook of her neck.

She can’t help but smile, because she had been thinking of asking. “That would be nice, especially considering how much time I spend here.” She brings his hand up to her lips and places a soft kiss there, before going back to the movie.

~~~

It didn't take long for her to basically move in. It wasn’t official, but it might as well have been. She spent more time there than she did at her own home. But Lando didn’t mind. In fact, he loved having her there. They even started spending time together publicly, whether that was around Monaco when it wasn’t a race week, or if it was in the paddock. The fans had noticed how close they had gotten, and speculation quickly began. Were they a couple? Just friends? No one knew. Did Fred? No. But he wasn’t stupid, he knew something was going on, but he didn’t want to ask. But he didn’t mind, as long as yn was happy. And she was, for the first couple of months. And then it seemed like Lando had other priorities. Of course she knew racing was important to him, and she didn’t expect to suddenly be on the absolute top of his priority list, that would always be F1 and she knew that. However, that didn’t stop the feeling of neglect starting to spread through her. She knew he had a packed schedule, but she would often find herself wishing he had more time for her, yet it just seemed he got less and less time for her.

As the relationship between them progresses, small arguments make it to the surface. Usually sparked by the fact yn feels unimportant, or that Lando misses a date or an anniversary. It’s never his intention, and he always makes it clear that he loves her, but as it continues to get worse and worse, she begins to question it. She even stops believing him 100%.

It was 2 am. Lando had just returned back to the hotel after the race in Singapore. He silently opened the door to the room he was sharing with yn, expecting her to already be sound asleep on the bed, but to his surprise she was sitting up, leaning against the headboard with the bedside lamp on.

“Can we talk?” She asks, her voice soft but filled with a hint of vulnerability.

“Of course.” Lando quickly closes the door and walks over to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Look, I know racing is extremely important to you, that it’s everything to you, but,” she pauses for a moment, not really sure how he’s going to take this. “What about us?” She asks, her voice shaking slightly.

“I know it’s been tough, and I’ve not been the best, but I’m under a lot of pressure right now,” Lando looks up at her and he can see the way his words hurt, and he can’t help the defensive tone that creeps into his voice. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“Didn’t have a choice? You’ve always had a choice! You chose to sign up for all those PR events. All the additional promotional videos. Do you know how it feels to always be the last thing on your mind?” Her voice raises a little as the frustration takes over, and she searches Lando’s eyes for a reaction, just some sort of reaction.

“I never wanted you to feel that way,” Lando sighs and looks her in the eye, he genuinely never wanted her to feel like she was his last priority. “But this is my career, it’s what I’ve worked towards my entire life.” 

“And where do I fit into that? When you talk about your future, you’re talking about your next race, the next podium, the next win. I can’t continue to just sit back and wait for you to finally have time for me. I can’t continue to just be a spectator in your life, Lando.” The hurt is visible on her face, and she turns away momentarily to look out the window. The rain is subtly falling outside, and small drops of water roll down the window.

“I thought you understood when we got together.” He says, trying to defend himself. “This is my life, my dream. I never wanted you to feel like you're not important.” His voice softens, but his tone is still defensive as he tries to avoid addressing the core issue.

“I did understand. And I’ve been nothing but supportive, but it’s been months of you forgetting a date, or something else. And I’m not asking you to quit racing, I would never do that. All I’m asking is that I become a priority too. Because right now it feels like you’ve made a choice. And it’s not me.” Tears start to swell up in yn's eyes, and Lando is at a loss for words. He never wanted it to get to this point, but he doesn’t know what to say. He looks away, and that’s the last straw for yn. She swings her legs off the bed and grabs her suitcase that she packed as soon as she returned from the race, since they were planning to leave early in the morning anyway. “I’ll give you some time to think about all of this. But I won’t be waiting forever. Figure out if this is something you want. Because I can’t keep doing this.” And with those words she leaves the hotel room, and into the elevator.

She walks out into the rain, with tears flowing freely from her eyes. She stops and takes a deep breath. She doesn’t want it to end between her and Lando, but she also can’t continue to just be a bystander in her own relationship. As she grabs her suitcase and is about to begin walking she hears Landos voice. “Wait!” 

She turns around and sees him walking in long strides toward her, the rain already drenching his hair. “I don't want to lose you. I’ll never leave you alone again,” he says as he reaches her. “I remember how it felt when we were sitting by the water on our first unofficial date. Every time I look at you, it’s like I’m seeing you for the first time all over again. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He places a hand on her cheek and gently rubs his thumb along her cheekbones. “Please don’t leave. We’ll make it work. I’ll make time for you. You’ll be my first priority, I promise.”

She looks up at him with an aching heart at the raw emotion in his voice. For a moment she wants to believe him, to just forget all the missed moments, but the pain is still too much. 

“You say that now, but what happens when life gets busy again?” She asks in a whisper, her voice shaking as she speaks. “What happens when I become the last thing on your mind again because something else takes priority?”

Lando’s hand trembles slightly against her cheek, but he doesnt pull away, and neither does she. The rain falls a little harder, and their breaths are visible in the cool air of the night.

“I won't let that happen.” His voice is filled with an urgency, a need, that she’s never heard before. “I know i’ve failed you, but this time-”

“”This time,” she interrupts him and takes a step back, resulting in his hand slipping from her cheek. “How do I know this time is any different?” She looks at him with tearfilled eyes, waiting for an answer she might not want. But it doesn’t come. Instead, Lando takes a step closer and his eyes are filled with so much love and hope.

“Because this time, I know what it’s like to lose you,” his voice is trembling and he pauses for a moment, searching for the right words. “And I can’t. I can't lose you.”

[satanic-foxhole-court]

(Full TSC spoilers, as in to the end of the book) The contrast of Jeremy’s biggest concern is caring for his team, making sure his queer inner circle are healthy, okay, having fun and passing classes vs. Jeans biggest concern is the literal mafia debt, serious major trauma, PTSD and learning how to live again is just perfect.

It shows really beautifully in Jeremy’s approach to helping Jean. Jeremy seeks to know, to get Jean to open up and admit what happened. And hey it eventually works. But in comparison that never happened with Neil. The foxes knew to not pry and because Neil was able to integrate into the foxes without being an issue like Andrew is that was okay. There was more concessions, understanding and leaving things be.

I do wish for many reasons Jean stayed with the foxes if only because they fundamentally get it. But at the same time no it wouldn’t work, they’re pack bonded and Jean sees them as something he can’t be apart of.

A quote that stuck with me:

“That’s not fair,” Jeremy said, and when Jean opened his mouth to argue, added, “to you or us. For someone who seems so sure of what he deserves, you don’t seem to give any thought to what anyone else does. You’re forcing us to hurt you without giving us any say in the matter.”

And yeah that’s why it’s important to shove Jean more than one might with Neil or Andrew. Andrew is violently firm with his boundaries, Neil says he’s fine when he’s not but he can cope under high stress environments and has worked on accepting help. Even if that help is calling Andrew, running and exercise (fun fact exercise is a great ptsd trigger management tactic, peak the anxiety to bring it down through physical activity).

Jean doesn’t have boundaries, will not speak up at any point when something upsets him, puts himself in harms way constantly because he doesn’t have any self worth. Understandable given what he’s been through. And for Jeremy to feel he can help he seeks to know to understand - which isnt helpful! And that’s acknowledged at the end of the book!!! (Nora I love you)

Jeremy wants to put it into context, he wants so desperately to be told what’s going on, why Jean has this reactions, that it’s important to talk. But for someone who’s learned to stop biting back, to be quiet to have no harm come to them? That’s not going to happen easily. Jean does give ground and I really appreciate seeing him set boundaries too gosh. Him saying what he will and will not talk about, reaffirming that again and again throughout the book is perfect. And for Jeremy, Cat and Lalia to respect those boundaries too, or mostly. There are points when I think they shove a bit much but this book isn’t about perfect responses. It’s a queer household taking in an extremely traumatised person and learning how to support him while he learns how to exist.

Oh and also the power imbalance that exists accidentally by Jean not having context for what Jeremy, Cat and Lalia have been through too! He’s picked up there’s something but he’s always the one being pushed to talk about things, but he knows it’s not appropriate to pry about those things with them. It’s neat.

The coaches responses are interesting too. From the shoving Jean towards the water (I wanted to punch them omg /lh), to civil conversations, to showing Jean a Raven thing and just not understanding his response.

It’s nice to see how much the Trojan’s don’t understand, they don’t know how to respond, they have no idea what’s sensitive and what’s not. We love the foxes for how understanding they are and seeing a contrast of a privileged team is awesome to see.

I’m excited to see Jean and Bee’s sessions. Adore the book and Jean’s unhinged out of pocket self<3

[cheqorb]

Drawn to You.

Being an artist means you’re always on the lookout for inspiration and rarely ever say no when an opportunity for it presents itself. Which is easier said than done.

FEAT. Bachira, Kaiser

NOTES. Set in a school au, I think?? honestly somebody needs to teach me how to write better summaries, this feels so Cringe. and sorry for not posting much, feels like im going through a writer’s slump rnnn

You stumble upon BACHIRA as you’re taking art supplies to another classroom, maybe it was simply a coincidence but the romantic in you likes to think it was fate.

Embarrassingly, your foot catches on the uneven ground, sending you lurching forward. You instinctively brace for impact, the art supplies in your arms almost escaping your arms. Though, just as you're about to faceplant onto the concrete, a firm grip on your arm steadies you.

"Whoa there! Gotcha just in time," a cheerful voice exclaims.

You look up to see a boy with a wide grin and bright yellow eyes, his hand still securely holding your arm. Relieved that you didn’t make a complete fool of yourself the one time you go outside, you thank your saviour with a smile in return.

"Need some help with those?" he asks, gesturing to the overflowing bundle of canvases, brushes, and paints.

You aren’t exactly sure why he asked because he doesn’t wait for an answer, lifting up a couple of boxes. But hey, you appreciate the help.

As the two of you walk towards the clubroom, he starts talking. And boy, does he talk. You learn more about him in the next few minutes than you'd typically learn about someone in a month. He's on the football team, he’s 17 now, his birthday is on August 8th, and somehow, you even know his school schedule. You can't help but smile at his enthusiasm; it's cute in a way.

Just as you're about to open the door, he casually mentions his name (arguably the most important thing in an introduction to someone) in between all the chatter.

"By the way, I'm Bachira Meguru."

You freeze, your eyes widening slightly. Bachira? The name rings a bell. "Bachira? As in, the artist Bachira Yu?" you ask, your voice tinged with slight disbelief.

"Yep, that's my mom!" he replies, his grin even wider now.

For a moment, you're stunned into silence. She’s been one of your favorite artists, her work a source of great inspiration for you. The one you practically begged your parents to get tickets for her art gallery. And here you are, being helped by her son.

"T-that's incredible!" you finally manage, unable to contain your excitement. "I love her work! Her use of color and the way she captures emotion, it's just amazing!"

Now it's your turn to start yapping, words piling on top of another as you bombard him with questions about his mother, her art, and whether he has any of her talent. He listens with that same easygoing smile, happy to share stories about his childhood and growing up with an artist as a mom.

By the time you reach the clubroom and set down the art supplies, you've both laughed and chatted so much that it feels like you've been friends forever.

Sadly all good things must come to an end as you have to wave him off else he’ll be late for practice, apparently this happens quite frequently as one of his teammates comes to pick him up himself. You sheepishly tell Bachira that he’s welcome to pop by the club anytime and you’d be happy to talk to him again, which he readily agrees to.

In Bachira’s opinion, you’re a very friendly person!

One that he doesn’t want to forget about. When his head isn’t filled with football-induced mania, it always wanders back to you. Wondering what you’re up to these days and what art you could be planning. He excitedly rambles on about you to anyone who’ll listen (mostly Isagi) and gets all giddy when you come to watch him play.

Don’t even get him started on when he catches you sketching him.

In contrast, your introduction to KAISER is a little less fairytale-like. You suddenly pause in your work when you hear a very loud voice complaining obnoxiously in the corridor. Something about how all the clubs so far have been utterly boring and only the football club even remotely interests — of course he still doesn’t like most of the members there anyway.

Not exactly the type of thing that leaves a good first impression.

The moment the sliding door opens, rather aggressively might you add, a blonde guy waltzes in like he owns the place with his victim friend trailing behind him. “So, Ness, what club is this again?” he asks, completely ignoring you (y’know. the actual club member???) and instead turns around to ‘Ness’.

Barely within minutes of knowing each other, he then proceeds to call the room tacky and that he was ‘bored’ and needed a drink. To which Ness happily leaves to go get for him.

And now it’s just you two.

Trying to be optimistic about this, you settle for the idea that maybe this was just a bad start! Maybe he was a nice guy!

You smile, reluctantly so. “Hey. Ask me anything you like, if it’s to do with joining the club or just general conversation about we do here!”

Instead of responding like a normal human being, he scrutinises the painting sitting at your easel, glaring at it almost. Before his eyes land on you for what seems to be the first time. Then he just… asks, or rather, orders for you to paint him. And that he expects to see it tomorrow. You should’ve point blank refused (which would’ve saved you a LOT of stress in future) but you don’t want to start drama with someone like him.

Then he walks off like his behaviour was completely acceptable. Bear in mind, you don’t even know this guy’s name.

You come to know it soon enough though, because who else but Michael Kaiser has the arrogance to pay you a visit to critique your work and then leave. Just to do it all over again the next day. On Kaiser’s end, at first he just found your effort to horribly disguise your frustration kinda fun. Just a pleasant surprise to end each day.

But each time he comes into the room, with the strong smell of paint and clay hitting his nose and you sitting on a stool with an adorably pensive look on your face, he can’t help but feel obligated to come in once football practice is over.

He nitpicks small things about your artwork that literally nobody on planet earth would even notice:

His eyes are more of a lighter blue.

The eyelashes look too close together.

His tattoo has more thorns than that.

A crease on his shirt was off.

Just to have an excuse to spend more time with you since more mistakes = more time he can spend watching you fix them. And if it gets to a point whereby there’s simply nothing else for him to complain about, he’ll just ask for a new painting. Or maybe even a clay figure of him.

Who knows.

At this point, you’re exhausted and debate on whether or not to ask the club president for permission to get a lock for the door to keep a certain someone from entering. But you’re also such a pushover that you have this as an internal monologue (instead of saying it out loud) whilst the cause of your problems leans on your shoulder with a satisfied smirk on his face.

[bouwrites]

Those Warm and Halcyon Days: Chapter 50

Ignis

Ao3.

First, Previous, Next.

Story under read-more.

No one can fight nonstop. While Immram may not have been a particularly challenging battle, the fact remains that everyone is exhausted. The day they arrive in Brigid, they take Scylla. In the following two days, they take Míor Mór. Only the next day do they have any reprieve at all, but they spend it still on the move, still fighting, under the oppressive jungle of Immram.

For the better part of a week, Veery and the others fight daily. Some battles are worse than others, but that doesn’t matter when no sufficient break comes between them.

It’s for this reason that Petra takes the freshest of the Brigid soldiers at their disposal, splits them between General Kaia and Ekko, one of the king’s own personal retainers, sees them off to Cetus, and all but orders the Fódlander team to take the next day to rest.

Veery certainly isn’t going to complain about that. Leonie does, arguing loudly that she can continue, and that she’s here to free Brigid so that’s what she’ll do, but everyone else is either grateful for the reprieve or sternly practical about the simple fact that they do need rest.

If they’re not in top form on the battlefield, that makes a mistake that will get them killed more likely. Four days of nonstop battle and travel is tiring to anyone, and that’s after sailing around half the continent of Fódlan. They’re finally at a point where the campaign can practically continue without their special unit – honestly, they can leave now and Brigid will be fine so long as the Empire does not send reinforcements, according to Lysithea – so it just makes sense to take the day to rest.

And Veery should be resting. He does rest, but while a whole day off of fighting is good, a whole day of absolutely nothing but rest leads merely to restlessness. Veery naps much of the day away, rising when he wakes only to adjust his position, or even find a whole new spot (always close to the beach, though, where the sea breeze offers some small relief from the heat) and goes right back to sleep.

But now he is awake, and not resting, because he has a lot to think about.

They’re almost done here, aren’t they? It’s a long four days, but if they keep up this pace, they’ll finish by the end of the week. Which is good timing, because it means they can hopefully get back to Fódlan early in the Lone Moon.

Of course, if that storm lingers, it may delay them a day or two. Hopefully no more than that.

Veery scents the air, a little agitated from what he finds. There’s no obvious sign just yet, but Veery knows when a storm is coming. Knowing when the blizzards come ahead of time is paramount to surviving in Albinea. It might even be the most important survival tool in his arsenal.

Of course, the old wound on his abdomen and back aching is a sure sign, too, as well as the one Edelgard gave him on his arm, to a lesser extent, but all the better to warn him ahead of time, he figures. He can do without the pain, though. Stupid Death Knight. Caub is probably in a similar state right now with his leg. Veery should check on him soon.

Caub aside, the humans might not know just yet. They’re resting right now, but it’s the middle of the day, so most of them are out and about around the castle, where they retreat for today. Those people are fine – they’re still at the castle so if they get rained on, they can just run inside – but Veery should probably go warn those who are down at the beach.

He heads in that direction, scenting the air to have an idea of who he’s going after. The humidity makes it difficult to parse scents, honestly, to the point that Veery relies a little less on his nose here in Brigid, but he can still pick out some of his friends.

And Shamir, going off in another direction. Still at the beach, but further down where she’ll be alone. If anyone sees the storm coming, it’s probably her. Still, he should check just in case.

“Shamir,” Veery says when he spots her sitting on a rock, looking out over the water.

She glances over. “Veery. What can I do for you?”

“Nothing,” Veery says, “I just wanted to warn you that a storm is coming. We should get inside soon.”

Shamir nods. “Understood. I’ll return promptly, then.”

Veery likes Shamir. He doesn’t talk to her much, but that’s because neither of them are all that talkative. Still, Shamir has a certain common sense that a lot of Fódlanders lack, or it may just be that her priorities align well with Veery’s, so she makes more sense to him, and she’s an excellent ally in battle.

“Hey, Shamir?” he asks before he leaves. It’s rare to get a chance to talk with her alone, and there is something he can use her opinion on. She’s just about the most practical and straightforward-thinking person he has reasonable access to, so her insight will be helpful. Not that Veery thinks his opinion on the issue will matter much, but Claude does ask him to think about it. “Have you given much thought yet to what Claude asked us to think on? What we’ll do after taking the Great Bridge of Myrddin?”

“Invade Adrestia or aid Faerghus, you mean?” Shamir tilts her head consideringly. “I could stand to give it more thought. At the moment, I’m leaning toward invading.”

Veery hums. “The church really wants that, I think. We’ll find Rhea faster that way.”

“It has nothing to do with Rhea,” Shamir says simply. “I believe, with our reinforcements, we’ll be strong enough to take Enbarr. It’s about ending the war as quickly as possible. The longer we prolong the war, the more people will die. If we have the strength to do so, I see no reason not to go directly for the kill.”

A good point. A hunter’s point. A swift and decisive blow is how people like them operate, so Veery supposes he’s not overly surprised. The truth is that he’s of a similar mind. His biggest consideration isn’t the people of Faerghus who are suffering right now, but how likely he’ll survive such a bold maneuver. Helping the Kingdom might be safer. It just depends on how capable their army is once they take Myrddin.

“You look off. Are you okay?”

Veery blinks, then winces. “Ah, yes.” He touches the scar on his abdomen, starkly obvious against his skin when he’s not wearing a shirt like this. “It hurts like fire when it rains. That’s all.”

Shamir nods. “Get inside, then. I’ll inform the others.”

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Are you still worrying over your human magics?”

Wow. Twice in as many days. It’s not surprising, exactly, that Hoarvug comes to chat with him – Hoarvug requires attention in all the ways Veery avoids it, at least with those he respects. All the same, he usually is more conscientious of Veery’s alone time. He’ll bother Veery from time to time, yes, but two days in a row is excessive, and he definitely knows better.

Then again, usually, he has Sadi to hold him back. Without cuddle time with her, he must be getting clingy with Veery.

A part of Veery flares in irritation. This is what he doesn’t miss about being down south with the humans. It’s exciting, yes, in both good and bad ways, and he gets time with his family and other friends he loves, but entering society, surrounding himself with people, means that he apparently just can’t be alone.

Alas, it’s just… not worth getting frustrated over. It’s not as if Veery doesn’t expect it when he makes the decision to sail for Fódlan again. This Brigid campaign is uniquely difficult in that regard, too, because boats and dense jungle even Veery will get lost in means he doesn’t even have a mountainside to escape to like he does at Garreg Mach. Or even just some comfortable hiding places.

Besides, this time it isn’t the seemingly endless number of humans intruding on his space. It’s Hoarvug. That’s not better, but Veery is lying if he says it isn’t different. It lacks a sense of otherness that pervades even his most comfortable interactions with even his most beloved of humans. It’s… hard to worry about not belonging when the person with him has so thoroughly basked in his soul.

For all that he is the opposite of Veery, Hoarvug is like him in a way the humans will never understand. Just like humans will understand each other in ways Veery will never understand. Some level of that is impossible to overcome. It’s just a matter of course for two different peoples, exacerbated by them being completely different species.

It doesn’t mean those different peoples can’t live together, or respect one another, or even like and love one another. It just means that there are some things they’ll never understand about the other no matter how hard they try. That’s not necessarily even a bad thing, but it is an important one.

Honestly, Veery’s single doubt about Claude’s ability to reach his dream is that he sincerely does not know whether Claude understands this. Sometimes, he thinks Claude wants to eliminate those barriers completely, but some things are simply too deep. People’s experiences shape them, and those experiences are not all something that can be controlled.

Even if all cultural barriers fall, those raised in tropical Brigid, in temperate Fódlan, and in frozen Albinea will naturally be different from each other, adapted to their unique environments. Humans and agell, too, are simply built different, with different abilities for different things. Short of a god remaking the entire world into a uniform place with no diversity at all, those barriers will always be present in some form. No amount of respect, love, or admiration will change the fact that they are just not the same.

That said… no matter how much Veery likes Hoarvug, even if they are partners for life, he’s still intruding on what little solitude Veery has on this expedition. “So what if I am?” Veery frowns at Hoarvug.

Hoarvug lumbers close, huffing. “You are irritable.” He makes himself comfortable practically curled around Veery, with no regard for Brigid’s climate trying to bake them within their own skins. (How Hoarvug’s need for touching overpowers the need to avoid any unnecessary heat in this climate is so far beyond Veery that he doesn’t even try to decipher it. At least the rain outside is cooling things somewhat.) “Caub mentioned his leg aching. Are your wounds troubling you?”

Yes. In fact, he’s in quite a bit of pain right now. Nothing crippling, but damn if it isn’t annoying. Veery snorts. “They’re five years old, Hoarvug. I can take the pain as it comes.”

Clearly displeased with that answer, Hoarvug unabashedly noses his face into Veery’s stomach.

“Hoarvug.”

Undeterred by Veery’s disapproving sigh, Hoarvug presses closer until he’s all but nuzzling Veery’s abs. Veery has little choice but to shift to make room for him.

With a dangerous grin overtaking his features, Hoarvug leaps suddenly back to his feet, pausing only long enough to yowl for Veery not to move before he takes off at full speed out of the room Veery is sequestered in.

Veery can only stare, baffled, until he reemerges a few minutes later, carrying… way too many people. Even if Veery didn’t want to be alone right now, it’s just frankly impressive that even someone as strong as Hoarvug can throw this many people over his shoulders, or hike them up in his arms, and march back without breaking stride.

All with the biggest, goofiest grin on his face. “My Veery!” he roars in greeting, in Ancient, which none of these humans can understand a lick of. “I’ve brought help!” Help? None of these people seem pleased to be here. They’re amused at best. One in particular is protesting very loudly. Unfortunately, Veery can believe that Hoarvug just finds them and grabs them with no explanation.

Proudly, Hoarvug begins to show off his chosen humans, taking them each in turn and placing them gently on their feet. “The motherly one, to help with your wounds.”

Oh, by the gods, Veery is glad that Dorothea can’t understand Ancient. He does not want to know how she’ll react to being called “motherly” of all things. Sure, it’s a term commanding a lot of respect – mothers in general are in the top tier of agell society, inasmuch as the agell has societal tiers like the humans do, but… it’s different for humans, and some things might be misinterpreted.

“And the twitchy one for your magic. He offered to teach you, yes?”

…At least Ambrose doesn’t seem to mind being manhandled. If anything, Veery wagers he’s enjoying this. That’s probably not a good thing.

“And the tiny one! Her magic is gross, but I understand she knows a lot about it?”

Yes, Hoarvug. Lysithea does know a lot about magic. Veery silently pleas that he will put her down before she blows up the whole island.

“And the dead one! …Honestly, I saw her on the way and just picked her up. She’s magical, right? She can help, too.”

Dead, yes, but a dead queen. Whom Hoarvug just picks up and carries here like a sack of flour.

Veery sinks his head into his hands and groans. Hoarvug, looking proud, plops down beside Veery and shoves his head into Veery’s lap, purring all the while. Veery can’t help but ask, “…Do you really not even know their names?”

Without hesitation, Hoarvug answers, “Why should I?”

Veery almost answers but then remembers that Hoarvug will never care about being polite, and only doubly so for humans. Fair enough.

Whatever. Veery sighs. “I’m sorry,” he says to his newest guests. “He did this on his own.”

Lysithea crosses her arms and huffs. “Well… it’s fine. But there must have been a reason for it. Did you need something?”

“What is it that he called us?” Dorothea interjects eagerly. “It sounded like he was talking about us just then. I’m curious what he was saying.”

Veery eyes the four in turn. Motherly, twitchy, tiny, and dead. He… should probably not share what Hoarvug calls them. He’s going to just… focus on Lysithea’s question instead. “Not exactly,” he says. “I was working on figuring out how to access the remnants of Sothis’ power in me, and… I guess Hoarvug thought you guys could help.” Veery’s eyes flick to Dorothea, whose face shows both her doubt that she can add anything constructive to this conversation, and also that she absolutely knows he’s avoiding her question. “And the rain makes the old wounds ache, but he’s not as familiar with Faith magic so I guess he thought a healer would help.”

Hoarvug huffs a small whine. “What is the point of healing magics if they do not help your pains?”

Gods, what a good question. Soothing aches and pains, sure. In truth, magic can be used as a quick pain reliever, but the effects never last long. When he’s focused on something else, like looking for Sothis’ power, it’s effectively pointless to try to maintain that on himself. (And the pain really isn’t that bad, anyway.)

But how many pains can’t be healed by magic? How many healers spend their whole lives helpless in the face of those pains? Remire, the ball, the Battle of Garreg Mach… Honestly, even in peacetime, there are such myriad pains from so many different places that Veery isn’t sure there is a healer alive who doesn’t feel a little bit helpless.

He certainly does. Then again, he’s felt helpless for far longer than he’s been a healer.

“Useless humans.”

Veery sighs. “Hoarvug, I’m a healer. Whatever soothing Faith magic can provide, I can do myself.”

“All the better.” He curls into Veery’s abs, scowl fierce across his countenance. Is he… pouting? “…I knew getting the humans was a bad idea from the start.”

Oh. Oh. “Hoarvug,” Veery breathes, fondling his ear affectionately, sinking his nails into Hoarvug’s hair to drag along his scalp, smiling only when he receives a thunderous purr in return. “Thank you for looking out for me. I appreciate what you tried to do, and that you were willing to trust them.”

Hoarvug purrs louder, completely filling the room with a deep rumbling that Veery worries might alarm anyone in neighboring rooms. Veery’s purrs aren’t exactly quiet – he’s a big cat, too – but a cat like Hoarvug can really rumble, even when he’s not shifted.

Still, there’s something so intrinsically calming about a purr, even one that Veery can feel right down to his bones (in the tingly way, not the warm way – though that too), that Veery just melts into the vibrations and lets those worries go. Maybe it’s an agell thing. He’ll have to ask Caub or Claude later if they find it as soothing as Veery does.

Either way, Hoarvug’s frown mellows out and a hint of the pride he enters the room with returns as he snuggles into Veery’s lap.

“The flame spirit!” Ambrose says softly, eagerly. “Sothis. A good name, a goddess’ name. I will help you. Gladly.”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Lysithea says. “It occurred to me that, if you have a piece of Sothis inside of you, could you possibly have somehow gained the Crest of Flames? Perhaps what happened was something like how the saints’ Crests were granted to humans.”

Veery can only shrug. “I wouldn’t think so,” he says. “We’d have to ask someone who actually knows about Crests to be sure, but humans shouldn’t be able to do what I did with Sothis. I was only able to connect with her and use her power because my heart is a Crest Stone already.”

“Which means it’s definitely different from what the saints did,” Lysithea nods. “I see your point. But that doesn’t exclude the possibility of you having the power of the Crest of Flames.”

“A Crest?” Ambrose asks. “Veery is marked, but not branded.”

“I think Ambrose is right,” Celica says. “If your goddess branded you, you’d know, don’t you think? Veery, have you noticed any brand since you got that power?”

“Brand?” Lysithea scrunches up her nose. “What do brands have to do with anything? I suppose it’s just another word for crest, but it’s not like you’d just see it on his skin or something.”

Wordlessly, Veery and Celica share a look, and then Celica calmly holds out her hand, displaying the cross-marked brand on her palm, and Veery unsubtly points out his own stripes.

“…Oh. Huh. That’s interesting.” Lysithea sighs, tapping her chin. “But I’ve never heard of Crests manifesting as visible marks on the body.”

“You have gained no new stripes,” Hoarvug says, still sticking to Ancient, for some reason.

Veery pats his head and answers in Common for everyone else’s sake. “It would have been before we met. Unless you remember my stripes from way back before we became friends…”

“Ah. No. I hardly noticed you back then.”

Yeah. That’s about what Veery figures. Caub is in the same position. The only ones who would definitely know for sure is Linhardt and Professor Hanneman – they actually have diagrams of Veery’s stripes before the Sealed Forest – and maybe Manuela as his physician, but Linhardt is an enemy now and neither Professors Hanneman nor Manuela came back to the monastery with the Knights of Seiros. Claude, perhaps, but if he noticed anything, Veery feels like he would have mentioned it five years ago.

“He didn’t gain any new markings,” Dorothea says. “All of us healers gave him a full physical after the Sealed Forest. Repeatedly. Someone would have noticed.”

Celica hums. “I’ve spoken with Walhart about brands. It seems as if the brands Alm and I bear were not passed down to our descendants, but another family in Archanea became branded through a pact with Naga.” She frowns at the mark on her own hand. “To be honest, in my life, I never learned much about this brand. I can only assume now, with what Walhart told me, that Alm and I were blessed by Lord Duma and Mother Mila.”

“I heard that taguel bore brands,” Veery says. “I just assumed it was like my stripes, but the words are different. It might be something closer to a brand like yours, Celica.”

“This is all very interesting,” Lysithea sighs, “but ultimately unproductive. Claude would love to hear this conversation, but if we want to help you use Sothis’ power, this isn’t going to get us anywhere.”

Ambrose shuffles on his feet, then raises his hand. “Won’t it?” he asks. “There is the blood and there is the blessing. The spirits do not grant us Crests, but they mark us, though not brand. It’s a deal, you know. Mutual work, power… loaned, but always in agreement. I heard… brands come from pacts? It is not that dissimilar.”

“Yes!” Celica grins. “It’s not just power within you. Not just in the blood. You have to work with it, not use it.”

Hoarvug snorts. “Much can be gained from working together, that’s true, but your power is your power. There is no getting around that.”

That’s… not strictly true. There are power-sharing techniques in magical study, where multiple mages fuel the same spell, or one helps another by bolstering their magic pool. Healers sometimes work together on the same wound if it calls for it, though it’s true that outside of that no one really does. (Actually, that kind of power sharing is considered, in Fódlan, a healer’s technique, and isn’t even taught to war mages.)

But Veery definitely understands Hoarvug’s sentiments. He agrees with them. …Maybe that’s why he’s struggling with this. It’s Veery’s power that he trusts, and only his own. Hoarvug, Sadi, Caub, Claude, Dorothea, the others… they all help Veery, and their power has more than once saved Veery’s life, but ultimately when Veery moves, he does so with the power in himself alone.

Power comes together to open the path and thus make the moving easier for everyone on that path, but it’s still one’s own power that moves them down it. There is no getting around that.

But neither are Ambrose and Celica wrong. Are they? After all, where does the power within Veery come from? It does not well up spontaneously. Veery has spent far too many hungry winters weak and powerless to make that mistake. His own power ultimately comes from the earth, the food he eats.

So, Sothis’ power lingering in him. It’s not his, but if he wants to use it, maybe instead of trying to pull on it like it’s some ambient magic just lingering uselessly, he should try to make it his. Just like his body naturally converts food into energy.

“Oh? Have you figured something out?” Dorothea asks.

“…Maybe,” Veery answers. “I don’t think I’m going to get it today, but I’m going to try a new direction.”

“Talk it out with us,” Lysithea says, sitting down close, but far enough to respect the distance Hoarvug’s massive frame implores. “I find going through my theories aloud helps me make more complete sense of them.”

That’s a good idea. Veery doesn’t plan on sitting here with Hoarvug in his lap and four other people all gathered around like it’s story time, but when he talks, and they give their input, he does feel like he’s doing something productive.

It’s… a nice moment, all things considered.

It’s a nice break while it lasts. It’s too bad that it doesn’t last long. The very next day, Veery and the others are on the water once more heading for Cetus.

“So,” Leonie says, parking herself in the space immediately next to Veery on the boat, “you manage any progress on that magic business you’ve been working on?”

Veery smiles, not protesting when she gets close (it’s not a big boat). “I think so. I’m only just starting on the practical bit, but yesterday, Hoarvug pulled a bunch of us together and we had a little symposium. The theory seems to check out, but we can never tell for sure until I try since none of us are even completely sure what we’re dealing with in the first place.”

“Huh. Makes sense to me. You’ll get it.”

Something about the calm assurance Leonie has reminds Veery of Hoarvug. That confidence and clarity. It’s… nice to be believed in. At least, it is when no one is actively relying on his success. When his success actually matters beyond simply helping and adding convenience, it goes right back to that old problem of Veery’s of just not liking the responsibility of that kind of cause and effect.

Everything is so much easier out in the wilds where his choices don’t affect anyone else. It’s amazing how, once he goes to Fódlan and makes those connections with his family and friends, he just can’t escape them, even when he’s all alone again. Doing nothing and staying away is a choice, too. One with consequences that affect more than him.

Not that Veery tries very hard to escape them. Maybe he’s just used to having friends, now. (Though, he still prefers how it is in Albinea, where he only sees his friends every once in a while and has most of his time to himself.)

“How close are you to mastering it?” Petra asks suddenly, taking a seat just on the other side of Leonie.

“Mastering? Very far.” Veery shakes his head. “But I’m almost able to use it. Once I figured out the concept, it’s just a matter of training in the feeling.”

Petra nods sagely. “And what was the concept?”

“I had to realize that it’s my power. I was trying to draw from it like it’s ambient magic, but it’s not. It’s inside me. Sort of like a Crest, at least according to Lysithea. Which, I guess, is obvious in hindsight.”

“Not really,” Leonie says. “I certainly thought of it as Sothis’ power in you instead of your own power. Course, I don’t know much about magic.”

“What is able to be done with this magic?” Petra asks. “Can it help?”

Veery frowns. “I think so. In theory, it’d be a lesser version of what happened in the Sealed Forest. Utilizing the power of a god would be helpful in a lot of situations during war, even if I can’t get anywhere near that amount of pure power. Though if the Sealed Forest is any indication, it’ll probably overtax my system if I use it for any length of time.”

“Even with much less power?”

He nods. “It’s not just the power levels, it’s… Sothis’ power burns. Honestly, I don’t remember it that well, but I wouldn’t be surprised if trying to use it now hurts at least as much as Albinean magic does. Without Sothis’ absurd magic reserves being pumped into me, I don’t imagine it’ll be as bad as it was five years ago, but the excess wasn’t why it burned me. It only played a part. Not to mention, I’m used to only using as much magic as I have naturally. Drawing upon excess power, even a minimal amount of it, is always going to strain my system until I get used to it.”

“I see. So, you need training.”

Veery laughs. “Yeah, basically. I need to train.”

“Well, that’s an easy fix!” Leonie grins and hooks his neck with an arm. “As soon as we have some free time and some space, we’ll get started right away!”

Veery really should expect that things will circle to training with these two. Still, he is interested in getting this figured out, and he does need to train to do it.

And that is how, upon arrival on Cetus, Veery finds himself facing down Leonie and Petra, both sporting wicked grins.

Apparently, General Kaia and Ekko, both veterans from the Dagda-Brigid war, are more than competent at their jobs. Though the Imperial camps on Cetus have yet to fall (mutterings are that something is complicating the matter) Petra deals with it swiftly, leaving them an opening for training until further orders.

Which is… not a fun experience. Aside from the obvious fact that combat training means he has to shift and shifting means his thick winter coat of fur in Brigid’s climate, knowing, in theory, how to draw upon Sothis’ power doesn’t make it manifest into anything useful.

It starts okay. Like any normal training session. The problems come when Veery tries to put the theory established yesterday into practice. Nothing catastrophic happens, but that’s partly because nothing happens.

He growls, growing more frustrated each time he tries to nurse that ember into something. He digs deep within himself, harkening back to the feeling of Sothis’ heart in the Sealed Forest, the simple feeling of the burn of the magic, even flying, but his movements and magic remain stubbornly the same as they have always been.

And he’s getting bruised here and there for his failures, too. Leonie and Petra are dangerous opponents individually, and he’s up against them both at once. The number of times he’d have died if this were a real fight is what really gets under Veery’s skin.

He’s burning up under his fur, panting and overheated, he’s ramming into a brick wall on this puzzle he just can’t seem to solve even after yesterday’s symposium, and he’s losing. Badly.

It’s just training, and Veery trusts Leonie and Petra with his life, but even still, being in that position, being put down where he’s at their mercy, it smolders inside of him. The fear, the impotence, it burns deep in his gut in a painful lump.

He needs to calm down. Make the power his, then he can use it.

When he’s thrown to the dirt for the umpteenth time this session, he stops thinking that. His frustration overtakes him for a moment, and he just burns, growling and glaring at nothing in particular.

There’s a collective gasp, which takes the wind out of Veery’s sails, and he looks up, confused. Petra has the widest grin on her face, which means something either really good or really bad. Even the spectators, Shamir, Hoarvug, Caub, Walhart, and Lysithea watch with more interest than he notes from them earlier.

Leonie just leans on her lance (Veery is satisfied, a little, that she’s at least out of breath and pretty beat up herself) and smiles smugly. “You were on fire for a moment there. Was that what you were looking for?”

He was what now?

“Yes,” Leonie says teasingly, demonstrating that she can understand him well enough when he’s shifted just like Claude can – probably due to all the training where he can’t shift back, “literally on fire. At least, it looked like flames. They didn’t burn you, so maybe not?”

“Similar to your Abraxas flames,” Lysithea says. “I think. They don’t hurt you, but they would burn your enemies.”

…His Abraxas. Veery is a complete and utter idiot. There’s a reason his version of Abraxas appears as holy flame. There’s no way that isn’t the influence of this piece of Sothis within him. Veery sucks at fire magic.

But he isn’t drawing from that leftover bit of Sothis’ power when he uses Abraxas, he knows that much. It’s just a showcase of how Sothis’ magical signature really has changed his own. It’s a showcase of how they’re not really that different. Anymore, at least.

He’s imagining half the wall stopping him from pulling this off. Ugh.

“Come on!” Leonie cheers. “Once more. You’ll get it faster, this time.”

“Halt.” Heads turn at the unexpected voice, to Walhart, who scowls at Veery. Is he even more imposing than usual? “I will be your opponent.”

…Can he do that? Veery casts a desperate look to Caub, who just shrugs. No einherjar under Caub’s control would dare hurt Veery, but… gods he’s bigger than Hoarvug.

Leonie frowns, eyeing Walhart critically, but seems to accept that he’ll be a good sparring partner and concedes the floor. Petra follows suit, eyes alight with curiosity at how this will play out.

Surprisingly, the one to speak up is Hoarvug. “Where is this coming from?” he asks, curling his lip in disdain.

Walhart looks down at him, which makes Hoarvug start to growl, but answers, “That fell magic… reminds me of someone I knew. I want to taste this magic again.”

Hoarvug huffs, stepping up into the training circle beside Veery. “We are not yours to toy with. Satisfy yourself with your rocks and iron.”

“Hoarvug,” Caub protests, “wha-”

“My Veery is training to become stronger,” Hoarvug says. “And your ghost thinks to interrupt for his own reasons.”

“…And you disapprove of that?” Caub asks, clearly expecting the answer to be no.

So does Veery, but having shared so much of Hoarvug’s heart, he understands a little better. Hoarvug laughs. “Of course, not! Come, ‘Conqueror’. If you wish to interfere, then so shall I. But know I fight to overcome, not to satisfy petty curiosity.”

Walhart hums. “Join if you like; it does not matter. I will face all of you if you wish.”

So he will. And Veery can tell that he’s completely sure that he will win if he has to fight every single one of them.

Veery isn’t convinced he won’t.

That said, Veery is tired of losing today. He has no intention of letting this continue. He manages to pull off Sothis’ magic once, even if he’s unaware, so he knows he can do it. And fighting together with Hoarvug, Veery likes his odds a lot more than before. Walhart is one powerful, intimidating man, that’s true, but Veery and Hoarvug are warriors who know intimately each other’s hearts. He thinks they have the advantage here.

Caub and some of the others watching look uneasy, but Veery is almost unnaturally calm. Hoarvug shifts and brushes with him, joyously opening his heart to Veery, and Veery responds in kind.

This is their magic. Magic that is not measured and used but which simply is. It is as much a part of Veery as breathing. In that sense, it is quite unlike magic at all, in the ways that humans understand it.

But isn’t that the point? All this thinking, all this worrying, and it all comes back to this in the end. It’s his power. Gods, Veery loves this about sharing with Hoarvug. The clarity. The certainty. The confidence. The jubilance. Sometimes, now that he’s growing accustomed to sharing with Hoarvug more often, and more casually, he thinks he can get drunk off of this feeling.

(And he’s also, just a little, jealous of Hoarvug for feeling so good so easily.)

But that matters little. What matters is this obstacle in front of them to overcome. With someone like Walhart facing them, caution is the name of the game. Even Hoarvug can’t simply force through this challenge. But that’s what makes things interesting.

Veery rumbles deep in his chest, a purr straight from his bones, and he doesn’t need to look to Hoarvug because he feels it in his heart. Hoarvug joins this fight for several reasons and doesn’t verbalize them very well to the humans. The first is offense – it’s clear that Walhart has some ulterior motive for jumping in, and Hoarvug doesn’t like what he perceives as a human wantonly interrupting Veery’s training for petty reasons.

All the same, as he says, Hoarvug doesn’t disapprove, necessarily. Walhart’s own strength and pride are on the line, and he’s an impressive obstacle to overcome. It is within the rights of the strong to take what they like, so if Walhart can jump in and stand up to opposition, he may be as petty as he likes. It’s not the principle that raises Hoarvug’s hackles, it’s the arrogance. And, largely, it’s because Walhart is a human interrupting an agell.

But deeper still underneath those reasons is Hoarvug’s own drive for battle. He knows exactly how strong Walhart is, and he wants to overcome that might. Just to prove that he can. He’s not made for idleness. Honestly, Veery would be surprised if Hoarvug spent the entire training session merely watching even if Walhart hadn’t interrupted.

And so they fight. And like warriors, they shine like the sun.

Walhart has overwhelming power. Every swing of his axe must be avoided. Veery dances at the edge of his range, shooting a spell or two in from time to time to throw him off to no avail. Hoarvug might be one of the only people alive who can catch a blow from Walhart and wrestle him with strength, but even he, somehow, is outmatched.

Fighting Walhart is like fighting a mountain. How does one overcome something so steady, so overwhelmingly mighty? As he claws and retreats, bites and ducks, knowing that a single hit from Walhart’s axe is the end of this match, Veery has no time to ponder that question of how an immovable object can be moved.

No, instead he is struck by an odd thought, and then nothing at all. That thought is that though he is so much larger, physically, and, Veery wagers, even more experienced, Walhart’s style of fighting is almost exactly the same as Edelgard’s.

It’s elegant, refined, and capitalizes on every opening with force such that nothing can stand up to it. And with that realization, Veery cannot afford to spare time to think.

But that’s the point. He reacts purely on instinct, works together with Hoarvug letting his body move of its own accord. Their connected hearts mean they act as one, even without conscious thought, but still Walhart stands strong, proving his strength.

How long does this dance last with Edelgard five years ago, during the Battle of Garreg Mach? Dorothea, Petra, Lysithea… all of them are here now, though Hoarvug is his ally in this fight, facing someone who fights so much like Edelgard does. The formal techniques are different, but the feel of the style is precisely the same.

Veery isn’t going to lose a second time. Losing once can mean death. Even if he’s allowed to live, even if this is merely practice, where no such threat exists, that simple fact means Veery will never be satisfied with defeat. Fear and the primal need to survive are what drives him.

Frustration, terror, because he knows he’s outmatched, are what ignites him.

Stirring deep in his gut, something hot begins to boil over. Veery feels almost feverish, a burning in his blood, and when he darts in to swipe with his claws, Walhart meets him head on.

Hoarvug comes at him from the other side, landing his claws into Walhart’s meaty arm, dropping that axe just enough for Veery to jump at Walhart’s shoulder – not the neck, Walhart may be dead already, but he’s still an ally, and this is still training.

Veery is knocked off of that crimson armor of Walhart’s enough to know it’s tougher than the thin layers of steel normal plate is made of. It’s thicker, more like the armor of a Fortress Knight. Too thick for Veery’s claws to pierce. Really, his intent with this strike is to simply get close enough that Walhart knows he can claw his exposed neck if he wants to.

But instead, Veery tears straight through that crimson armor like it’s paper. His claws catch flesh, and the enormous pauldron Veery lands on shreds and clatters to the ground.

…It’s not enough. It’s clearly not enough. Walhart turns, still can turn, and if Veery were aiming for his neck, he would not have landed the blow. He would have more seriously damaged Walhart’s shoulder, but it would not have been a killing blow. He knows that. Hoarvug knows that. Walhart knows that.

All the same, Walhart plants the head of his axe on the ground and stands straight, ignoring his bleeding shoulder, and it’s clear that the spar is over.

Veery is satisfied with that. No decided victor is empirically not a loss. Veery flees all the time, if he can get away with it. Stopping the battle wherever possible is just as reasonable a strategy as winning. So long as he’s alive.

Hoarvug is… less happy about it, but he doesn’t protest. He knows the difference between training and real battle, and this match is heated from the start. It’s unwise to continue, even if they don’t have a decisive victor yet.

Veery sighs, shifts back, and steps forward to heal Walhart’s shoulder. He is not asked to. Walhart hardly seems to notice the deep punctures in his skin or the odd burning around them. But neither does Walhart complain, and this is still training. Veery would not wound him this badly in the first place if he expected he’d go through that armor so easily.

Whatever power he’s unlocked, it’s stronger than he expects. Or maybe he just let himself be blinded a little by the similarities between Walhart and Edelgard and acted on instinct.

(No, if he acted on instinct, those wounds would be closer to Walhart’s neck. Not a killing blow, only because Walhart evades it, but close. Worse than they are.)

Walhart stands as unmoving as a statue, eyes closed, until Veery is finished with the wound and steps away from him once more. “That,” Walhart says, “in the hands of the one who condemned my world, is the power which defeated me.” He hums, long and thoughtful, and then opens his eyes. Gaze fixed firmly on Veery, pinning him in place, Walhart says, “Keep training. One day, you can be an unstoppable force.”

That sounds like a compliment, coming from Walhart. Still, Veery would really rather not. His goal was never to be strong, and it definitely was never to be an unstoppable force. That kind of strength comes with responsibility which Veery is ill suited for. He certainly won’t complain about growing strong. Becoming stronger means fewer things are likely to kill him. But that kind of immense strength is beyond what’s necessary to simply survive in peace. In fact, Veery suspects it might draw in unwanted annoyances.

But that statement does explain why Walhart is so interested in this fight, after Veery demonstrates the power. It’s something he’s seen before, or close to it. It’s what kills him, if Veery is hearing correctly. Huh.

“That power,” Lysithea says, “was that Sothis’ power?”

“I think so,” Veery answers. “It burned like it.” Even how, he feels the searing of his veins. It’s fading, as these things do, but he can still feel the heat from it.

“Interesting. I hadn’t expected it to manifest as a melee skill. I thought it would augment your magic.”

“There’s every chance it will,” Leonie says. “He just fought with his claws this time. If he uses the power with his magic, something else might happen.”

“It is a power, is it not?” Petra says. “It is his power. Your power can take many shapes. This is just one application of it.”

Lysithea smiles. “You’re right, I think. We’ll have a lot more practicing to do if we want to use this power effectively.”

“More importantly,” Shamir says, “Walhart. You fight like Edelgard.”

Walhart raises a brow and says nothing.

“You won’t be around much longer, will you? In that case, everyone should have a go at you. Get some experience fighting against someone whose style is so close to our enemy’s.”

Walhart’s eyes turn slowly to everyone gathered, and says simply, “I will fight anyone who comes at me.”

“That’s a good idea,” Leonie says. “I’ll give it a go. Anyone want to be my backup, or am I going one-on-one?”

“I’ll support you,” Caub says, grinning as eagerly as Leonie, already eyeing Walhart like a slab of meat. “I’ve never fought one of the einherjar before. And you might be the strongest man I’ve ever met. This should be interesting.”

Interesting. Right. Veery supposes he doesn’t have any room to judge, considering his own thoughts before his own battle, but to be fair, he was under the influence of Hoarvug.

Speaking of. Part of Veery is surprised that Hoarvug isn’t jumping back in, the other is surprised that Hoarvug hasn’t pulled Veery into a cuddle yet. Veery looks over to find Hoarvug openly glowering at Walhart.

Slipping away so they can whisper together without anyone overhearing, Veery asks him what’s up.

“We lost that battle, my Veery,” Hoarvug says simply, in Ancient. “He is simply stronger than us. If the fight continued, we would have lost.” …Yes, Veery suspects that they would have. They managed to injure Walhart, but even so Walhart is simply so powerful that sooner or later one of them would flag and they would lose. Just like with Edelgard five years ago. “We fought together, from within each other, and we still lost to the might of a single human.” Hoarvug’s eyes fall to the ground for a moment. “One that has fallen in battle himself. What strength killed him, I wonder?”

Veery does not know what to say. He just purrs gently, standing close enough that the heat is almost dizzying after that workout in their fur, but it’s for Hoarvug’s comfort, not his.

“I do not need to tell you that I am a proud cat, my Veery. Losing to a human is shameful. Losing alongside you, to a single man?” Hoarvug sighs. “What a disgrace.”

[hangezoeenthusiast]

God(hcs)

c!multiple x god!reader

notes: the reader will be the god of death to make it a little bit more spicy :). c!punz’s pronouns are he/they, i’m not sure about the others, but i know theirs. also why does ranboo take away my gender? /j

word count: 1,672

warnings: arson, violence, cursing, yelling, mention of death, voices in technos part, spoilers for wilbur if you haven’t watch tommy’s lore stream, revival for wilbur, making a religion, time travel, egg, prison, stealing, anarchy, playful name calling

Sapnap

so obviously y’all would be a great match :)

you have creative mode, so when sap would ask you to give him a lighter and tnt, you would GLADLY give it

also, can we talk about him being a nether hybrid

fire squared

like fires left and right, hide your mom and your children in your house lol /j

but besides the whole arson thing, you favor him above anyone else on the server

like if he asks for diamond blocks, well here’s a whole inventory of it, also, here’s some ancient debris and some netherite

if someone asked, you would probably grant them with poison and curses, just because you can’t be “unloyal” to snapchat 

wouldn’t be lonely anymore

Dreamwastaken

this duo is less chaotic, but chaotic enough where people avoid you

he still asks you for stuff, but most of the time, you don’t give him it because he annoys you too much about giving stuff

“hey y/n/n, can i pretty please get some emerald blocks.”

“nope bitch, get it yourself.”

but sometimes, you grant him some op shit, when it’s your good day

“because i’m being nice, here’s some diamond, now, don’t ask me again you little piss baby.”

“shut your trap y/n.”

“or what homeless teletubby, what are you going to do to a god like me?”

“you hang out with technoblade to much.”

Georgenotfound

maybe the least chaotic duo

you guys keep on relaxing and relaxing until the point where you don’t do anything

he barely asks you for anything, but only when it’s really really important, like a house or build

especially when he was building his little cottagecore house, he needed your godly presence to help

“y/n, what should the roof be made of?”

“i suggest brick, it makes it more aestheticy if that makes any sense.”

also barely any drama or tea with you guys

never arguing and never betraying each other is a must

Tubbo

also another least chaotic duo

literally help him with his bee farm, he will (platonically) love you forever

gotta be close to ranboo, that’s the rule

gives him SO much stuff, he’s a precious boi 🙄

also gotta be close to tommy, but not as much unfortunately

you help him pick out things for builds, like what material clashes with another, etc

“do you think that the wool and the netherite blocks look good together y/n?”

“nah, what i suggest is the wool with the gold, it looks perfect.”

sometiems, gotta put him in check because he gets a little ego built up

you definitely yank his horn a little too hard because of your IMMENSE STRENGTH

“OW, WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT Y/N.”

“calm down sunny, you were just getting a bit over your head a little.”

Tommyinnit

chaotic duo like sapnap

snaps at anyone who annoys you and vice versa

you give him EVERYTHING, obviously except op and creative

he tries to persuade you to do something, but dreamxd wouldn’t allow it, since he is the main boss

“come on y/n, give me op.”

“no tommy, xd will kick my ass.”

“pweaseee.”

“no.”

you would DEFINITELY help him with the Big Innit Hotel, making the whole layout and color palette.

both of you have an intense hatred for ranboo, since he “stole” tubbo away from tommy

Ranboo

least involved in everything

just stay in the tundra and drink some tea, and you’re good for all of your life

helps him get netherite all the time so your boii can get the good stuff 😬

when he mines to get diamonds, he literally prays to you

“y/n, if you’re listening, please give me a 6 vein, i desperately need it for my collection of diamond blocks.”

and THERE IT IS

more than a 6 vein actually, a 12 vein

guess he needs to pray to you more

daily tea sessions, to talk about the good stuff, and NO, and i repeat NO skipping

threatening to flick water on him check ✅

Wilbur Soot

literally you spoil him

not to be angsty, but when he died and lost his last canon life, you revived him instead of Dream

now he’s practically at your knees

like he’s thinks that he owes you, but actually that’s the opposite

he was revived because you were lonely, and wanted your best friend back :(

prays to you when he goes to bed

“hey y/n, hope you’re having a great day, (platonically) love you.”

“love you too mortal.”

sometimes, to be at the peak of godness, you shower upon wilbur as gold to symbolize blessings, like zeus did before

“omg y/n, what are you doing?”

“i’m trying to bless you, shut up bitch.”

just saying, he would make a religion about you :/

Karl Jacobs

omg don’t get me started on this

first, you wouldn’t codone him going back in time

he would definitely forget your name a lot, so that’s why you hated it

“hey karl, how are you doing?”

“i’m sorry, but do i know you?”

ANGST IS TOO MUCH FOR ME

you were definitely the one to push him towards sapnap and quackity

this is also another spoiled boi

give him the entire world while you’re at it pwease

he wants a few diamonds, nope, give him a chest full of them

Quackity

why are there so much chaotic duos in here?

literally chaos times infinity

energy to the max

literally, did you take an energy drink

grants him every wish he can randomly think off

“can i get a bucket with lava and a fish in it?”

“weird choice, but ok man.”

gotta be close to sap and karl or he isn’t your friend anymore /j

helps with las nevadas a lot, and definitely tries to rig the machines so you get money

“hey big q, i got 10,000 dollars.”

“that’s impossible... y/n, did you cheat?”

“nooo 😊”

help him preen his wings, and he goes “I LOVE YOU, MWAH MWAH.” obviously in his mind 🙄

Awesamdude

definitely helps him maintain the prison

you both love setting up red stone contraptions and pistons and all that giz

“hey sam, do you know where the redstone torches are?”

“yeah, there behind the pistons in the back.”

also you helped build the prison, since he could do that by himself

“are you sure that lava wall will work y/n, your calculations seem inaccurate.”

“i’m sure sam, this will add some more security to this goddamn server.”

nerd squared lol

BadBoyHalo

wouldn’t condone the egg

you warned him multiple times to get away from its grasp, but most of the times he’ll decline

“i won’t y/n, the egg is the future.”

he still, even after all the advancements, even after everything, he tries to ask you to join the eggpire

“come on y/n, you’ll like being with us.”

“i don’t wanna be on a stupid egg side, like let me crack the egg, i wanna eat it and turn it into a omelette.”

he doesn’t like that joke :(

but before he discovered the egg, both of you were joint at the hip

sight seeing was a must

languages being thrown around everywhere, since you were the little language muffin

Punz

steals stuff from everyone

hide your stuff, because the punzo-y/n team is unstoppable

definitely they can be really stubborn and indecisive

like one day, he will be like, “i need gold blocks.” and the next, “nevermind, i need netherite actually.”

like hon, stop switching

also anarchy buddies

burning down forests and buildings are your guys’s specialty

when you give him gold when they doesn’t ask, his heart goes brrr and his brain goes, “pog pog, they’re so cool, lets hug them.”

Technoblade

now this is the most deadly duo in the entire Dream Smp

better not piss you guys off 😐

he’s the Blood God, and you’re the God/Goddess/God being of Death

so if some occasion where you need to battle someone, like Techno’s enemies, *clears throat and murmurs Quackity*, you will obviously back your boy up :)

help him with enchanting and potions and he’s set for life

also you got have to be close to the great Philza Minecraft since him and Techno are buddy buddy

anarchy squared

helps with the voices since you have some of your own

“so what you’re saying is that i need to pay attention to them?”

“yeah, when i first learned that the voices were in my head, i tried to ignore them, but that sucked. so what i did was try to distract myself with various tasks, and that sucked.”

“so what do i do, you’re saying that i should listen to them, but how do i do that when they literally shout at me.”

“just embrace it, obviously when they do their little chant of blood for the blood god, you have to ignore them.”

“you suck at advice.”

Philza Minecraft

so since both of you resemble death, him being the Angel of Death and you being the God/Goddess/God being of Death, y’all are fucking best friends, platonic soulmates if you will

death squared

watch out, because if you piss them off, prepare to d-

gotta be close to Ranboo and Techno, and obviously others who he platonically likes

he doesn’t need to ask you for stuff, he’s the fricking Angel of Death, but he will ask you to preen his wings :D

“ow, not there y/n.”

“oh shut up grandpa, let me do it.”

“I’M NOT OLD DUMBASS.”

Dream XD

two gods at once, damn there is so much chaos

left and right, you guys are noticed by everyone, like purrrr

y’all would be in some fancy shit, to show your power

you would get jealous of him hanging out with george

“why are you jealous y/n?”

“you’re hanging out with george to much, hang out with me please :(.”

gifts are a must, even though both of you have access to creative

[thefreakishmuffin]

Let’s examine the dynamic between Hunter and Luz, Part 2

Whoop this is gonna be a long one as well...

Note that some of this may drift a little bit away from analyzing solely Hunter and Luz’s dynamic, but I promise I’ll always circle back to it.

Link to part 1 is right here

Last we left off, Luz and Hunter have decided to join forces in a truce to thwart Kikimora’s plans to give Emperor Belos the palismen herself. On a wall, Luz draws a fire glyph and an ice glyph and connects them together. Intrigued, Hunter states that he’s never seen a spell like this before, and asks what it will do. Luz begins explaining how it’ll work, only for Hunter to pick up on what she’s doing halfway through and finish the explanation for her. Luz looks at him, thoroughly surprised that he has such knowledge.

Hunter apologizes for interrupting and states that he read about a similar spell in a book about Wild Magic, which happens to be a book Luz has read as well. Hunter seems surprised in turn when realizing him and Luz share a common interest in Wild Magic. He starts to have what I call a “nerd moment”, where he’s starting to get really excited about what he’s talking about. He mentions that these glyphs look very similar to magic that was once practiced back in the Savage Ages. He seems almost thrilled to be talking to someone else who’s interested in Wild Magic, which is something he can’t talk freely about in the Emperors Coven, lest he receive abuse from Belos. 

However, his smile fades and he cuts himself off, saying that information on Wild Magic is restricted for a reason, and that Luz ought to stop messing around with it before she gets hurt. 

And here is something that strikes me as interesting; Hunter’s family is supposedly gone because of Wild Magic. So if that’s the case, then why is he so fascinated with Wild Magic himself, to the point where it’s something he even greatly enjoys studying and talking about? I can’t really think of any other good reason for this, other than the idea that when Belos mentioned their family, he was really talking about his own family, since it’s alluded that Hunter was likely “adopted” to Belos’ family in a way.

After Hunter tells Luz to stop messing with Wild Magic, Luz tells him that, outside of Lilith, she’s never talked to anyone from the Emperors Coven before. And asks what made him want to join? Hunter looks genuinely surprised. It doesn’t seem like he’s ever been asked this question before. Looking away from Luz, perhaps in a sense of shame, he admits that he’s a powerless witch, and that most of his ancestors were. He never felt like he’d ever have a future in their world. That is until Belos found him and took him in, and gave him a staff with artificial magic, telling Hunter that the Titan had “big plans” for him. 

Let’s go over a little analysis here. Hunter says that Belos found him. This is the statement that leads many of us to believe that the two of them aren’t actually blood-related. However, to me it still seems odd that Hunter would call Belos his uncle. Perhaps Belos wanted Hunter to call him uncle? Maybe, but it still seems odd to me for Belos to take in this random young boy as his family. Especially when Belos refers to their family as being the same thing. Part of me believes that perhaps Belos is his biological uncle, but he was estranged from the family. Either way, it’s an interesting bit. 

And we also have a better understanding as to why Hunter stays in the Emperor’s Coven (besides everything I went over in my post analyzing his dynamic with Emperor Belos). The Emperor gave him a purpose in his life, giving him magic when he never had any. Giving him a title, and making him important. This all likely seemed wonderful to Hunter at first, but as we see later on it comes with a definite price. 

Alright back to Hunter’s dynamic with Luz...

Luz listens to what Hunter has to say, and she sits beside him saying, “It must be nice to have your future planned out for you.” To which Hunter responds, “At least you get to plan your own.” It’s this exchange right here that really shows how Hunter feels about his situation. He wants to be free to decide what he wants to do with his life, but he’s now found himself bound to the Emperor’s Cult Coven, tied to a future he’s not sure he even wants. More than anything, Hunter wants to be free. This is the deepest desire of his heart.

And how do I know this? Because right after he speaks right here, Little Rascal, the red cardinal palisman, shows up and comes right to him. Palisman are drawn toward like-minded souls, and the palisman at Hexside chose someone after they shared their deepest wish. This palisman wants freedom, just like Hunter, and this is why he chooses to become his palisman at the end of the episode. (Not to mention Rascal was trying to run away and ‘be free’ at the beginning of the episode).

Okay, again, back to Hunter and Luz’s dynamic...

After their little conversation, Luz and Hunter team up and Luz prepares to cast the spell. Tough hesitant at first, gives Hunter his staff. He asks if she’s sure, and she puts her trust in him. He takes back his staff and Luz activates the glyphs. The plan goes well and Kikimora’s hand dragon falls from the sky, both with her and the palismen as well. But as soon as Luz goes to make sure the palismen are okay, Hunter is ready to betray her, activating his staff and pointing it right at her. 

Luz, however, isn’t angry with him. She’s clearly not happy with him here, but she’s not angry. But rather hurt and disappointed. She asks Hunter if he’s really willing to give up innocents to Belos. Luz then delivers this important and impactful line to Hunter: “I thought that maybe you were a good guy. But I guess I was wrong. You’re not my friend. You’re just the Golden Guard.”

That last comment seems to deeply hurt him. The idea of just being the Golden Guard and losing himself to that false identity is a scary thing for him to think about. So, in that moment, he lowers his staff, removes his mask, and finally reveals his true name to Luz. Hunter did this because he finally got to connect with someone for probably the first time in his life. And I mean really connect with someone. He was starting to feel like someone saw him for him, and not the Golden Guard. So when Luz said that he’s just the Golden Guard, he was hurt, and immediately decided to try and change that. he didn’t want the one person he’s been able to connect with to know him as a title. He wanted her to know him as a person. And what better way to do that than start by telling someone your name?

Luz gasps when Hunter reveals to her his real name. But why? Was it because she saw the good in him, and maybe thought he was having a change of heart? Or was it because he was suddenly sharing such a personal piece of himself? I’m not quite sure on that part. 

But this moment is cut short when a very disoriented Kikimora tries to attack Luz and Hunter. Hunter is quick to defend Luz, once again showing great fighting skill, and allows a now conflicted and troubled Luz to get away. Both of them are now not sure what to make of the other. Are they friends now? Are they still enemies? Neither one of them seems entirely sure. 

And the last bit I want to touch upon here is how at the end of the episode where Kikimora asks Hunter how he survived the ship crash. He simply tells her he was helped by local travelers. Notice how he consciously chooses not to rat out Luz. Just a few hours ago he was ready to arrest her and even threatened her life, but now he’s making an effort to defend and keep her safe. 

These two characters are some of the most interesting in the entire series so far, and the dynamic between these two is only going to get more and more interesting the more time goes on, and the more often they are able to meet.

[fernweh-writes]

How do you think the slashers would react to their s/o just crumbling to the floor because of a severe migraine

My chronic migraines give me plenty of experience with this one. Enjoy luv!

-Fern🌿

Slashers x S/O With Severe Migraines

Michael Myers

Michael would freak out, but of course you would never know that, he’s as expressionless as ever. But he’s worried about you, he’s never seen you in so much pain and he hates not knowing how to help. So when you crumble to the ground with your head in your hands his first instinct is to pick you up.

Does his best to do what you normally do whenever you have a migraine or bad headache. After getting you tucked into bed he closes the blinds remembering how you would throw an arm over your eyes to block out the light. Brings you a glass of water and some pain killers to try and help with the persistent pain.

You won’t have to worry about loud noises being an issue either considering Michael always moves around quietly. It’s a quality of his that normally annoys you since he scares the crap out of you so often but in the moment you’ve never been more grateful that your giant of a boyfriend is so quite.

If the nausea gets to you and you make a run for the bathroom, Michael will disappear. He may care about you but he’s not going to hold your hair back for you or anything. Will show up to carry you back to the bed once more though. Even he won’t leave you lying on the cold floor.

Bo Sinclair

Bo may have experience with extreme hangovers but he doesn’t have any experience with severe migraines. At first, when you begin to complain about the pain he teases you about it. “It can’t be that bad, darlin’, you’re just bein’ dramatic.” He simply doesn’t understand the severity of your migraines, so you can imagine his surprise when you fall to the ground grimacing and taking deep breaths.

He does his best to appear nonchalant but you can still tell he’s panicking. Bo’s not stupid, he knows you have a pretty good pain tolerance and has witnessed it first hand. So he understands that you have to be in some serious pain to just crumble to the ground like that.

Carries you up the stairs to the bedroom and just awkwardly hovers. Eventually he decides to ask Vincent for his help. Bo knows everything there is to know about cars but he’s helpless when it comes to fixing up people.

His best idea is to just lay with you and rub circles onto your skin in a poor attempt to distract you from the pain and discomfort. Keeps asking what he can do to help when really the best thing he could do is stop asking questions and learn to shut up for once in his life. If you snap at him he decides that he can allow it use this once but don’t ever try to again.

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent spend most of his time underneath Ambrose in his workshop. So when he finally reappears on the surface only to find you sitting on the kitchen floor with your head in your hands he’s immediately worried and begins to fret over you.

I’m convinced that Vincent actually knows a lot about medicine. His messed up father most definitely left behind a bunch of medical textbooks in his office as well as a few medical journals as well. Reading all of them in his free time has given him a great understanding of anatomy and the human body. How else would he be so good with handling the bodies. He can properly administer a sedative, stitch people up, and accurately slice the Achilles’ tendon, those things aren’t just common knowledge.

This makes Vincent the best equipped slasher to help you through any migraine. He’ll scoop you up and carry you to bed making sure the room stays dark and quite. If you want him to stay with you he will, otherwise he will leave you be and just occasionally pop in to check on you. If Bo comes home shouting Vincent will deal with him immediately.

Memorizes all of your migraine triggers and does his best to help you avoid them. While Vincent has sadistic tendencies he never wants to see you in pain. Especially not in so much pain that you fall to the floor and curl up on yourself like that.

Thomas Hewitt

The Hewitt household is always filled with loud noises and commotion. Whether it be screams, yelling, slamming doors, or the sound of a chainsaw there’s always some type of loud noise. But with so much to be done around the house and your need to carry your own weight, you do your best to push through the pain that begins in your head. But as the pain intensifies and the noises around you just continue to grow louder, you fall to the ground.

When Thomas finds you curled in on yourself he panics. Doing his best to be gentle, he picks you up and does the only thing he knows to do. Setting you down on the kitchen table he pulls Luda Mae over to you. His momma is the only person he can think of to help you out. Sure enough, she’s able to assess your migraine quickly and gets Thomas to carry you up to bed and close the curtains to try and block out the sun.

For once in a long time, the house is quite. There is no yelling, no screaming, and definitely no chainsaw. Luda Mae makes sure to keep Hoyt and Monty quiet while Thomas makes sure to not leave your side. The bodies can be dealt with tomorrow no matter how much crap he gets from Hoyt. Right now, Thomas is focused on making sure that you’re okay and fetches you anything that you need.

Brahms Heelshire

It’s no secret that Brahms watches you all day long. Whether he’s glued to your hip or within the walls, you can always feel his eyes on you and Brahms always finds a way to make his presence known. So when your migraine hits an unbearable point and the world begins to sway, you decide to sit on the middle of the floor.

Seeing you suddenly drop to the ground has Brahms panicking from his spot within the walls. You can hear him move around with loud thunks which only causes you to wince and press your hands to your head in an attempt to block out the noise. His whines of concern when he reach you don’t help either and you snap.

Brahms has never seen you snap at him like that but he’s also never seen you hurt like this so he feels very conflicted. Eventually he reasons that for now he can help you so that you’re no longer in pain. But lashing out at him like that is behavior that can’t go unpunished. So all the while he’s helping you and being on his best behavior he’s thinking of all the ways he can punish you when you feel better.

Billy Loomis

Billy isn’t good at taking care of people, half the time he can’t even do a good job of showing he cares. That doesn’t change the fact that he’s still very protective over you though. So when you crumble to the ground at one of Stu’s parties with tears beginning to form in your eyes he immediately grabs you and carries you to an empty room away fro any people.

When you explain to him that it’s a migraine and all the noise and flashing lights are only making it worse he’s immediately getting you in the car and carrying you home, no complaints. Billy refuses to keep you in a place that’s only going to make you feel worse even if he doesn’t know how to help you get rid of your migraine.

Once you make it home he carries you to bed and hands you water and pain killers. After listening to your instructions to hit the lights he crawls into bed beside you. Even after you manage to fall asleep he’s staying up worrying over you. Billy enjoys seeing people hurt, he’s crazy enough to stab his own best friend with no remorse. Even then, he quickly decides that he never wants to see you hurt and does everything he can to prevent that.

Stu Macher

Stu’s not great with empathy, he does a terrible job of reading the room, and he does a bad job of helping other people most of the time. So seeing you curl up on the ground makes him nervous. He knows you have migraines from time to time but usually you’re able to handle them on you’re own. The most you ever get him to do is fetch you water or Tylenol.

He panics as he helps you up off the ground, not knowing what to do with you. He considers carrying you to bed but decides that the couch is much closer. Pulling a blanket off of the back he drapes it over you, making sure to turn off the TV so it doesn’t bother you.

For the first time in his life Stu manages to be quite. Since he can’t ramble though he finds himself fidgeting around, biting at the skin around his nails. Listening to your small groans and whines of pain make him want to do something, anything. Knowing that all he can do is wait makes him feel helpless and useless.

Stu goes out of his way to help you avoid anything that might trigger your migraines. If you get a sever migraine while out in public he will come pick you up so that you dont’ have to drive yourself home. The two of you can worry about your car later, he’s just worried about making you feel better.

Jesse Cromeans

This man has his own medical staff just on standby at all times. Having any sort of severe or chronic migraines is no problem when you’re with Jesse. One phone call and he can find you the best doctor in the whole country.

Seeing you curl into a ball as you sit on the ground has him calling Spann and telling her to clear his schedule for the rest of the day. You are his top priority, he can handle business another day. Even if it was something important he has a whole team of people that are more than capable of handling the situation for the time being. He’ll make sure that you get some rest knowing that a nap usually helps to eradicate your pain.

If he happens to bring you along to one of his warehouses and end up with a migraine though then he begins to get nervous. You’re more likely to be put in danger there, so he’ll be reluctant to bring you along again. Jesse will have you sit in his lap and anyone that barges in yelling about “business affairs” then he’ll quickly get rid of them.

Black out curtains. He knows that the light streaming through the windows can make your migraines so much worse. So he would make sure to have blackout curtains in your bedroom so that no light can get through and you can rest peacefully. Nothing like a dark and quiet room when your head feels like it’s about to explode.

Asa Emory

If this happens while you’re still trapped in his hotel of horror, then you’re just kind of SOL. Asa has cameras in every room so he most definitely knows that you’re in pain. On the bright side the hotel is pretty dark and quiet so there’s not much that will make your migraine worse. Unless Asa decides to torture you by turning on extra bright lights or causing a scene just for some noise to irritate you.

If you’re still in the hotel, but Asa has grown fond of you then he may show some mercy. Sadly that mercy comes in the form simply knocking you out with any method he deems convenient. Lucky you, you wont be hit upside the head because he knows that would just make things worse.

However, if he’s decided to make you his a little house spouse, then he tends to be more gentle. His house is quiet and the dimly lit bedroom is your safe haven whenever your head starts to hurt. If you fall to the ground he’ll carry you to bed. Making sure to remind you how weak and pathetic you are, you wouldn’t be able to do anything without him to take care of you.

[watchmegetobsessed]

SAFE AND SOUND

a/n: this one took a little longer to write, but im so happy its finally finished! its not what i originally planned, i started a whole different plot but hated it so started again, but i might go back to the first story, so maybe more bodyguard!harry content is gonna come! anyway, hope you’ll enjoy this one!

pairing: Bodyguard!Harry X Reader

warning: use of weapon (no one dies), mentioning of cancer (no one is sick), sexual content

word count: 9.1k

masterlist

“This is not up for discussion, Y/N. What you are doing and what you are about to achieve soon might upset a lot of people that hold great power. We can’t just assume you’ll be fine, walking around like anyone else in the world.”

Your boss, Julian explains it to you, leaning onto his desk, trying his best to keep his cool about your protest to get you a guard to watch out for you and keep you safe. It’s been an ongoing struggle and fight you two have been having these past weeks and it became a burning situation since you’ve made some major progress in your project.

“I’m not some kind of royalty to have security with me all the time,” you grumble rolling your eyes.

“Not just royalties have guards, Y/N. Just accept it, that you’re valuable, your work is very important not just to our company but to the whole world. Do you not realize how big it is? You are close to having the cure to cancer, Y/N! You can easily get a Nobel-prize for that!”

“I know that it’s important, but no one knows me, no one will see me on the street and know who I am or what I do!”

“It’s not about the people on the street. The world is a dark place, darker than you could imagine. Please, just… I want to know that you’re safe.”

Staring back at him with your arms folded on your chest you contemplate his words. You can see the rationality in his words, it’s just that you don’t want to break your routine, you don’t want people around you all the time, you don’t want to end your privacy like that. But Julian is right, your work is important and there have already been a few attempts to steal your researches, but they miserably failed. However that doesn’t mean they will be stopped the next time as well.

“One guard,” you speak up. “Just one. I’m not gonna have a whole fucking team,” you tell him raising your eyebrows. He lets out a relieved sigh, a tiny smile tugging on his lips.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Reaching out to the phone he presses the buzzer that signals to his assistant, Monica outside and a few moments later she walks in, accompanied with a tall, suited man, his green eyes immediately falling to you upon entering the room.

“Y/N, I took the courage to pick him out for you myself. This is Harry Styles, the best you can find in the city if not in the country,” Julian introduces him as he pushes himself away from his giant mahogany desk, walking closer to the man as they shake hands firmly. You stand up from the armchair you’ve been sinking into these past ten minutes and unsurely hold out your hand to the man.

“Harry Styles, pleasure to meet you,” he introduces himself, a thick British accent lacing through his voice and the way his green irises stare back at you, you can feel your heart fluttering in your chest. Mr. Styles is undeniably the most charming and handsome man you’ve ever met, with his perfectly carved cheekbones and chiseled jawline, pink lips and those enchanting green eyes framed by his thick lashes. There’s something in his appearance, something feminine, but still, he holds so much masculinity at the same time, it’s hard not to be enamored by him.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you mumble your name, shaking his hand slightly before letting go of it.

“Details about your cooperation have already been discussed with the security agency and us, but of course, your word is what counts, so we’ll walk over the whole plan with you as well,” Julian explains to you and you nod shortly.

The three of you move to the conference room and the next hour goes by with working those so called details out, some of them are ridiculous, some of them you can get used to, at the end you are left with a somewhat bearable plan, but one thing is for sure. Harry Styles will be a big part of your life from now on.

THREE MONTHS LATER

The tiny pack of sugar tears open in your hands, but you put too much effort into it so the countertop is now covered with the content of the pack instead of ending up in your paper cup.

“Fuck,” you growl, dumping the empty pack into the trash before grabbing another one, hoping it won’t end up the same way.

“Let me help you,” a smooth, male voice speaks up next to you and Harry grabs the pack from your hands as he places his own coffee to the counter. You let him tear the pack open easily, pouring the sugar into your drink without problem before he puts the lid back to your cup.

“Thank you,” you mumble, closing your tired eyes for a split second. You’ve been overworking way too much these past weeks, it’s starting to shut your system down, but you don’t want to rest, not when you’re so close to finishing your project.

The past two weeks have been major, you finally made the progress you’ve been working towards for months now, letting you step into the last phase of your work finally. But it’s been a quite stressful time as you’ve been eager to finish as soon as possible, but that meant little to no time spent outside of your lab.

Harry shoots you a reassuring smile before you both grab your drinks and head out of the café in the direction of your workplace.

The past three months were one hell of a ride when it comes to Harry. You didn’t hide your dislike towards his continuous presence in your life, standing by your side wherever you went. It frustrated you, made you feel like you didn’t have your freedom any longer even though he never did anything to make you hate him. He was considerate, respectful and only wanted to do his job, yet you still gave him a hard time at the beginning, right until the need for his work was proved.

Two months ago someone broke into your apartment while you were out, they searched through the whole place, looking for something. Well, not just something, they were clearly interested in anything connected to your research, but luckily, you’re not dumb enough to just let these stuff lay around your home.

Even though you didn’t encounter the person responsible for it, the incident still shook your up. Knowing that someone could get into your personal space so easily, that they could have come at a time when you were home and vulnerable, it scared you. Harry was the person that eased the worry and fear in you, he took care of everything in an instant and upon his best advice, you moved to a new apartment with a higher security level. He even moved to the place next to yours so he could be as close to you as possible at all times. There was a much needed shift in your relationship after that and you didn’t see him as an intruder any longer in your life, but more as a hero.

“So would you like Italian or Mexican tonight for dinner?” Harry asks as the two of you enter the building, using your IDs you go through the massive security gates, the guards in post nodding in your way.

“Isn’t it your night to choose?” you smile at him sideways as you wait for the elevator.

“Okay, then Thai,” he smirks, making you laugh. “Hope you are not planning on eating it here again,” he gives you a warning look and you purse your lips.

“I have a lot to do, and—“

“Y/N, you need to rest sometimes,” he scolds you as if you were just a child.

“I do rest. Sometimes,” you answer with an innocent look as the elevator’s door slides open and you walk in with Harry following you right behind.

“Like once a week? Do you even sleep when you’re at home?”

“I do! Don’t make me look like I’m some kind of crazy workaholic!”

“I’m just worried about you, is all,” he sighs, giving you a hard look.

“Oh, Mr. Styles. If I didn’t know you better I would think you might have a soft spot for me,” you smirk at him teasingly before the elevator arrives to your floor and you walk out without a word. Harry just stares after you with a small smile tugging on his lips as he thinks about your words. It’s funny, especially because you both know something more than just a professional relationship has been going on between the two of you, only dancing around it as the situation is a little too complicated to address now.

It’s not like any rules are tying you down, but you would rather not mix up work with your private life. You might have feelings for Harry, but you refuse to act up on them until he is out of his duty as your personal guard.

Your days are usually the same. While you lock yourself up in your lab, working with no end, Harry stay either with you in there or he hovers around the door, keeping an eye on everyone and everything. Just the thought of his presence never fails to bring you a sense of comfort, knowing that you don’t have to worry about your safety until he is near. It might seem nerdy, but you can easily get lost in your work. It doesn��t feel like a job, growing up with parents who were excellent doctors and pharmacists themselves, you were doomed to be a science enthusiast yourself from the beginning. Learning has never been a task for you but a gift, as you liked to look at it.

Working overtime happens often because you lose touch with time easily once you get down to work. Nothing exists outside of your lab and you hardly realize how late it is until Harry usually warns you.

“I didn’t joke when I said I didn’t want to have dinner in here,” he steps into your sanctuary while you’re in the middle of running tests for the millionth time today. Pushing your glasses up to the top of your head while the machines are buzzing and whirling, you look up at him with a tired smile.

“Let me just… finish this one last test and then I promise we’ll head out.”

“Alright, but I’m watching you. No more tests,” he warns, sitting on one of the stools while you finish what you started.

Harry never really asked you about your work, for a while you weren’t even sure if he knows what you’re doing and why it’s so important. It was never discussed at the beginning and he never brought it up later either. But judging from the time he spends near you at the lab he must have picked up a few things about it surely.

The machines stop working and the tiny beeping sound signals that the results are out. You grab the long printed paper and start scanning the data, chewing on your bottom lip as you hope to find what you’ve been looking for all day. The numbers are coming in great, but it’s been like this for a while, it’s the end that never matches up with your expectations. So when you get there and see the graphs showing the result that you’ve been dreaming of since the start of the whole project years ago, your mouth falls open in disbelief even though it’s what you’ve been working for all this time.

“Oh my God,” you whisper.

“What?” Harry’s head snaps up in alert, jumping off the stool.

“I… I did it,” you breathe out, glancing up from the paper. “It’s my first time succeeding, Harry!” you start laughing, the shock taking over your whole body that you really did it this time.

“And what does that mean?”

“Come on, let me show you,” you tell him in excitement, pulling him over to the computer where you pull up all the data you’ve been working on. A virtual version of a cell comes up on the screen as you start typing, modelling what you want to show him. “This is a completely healthy cell, it’s what you are made of too, mostly,” you ass with a chuckle before another cell comes up on the screen. “And this is what cells that are affected by cancer look like.”

The difference is a lot more complicated than what you can explain to him in such a short time, but he can see it with his own eyes. The color, the shape, everything is different from the first one. Harry examines the screen and nods shortly, letting you know that he is following.

“I’ve been working on a substance that is able to not just detect the cancerous cells but it can also kill it effectively without hurting the healthy ones.”

You bring up the virtualized version of the substance you’ve been working on, a short animation showing how it can tell the two cells apart and only attack the cancerous one.

“I haven’t been able to get the numbers above 60% when it comes to succeeding in the process of selection so my whole project was about finding a solution to that. I’ve been trying to find the right substance to mix with our already existing one to solve the problem, but I haven’t been successful in it.”

“I assume until now,” Harry hum and you nod smirking.

“Yeah. The last test results came back very good, quite promising. It’s still not the end of the process, but it’s a huge step.”

“That’s great,” he smiles at you and though you know he probably understands just a fracture of the whole process, he can still figure out how important it is. “Congrats, Y/N.” “Thanks,” you breathe out, pride filling your chest as you shut the computer off. “I guess this is my cue to end the day,” you smile at him before packing up everything, getting ready to finally leave.

It’s not the first time Harry is spending the evening at your place. You often have dinner together, or watch a movie whenever you get home early enough to do that. Through the time you’ve spent together because of his job you’ve grown to be friends above everything. Good ones, in fact, which is a big deal for you since making friends has never been an easy task for you.

You bought takeout on the way home and as Harry set the table you poured yourself a glass of wine, knowing well Harry would never drink when he is on duty and he is basically working all the time he is with you, so you’re drinking alone. You both sit to the dining table, starting dinner together in a comfortable silence. It’s another thing you appreciate about Harry. He doesn’t try to talk when it’s not necessary, you hate small talk, you’d rather sit in silence than talk about something nonsense and Harry is a partner in that.

“When do you need to leave work tomorrow to get to the party on time?” he asks breaking the silence and you freeze. His eyes fall on you, examining your features for a moment before he smirks. “You forgot about it?”

“I just… thought it’s going to be next week,” you truthfully admit.

“We talked about it last week,” he smirks at you playfully. “And I told you it would be next week which is… this week.”

“I know how the days work, Harry,” you give him a look of ‘give me a break’ before you turn back to your food. “I just…”

“You just forgot it,” Harry finishes for you, and you just roll your eyes at him.

Glancing at him over the table you wonder if he’ll wear something different than is usual attire he always wears. Black suit with a white shirt underneath, the top two buttons left undone, giving you a tiny peek at the tattoos on his chest. You know those are not the only ones, you’ve seen him with the suit jacket off before, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, his whole left arm is covered in ink and you wish you’ve had the chance to take a better look at them.

Harry is such an intriguing person in a lot of different ways. He definitely likes to keep things to himself, not one to ask for attention and it’s not just because of his work, it’s his personality. However he is good with people, interacting with them, being social. A skill you haven’t really mastered yourself yet and you probably never will. He always seems to know what to say, you’ve never seen him even the slightest bit anxious or nervous before, the confidence he holds is unmatched and it makes it hard to not think about him in ways you shouldn’t be.

After dinner he helps you clean up, just like he always does before heading out, but before he could leave he stops and turns back to face you.

“Oh, a friend of mine is visiting from the UK on Sunday. I already mentioned it to you before, but I was hoping I could get the afternoon off,” he wonders and you nod right away.

“Of course! I’ll be just fine at home,” you smile at him.

“Thank you,” he smiles back before walking out of your place at last.

Because of the party in the evening you are forced to stop working early the next day. It’s weird to leave the office in broad daylight, but you know today can’t be one of those days when you end up seeing the new day in the lab.

Harry was right yesterday, you completely forgot the whole party thing, meaning you didn’t plan anything ahead and you had nothing to wear, so through the day you called your sister, Mara to help you out. She was more than happy to lend you anything you needed. She meets you at the office, beaming to spend some time with you finally. It’s not that you don’t like her company, but you are quite different, is all. Your sister didn’t get sucked into the world of science, though she definitely has the bright mind to take up on any field she would want to explore. But she was more into the world of art, having written her first fantasy novel at the ripe age of twenty, she is now a bestseller author at only twenty-nine with a bubbly personality and basically every trait you never owned yourself.

“Harry! So nice to see you again!” Mara beams at the man as the three of you meet up at the lobby.

“Hi, Mara,” Harry smiles with a tiny nod.

“Alright, I have everything you could need so let’s head to yours!” your sister cheers before you make your way out to your cars.

Arriving to your home Harry splits from the two of you, letting you to get ready in peace and also to get ready himself. Mara didn’t joke when she said she has everything you need, the trunk of her car is basically filled with clothes and shoes, there’s no chance you won’t find something to wear tonight.

She orders you to take a quick shower as she unpacks everything she brought and when you emit from a cloud of steam with a towel wrapped around your body and one on your head, Mara gets down to work.

“So do you have a date for today?” she curiously asks while she does your makeup.

“Huh, yeah, sure,” you huff ironically. “It’s just gonna be Harry and me.”

“So Harry is your date?” her ears perk up, but you’re quick to protest.

“Of course not! He comes with me everywhere,” you mumble with your eyes closed as she is doing something on your eyelids.

“But it could be a date,” she offers and you huff in disagreement.

“You know that’s not how it works, Mara.”

“You are making it more complicated than it is! No one would blame you if you just… went for it! Harry is obviously an attractive guy.”

“Then maybe you should date him,” you bite back bitterly. Growing up you weren’t the boys’ favorite, they always paid all the attention to your sister. It’s not that you blame her or them, she always had a more capturing and lively personality that attracted people naturally. But it made you wonder if there was something wrong with you, spending all your time with your nose buried in a book or doing researches for fun while Mara was out with her friends, living her best life. Even her published books were inspired by her personal life experiences.

“Y/N,” she sighs, her hands leaving your face so you open your eyes to look at her disapproving expression. “You obviously like him so I would never do that and besides that, he for sure likes you too.”

“What’s not true,” you deny right away, but then you look at her curiously. “But why would you think that?”

Mara smirks at you tilting her head to the side, seeing right through your act that you’re not interested in Harry. Of course you are, but you choose to keep it at bay for the sake of his job.

“Y/N, I see how that man watches every move you make. It’s written all over his handsome face.”

“Of course he watches my every move, that’s his job!”

“No, it’s different. You’ll see it sooner or later,” she smiles before ordering you to close your eyes again so she can finish your makeup.

Mara does wonders to your looks, the makeup look she does on you already makes a huge difference since you don’t bother to do anything on your every days. But she didn’t stop there, she made your hair look like you just stepped off of the pages of a magazine and the dress the two of you chose was the cherry on the top. The emerald green dress was tight around your curves, showing just enough of your body to be still considered modest, but also have some spice. And though there are a lot of advantages of the dress, your first and most important thought (to you at least) was how well it goes with the color of Harry’s eyes.

“I’m a genius,” Mara sighs satisfied with her work as you slip on the pair of nude heels and put your necessities into the little clutch you’re taking with you. Just when you’re gone with everything, the doorbell rings and your heart jumps in your chest, knowing that Harry is standing on the other side of the door.

“I’ll get it for you,” Mara smiles rushing to the door as you walk into the hallway, standing a few feet behind her so as she opens the front door and Harry comes into view, over Mara’s shoulder his eyes easily find your figure standing there, feeling a little awkward and self-conscious, like you are about to go to prom with your crush. Difference is that you are not a teenager anymore and you aren’t going anywhere together together. Tonight is just work for him.

But as his bright green eyes fall on your frame and you see his lips slightly part, you can’t help but allow yourself to think for a moment that it’s more than just work. That he feels the same way about it as you do. Though you don’t voice your hopes and just smile at him faintly, hoping you don’t look completely ridiculous in your outfit.

“Harry, come on in!” Mara invites him into the apartment and he walks in, wearing his usual black suit with the difference of having a tie on around his neck, his white shirt is appearing neat and crispy and his sometimes unruly curls are now gently combed back a little so his curls are not falling into his forehead.

“Hi,” you smile at him nervously fumbling with your clutch as he takes a few steps closer to you.

“Hi. You look… beautiful,” he smiles back at you a little breathlessly as he takes a respectful look down your body before his green irises meet your gaze again.

“Thank you. You look great too,” you chuckle softly. “Should we… head out?”

“Yeah, sure!” he nods, offering you his arm and you link your arm with his instantly, hoping you won’t trip in your heels. “Lock the door when you leave, Mara, alright?” you call out to your sister who is watching you smiling.

“Sure! Have fun!”

You wave at her one last time before walking out and shutting the door closed behind you.

This party is held every year at Pharma-Z, mostly this is the time when the brain meets the money. Investors and funders like to meet the people behind the million dollars researches from time to time and this is the occasion where both sides show up. Julian always asks you to be social and try to mingle, but the whole thing feels forced and painful for you. You’d rather just be left alone with your researches and projects without having to schmooze to the people who give you the money for your hard work.

It’s held at one of said investors’ luxurious penthouse, that doesn’t even look like someone’s home with the huge outdoors infinity pool, the spacious and modern interiors and the expensive looking decoration that was put up just for the occasion.

“Y/N! I’m so happy you are here!” Julian approaches you with a drink in his hands and you’re happy to see a familiar face in the crowd. You don’t really know others from work, only your little team you directly work with and of course, your boss, Julian.

“It’s not like I had a choice,” you chuckle giving him a short, friendly hug. Julian is far from a nightmare of a boss some people have to face at their job. He is an actually nice and very smart and intellectual person. The pharmaceutical industry can be harsh and dark, the competition between the businesses is way more intent than people think. This is why you need the protection. Some companies profit off of the fact that cancer has no cure yet. They make money from all the treatments that doesn’t even guarantee full recovery. A lot of big fish don’t want the cure, because that would make them lose a good chunk of their income and some of those would even go to the depth of hurting you for being so close to ruining their business with your invention. Pharma-Z is luckily a genuine company that wants to help sick people and that’s why you’re working there.

“You know how important it is for the company,” Julian sighs, but he understands how uncomfortable these events make you feel, though he can do nothing to help you. “Harry, nice to see you again,” he smiles at the man by your side.

“Julian, nice to see you too,” he nods, shaking hands with your boss.

“Mingle a little so people can see and meet you, alright?” Julian requests and you just nod silently before he moves on to the next group of people.

You get yourself a drink to ease your nerves a little as people start approaching you. Some of them you’ve met last year, but there are a lot of new faces. Your project has brought in quite a few new sponsors and investors and now they want to meet you and talk about the research their money is going into.

You try your best to keep a smile plastered across your face as you tell the people the same thing over and over again, receiving praise and compliments on your work before moving onto the next conversation just to start over again.

You can feel your social batteries running out, not sure you can put up with another conversation with a wealthy investor who wants you to know you have a job because they gave money for your project in hopes of you bringing more money to them.

Harry has stayed by your side the whole evening, and you didn’t notice but he kept examining you every few minutes to make sure you were holding up and he noticed how tired you’ve grown from socializing for so long.

“Y/N,” he softly calls out, his palm finding the small of your back. “Why don’t we get some fresh air?” he kindly offers and you immediately understand that he is trying to get you away from the guests and the overwhelming conversations you’ve been dealing with. Nodding you let him usher you outside, finding a spot where the two of you can be a little alone.

“I fucking… hate small talks and being nice to everyone,” you let out a long and heavy sigh, as you lean against the railing, paying just one short glance at the city’s bright lights under your feet. Harry chuckles shortly.

“I figured. You’ve been chewing your lips so hard I was afraid you’d start bleeding.”

Now that he has brought your attention to it, you realize you are doing it again, so you let go of your bottom lip from between your teeth and it brings out another chuckle from Harry.

“I’m just… not good with these… social stuff.”

“I disagree with that,” he hums, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Oh please, if you haven’t realized it, my number of zero friends is a tell, I think.”

“Come on, it’s not zero. You’re friends with Mara.”

“But family doesn’t count, she is kind of forced to be my friend,” you shrug, making him laugh.

“Okay, but I’m your friend too, aren’t I?” You furrow your eyebrows at him.

“You spend time with me because it’s your job.”

His eyes soften on you as he leans against the railing next to you, looking so effortlessly handsome and charming, you almost need to take a deep breath at the sight of him. And the cheeky smile on his pink lips is definitely not helping your case.

“I know you didn’t mean that. You’re a smart woman, Y/N.” Reaching out he tugs a loose strand of hair behind your ear as he inches closer a tiny bit. “I think we stepped over the line of just work.”

“So… you consider me your friend?” you ask shyly.

“If you have to ask maybe I’ve been doing something wrong,” he chuckles softly, making you smile too. Folding your arms a shiver runs down your spine from the cold evening breeze. “Are you cold?” Harry asks, but before you could even say a word, he shrugs his jacket off and drapes it over your shoulders.

“Oh, thank you,” you breathe out shyly.

“Do you want another drink?”

“Yeah, I think I might need another one,” you chuckle and nodding he tells you to just stay there until he gets you a new one.

Turning towards the view, you enjoy the lonely moments for a little, not too keen on going back inside and keep up the façade of interest any longer. You’d rather just head home, maybe have another drink with Harry on your couch while you watch a rerun of whatever show is on TV and then fall asleep after a hot shower. You’ve been working way too much lately and it’s just now crashing down on you. Next week you definitely should cut back on your hours at the lab, the project is already going amazing, it won’t hurt if you actually had some rest before you lose your mind.

You hear footsteps approaching you and you think it’s Harry returning, but as you turn around you are faced with a stranger, a man who is staring down at you with bloodshot eyes and… a gun pointed at you.

Your breath hitches, your blood freezing in your veins at the sight and your legs almost give up underneath you.

“What… who are you?” Your voice comes out as a whisper, tears already flooding your eyes as you melt against the railing as if you had anywhere to go, but you have no chance against him.

One glance at the gun allows you to see that it has a silencer on, with the music coming from inside and no one around, if he shoots you, he’ll be able to get away before anyone realizes what happened.

The man doesn’t answer, just holds up the gun, aiming right at your chest and you close your eyes, thinking that this is it. This is how your life ends, in the middle of a posh party with no one around to help you. Your lips are trembling and hands are shaking as you hold onto the railing, waiting for the inevitable to come, keeping your eyes shut, not wanting to see your killer as the last thing you see before you go.

And then you hear the muffled gunshot, making you scream in fear, your knees turning into jelly, but the pain never comes. Instead, you hear grunting and growling as a body falls to the ground in front of you.

Your eyes snap open and you see Harry straddling the man, the gun lying near your attacker’s hand and he is trying to reach it, but before he could, you kick it away as Harry throws a punch at his face that stops him from trying too hard to free himself.

The next few moments are so busy and blurry at the same time. Your legs give up underneath you, making you fall to the ground, your whole body shaking in waves. In the meantime Harry gets the man into a position where he can be easily controlled and people start flooding out at the scene, helping Harry while security working at the party take the man, the police already on its way.

When Harry can finally step back from the attacker, his eyes fall on your figure and he rushes over to you, kneeling down next to your trembling body, cradling you into his arms upon seeing how shaken up you are.

“Hey, it’s alright. It’s over, you’re alright,” he murmurs, holding you tight as your fists grab onto his shirt, your breathing is uneven, the oxygen barely makes its way into your lungs as you’re panting and gasping from the shock. “Come on, let’s get you inside, Y/N,” he gently tells you, helping you up from the floor even though your body feels like a pile of brick.

You can feel everyone staring at you, whispering behind your back as you try to hide in Harry’s arms while he walks you back inside, away from the man that tried to take your life. He walks you into one of the bathrooms and closing the lid he sits you down to the toilet while he grabs a towel and wetting it he kneels in front of you, tapping the cloth to your cheeks gently. You haven’t even realized that you’ve been sweating from the shock and the coldness feels amazing against your burning skin.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, but not even you are sure why.

“Nothing to be sorry for, Y/N,” he gently murmurs, giving your hand a squeeze as you shut your eyes closed. He grabs a glass from one of the cabinets and fills it with water handing it over to you.

“Thank you,” you mumble, bringing it to your trembling lips, but before you could drink it, your eyes snap up to meet his gaze. “And thank you for… what you did.” Your voice dies down at the end, the picture of the man pointing the gun at you still living so vividly in your mind.

“No need, it’s my job after all, right?” he chuckles softly, making your lips twitch the slightest bit before you start sipping on the water.

The police show up soon and they arrest the man who refuses to talk. They also request you to give your statement about what happened, but Harry manages to let you just give them the brief story and go in sometime soon to give them your full statement so you don’t have to spend any more time there. They are quite sure the man was hired by someone who doesn’t want you to finish your project, and it’s scary how far some people are willing to go just for the money, just to keep sick people in suffering for their own benefit.

Heading home you stay silent as Harry drives, staring out the window you let the nightlights of the city pass by you while you still see the same face, the face of the man that held a gun at you tonight. The gunshot is still ringing through your ears, it was so close, so real… of course it was real! All of it was real and your life was on the line. If it weren’t for Harry, you wouldn’t be here right now.

Arriving to your home Harry helps you out of the car and you cling onto his hand as you head up to the apartment. He keys the two of you into your home, flicking the lights on and looking around before you go further inside, just to be sure.

“It’s all clear, don’t worry,” he murmurs as you nod and make your way into the bedroom. Kicking your heels off your feet you sit on the edge of the bed, letting out a long breath, feeling your limbs loosening up a bit for the first time in the past hour.

Harry moves around the place doing whatever before he joins you in the room, kneeling in front of you his hands find your bare knees and your eyes meet his worry-filled green irises.

“Do you want to take a shower?” he softly asks and you nod your head. “Come on, I’ll start the water for you.”

He helps you up from the bed and walks you into the bathroom. You stand there awkwardly, not sure what to do as he starts running the water in the walk in shower before he steps back to you.

“Would you…?” you ask, turning around, needing help with the zipper of your dress. Harry clears his throat as his fingers work on it and a moment later the fabric loosens around your frame as you hold it to your chest with your arms. Turning back around you peek up at Harry and you notice the slight blush on his cheeks.

“I’ll be outside at the door, okay?” He whispers, his fingers delicately touching your cheek as you nod before you watch him walk out and close the door behind him.

The hot water feels freshening, like it could burn away the memories even though it’s still so vivid in your mind. You stand under the running water longer than you intended, but it feels nice and needed. Once you’re done, you wrap yourself into a fluffy towel and walk out of the steamy bathroom only to find Harry sitting at the edge of your bed, waiting like a loyal puppy. When he sees you, he stands from his spot and you don’t miss the way his eyes scan over your body that’s barely covered.

“Alright, I’ll go now, but if you—“ “Don’t!” you gasp, panic taking over you at the thought of being left alone. One of your hands grasps his arm to stop him from moving and he freezes in his spot, staring back at your fearful eyes. “Please, stay here,” you plead, voice barely over than just a whisper.

There’s a heartbeat of a pause in him as he is watching you intently and for a moment you think he’ll say no, but then his hand finds yours on his arm and he gives it a gentle squeeze as he nods.

“Okay.”

You let out a long, relieved breath as you ease into comfort. He’s staying, he’ll be with you all night, protecting you from everything and everyone.

“Can I take a shower too?” he asks softly and you nod, stepping to your wardrobe to get him a clean towel. “Thank you. I’ll be back shortly,” he tells you before walking into the bathroom and shutting the door closed behind him.

You hear the water running again and you find yourself standing at the same spot as you listen to the noises coming from the bathroom. Harry is in there, soaking under the water naked and you can’t take your mind off of how badly you want to be there with him.

It’s not just because of what happened tonight, though it made you realize that you don’t have much time to waste. Nothing can assure that you’ll live another day and you don’t want to deny happiness from yourself. You want to be with Harry and as far as you can make it out, he feels the same way.

Upon a sudden decision, you pad your way over to the bathroom door and open it carefully, the warmth immediately hitting your face as you step inside and close it behind you. The glass of the shower is steamed up, you can only make out the blurry frame of Harry in there and you wonder if he heard you come in, but it doesn’t seem like that. His clothes from the night are lying on the floor in a pile, his watch that he always wears is carefully placed next to the sink.

Your hands grab onto the edge of the towel around your body and you unwrap yourself, hanging it up on the wall before stepping to the shower. Hoping you won’t scare him, you open the door, the steam immediately hugging your naked body warmly and you see him standing there with his back facing you as you step into the spacious walk-in shower.

He notices your presence, you see him freeze mid-movement before he peeks over his shoulder, his eyes falling on you as he slowly turns, facing you completely. Standing in front of him completely bare, you feel more vulnerable than ever in your life. You’re scared that he is going to send you away, that he won’t let you get closer to him and if that happens, you’ll feel humiliated, but he just stands there in his naked glory and doesn’t say anything, so you take it as a chance to shoot your shot.

Reaching up your hands slide to his hard chest, up to the base of his neck as you push your front against his, skin to skin with the hot water running down your bodies. His hands find your waist and you could cry from the feeling of his touch on you. Pushing yourself up to your tiptoes your nose nudges against his as your eyes fall closed.

“Y/N,” he breathes out, stopping you right when your lips could meet. Opening your eyes you see the hesitation in his green irises that appear so much darker than they usually do.

“Do you not want it? You don’t want me?” you whisper.

“I do. It’s not that,” he sighs shaking his head slightly. “But you went through a lot today. I don’t want you to make decisions you might regret in the morning.”

You can’t help the small smile that tugs on your lips at how considerate and protective he is over you, thinking that this might be just something that crashed over you in the heat of the moment, but it’s been in the making from the first day you met him. Despite all your protesting against him, you knew you needed him and not just as your guard. He is what’s been missing from your life all along, you just never realized it.

“There’s nothing I could regret when it comes to you, Harry. I needed tonight to open my eyes. Our days are counted, I’m done running from my own happiness.”

He lets out a long, shaky breath as his hands hold tighter onto your waist while your hands run up his neck until your fingers tangle into his wet locks.

“I need you. And not just because of tonight. I’ve always needed you.”

“I’m here, Y/N. I’m all yours,” he breathes out before his lips smash against yours all wet and hard, but it’s the most heavenly feeling you’ve ever experienced.

You become a mess, tangled in each other, lips melting together as your hands explore naked limbs and torsos, bodies pressing tightly against each other shamelessly. Harry walks you backwards until your back hits the cold tile and you let out a whimper as you arch your back at the sudden feeling, just as his head dips down, lips attacking your neck, kissing and nibbling on the soft skin. Your light leg lifts as his hands wander down your thigh, your hips pressing together and you feel how hard he is, his cock pushed against your other thigh, making you moan at the feeling. Reaching down you blindly wrap a hand around the base, giving him a few slow pumps, earning a guttural growl from him before his lips return to yours, kissing you hard and filled with passion. His hands are all over you, on your thighs, ass, back and chest, as if he was mapping your whole body wanting to remember how every inch feels under his touch.

Without tearing his lips away from yours, he blindly reaches behind him, shutting the water off before urging you to jump into his arms, legs wrapping around his waist. He carries you out of the shower, placing you to the counter next to the sink as he stands between your legs, his hands once again finding your breasts as they knead them, making you whimper and shake under his touch. It’s euphoric and addictive, you already know you won’t be able to go a day without feeling him against you like this.

“Bed?” he breathes out against your mouth and you nod eagerly. Reaching to the side he grabs a towel, wrapping it around you, tapping and squeezing you to dry you off, throwing fits of giggles when you grab it and wrap it around his body as well.

The towel falls to the floor abandoned and forgotten as he lifts you off the counter and brings you to the bed, laying you down and holding himself up above you with one arm. His other hand cups your cheek and turning your head you kiss his palm gently, eyes glued to his as he settles between your legs.

“Are you sure about this?” he breathes out, his lips dancing against your cheek and the corner of your mouth.

“Yes! Harry, please!” you beg with a whimper, your whole body aching to feel him inside you.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you, love,” he kisses you as his hand leaves your heated face, runs down your naked body until his fingers reach your throbbing clit.

He slides two digits through your already wet folds, but just to work you up even more he starts drawing circles on your bud, turning you into a whimpering mess underneath him. Your fingers dig into the lean muscles on his back, feeling them twitch from his movements and one hand sliding down to his ass, grabbing a handful of him while pushing him closer to you, his erection pressing against your core.

“Harry, I need you!” you moan, not able to contain yourself any longer. You need to feel him, you need him as close as possible.

Reaching over to your nightstand you grab a condom from the drawer, ripping the package open with your teeth before you carefully grab his erection and roll the condom down his length, ready to finally feel him inside you.

He flicks his fingers on your clit one last time before his hand wraps around the base of his cock, giving it a few pumps while his soft lips kiss down your jawline and throat, his face hiding in the crook of his neck. Your arms circle around his shoulders, your chest heaving from the sensation as he positions himself just right, the tip teasing your hole. Harry lifts his head up, his bright eyes finding your gaze just as he sinks into you, filling you up perfectly.

“H-Harry! Fuck—“ you gasp at the feeling, your walls stretching around his thick cock as he stays still for a few moments, letting you adjust to his size.

You draw your legs up, giving you more space to go deeper as he starts thrusting, sliding in and out of you oh so perfectly, inching you closer to your relief with each movement. You cup his face in your hands, staring into his eyes as if you could see his soul in them and for a split second, you feel like you actually do. His lips are parted and the cross pendant is grazing your chest while he fucks into you, never falling out of his rhythm.

You want to beg to him not to stop, to keep moving and moving, but no words can leave your mouth as your back arches, your orgasm building up in the pit of your stomach. You start grinding your hips in sync with his, allowing him to reach deeper into you, making your toes curl from pleasure.

“Harry, I’m gonna—I-I’m gonna—Ah!” You can’t make up one coherent sentence as your legs start shaking, feeling your orgasm taking over your body.

“I know, baby. Let it go. Let me make you feel good,” he pants, his lips kissing you everywhere he can reach, your lips smashing against each other in a messy kiss, your tongue meeting his in the middle just when you reach your high.

You moan and cry out his name, fingers digging into his flesh as you chase your release. Seeing you fall apart underneath him is enough to throw him over the edge, spilling himself into the condom as his mouth hangs agape, your name falling off his tongue as if it was the holiest glorification. Combing your fingers through his hair you hold him to your chest as he collapses on top of you, his head lying on your naked chest as you both try to catch your breath in the sudden silence that came over you without the sounds of your passion.

Rolling off of your body he slips out of you, an empty feeling taking over you right away, but he is quick to cradle you into his arms to keep the intimacy. You lay your head to his chest, a thin layer of sweat covering the both of you, but you couldn’t care less. You listen to his steady heartbeat as you draw one of the swallows on his chest with your finger, running it over the lines of the ink. You want to soak in the moment and stay in it for as long as possible, but you can barely keep your eyes open. As Harry’s fingers are gently running up and down your bare back you let your eyes close and the last thing you remember is hearing his soft whisper.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll keep you safe.”

You wake up without an alarm in the morning and it’s the first time for that in a long-long time. You stir and groan before you open your eyes, your hands reaching out next to you, looking for the man that was next to you when you fell asleep, but there’s nothing and no one beside you now.

Panic rises in your chest as your eyes pop open and you frantically look around in the room, hoping to see him somewhere near, but you’re alone.

“Harry?” you call you as you sit up, holding the sheets to your chest since you’re still naked. No answer comes and you can feel your heart rate rising instantly.

Getting out of bed you grab the nearest clothing item you find which is an old hoodie, and you put on a pair of clean panties before you carefully walk out of the bedroom, afraid of what you might find outside, but it’s completely silent and still, no one is around. Harry has left.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, feeling the lump in your throat growing as tears are forming in your eyes.

Where did he go? Why did he leave? Is he coming back? Is he gone forever?

You can’t stop yourself from going into depth you shouldn’t, just because you don’t find him first thing in the morning, but you still haven’t entirely recovered from last night’s events and before you could stop yourself, you are thinking about the worst possibilities there could be.

And then you hear the lock turning in the front door.

Blood rushes out of your head as you freeze, afraid it’s another attacker and this time you won’t be as lucky as you were last night. But as the door opens Harry walks in with a paper bag in his arm and you can’t help, but start sobbing at the sight of him.

“Harry!” you cry out, launching at him and he barely have time to put the bag down before he catches you, locking you in his strong arms.

“Hey! No need to worry, it’s just me!” he soothes softly, his hands running up and down your back and head. “I’m sorry I scared you, just wanted to get you something to eat, baby,” he murmurs, kissing the side of your head as you try your best to hold back your sobs.

“I just woke up alone and I thought…”

“I’m sorry, baby. I shouldn’t have left while you were sleeping. But I’m back and I’m alright.”

You just nod, hugging him a little longer before you loosen your hold around him to lean back and look him in the eyes.

“So… you’re staying? With me?”

“If you want me to, yes,” he nods with a soft smile as he cups your tear-soaked face in his hands. “I’ll keep you safe and sound and I’ll be whatever you need me to be.”

“Just be yourself and… be with me,” you shyly ask him and he nods, his smile growing into a wide grin before he leans down and captures your lips in a sweet, intoxicating kiss.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[dreamwritesimagines]

Burn The Witch 1 - Decoy [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Here we go my loves, the first chapter! ❤ I hope you like it, and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

As always, I don’t own anything.

Word Count: 2200

Warnings: Mentions of blood, violence, death, manipulation, language.

Summary: Trouble has a way of following certain people.

Sometimes you wondered whether you would run away screaming when you were a child if you knew what kind of a person you would turn into.

It wasn’t exactly your fault though. For years and years, several people had put the blame on several different things. Eventually they would reach the same conclusion though; the psychiatrists, your superiors, the very few people you could call your family, they all agreed on one thing.

It wasn’t you, it was the abandonment.

The abandonment you went through when you were a teenager had somehow started this domino, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop this constant fall, not even you.

But as you would figure out soon, you were lucky. Instead of being consumed by your anger, you could direct it somewhere else. You were recruited and trained from a very young age, and somewhere along the way, you realized that if you wanted to survive you were going to have to sacrifice certain things.

Forgiveness was the first one to disappear. Guilt was another.

Then fear.

Then, love.

Ah well. Worse things happen in the world every day.

If anything it made your job easier.

You cracked your neck and opened the door to your apartment, the key sticking to your fingers because of the blood on your hands for a moment and you made a face as you shut the door, leaning back.

A very long shower and a bottle of wine sounded like a good idea.

You placed your gun on the table, took the dagger strapped to your thigh out of its holster and got the knives out of the heels of your shoes before flinging yourself onto your couch and turning the TV on.

“Also called Sokovia Accords 2.0 by the critics—“

“What the superheroes think about this remains a mystery—“

“The first time caused a huge rift between Captain America and Iron Man but nobody knows the new Captain America Sam Wilson’s comment on it—“

You didn’t get to change the channel again when your phone started vibrating in your pocket, making you sit up straight. You muted the TV, and checked the caller I.D before you answered.

“Hey there.”

“Hi, how’s Paris?” the cheerful voice of your best friend reached you, “Had enough croissants yet?”

A small smile pulled at your lips. After your only parental figure had left you to go God knew where, General had decided to adopt you and raise you like a daughter. His actual daughter Chloe had welcomed you with open arms, and you had been best friends since then.

Her being the top analyst of the division didn’t hurt either.

“Mm hm, because that’s all I’m doing. Eating croissants, visiting museums—”

“Killing and maiming targets...” she mused, finishing your sentence for you and you heaved a sigh.

“Somehow that last one isn’t included in the city guide,” you pointed out. “Chloe, you know this is a line for—“

“Official contact from General, yeah yeah,” she said, “In my defense, you didn’t pick up the phone an hour ago when I called you from my phone.”

“Do you know how hard it is to use touch screen when your hands are covered in blood?”

“What happened to your sniper rifle, did it fall into Seine?”

“It required close combat,” you said, “And the target swallowed the chip before I could get it, so I had to perform a spontaneous autopsy.”

“Just so you know, whenever you talk about your job I have to watch like a hundred cute videos after I hang up.”

“Happens.” you said, “How’s everything?”

“You missed us already?”

You grinned, “Maybe.”

“Good, because dad wants you back. He’ll contact you any day now.”

Your head snapped up and you stood up from the couch, “Really?”

“Duh. Have you seen how negotiations for these new Accords are going? It’s going to be a mess and we need you here.”

“The second one hasn’t passed officially.”

“Well no, but you know how my father thinks.” she said and you tilted your head.

“Are we sure it’s General who wants me there and not you?”

“Okay, that was one prank ages ago and I didn’t hear the end of it!” she protested, “Don’t you trust me at all?”

“Nope.”

“You know, I’m being the perfect friend and calling you to give you some good news but if you’re going to be like this, my news can wait until you get here.”

You pulled your brows together, “What news?”

“What do I get in return?”

“My endless gratitude,” you deadpanned, “Come on. What news?”

“You can’t tell anyone yet but I think you’re getting a promotion.”

Your breath got caught in your throat, “You’re joking.”

“Don’t forget about me when you become a handler, you hear me?” She let out a laugh, I need friends in high places.”

“Your dad runs the division Chloe. It doesn’t get any higher than that.”

“That doesn’t count!”  

You pressed a hand over your chest, “Just— what kind of a promotion are we talking about?”

“I mean I snooped around his files and casually committed treason.” she said, “But even I don’t know yet. They must be still making the adjustments.”

You opened your mouth to reply but then your phone vibrated again and you lowered it to check the message on the screen.

It was simple but again, all his texts were simple and to the point.

From: General

Time to come back. Jet leaves in 2 hours.

Here goes my shower and wine night.

“Chloe?” you said, walking to the sink to wash your hands so that you could start packing, “You want anything from here? I’m coming home.”

                                              ***

The best thing about being on the move all the time was that you could pack in minutes and the division would take care of the things you had left behind.

Apartments, belongings-

Not that you carried any belongings with you, or bought any more than necessary. It would’ve made you form a bond, which was less than ideal for any spy.

You suppressed the yawn splitting your face and made your way to General’s office. This jet-lag was going to make your life pretty difficult in the following 24 hours, and you were painfully aware of it, but it wasn’t like you could just ask for some time to rest.

That could wait. Your job was more important.

“General?” you knocked on the half open door and he raised his head to look at you before motioning you to enter the room.

“Y/N,” he said, “Close the door please. It’s good to have you back.”

“Thank you sir.”

“Take a seat,” he said and you cleared your throat, then perched on the edge of the chair.

“I’ve heard you eliminated the threat and got rid of our target quite fast,” he said, “And we have the chip now.”

You nodded silently, pushing your hair behind your ear.

“Well, that shows me you’re ready for the next step,” he said “No reason to beat around the bush, you’re getting a promotion.”

Pride burst through your system but you tried to control your expression to stop the grin threatening to pull at your lips.

“Thank you sir.”

“Here are the details for your next mission,” he said, handing you a file that was stamped as Top Secret and you flipped the page to find information about your next identity.

Alias: Shrike

“Shrike,” you murmured to yourself, turning the pages, “Like the bird?”

“Mm hm. I assume you’ve heard about the Accords issue?”

You looked up, “Only a little,” you said, “The first one was a disaster and the government had to drop it after The Blip due to the public’s reaction, resurrected people insisted that the superheroes were the ones who saved them, not the government. Then the government said they would go over the details and change it in a way that would benefit both the public and the superheroes, but I haven’t seen the new version.”

“There were some adjustments but to be honest with you, it’s the same deal. We can’t have superheroes running wild with no orders,” he said, “I need you on both fronts, one with terminating specific targets, and one with….well, you’ll see.”

You flipped the page and blinked a couple of times, your stomach dropping.

You were good, but you weren’t that good.

“You- you’re sending me after Captain America, sir?”

“Ah no,” he said, “Don’t worry. Wilson doesn’t have a past we can use against him, and trust me, we checked. The guy is an actual hero but we need a bad guy.”

You turned the page and shut your eyes for a moment.

Bucky Barnes.

Right. You should’ve known.

The government wanted and needed Captain America on their side, but Bucky Barnes could fall for all they cared.

“Sir I appreciate your trust in my abilities but not even an army could take down the Winter Soldier the last time—” you started but General shook his head.

“Y/N, you’re not going to kill him,” he said, “That’s the second front I was talking about. We need you to get close to him, to form a personal bond and gather intel we can use in the future.”

You gawked at him, “I’m sorry?”

“Barnes is the perfect candidate. He can help us with necessary information to prove to the public that superheroes need to answer to someone; us. Besides if it all goes bad, we can just say he was a threat. With that kind of past no one would think he was innocent to begin with.”

Your head was spinning. Scratch that, the whole room was spinning.

You were good at finding and terminating targets, not forming personal bonds or playing this

“When you say get close to him….” You trailed off, your voice way too weak and he smiled slightly.

“You’re an attractive woman, I’m sure you’ll have no problem with that.”

That. That was your promotion.

Not an operations officer, not a handler, but a lover who also happened to kill people.

They were going to use you as a honey trap for him.

“Sir, I don’t think-“ you started, but he held up a hand.

“Before you say no,” he said, “Let me remind you that this will benefit your career greatly, and you will have your own team. Show us you can handle it, and the position you want will be within your reach, you have my word. You want to be a handler, don’t you?”

You dragged your fingernails on the file, deep in thought.

“Barnes is one of the many dangerous people we may need to stop one day, and the only way to do it is to keep him under control and learn everything he knows until we’re ready to take him in.”

“But if these new Accords don’t pass—“ you started but he shook his head.

“Even if they don’t, and that’s a big if,” he said, “He’s still a valuable asset to have. We all have to perform certain missions, Y/N. Even if we don’t particularly like them. You will thank me in the future, when your career flourishes.”

Your blinked a couple of times, a bitterness appearing in your mouth.

“Of course,” you managed to say, “You’re— you’re right sir. It’s a good plan. I accept the position.”

“Great!” he clapped his hands together, “We have a target for you for tomorrow night, there’s this gallery opening. He needs to be eliminated, I think you can handle that? Start planning how it will go with Barnes as well, we can’t lose any time.”

You pursed your lips together and closed the file, “Of course.”

“Congratulations.” he leaned in slightly, “Your dad would be so proud of you if he could see you now.”

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, but it felt like it was getting bigger and bigger.

“I don’t need his approval,” you rasped out and walked to the door, but stopped when you heard him speak.

“Shrike,” he used your alias for the first time and you looked over your shoulder.

“Yes?”

“I don’t have to remind you that this mission is top secret. If he figures out who you are, or what you’re up to…” he clicked his tongue, “Kill him.”

You paused for a moment, then tilted your head and smiled at him.

“As you wish, sir.” you managed to say, then walked out of his office as if someone was chasing you. You made your way straight to the bathroom and slammed the file on the marble counter, then pulled out the small picture sticking out from the corner. It was an old black and white picture of him with Steve Rogers, probably taken in the 40s, both of them smiling. 

When you lowered the picture to attach it back to the paper, your eyes caught the tiny print under his aliases.

Confirmed Kills: Exact number unknown (Credited with 100+ assassinations)

You were in way, way over your head now.

“Oh, fuck.”

                                  Chapter 2

[alltooreid]

I Think He Knows

Y/N has a huge crush on Spencer Reid, so huge she embarrasses herself every time she tries to talk to him. She is convinced he is aware to all her pathetic attempts at flirting and just chooses to ignore it, but turns out Spencer may be a little more clueless than she thought.

A/N: Hope yall enjoy this cute fluffy fic! I’ve been having a rough couple of days so writing a fun fluff like this was really comforting :) yes it is inspired by the t swift song, but you don’t need to know the song to read and enjoy! also my requests are open so let me know what you want to see! (also sorry if this is kind of short, but i’ve been super busy and wanted to put something out :)))

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Type: a cute pining fluff fic

Word Count: 2.3K

Content Warnings: mentions of alcohol, otherwise none.

“He got that boyish look that I like in a man I am an architect, I'm drawing up the plans It's like I'm seventeen, nobody understands No one understands”

“He has to know Penelope, I’m not exactly subtle.”

You and Penelope spent the majority of your lunch breaks in her office, discussing anything and everything. Recently however, the point of contention had been a certain young genius. One who you had a huge crush on.

“Spencer Reid may be a genius, and one of the best profilers I have ever seen but he most certainly does not know,” she said, as she drizzled more dressing on her salad.

“He has to, it feels like everyone knows. . . Do you think everyone knows?”

She shrugged, “They might, I know my Chocolate Thunder hasn’t picked up on it yet.”

“You haven’t told him? It’s already been a week since I’ve told you! How did you keep it a secret for so long?”

“You asked me very nicely not to tell anyone! Plus this one seems really important to you. I don’t want to go around telling people and for Reid to hear it in office gossip.”

You smiled, “Well you Penelope Garcia are the best, best friend ever.”

“You know it, now I know you desperately want to repay me for my services, and you can by giving me those exact ranch packets you have in your bag,” she said.

“They’re all yours, now let’s discuss something other than my pathetic schoolgirl crush. Like how stupid Kevin’s sweater was today.”

“Kevin? The other internal affairs technical analyst? Yeah what the heck was he wearing?”

“You know, I’m tired of having to carry the weight of the brains, looks and fashion sense out of the two of us,” you said. “Though, that is a good way to gather attention . . . I wonder if Spencer would actually hold a conversation with me if I wore something as ugly as that.”

She laughed, “You know I think that might send you backwards.”

You stabbed your lettuce, “At this point I’ll try anything.”

Before Penelope could respond, someone interrupted your lunch, your only other friend on the BAU team, Emily Prentiss.

“Oh hi Y/N! How are you!”

“I’m good Emily, what kind of gross things are you here to deliver today?” you and Emily joined the FBI at around the same time, and found comfort in the fact that you were both total try-hards. Emily was going to eat lunch with you and your fast friend Penelope, at least on days when she was in the office for lunch, but you and her both agreed that she should eat lunch with the team so that they can get used to having her around.

“Just some paperwork, no cases yet, knock on wood. Also I just wanted to say hello! What are you guys eating?” she asked, pulling up a chair.

“Some salads from that takeout veggie place PG is always talking about. I told you I was going vegetarian right?” “You did not! That’s great Y/N! We need to talk more, like we used to when we first started here,” she sighed, then perked up, “We should have girls night! Remember how fun it was that night at the bar? With Brad the real FBI agent?”

“Yes! We should! You know, Gideon’s replacement comes tomorrow, we should celebrate!” Garcia said.

“You know, I don’t know if the best way to celebrate a new agent is by drinking without them, but I’m down. We’ll toast our girls night to agent Rossi. Someone ask JJ if she’s busy.”

JJ was not busy, but when you and Emily asked, Morgan overheard.

“So am I not invited to the party?”

“Well it was supposed to be girls night . . . but I think PG would throw a fit if I turned down her 2nd favorite person in this building, so I guess you can come,” you teased. “You should come too Spencer!”

“I don’t know, that’s not really my thing . . “

“Oh come on! I know I would love to see you there,” you then realized that you were embarrassing yourself being so forward. “And I’m sure everyone else would too!”

“Alright, I’ll come, but I’m not drinking.” he said firmly. 

Before you could respond, Penelope magically appeared. “Good, you can be completely sober when Y/N gets wasted and embarrasses herself,” she said.

“PENELOPE! I’m not the light weight here! you’ll see Spencer, she’s actually awful. Two shots in and she’ll be on the floor,” this was apparently the wrong thing to say, because Spencer grimaced. “But it’ll be so much fun! You have to be there! You already said yes!”

“I just don’t know if seeing all of my coworkers get drunk while I watch is my idea of a fun evening. . .”

“Trust me! I’ll even stay sober with you, so we can judge them together. It’ll be a blast.”

“Ok, I’ll be there . . . but for now I need more coffee,” he pulled his chair out and walked towards the office kitchen. You silently cheered, forgetting how people were still standing around you.

“Well,” you awkwardly laughed, “um, I guess I better be getting back to my neck of the woods. I’m not a hot shot profiler like the rest of you guys . . . so see you all later!” You tried to escape before anyone interrogated you about your conversation with Spencer. However, a certain profiler followed quickly behind you. 

“So. . . you and pretty boy huh?”

“Shut it Morgan.”

{⋅. ♪ .⋅}

You stayed true to your word that night, Spencer stuck to water and you enjoyed a diet soda. The bartender, who you had grown fairly used to seeing on your many nights out, was shocked to hear you didn’t want any alcohol in it. 

It’s probably a good thing that you didn’t drink, you already embarrassed yourself enough in front of Spencer fully sober.

“So Spencer, you know that new bookstore you said you were going to go to after work a couple weeks ago?”

“New bookstore . . .? Oh yeah! What about it?”

“Well after I heard you talking about it I decided to check it out . . . It’s really nice there! I go like every other night now! We should totally go together sometime.” Luckily, you were sober enough to keep a secret: the fact you were only going so much in the hopes of running into him.

“Oh really? If I’m being honest I wasn’t super impressed with their selection, it was mostly contemporary fiction. And all in English . . . Not really my thing,” when he saw the way your face dropped he quickly changed his tone, “but it’s great if that’s your thing!”

This. Is. Humiliating. The amount of times you had gone and bought books from the bookstore, you were there almost every night hoping to run into him after work and start a conversation. You felt stupid, of course he wouldn’t want to go on a book store date with you. If Spencer Reid didn’t like you so much that he wouldn’t even go to a bookstore with you, there’s no chance at a relationship.

“Oh haha, yeah you’re right it’s totally lame. . .”

“Didn’t you just say you went there all the time?”

“No! When did I say that? You must be drinking Dr. Reid,” you said, quickly hopping off your bar stool, and running towards Morgan and Garcia, not turning around to see how confused Spencer was, but only being able to imagine him as relieved. Relieved he didn’t have to make conversation with you anymore.

“I’m blowing this PG, he totally hates me.”

Morgan laughed, “Y/N, you’re acting silly, this isn’t high school, we aren’t seventeen, stop dancing around it and just go ask him out.”

“Morgan, he doesn’t want to go to a bookstore with me, no way he’s agreeing to a date.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down, maybe he’s just not in the mood to go?”

“You go ask him then, 20 bucks he says yes.”

“You’re on Y/N/N.”

7 minutes later Morgan returned and without a word pulled a twenty dollar bill out of his wallet and deposited it into your hand. “Sorry, Y/N.”

Penelope then piped up, “I’m telling you Y/N, he just doesn’t know. That boy is clueless.”

You scoffed, “I think he knows Penelope. I’ve made it pretty clear.”

“Have you told him?”

You were thrown off, “Um, no but-”

“Well then you haven’t made it clear enough, have you sugar?”

You almost said something, but you couldn’t really think of a good rebuttal for the argument. So instead, you downed Penelope’s half dranken frozen margarita, and headed back over to Spencer.

“Hey!” he said as you made your way back over, “I was wondering where you went, after you left Derek came over and asked to go to that bookstore with me, isn’t that extraordinary. . .”

“Do you wanna go on a date with me?” you blurted out.

“What?”

You sighed, “I’ve had a crush on you since like, forever, and I keep planning all these ways to ask you subtly but it’s just not working so I’m asking now. Do you want to go on a date with me?”

“You like me? I didn’t know that . . .”

“You’re joking.”

“No, I’m not, I thought you were just being nice. You’re nice to everyone and I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”

You smirked, “Get your hopes up? Does that mean you’re obsessed with me too Dr. Reid?”

He laughed in response, “Yeah, you could definitely say that.”

You dug through your purse and pulled out your keys, “Ok, then let’s get out of here.”

He paled, “And do what?”

“We’re going on our first date.”

He smiled, and you both got up off your bar stools and headed out the door, ignoring Morgan’s snide remarks as you passed. 

{⋅. ♪ .⋅}

You couldn’t help but smile as you drove. Every couple of seconds you couldn’t help but look over at Spencer, getting lost in his brownish hazel eyes, which looked indigo in the night. He would smile, the kind of smile people write silly little romance songs about and spend verses to describe, and tell you to pay attention to the road before you run off of it. You would laugh, tell him to calm down. Although originally you had an idea of where you were going, now you just wanted to drive in circles, to bask in this memory. 

“So where are we going?” he asked.

“Think about it Doctor Reid . . .” you replied, teasing him in the way you’ve imagined since you met him. 

You pulled up to that little bookstore on 16th avenue, the one you couldn’t stop going to out of the sheer chance Spencer might be there, the one that was obviously closed this late at night, but was too perfect not to spend your first date at. 

“Although this is beautifully symbolic, it’s almost 2 in the morning, this place closes at 8. We’re 5 hours, 49 minutes and 17 seconds late.”

You smiled and pulled out your ring of keys, “You know, when I spent hours a night hanging around here after work, hoping that you would happen to come shop for books and see me here too, the woman who owns this store got pretty curious. So I told her why I was here, and after she got done laughing at me she offered me a key, so that if I ever had the guts to ask you out, I could take you here no matter what.” You turned the key and swung the door open, gesturing him inside and locking the door behind you, “but we have to keep the lights off, so no one comes by and tries to get in.”

You and Spencer sit in the non-fiction section, and enjoy the silence for a few seconds before you have an idea, “Read me something Reid.”

He reached up, pulling a book off of the shelf without looking, “Are you sure, A Brief History of 1491: Life in America Before Columbus, is first date material?”

“Although that book is anything but brief, anything you read to me will sound stunning coming from your pretty mouth.”

So he begins to read, attempting to slow down to a reasonable pace but still going abnormally fast. You didn’t care though, more than you listened to the history of the late fifteenth century you watched Spencer’s hands. They’re really nice hands.

His right followed the words as he read aloud and his left helped hold the book. He wiggled the fingers on his left hand unconsciously as he spoke, getting into the words of the book. 

After about 25 pages he glanced over at you, and you could almost hear the gears turning in his head. After a second he went back to the page, and continued reading. You didn’t think anything of it until a couple minutes later, when his hand made its way to your left thigh.

He held it and you leaned into him, and you both stayed like that until you fell asleep hours later, with his head resting on top of yours. 

At 8:30 Mrs. Betts, the owner of the bookstore, found you and Spencer, arms around each other, the book thrown aside. She smiled, glad to know you had taken her up on her offer. She went to go wake you up but glanced at her watch. She didn’t have to officially open until 10. 

She could definitely spare a couple of minutes. 

“I want you, bless my soul I ain't gotta tell him I think he knows”

- Thank you for reading! Please reblog and let me know what you think :))

ATR’s tiny taglist: @reidingmelodies​

[thewritetofreespeech]

just read your psycho pass hcs {great btw!} and I need that kogami x reader training scenario in my life! straight or nsfw if you're comfortable with it.

Yes! Yes! Yes! So much yes!!

I went ahead and did both. Sexy is under the cut. I tried to keep it as gender neutral as possible up top but (spoiler alert) it’s fem!reader below. Enjoy!

Kogami Shinya x Reader + Training

The loud, painful sound of your butt hitting the mat echoed through the training gym as you were thrown into the soft surface once again.

"Geez Kogami! You could try to take it easy on me!!" You whine as you rub your backside. Though the mats were softer than the floor, they didn't add that much protection. Coupled with the fact that your ass had been thrown into them more time than you could count at this point, you were going to be sore in the morning.

"Some latent isn't going to take it easy on you in the field." He replied. Serious as ever. Almost seeming miffed you asked for leniency. "You need to be ready for anything when the time comes."

“I’m fine with combatives.” You insist from your spot on the ground. “I just can’t beat you. Cause you have all this training, and built like a superhero, and have all those big muscles-“Don’t change the subject.” Kogami interrupted. Being a brilliant detective, he knows what you’re trying to do.

“Besides,” you continue after a defeated sigh, “it doesn’t matter. I’m not in the field without my Dominator. I can pop off a shot before anyone gets close.”

“Dominator malfunction all the time. Shots miss.”

“I don’t miss.” You insist. Your turn to be miffed.

You’re a better shot than Kogami any day of the week, and he knows it. You have the higher range score out of the two of you. Plus you’re to only one currently on the team long range certified. To imply that you would miss is an insult.

He seems to get that he’d stepped over the line and let out a heavy sigh before pushing his hair back. “I just want you to be ready.” Kogami said. Offering you his hand to help you on your feet. One good jerk and you were back up in front of him, looking into his eyes. Seeing his concern. “I can’t be with you all the time in the field. I know you’re strong. Level headed. But things….they don’t follow the system when you’re in the middle of it.” His vision seemed to cloud for a moment, and you know he’s gone some place bad in that moment, before he comes back to you. “I just want you to be safe.”

You sigh. Defeated. You know this is important to him, and it’s obvious why. He’s extremely protective of you. Unfortunately for Kogami, you’ve both chosen a life that is inherently dangerous. The long-term survival rate for Enforcers was shaky at best. He’s trying to delay the inevitable the one way he knows how.

“Ok. Well, I think I have one more round in me.” You take a step back from Kogami, who seemed surprised, and stretch out your arms before you get into stance. “But this is the last one. After this, we do what I want to do and get frozen yogurt in the caf.”

The dark haired Enforcer smirked and dropped into stance as well. Apparently not dignifying that with a response.

The two of you spar again for a few minutes, and realize that you have picked up on somethings. Kogami is physically stronger and more skilled, but you are more flexible and wily. He’s clearly trying not to hurt you, which is an advantage you can’t let go of. When you lock in a grapple, face-to-face, you struggle for a moment before headbutting Kogami. He let out a noise of pain and obviously staggered. You seize the moment to get your foot between his legs and trip him. This time Kogami’s butt making the loud sound on the mat in the gym as you pin him.

You look down at him, arm braced against his neck, and break out into a huge grin from on top of him. You did it! You finally did it!

You were about to break out into a chant of those exact words when Kogami grabbed you and flipped you over onto the mat quick as a flash. The move made your world spin. To the point that it took you a moment to refocus on Kogami on top of you. His expression wild, with a mixture of pride and hunger as he looked down at you. His gaze making you squirm against the mat.

Suddenly, he surged forward. You half expect him to kiss you, or head butt you in retaliation; either was a possibility with Kogami. He stopped, however, just before sealing your lips. His body straining it seemed to not finish the movement. “My room.”

You blink. Not sure why he stopped. Then he lifted up and his eyes dart over to the corner where one of the cameras were. Oh, right. You’re still in a public portion of the facility, where your movements are being watched and recorded, and it would be a bad idea to do anything here.

The two of you get up from the floor, Kogami taking a moment to adjust his pants, before you hastily leave the gym. 

His room is closer. Which was probably why he had chosen it and why he was choosing it now. You’re at his door in a matter of minutes with how fast you’re walking, and with a quick punch of the key pad your inside. The door had barely slid closed all the way before Kogami had you pinned against it. The metal making a loud sound, but one you can’t seem to care about over the loud sound of your kissing.

It’s hot, and messy, and fast. Fueled with the adrenaline from your sparing match, Kogami seems to want to take his final, and only, loss out on your mouth. His tongue wrestling against your own for dominance. His teeth nipping at your lips. Stealing your breath away so all you can do is moan.

He finally let you go and you’re both panting at the end of it. Exercise and now this had both left the two of you needy for air. But you’re both needy for something else.

The Enforcer took your mouth again passionately, and lifted you up off the wall. His hands find their way to your legs to lift them up. Wrapping them around his waist and keeping them secure with his strong arms before he pulled you away from the wall altogether.

He wandered blindly through his dorm with you in his arms. Still kissing. His hands caressing your backside in your tight gym pants. Cursing now and then when his shins clip into something. Eventually, he made it to his bed. The rumbled bedding hitting your back in a familiar puff of cotton. He never made his bed.

It only then that he pulled away to look at you. His eyes darker in the dim light. Neither of you had bothered to turn on the lights, since you’ve been busy upon arrival. You don’t need them anyway. The ever-present blue glow of the various circuits & inlay boards in the tower walls the only ambient light in the room. Even with out it, you could feel he was looking at you.

A calloused hand reached out to cup your cheek. Caressing it in a strange juxtaposition of the rough way they had been handling you earlier in training. He does this sometimes. Seems to want to memorize your face like it will disappear. Like you’re not real.

When his thumb came across your lips you snap your teeth out to nip at the pad. Not to hurt it. Just a little bite. Kogami hissed before he grinned wolfishly down at you and you’re off again. He leaned down to kiss you once more, but not nearly as long as the other times. He seemed to have other plans. Slowly, he moved from your lips down to your neck, then down further still to the top of your sports bra. Making you moan.

You’re thankful that you’ve decide to wear one of your fancy front zip ones, and decide to throw out all your other types of sports bra as you watch Kogami pull the zip down with his teeth. That cheeky grin on his lips as he watches you watching him and knows you’re getting turned on.

Without the zipper, your bra can’t hold your breasts in any longer. Now it’s Kogami’s turn to moan as he sees them literally burst out of their confines in front of his face with a sassy jiggle. He wasted very little time admiring them before both of his hands come up to envelope both your breasts and squeeze them. Your back arched as he massaged the soft flesh. Your body shivering as his warm breath brushed over them before his mouth encased around your nipple.

He doesn’t seem to mind that you’re still sweaty from your work out. Quite the contrary. The salty taste of your skin seemed to arouse your boyfriend even more. To the point that his hips were rolling against the bed for some kind of release.

“K-Kogami….Shinya.” The Enforcer immediately looked up when you called his first name. No one but you calls him by his name anymore. “I want to make you feel good too.”

You reach for him and Kogami instantly comes up to you. Because he’ll do anything you ask. He kisses you again, less fire, no less passionate, as you reach between the both of you to grab his length through his own training pants. He moaned into your mouth and bucked up against your hand in a low, slow rhythm.

“Feels good.��� He breathed into your mouth. In case you needed to hear the words. He’s learned that from you, over time. Sometimes you need to hear the words, not just the action.

You don’t need the words this time, however, as his actions speak volumes. He continues to buck into your hand. His cock unbearably hard under your fingers. You let go for a second to slip your hand down his pants and grasp him firmly, skin on skin, and you both moan.

Kogami obviously from having you touch him directly. While you moan at how hard & hot his cock is in your hand and imagine it inside you. Your pussy tightens in anticipation just at the thought of it.

He lets you pump his cock a few more times, before he seems unable to take it anymore and starts getting you both undressed. His hands are fast and forceful. They quickly strip you down out of your pants and underwear in one hard pull before Kogami was stepping out of his own pants & shirt as well. The hard lines of his chest defined in the low light. No matter how many times you see him like this, it makes you bite your lip.

That hard body was back on top of you in an instant. The feel of your naked skin against each other making you sigh in contentment into the kiss he landed on you.

Your body immediately opens up to him when he fell upon you. And with a well practice shift, and one good thrust, he was inside you.

His thrust start out slow. Long and deep to give you time to adjust to his size; especially since he hasn’t worked you open like he normally would, but he’s so impatient. It lasts only as long as necessary, however, before he shifts into his usual frenzy. Hard and fast. Not that you’re complaining in the least.

“Fuck! God! Shinya! More!” You cry out against his shoulder as you hold on to that hard body like an anchor.

Kogami, in return, just grunts against your ear. He keeps pace for a while before you feel a shutter quake down his back. He was going to cum soon.

Between the adrenaline and how good sex with Kogami is, you’re not far behind. Your body tightens up around him as he finally stops to cum inside you. He doesn’t like to mess up the sheets, and it’s not like you can get pregnant. It’s the worst kept secret at the bureau that they ‘sneak’ Enforcers all kinds of things in their food. All essential vitamins and mineral for healthy hunting dogs, and birth control. So there are no little Enforcers running around.

You lay together for a moment, panting and sweaty again, before Kogami rolled off you.

He reached over to the nightstand for his usual pack of cigarettes and lit one. The smell and faint waft of smoke filling the air. “You did good.”

“With the sex? Thanks.” You tease. Grinning at Kogami’s eye roll.

“I meant with training. You did good. I’m proud of you.”

Your heart both fluttered and swelled at those words: ‘I’m proud of you’. You shift around a little to curl into Kogami’s side and chest. Watching the smoke curl up from his cigarette lazily before disappearing to nothing. “I love you too, Kogami.”

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 24 part two

(Masterpost) (Pinboard)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Arguing

After enjoying a tense  afternoon with Lan Xichen, Wei Wuxian comes home to enjoy a tense evening with Jiang Cheng. He pauses in the doorway as he takes in Jiang Cheng’s mood and decides which metaphorical mask he will put on to interact with his shidi. As someone who grew up with explosive people, I find this routine very familiar. 

Wei Wuxian is always carefully playing a role as he interacts with the people in his life. Clearly he has read the classic sociology text The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life and is using it as a how-to guide. We see him do this same calculation over and over, in which he reacts internally to a situation, comes to a decision about what persona to inhabit, and then dons that persona. It’s a typical abuse survival tactic and...it is exhausting. 

This is why I think his leaving to be alone for a while in Episode 50 is a good thing. Being alone isn’t better than being with someone else, usually, but for Wei Wuxian, who is (by Episode 50) assured of love but not sure where he belongs in his own life, being by himself for a while is going to be the best thing for him. He can learn how to just be a person, instead of constantly trying to mold himself to fit everyone around him. 

For the current tense situation, Jiang Cheng is polishing his sword, which, incidentally, is slang (in English, not necessarily in Chinese) for masturbating. Which makes their conversation about how frequently it needs doing kind of a hoot. “One time a month should do,” per Wei Wuxian. 

Jiang Cheng yells at Wei Wuxian--fairly, really--for being drunk all the time and not working on clan tasks. Then he responds to a hug attempt by shoving Wei Wuxian and knocking him down. JC asks WW if he’s too drunk to manage his spiritual power. Now, we know that he doesn’t have any spiritual power to manage, and that’s the main point of this interaction. But it also shows us something else about their dynamic. 

This was just a quick hit, and when it takes WWX out, JC asks why he isn’t responding with spiritual power.  Which means that apparently *every* time Jiang Cheng gives Wei Wuxian a shove or a shoulder check, or strikes him--like he’s been doing constantly since Episode 3--he’s putting spiritual power behind it. That’s...really harsh. 

Jiang Cheng wants Wei Wuxian to fight back, and Wei Wuxian can’t; this is a big part of why their relationship breaks down. Casual blows loaded with spiritual power are part of their vocabulary, and Wei Wuxian can’t speak that language any more, even for basic defense. He’s literally not safe having simple interactions with Jiang Cheng now, because he’s secretly disabled, and Jiang Cheng is casually injuring him whenever he gets too close. 

(more after the cut!)

This time Wei Wuxian has had enough, and raises Chenqing to Jiang Cheng, who immediately backs off. Jiang Cheng has seen that thing in action, not just on the battlefield, but in a small room full of whatever remained of Wen Chao when they were done with him. He takes this as a serious threat, and backs off, disturbed and puzzled and hurt.

Jiang Cheng thinks the change in Wei Wuxian is coming from apathy, not from disability, and so he misunderstands it over and over.  Think of a friend saying “whatever, I’m sick of arguing with you, do what you want.”  Jiang Cheng is very ready to feel rejected, and not at all ready to look at Wei Wuxian’s behavior and try to actually understand it. 

Crying Over You

Wei Wuxian bails and goes to see Jiang Yanli in the ancestral hall, where she is polishing a name plaque. I turned the gamma way up to see whose it is and...I dunno. This character might be 江 (Jiang), I guess?

Jiang Yanli is the only one of the trio who knows how to mourn properly, in that she is taking some time to sit and be sad. Mourning the dead--both ritually and just in the emotional sense--is as important a part of reclaiming Lotus Pier as the training of disciples and having good times on the lake.

She asks him about his fight with Jiang Cheng and he says he’s used to fighting with him. Jiang Yanli asks him if he’s tired of living there, and Wei Wuxian deflects and deflects, saying “it’s my home, where else would I go?” and that if Jiang Fengmian hadn’t adopted him he would still be begging in the streets. He says “no matter what happens, I won’t leave Lotus Pier,” which is not an answer to her question.

It’s also not true. Like so many of his promises, it’s an expression of his wishes, with no space for the surprises real life is made of. He promises her that he won’t be reckless again, and asks her not to be mad at him. She says she can’t be mad at him, and then they share a flashback about Jiang Fengmian finding him on the street. This is a story, not a memory; Wei Wuxian can’t remember but he remembers her telling him about it. Jiang Yanli wasn’t there, in the moment. So this is her telling the story as it was told to her, probably by Jiang Fengmian. 

Flashback Time

In the flashback, picky salad-hating Wei Ying is out on the street, looking for food in a cartload of pretty okay scraps. I mean, yeah, skip the tomatoes, but most of the greens look fine.  

He’s found and fed by Jiang Fengmian, who recognizes him and decides to take him in. 

Within a couple of episodes, we will see Wei Wuxian paying this favor forward, saving someone he finds starving on the street. Just like Jiang Fengmian, he's going to upset and disrupt his family in order to help someone for whom he feels a deep connection.

During this flashback we get a look at Jiang Fengmian’s sword, and it is a beauty. 

What is Love

As the flashback ends, Wei Wuxian is smiling, hearing Jiang Yanli tell this touching story of starvation and orphanhood. She tells him he was born with a smiling face, and that he never minds much about sorrowful things; no matter how bad the situation is, he is always happy. Way to reinforce that metaphorical mask he’s wearing over his deep, deep despair, sis!

They talk a bit about Jiang Cheng’s bad temper.  Then Jiang Yanli says now that her parents are gone, they three are the closest in the world, and he responds by putting his head down on her knee and theatrically saying he’s hungry. But he’s crying for real, and so is she.

Then he decides to ask her why people fall in love, basically, and claims that he does not have anyone in his heart. He says there’s no need to like a person that much, that it’s like “haltering your own neck,” according to Netflix. Let’s have a look at that figurative language for a second, and what’s missing from the Neflix translation. 

What he says is (as near as my qhanzi.com skills can make out) “這不就是自己給自己脖子上套犁拴韁吗” which Google tells me means "Isn't this just putting a plow on my neck with a rein?" The part of the image that’s missing from Netflix subs is the plow, and the hard labor and animal servitude involved in pulling a plow. This isn’t a pro-romance image.

He’s clearly thinking about Lan Wangji when he lies about having no-one in his heart, but right now the yoke that he wants to escape has nothing to do with Lan Wangji. The person he’s harnessed to in a team, the person who he labors with, the person he wants to escape, is Jiang Cheng.  What’s chafing his neck is the promise he made, to stay and serve as one half of a pair, when he can no longer pull his weight. 

Busted

Speaking of Jiang Cheng, he is hanging around outside the shrine, listening to the conversation. Wei Wuxian busts him, pointing out not that eavesdropping is bad, but that it’s bad for grownups. Jiang Cheng points out that he’s the master of Lotus Pier so he’s allowed to go anywhere he wants.

(I love how he looks framed by this giant lotus behind him)

We Wuxian has another of those moments where he assesses the best approach to Jiang Cheng before responding. 

Then he picks a fake fight with him about soup.  Yanli comes out and tells them both to grow up, saying that JC is losing his demeanor as clan leader. He jokingly fixes his already-perfect robe ad they all have a chuckle.

Then Jiang Cheng reminds Wei Wuxian of his promise for the millionth time, and Jiang Yanli goes to make soup for the millionth time. As soon as the boys see that she’s gone, the smiles drop right off of their faces. They’re both performing their typical relationship dynamic for Jiang Yanli.

Being Reasonable

The brothers repair to the main hall, and stand behind the lotus throne looking out of this complicated wall/doorway thingy, while they talk about Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan. 

Jiang Cheng is being mature and sensible here, trying to give Jiang Yanli what she wants and also explaining very, very basic political stuff to Wei Wuxian, who is too caught up in his hate boner for JZX to want to think about the bigger picture. He also thinks that Jin Guangyao is a nicer person, but Jiang Cheng says that nice doesn’t matter.  

Wei Wuxian is getting a full head of steam going about what a jerk JZX is, when Jiang Cheng makes him actually stop and think, by pointing out that it’s not for them to forgive or not forgive Jin Zixuan’s past behavior; it’s up to Yanli.

Wei Wuxian sees the reasoning in this, and starts to say he can’t understand why Yanli chose to like this person, but then he stops himself and goes through a rapid series of thoughtful, uncomfortable expressions. 

Perhaps he’s realizing that he himself has chosen to like an infamously stuck-up, fancy cultivator, albeit one with no soup-related character deficits.

Library Time

The stuck-up cultivator in question is currently in the Cloud Recesses library, where he has snuck into the forbidden books room, against his uncle’s express command, for the purpose of helping Wei Wuxian. The forbidden books room is an entire basement floor of the library; it probably has more books than the not-forbidden part of the library, since the main floor needs space for the restrooms, circulation desk, and copy machines.

(Did OP photoshop the Wangxian-in-the-Library porn picture onto Lan Wangjis’ book? She did.)

A couple of other Lans come along and see the main door unlocked. The lock is a big fish that probably uses magic for locking; it definitely doesn’t use a key. One of them steps in the doorway, glances back and forth without walking through, and does not check the secret door to the forbidden vault. Gosh, how did Su She and/or Jin Guangyao  ever manage to steal secrets from this highly secure location, wow.

Lan Wangji hears the Lan disciple on guard duty say “don’t tell Hanguang Jun about this!’ and has a series of microexpressions that might indicate some kind of feeling about simultaneously being a rule breaker and a rule enforcer.  

Boat Time

We end with an idyllic scene on the lake in Lotus pier, where a new batch of disciples is harvesting lotuses and learning the opposite of boat safety. 

Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian are having a good time, and seem utterly carefree; both of them are good at living in the moment, or faking it. 

Wei Wuxian thinks, in voiceover, that it seems that it’s not so hard to go back to the old days. Uh...ok.

Except he’s hiding a massive secret and these replacement kids are not the same juniors he used to hang out with, and he can’t actually teach them cultivation, since he has no socially-acceptable magic power, and everything is about to go to shit in the next episode. But you gotta take your joy where you can, I guess. 

Note: There are a lot of questionable effects in The Untamed, but there are also beautiful scenes like this one, which looks like a Maxfield Parrish painting. Compare with the BTS below and you can see what a good job the VFX team did in bringing this lake to life. 

[c-optimistic]

for your happy prompts ask, perhaps kara is a documentary film maker who follows ceo lena around for a doc and ends up falling in love with her by learning a bunch of little things she finds out during filming? also p.s. i absolutely adore your writing even when it tugs at the heartstrings. thank you for writing what you do! it makes my day everytime i see an update or get an email

She wasn’t allowed to see Lena Luthor until she’d signed so many papers that, if stacked together, would be taller than she was. She wasn’t even allowed to touch her camera around Lena Luthor until the woman herself, CEO extraordinaire, had personally vetted Kara out.

“You know,” Kara said as casually as she could, finding herself nervously adjusting her glasses when Lena’s cold gaze fell on her, “I usually have a whole team with me when I do this.”

“And I agreed to this on the condition that only one nosy filmmaker follows me around, not a whole team.” Lena’s reply was like everything else Kara had learned about the CEO thus far: she was blunt, a little harsh, tone and eyes cold and emotionless. She gave nothing away, not in her walk, in her mannerisms, in the ridiculously healthy food she ate, in the way she spoke to her employees or board members. She was cool, detached, wickedly smart, and utterly composed. “And I must approve the final result,” she added, gesturing to the mountain of paperwork Kara signed.

(Kara sighed internally, a tiny part of her sure Lena was a robot.)

“But it’s everything, right?” Kara clarified. “A total look into your life, no holding back?”

“You may follow me around to your heart’s content,” Lena said, leaning back in her desk chair, studying Kara intently.

“May I ask, Ms. Luthor, what made you agree to this, when you’re usually so distrustful of the media?”

Lena gave Kara a smile that didn’t touch her eyes. “What made you ask to do this when you know I distrust the media?”

Lena hadn’t answered, so Kara knew she didn’t have to either, but she felt it was important to establish some kind of rapport with the woman she’d be following around for the next few weeks. “I’m of the opinion that things are rarely as simple as they seem from the outside, that’s all.”

“Well,” Lena said, looking pleasantly surprised and offering Kara a grin (a real one, one that touched her eyes and transformed her face), “perhaps that’s why I agreed to you doing this.”

x

“You’re one of Ms. Luthor’s closest friends, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Since before your daughter was born?”

“Yup.”

“So would you say you know her quite well?”

“Sure.”

“Do you plan on answering any of my questions with more than one word?”

“Nope.”

“Okay. So, in one word I suppose, how would you describe Ms. Luthor to a stranger?”

“Flawless.”

x

The rules of her arrangement with Lena were rather simple. For the next several weeks, Lena consented to having Kara around from the moment she woke up to the moment she went to sleep. In return, Kara was not allowed in certain meetings at L-Corp, was not allowed to bring her camera with her at all when Lena went down to R&D, and if Lena asked for her to stop filming at any point, Kara was bound to immediately do so and erase any footage she may have inadvertently captured.

For the first two days of the arrangement, it was actually rather boring. Lena was awake before the crack of dawn, she didn’t acknowledge Kara’s presence as she made coffee and toast (though she did push a cup and a plate towards Kara), and then spent the next fifteen or so hours in her office, sifting through papers, answering phone calls and responding to emails, and forgetting meals. It wasn’t until the third day that Lena’s routine changed slightly.

She received a phone call at breakfast, and whoever it was caused a bright red blush to bloom on her cheeks. Kara zoomed in slightly on Lena’s face as she answered the call. “Now’s not really a good time, Sam,” she began, falling silent at whatever this Sam was saying on the other end. Lena’s eyes flitted over towards Kara, but to her surprise, she didn’t ask for Kara to shut off the camera. “That sounds terrible,” she said, sounding truly apologetic, something about her countenance changing. She seemed softer, more open, calmer than Kara had seen her yet. “And Ruby was so excited too.” Lena fell silent once more, nodding almost as if unaware of it. “I agree with her,” Lena suddenly laughed, still nodding, “it’s not fair at all. But there’s no way I’m not going to visit. Do you want me to bring anything?” Lena laughed again, and Kara wondered if her camera was capturing the change she was witnessing with her own eyes. “As if I could forget Ruby’s chocolate.” A pause. “Give her all my love.” Another pause, a tiny smile on Lena’s lips. “All right, I will. Bye.”  As she hung up, she looked over at Kara, as if daring her to comment, everything about her shuttering at once.

“Who was that?” Kara asked, not really expecting an answer. To her surprise, however, Lena’s eyes flitted to the camera and she let out a soft, resigned sigh.

“That was my CFO, Sam Arias,” she answered, her tone a complete 180 from what she was using on the phone. She studied Kara for a moment and must have read something on her face, because her shoulders deflated and she motioned towards her phone. “Sam is my best friend. Her daughter, Ruby, is my goddaughter. We were supposed to go to the animal shelter today.” Lena smiled softly, almost as if unaware of it. “She’s finally convinced Sam she’s responsible enough for a pet. It’s actually—” Lena stopped suddenly, her eyes shifting to the camera once more, any warmth that had managed to leak out dissipating at once. “In any case, she’s sick. So we’ll have to reschedule.” She waved her hand towards the camera. “Can you turn that off, please?”

“Uh, yeah, of course,” Kara said quickly, making a show of turning the Camcorder off and setting it aside. “Is something wrong?”

Lena shook her head, leaning against her kitchen counter as she eyed Kara with something like curiosity. “You know, I’ve seen all of your other work,” she said after a moment, frowning at Kara like she was a puzzle she couldn’t figure out.

(Had she? Seen all of Kara’s work? A part of Kara was curious as to how, after all, most of her stuff was tucked away in a closet back in Midvale, waiting to be opened up and viewed during Christmas, when Alex would laugh at the films she’d made in high school about how the boys’ sports teams were unfairly given more attention than the girls’. The others were projects for her degree and one or two failed attempts to get a real production company to take the risk on her.

In fact, if not for Cat Grant’s decision as ‘The Queen of All Media’ to get involved in filmmaking, funding a project from a no-name creator, Kara wasn’t even sure she’d have the film she was making now.)

“Oh,” she said inarticulately, not quite sure how to word what she was really thinking. How rich did you have to be to be able to bribe anyone into giving you anything?

Lena nodded carefully, her face a perfect mask. If not for the way her eyes followed Kara’s every movement, Kara would’ve even thought that Lena was bored. “You’re very fond of certain themes. Hope. Love. Endless optimism in the best of humanity.” She said it like it was a bad thing. And it was suddenly Kara’s turn to lean forward on the opposite end of the counter, feeling her head tilt to the side questioningly.

“Is that what you got from my films?” she asked, genuinely curious.

Lena seemed wary of the question, standing up straight and crossing her arms over her chest defensively. “Isn’t that what you intended?”

“You know,” Kara said slowly, “I don’t actually believe in all that creator’s intent nonsense. I think we search for parts of ourselves when we consume art. So if that’s what you got from my films, that says more about you than it does about me.”

If anything, this seemed to offend Lena. “So you’d deny having any sort of intent with your work? What about making something with meaning?”

Kara laughed, shaking her head. “That’s not what I mean, and besides, who says art has to mean anything?”

“Of course art means something,” Lena argued, narrowing her eyes at Kara. “What’s the point of doing it if it doesn’t mean anything?”

Kara shrugged easily, giving Lena a small smile. “I disagree. I think art says something. But meaning is up to the people who consume it.” She picked up her camera and pointed it at Lena without turning it on. “Doesn’t matter what I intended to say with my films, you got meaning from it. So I’d say there was a point in making it, don’t you think?”

Lena eyed her for a moment, apparently not liking that Kara wasn’t giving her an answer, wasn’t telling her what she was trying to say with her work. But then, after several long seconds, she relented, letting out a chuckle and shaking her head. “Well, fine,” she said, her smile touching her eyes. “As long as you don’t try to say anything silly like hope, love, or endless optimism in the best of humanity with this film.”

“I’m afraid I can’t change who you are, Ms. Luthor,” Kara said softly, turning her camera on and effectively cutting off any response Lena may have had.

(And when she looks at the footage weeks later, she’ll freeze that frame, breath catching at the look on Lena’s face: the softness of her eyes, the curve of her lips, and the pleasantly confused crinkle between her brows.)

x

“Do you spend a lot of time with your godmother?”

“Oh yeah, loads! She’s great.”

“What sort of things do you do with her?”

“I mean, normal stuff? She takes me to get ice cream all the time. The other day, she rented that new horror movie that came out and watched it with me when I stayed over. My mom went nuts when she found out.”

“So you like her?”

“No, of course not. I love Lena. She’s my aunt, you know? She’s family.”

“And if you had the chance, what would you want the world to know about her?”

“That she cares, so much. And that she’s funny and super smart and helps me with homework and after my mom she’s the very best person I know.”

x

The visit to Luthor Children’s Hospital was, as far as Kara was aware, unplanned and in fact gave Jess a great deal of anxiety. For her part, Kara was mostly frustrated and annoyed, wondering if this film was worth it at all. Because Lena Luthor seemed to be asking Kara to turn off the camera more and more, especially when her day deviated at all and she was forced to leave her office.

(Walks in the park, lunches with her goddaughter, a touching moment with the child of one of her employees...all locked away somewhere in Kara’s memory, but destined to remain there instead of on film, where it should be.)

She huffed a little bit as she leaned against the wall, watching Lena walk quickly towards the group of nurses and doctors. She didn’t say anything when Jess joined her, a contemplative look on her face. “She always does this,” Jess told Kara after a long silence, rolling her eyes fondly. “She’ll cancel meetings last minute because she heard one of the kids in the hemoc ward has finished treatment or that they’re out of toys to give to the new patients.”

“Why isn’t there any press if she does this often?” Kara asked, turning to Jess but watching Lena out of the corner of her eye. She was talking to one of the doctors now, looking comically out of place with her designer clothes while surrounded by colorful artwork by kids that littered the walls of the Children’s Hospital.

Jess fixed Kara with an unimpressed look. “You’ve met her, right?” she asked rhetorically. “She goes out of her way to hide these visits. She says that she has to keep it under wraps because she wants to keep it about the kids and not her. But I think the truth is she’s just worried people would mistreat the kids and their families for allowing a ‘Luthor’ within ten feet of them.”

“Oh,” Kara said dumbly, a little stunned by the new information, and feeling guilty for her thoughts earlier. “That’s...awful.”

“I’m not telling you this for nothing, you know,” Jess continued, frowning at Kara. “She’s been avoiding lots of her usual charitable work since you’ve been around. The whole point of this was to get everyone else to see the real Lena Luthor, but she’s ruining it by being humble and noble.”

(Kara wanted to groan, roll her eyes, or better yet go over to Lena herself and shake her until she understood what Kara’s job was.

How was she supposed to make a documentary about Lena Luthor if Lena Luthor was so determined to hide herself away from the world?)

“What would you have me do?” she asked, not voicing her frustration, though it seeped into her tone anyway. “We have a deal, and she doesn’t want me to film these things.”

Jess shook her head, looking terribly unimpressed by the answer. “Don’t you have artistic integrity? Would you allow anyone else to boss you around and tell you what you could and couldn’t film?”

Kara looked over at Lena, who was now smiling at a young boy who had ambled up to her with his mother and infusion pump stand in tow. She watched as Lena actually dropped to her knees to talk to the boy, nodding vigorously at whatever he was saying. After a long moment, she turned back to Jess and shook her head. “No,” she said finally. “I guess I wouldn’t.”

And after Jess had given her another significant look before walking off, Kara raised her camera and began to film.

x

“Mr. Spheer, you’re an ex of Lena Luthor’s, right?”

“Ah, I see this documentary is quite personal. Are you sure that Lena is okay with this sort of thing going into her movie?”

“Well, it’s my movie. But she’s free to ask me to take things out.”

“Fascinating. Yes, I am Lena’s ex. I was quite brokenhearted when she broke it off to move to National City.”

“Oh, she broke it off?”

“So curious, Ms. Danvers. Perhaps you’re interested in something beyond a mere film?”

“W-what? No, that’s—please be serious, Mr. Spheer—”

“It’s Jack to you, my dear. What else do you need to know about Lena? Her favorite flowers are plumerias, her favorite food is—”

“—oh that’s really not necessary. If we could just focus on who Lena is as a person. A friend. A former girlfriend?”

“Hmm, yes. Well, just imagine your perfect woman, Ms. Danvers.”

“Oh, um, I—”

“—exactly, you see Lena. That’s an universal experience, I’m afraid. Lena is simply...too good for this world.”

“So you’d say the treatment she gets by the public is unfair?”

“It’s unfair how much people attack pineapple on pizza, Ms. Danvers. The way they speak of Lena without knowing her? That’s a pure travesty.”

x

They were about ten days into filming when Kara saw Lena relax for the first time.

She was using the word ‘relax’ rather loosely, of course. Lena didn’t do what Kara did after a long week—put on a pair of sweatpants, order loads of junk food, and watch so much Netflix that it eventually felt the need to ask her if she was still watching. In fact, Lena’s idea of relaxing was more work. Just, fun work.

She was dressed in jeans and a blue shirt, knees pulled up to her chest as she sat at her desk, mumbling under her breath as she did whatever she was doing. (She hadn’t bothered to explain to Kara, had just sighed and acquiesced to the presence of the camera in her home office.) Perched precariously at the tip of her nose were a thick black pair of glasses, her hair falling to her shoulders in gentle waves.

She looked different. Softer, somehow. Gone was all the trappings of a badass CEO, and all that was left was a clever (and beautiful) young woman, working on the things she loved in her spare time.

Kara zoomed in slightly, focusing on Lena’s face, on the furrow between her brows, her lips twisted in concentration. There was something there, something different, and Kara just wanted to—

“Is that camera heavy?” Lena asked, looking up suddenly, a curious expression on her face. She was good at that, the polite looks, gently asking for more information. Tiny eyebrow raises, nearly imperceptible softening of her eyes, lips quirked the slightest bit, all intended to disarm her quarry, making them drop their guard long enough that they give everything held close to their chest away.

“Not really,” Kara answered, grinning at Lena. This made the other woman blink in surprise, clearly not the response she was looking for, that expression on her face shifting suddenly, becoming more calculating. “I work out,” Kara went on to explain, shrugging easily, careful not to jostle the camera. “Besides, it’s not that heavy, I think about five pounds.”

“What kind of camera do you use?”

“Oh, it’s a Panasonic AG-HVX—” she cut herself off. “It’s not that interesting.” Kara adjusted her glasses and made sure Lena’s face was still in focus. Somehow, this made Lena’s tiny smile reappear. She stood up and circled her desk, and Kara was forced to back away to maintain focus.

“You love filming, don’t you?” Lena asked, and Kara blinked, not quite sure where she was going with this.

“Ms. Luthor, as I’m sure you’re aware, this film is about you.”

If she thought this would in any way cow Lena, she was wrong. Lena just grinned, looking like she’d somehow won something.

“Do you know what I don’t understand?” she said with faux casualness, crossing her arms and tapping a finger against her elbow. “Why would you, someone Cat Grant speaks so highly of, be willing to agree to this assignment? Something most people wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole.”

Kara frowned, not thinking as she responded. “It wasn’t assigned, Ms. Luthor. I pitched the idea. I wanted to do this.” Lena’s words sank in a moment later. “Wait. Cat Grant spoke highly of me?”

“Why?” Lena asked, no longer smiling.

Kara blinked at the change in tone. “Why what?” she asked, genuinely confused. This was, apparently, the wrong answer, because Lena chose that moment to begin pacing in front of her desk, looking more than a little bothered.

“I don’t get it,” she said as she paced. “I tried to figure it out, looked into you, into your work. I thought maybe you were doing this to build fame, but I’ve seen your work and even without a movie about the last Luthor, I have no doubt you’ll be very popular—”

“Oh, that’s nice of you, thank y—”

“—then I thought maybe you have a vendetta against my family and just want me to look bad,” Lena continued, barreling over Kara’s words and ignoring her entirely, “but the only connection between you and my family is your cousin, Clark Kent, and he’s the journalist who broke the story on my brother, so if anything I should dislike you—”

“That’s not exactly...Clark and I aren’t—”

“—so I really need you to explain it to me. Why did you want to make this film?” She paused her brisk pacing as she asked the question, meeting Kara’s eyes with a fierce look, one Kara was infinitely glad she was capturing on film. Because this, this glint in Lena’s eyes, was why Kara wanted to do this.

“Do you remember the speech you gave when you came to National City?” Kara asked, and judging from the way Lena’s eyebrows rose in response, she was rather thrown by the question. “Because I do. I watched it maybe a few dozen times. All those horrible questions, all the absolute certainty that you were like your brother, and you kept your head up and you promised to prove them all wrong, to make up for what he did.” Kara sighed, shutting off the camera and setting it aside gently. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it. I was...interested. I wanted to see more.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“Did I meet your expectations? Disappoint you? What?”

Kara smiled, unable to help it. “Does my opinion on you really matter?”

“Do you always answer a question with another question?” Lena shot back, eyes narrowing.

Kara’s smile just widened and she began to gather her things, preparing to leave for the night. Impressively, Lena didn’t question her further, just watched her then followed her to the door, looking rather cross. Pausing briefly to adjust her glasses and the strap of her bag, Kara turned suddenly and met Lena’s eyes. “You exceeded them. My expectations, that is,” Kara added when Lena offered only a quizzical look in response.

For a moment, Lena didn’t react, then that same look from her office—the softness of her eyes, the curve of her lips, and the pleasantly confused crinkle between her brows—overtook her expression, and she let out a laugh.

“Well, good then.”

x

“You went to boarding school with Ms. Luthor?”

“I don’t think that’s public knowledge, how do you know that?”

“Um, Ms. Arias told me about you. She mentioned your relationship with Ms. Luthor is unique.”

“Well, Sam would know, wouldn’t she?”

“Ms. Rojas, if you don’t want to speak to me, you don’t have to.”

“It’s fine. Look, Lena and I have been estranged for a while now. I...I did something to break her trust.”

“So would you say that Ms. Luthor is difficult to get along with?”

“No, I’d say that Lena values things like honesty and trust, and—you know that Austen novel? With the man who says that once you lose his good opinion, it’s gone forever?”

“Pride and Prejudice?”

“Exactly. Lena is like that.”

“Ms. Luthor is like Mr. Darcy?”

“No, she’s classic. No matter what’s going on, she’ll endure.”

“So...you were the one difficult to get along with?”

“Have you ever thought about taking your work to a whole new level, Kara? How do you feel about virtual reality?”

“Oh, um, I don’t have particular thoughts? But I’d love to know yours about Ms. Luthor. For the film.”

“She won’t believe this, or that I’m saying it coercion free, but Lena is...a visionary. More than that, she’s just a decent person. Which is more than most of us can say, don’t you think?”

x

After their conversation, Lena opened up dramatically.

(Well, dramatically was a stretch, but considering how closed off she’d been before, the difference was rather drastic.)

Kara filmed Lena’s visit to an animal shelter, capturing the way her fingers gently ran over the fur of the dog that immediately trotted over to her, placing its head in her lap. Lena had then explained that she went to shelters often, just to volunteer, as she was unable to adopt for fear of not having time to give the dog the attention it deserved.

Later that week, Lena let Kara stay later than usual, putting on some music as she got to cooking, going as far as to teach Kara the basics of the dish, laughing when Kara admitted that her skill in the kitchen was limited to making sandwiches. At one point she grabbed the camera and set it aside, dragging Kara into the kitchen, giving instructions and lessons as she swayed her hips to the music.

(It was silly, it was lighthearted, it was fun, and Kara couldn’t help it.

She forgot she was there to make a film.)

And as the days and weeks dragged on, when Lena showed off her skills at the piano—apologetically explaining she hadn’t had time to really play in months—or when she told Kara about her very ‘nerdy’ stamp collection or even when Lena seemed to ignore there was a camera between them and she began to talk about her day and her hopes for the weekend, Kara forgot that it was a job. She forgot that she was supposed to be making something, paying attention to more than Lena’s smile or the way her eyes lit up whenever she mentioned work she was particularly passionate about.

Somewhere along the way, Kara cared more about the opportunity to spend time with Lena than she did the film itself.

More worryingly, that realization didn’t even bother her.

x

“Why filmmaking?” Lena asked one morning, pushing coffee and toast towards Kara with a tiny smile. The camera was still in its bag, untouched since Kara had arrived nearly an hour earlier. “Why not journalism like your cousin?”

“My cousin and I,” Kara began awkwardly, adjusting her glasses, “well, our relationship is a little strained, I guess.” She didn’t need the slight tilt of Lena’s head to know that Lena wanted her to keep going, to explain further. She let out a soft chuckle and rubbed her forehead with the tips of her fingers. “Um, so my parents died when I was twelve. And Clark sort of...left me? I went to live with the Danvers instead, and they bought me a camera for my birthday.” Kara grinned at the very memory, still able to feel its weight in her hand, the eyepiece against her eye. “It was one of those old camcorders, do you remember? The ones with the tapes? I drove them nuts, filming literally everything. I don’t think they ever saw my face for the first few months I was with them, it was constantly behind the camera.” She didn’t explain why she wanted to document every moment with her new family, but judging from the way Lena’s eyes softened, she understood anyway. “From there it became serious. I started making films. School projects, etc. Now I’m here.”

“Why documentaries? Why not something like...oh, I don’t know, action movies?” Lena prodded, looking curious, looking interested, looking like the answer mattered.

Kara just shrugged, suddenly not able to look Lena in the eye. “I guess there’s a part of me that wanted to take after Clark.”

x

“How long have you been working for Ms. Luthor?”

“Um, this December will make seven years.”

“As her assistant, you have remarkable access to her. What’s she like?”

“Driven, ambitious, works way too hard. I don’t think she’s ever taken a holiday or even a break...but um, maybe don’t say that in the film.”

“Artistic integrity, remember? She works hard, that’s clear. But what about personally? Her relationship with you and the other employees? What kind of boss is she?”

“She cares a lot. A few years ago, before Lex Luthor, well. You know. Before all that, LuthorCorp was facing serious losses. Mr. Luthor wanted to just get rid of entire departments, but Ms. Luthor said the research was vital, and more than that, the researchers were important. She convinced her brother to keep them on—she won’t admit it, but it was more than being persuasive. She paid for it out of her own pocket.”

“So you’d say she’s charitable?”

“No, she’s passionate. And she fights for the things she believes in. Ms. Luthor likes to say that charity implies pity, and she doesn’t do anything out of pity. She just does what’s right by people.”

“Some would disagree, they’d argue that LuthorCorp, and by extension its new iteration, L-Corp, don’t care about people, but about profits. Do you think that’s a fair assessment of the company you’ve devoted seven years to?”

“Look. I get it, people are suspicious of L-Corp because it used to be LuthorCorp. But it’s not just a name change. When Lena took over, she gutted her company. There’s not a single program left from Mr. Luthor’s time as CEO. L-Corp is all Ms. Luthor.”

“So if L-Corp is Ms. Luthor, who is Ms. Luthor?”

“She’s a woman who’s been hurt all her life, Kara Danvers, and whose only goal is to keep as many people as she can from hurting too. Sometimes I just wish she realized she doesn’t deserve to be hurt anymore either.”

“Oh.”

“Also, I don’t care about your artistic integrity, that last bit does not go in the film.”

x  

One afternoon, when Kara was dangerously close to dozing off on the couch in Lena’s office—camera turned off and set aside, not really needing more footage of Lena working at her desk—Lena suddenly jumped to her feet, an excited gleam in her eyes.

“They’ve done it,” she said, the smile forming on her lips so wide that Kara found herself smiling back.

“Done what?” Kara asked, fairly sure this would lead to Lena’s refrain of ‘that’s company business and I’m afraid you’re not privy to that information’ but instead, Lena looked at her appraisingly, then rolled her eyes.

“If I allow you to bring your camera in R&D, do you swear not to film my ongoing projects?”

“You’re going to let me film in R&D?” Kara said excitedly, jumping to her feet and grabbing her camera.

“Kara, do you swear?”

“Yes, yes, of course, Ms. Luthor. I absolutely swear.”

And the next thing Kara knew, she was filming in the one place she’d been told was off-limits, capturing the lab and Lena talking to her researchers animatedly about the advancement they’d made in gene therapy, not entirely surprised when Lena shoved the scientists towards Kara and urged them to brag about their achievement—while also warning them to be as vague as possible—and then sank into the background, clearly thrilled to have her scientists as the center of attention.  

And later, when Lena decided to actually take a lunch hour as a ‘reward’ for the great strides L-Corp had made, she took Kara along, bought three different appetizers, and smiled her wide smile before she said, “It’s Lena, by the way. Just Lena.”

Mouth still bulging with the three potstickers she’d practically inhaled, Kara couldn’t manage much more than a nod, but later—when she was alone—she tried saying the name aloud, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

x

“Mrs. Luthor—”

“It’s doctor, actually.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Dr. Luthor. You adopted Ms. Luthor when she was four, is that correct?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have time for this nonsense. I consented to this interview only to say one thing: Lena was always the more clever of my children, but she’s foolish and soft, and this silly film is yet another example of that.”

“You agreed to meet with me to just say...that. Okay. That’s um. Fine.”

x

As the weeks dragged on, Kara had little reason to continue filming. Her deadline with Cat Grant was fast approaching, and she had more than enough footage. All that really remained was editing, of putting the final pieces together. But she found herself filming anyway.

Every day, she’d make her way to Lena’s apartment, making flimsy excuses about how certain footage was no good, or had been corrupted, and that she needed retakes of Lena doing ordinary things (like reading the paper, cooking dinner, or talking about her day). She knew that Lena could tell her excuses were just that, but mercifully, Lena didn’t seem to want to call her out on it, merely gave soft reminders not to stay up so late every night to edit (the ‘you could just as easily stop wasting your time here and be editing during normal hours’ going unsaid).

(Jess had rolled her eyes when Kara came by L-Corp and Lena mentioned offhandedly that Kara somehow hadn’t gotten a shot of Lena entering her building in all the time she’d shadowed the CEO, and wasn’t that odd?)

But what Kara knew, what made her stretch out these moments as long as she possibly could, was that once the final product popped into existence, once she showed Lena and got her okay to send off to Cat Grant, that was it.

No more Lena.

And that terrified her.

(So she gathered more footage, fruitlessly hoping that the final product would never be ready, dragging her feet at every step.

She edited, studying Lena’s every expression, tried to pinpoint the exact moment she’d started to fall for the not-so-detached CEO extraordinaire, and wished it didn’t all have to come to an end.)

x

Two days after Kara had sent Lena the finished film, she got a curt email from the CEO herself with only three words: come see me.

Jess gave no indication about how her boss was feeling when Kara arrived, merely stared evenly at Kara and gestured with her head for her to just go on in. When Kara tried to ask her, Jess shook her head, pointed at the door to Lena’s office, and made a shooing gesture.

“It’s odd to see you without a camera,” Lena said when Kara sat down across from her, trying to keep her hands from fidgeting.

“It’s odd to be in here without a camera.” Kara took a deep breath. “Did you watch it?” she blurted, unable to keep it in. “What did you think?”

“You’re really fond of certain themes,” Lena said, then she raised her eyebrow. “You also filmed quite a bit when I had asked you not to.”

“Artistic integrity?” Kara tried, and Lena...laughed.

“I don’t know if I agree with the way you portrayed me,” she said slowly as her amusement faded. “You took a lot of liberties.”

“I was very faithful to the subject of the film, Lena.”

“What do you think you were trying to say?” Lena asked, waving off Kara’s comment.

“What meaning did you get from it?”

Lena studied her for a moment, as if she was trying to read Kara’s mind. “I’m not some selfless genius, Kara.”

“Is that what you think the film is saying?” Kara asked her, not rising to the obvious bait. “Like I said, Lena. I was very faithful to the subject of the film.” For a long moment, Lena didn’t respond, and Kara felt the worry she’d managed to push away since sending the film to Lena creep back in. “Does this mean you don’t approve of the film?”

“Hmm?” Lena said, distracted. “No, I’ve already sent it along to Cat Grant, giving my okay. Even though you broke our agreement, I can’t deny the final result was very favorable to me.”

“I wouldn’t have made something that wasn’t completely true,” Kara said, somewhat hotly, most of her irritation bleeding away with the knowledge that Cat Grant was in possession of the final product, that the rest was up to her.

Lena smiled, eyes soft, and she nodded her head almost incredulously. “No, you wouldn’t. I know that.” She cleared her throat, seeming a bit nervous. “But I was thinking. I’ve been missing our talks about your work, and I know you don’t like talking about what you’ve made, but perhaps you’d make an exception for me. Would you be willing to give me a private showing of your film? Give me all the insider secrets? I know your subject quite well, it would be a fun exercise.”

Kara’s heart slammed to a stop, the jump-started at the sight of Lena’s amused eyes, that tiny curve of her lips. “A private showing, huh?” Kara mumbled, feeling a little dazed. “I still won’t tell you what I was trying to say.”

“That’s completely fair.”

“But I suppose I could give you some insight on my thoughts.”

“Only if you wanted.”

“It may have to be more than one session,” Kara said, trying and failing to stop the spread of her smile. “There’s a lot of footage you know.”

“So it’s a date?” Lena asked, and Kara couldn’t help her eager nod.

“It’s definitely a date.”

[fandomvariousness]

Finally

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of violence & death, nsfw content

Summary: reader finally sees her lover Eren after the team retrieves him to the airship, yet he’s not the same. Will she bring him back?

Word count: 3.2k

A/N: Forgive me if some details are inaccurate, this is my rendering of the situation, so some things may not add up!

Finally.

Finally, the day you’re going to see Eren again.

You shivered with anticipation, thinking about the letters that were going sparse, until there were none. You’ve been inseparable, supporting each other every step of the way, but Eren had to deal with unthinkable, horrible things along the same steps too, and you couldn’t take all of it away – the burning hatred seeped into his brain, numbing his senses and compassion.

He offered no explanation in letters as to why he’d stopped writing so often, and you didn’t ask for one – he’s in enemy’s land, surely he has his reasons, but deep down you knew he was pushing you away.

What were you going to say to him? Will you hug him? Will he hug you? You had no idea, and it was killing you.

Your adrenaline was over the roof. Everything around you was destroyed, splintered, ground to pieces – Eren did that.

It seemed that you lost it when you realized that Eren had transformed without the care of hurting innocent civilians – his sense of revenge was stronger than anything else. You haven’t been able to approach him yet, to look into his mesmerizing jade eyes. You suspected Captain Levi has positioned you away from him on purpose – who knows how you and Eren would’ve reacted to each other’s presence after so long.

You felt the insides of your stomach turn as you hooked your cables on the airship and zipped-lined towards it. Just a minute ago you saw how Mikasa made it inside, dragging Eren along. You heard a commotion above you – Captain Levi was cussing Eren out. The casual.

You felt how everyone stopped whatever they were doing as you were climbing on board – secretly, they all wanted to know what will happen once you two meet again. That’s how powerful you two are. Were.

Out of breath, you stood up, regaining your posture, your rifle still in hands as you finally looked at him: if not for the emerald sheen of his eyes, you wouldn’t have recognized this ragged, miserable man with a chestnut resembling that of a lion.

You stared into each other, the unbearable grief that consumed you rendering you immobile. Quickly, your vision worsened, tears blurring your eyes as you realized there’s nothing behind those of Eren. He looks at you, yet doesn’t say anything, doesn’t feel anything.

“Move,” Captain Levi muttered and lightly pushed you aside.

You tore your gaze away from Eren, breathing shallow breaths as you stumbled towards the wall, leaning on it.

And then you heard the shot.

~

It was unbearable. One fleeting moment, one slightest miscalculation, and she’s gone. Sasha is gone.

You kneeled beside her tomb with your head hanging down, hot teardrops sinking into the pale stone. Everything was always shit, but now… now it’s pure hell. You sobbed and raised your head to look at the cloudy sky, cutting off the air flow, trying to pull yourself together.

“Hey,” Jean approached you, Connie not far behind. “Come here.”

He crouched down to your level and placed his palms on your shoulders reassuringly, helping you stand up.

Eren was nowhere to be seen. He kept to himself in his quarters, but Captain Levi forbid anyone to properly visit him anyway. He thought Eren’s unstable.

But you thought the opposite. Eren’s perfectly stable – the deadly precision, calculation and determination fueled his conscious, revenge-fueled decisions, and frankly, you were afraid. He wasn’t thrashing around like he would years ago, screaming and tearing everything apart, consumed by fury – he knew what he was doing now.

The last time you laid eyes on him was during Sasha’s funeral, but it seemed that he wasn’t even there. His body was, of course, but his mind was fleeting somewhere else, somewhere where he could continue plotting the utter extermination of every last one of his enemies.

It’s going to be hard, bringing him back. Hell, you didn’t even know if it’s possible – he truly looked like a goner. But you were going to try, because there isn’t any other living being in the world you love more than Eren Jaeger.

~

You sat on your bed, facing the one that belonged to Sasha. She would tell you to stand up and go straight to Eren and whoop his ass for ignoring you.

You sank your teeth in your lower lip as you stood up and made your way towards Captain Levi’s office.

“Come in,” his low voice muttered after you knocked. He rolled his eyes when he saw it’s you.

“What is it?” he asked, his desk already stuffed with a bunch of paperwork.

“I need to visit Eren.” you realized how selfish your request sounds in the midst of everything, but you couldn’t help it.

“No.” he answered after a few seconds of regarding you, without any care in the world. “You’ll just wind him up.”

Your heart skipped a beat – if Captain Levi thought that Eren still feels something for you, then maybe it’s true.

“Please, Captain, I –”

“Stop whining, brat.” he hissed, silencing you.

There was a wall of miscommunication between the two of you as you stared at each other, trying to convince one another silently.

He put down his pen after a few moments and leaned back in his chair as he sighed slowly. “You’re gonna do it anyway, aren’t you?”

You shrugged ever so slightly as you stared at nothing in particular.

Some more silence passed. “I’ve not yet decided on giving you week’s-worth punishment for insubordination, but go. Get out.”

“Thank you, Captain.” you bowed your head to him quickly, suppressing your smile as you basically ran away.

Levi rubbed his forehead. “Stupid brats.”

~

As you approached the door of Eren’s room, your heart pounded against your ribs so hard, you truly thought they’re going to crack. Yet here you were, standing within a step from the door, eyeing the little crack of light that emits from within – it’s not completely closed.

You lifted your trembling arm and knocked softly, then once again, harder this time, thinking he may not have heard it.

“Eren?” you whispered weakly after you got no reply once again.

You gulped and pushed the door further, stepping in – empty. He’s not here.

You released a breath you didn’t realize you were holding as you stepped further, looking around. The whole room looked almost untouched if not for the sack of a few items he brought from his old room. Your eyes flicked towards a stack of letters on the desk – your letters.

Your lower lip quivered as you approached them, picking one up – not even opened.

Pain and anger spun like a vortex inside you, bringing hot tears to your eyes. How important must’ve been the reason that he denied you the slightest explanation?

The letter dropped back to the desk as you flinched, hearing the door shut behind you.

Gasping quietly, you turned around, seeing him clearly for the first time since a couple of days ago. He stood there in all his cool, newfound glory: hair long enough to be messily gathered in a bun, naked torso adorned with chiseled abs, V line protruding from his waistline, and pants that hugged his muscular legs.

He had a toweled hanging over his shoulder – that’s where he’s been, in the showers.

You didn’t know what was the exact reason for the hot blush that crept to your face in a second – the fact that Eren is even more attractive than you remember, or that you stood there like a mute, with your jaw basically on the floor.

His own gaze was unreadable – he watched you like a hawk as he approached the chair and draped the towel over its back, stuffing his hands in his pockets afterwards.

You snapped awake, glancing at the letters behind you, and then back at him. “You never opened them.”

“You need to forget me,” he spoke, staring directly in your eyes. “I’ve only have a few years left anyway, if I’m lucky.”

It hurt you how assured of his words he was as you turned your body from him, desperately trying to calm down. He stood there just the same when you dared to look at him again.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, failing to conceal the tremble that laced your voice. “I’ve told you countless times, I’m with you until the end, and even then.”

“That’s exactly why.” he raised his voice just a bit, reminding of the old Eren you used to know. “I can’t bear the fact that you’re okay with… all this.”

You covered your face with your palms momentarily before stepping a couple of steps closer to him. “Did you honestly think I’ll go down with this scheme of yours?”

“I’m determined to make it happen.”

“Eren, don’t be stupid!” you couldn’t control yourself anymore. “I’m not some… weak maiden in need of constant attention! I’m your partner!”

“You want to be partner of the monster that I am?” he asked, a faint hint of disappointment in his voice.

You sighed, closing your eyes. “Eren…”

“I’m a murderer.” he said as he lessened the space between you a little more, trying to impose his truth on you – you could almost feel his breath on your skin, what made another shiver run down your spine.

You opened your eyes abruptly, because you knew he expected that you won’t be able to even look at him after what he’s done. His jade eyes were the same as before as you drowned in them.

You couldn’t help as you placed your dainty palms on his ripped upper arms, the tips of your fingers jolting with electricity. Eren felt that too, for you heard him draw in a sharp breath.

You were going to say something, but right now you couldn’t focus on anything other than your skins touching again, after all this time. You gulped as you gathered courage to lightly stroke down to his forearms.

“You’re not a monster.” you spoke again. “You’re just a hurt boy who can’t help but hurt others.”

He stayed silent, because he knew it’s true. You always did this to him – always had one last argument that made him shut up. His eyes became glassy as he looked down in shame, gripping your own forearms in his calloused palms.

“Come here,” you mumbled as you wound your arms around his neck, cradling him, as his own arms snaked around your waist, head buried in the crook of your neck.

You were only hugging, but it felt ecstatic. You gripped him tightly, swearing to yourself never to let go again. You felt a few wet drops run down your shoulder, yet Eren didn’t release a sound – you knew he was holding back.

“I’m sorry for everything.” he whispered. “You don’t deserve this.”

“Eren, you’re never getting rid of me.” you whispered into his hair before planting a tender kiss on his head.

He released a breathy laugh, tickling your neck. You nuzzled into each other more, and then you felt his lips on your neck, pecking it lightly, immediately blazing flames in your lower region.

You arched your neck back, providing him with an easier access to your skin. You couldn’t suppress a small gasp as his hot breath trailed up to your jaw, along with his longing-filled kisses.

“I missed you.” he whispered against your jaw, before pecking just below the corner of your lips.

Your mind was already in shambles. “Believe me, I missed you more.”

Your lips finally collided: desperate, needy, hungry. His fingers dug into your hips, aligning your centers as your palms slid down to the either side of his neck. You moaned into his lips between the famished, open-mouthed kisses as he gripped your behind, trying to savor it all.

Your palms were running down his chest on their own, exploring every crevice and scar, some old and some new, still unexplored. You felt his hand slide under the hem of your shirt up to your ribs, leaving a scalding-hot trail in its wake.

You rutted your hips against his automatically, getting needier with every passing second, your hands hooked around his neck again, holding on for dear life.

Your jaw slacked as he sneaked his hand under your bra, his fingers coming in contact with your hardened nipple. He drew back a little so that he could see your flushed face and hazy eyes, a light sheen of saliva reflecting from your slightly lolled out tongue.

“More, you say? Just how much?” he teased, his eyes darting from your eyes to your lips repeatedly, the corners of his lips upturned ever so slightly.

“Really, really much,” you whimpered before he discarded you of your shirt and bra, his hands roaming down your sides as he sucked on your jugular, your hands buried in his hair, ruining his bun.

“Jump.” he said between the wet kisses as you felt his hands under your thighs.

He made his way towards the bed before gently dropping you down on it, feeling the tent in his pants become unbearable, almost painful. How could it not, when you lay sprawled out under him, hair messy around your head like a halo, all the while needy breaths escaping your lips?

You knew exactly what you were doing to him, but you wanted to drive him crazy, to make up for all the painful time you’ve spent apart. You started wriggling out of your leggings, your gaze never leaving his eyes. He unbuttoned his own pants before they slid to the ground, revealing a formed tent under his boxers.

Suddenly, he grabbed you by your calves and yanked you closer, forcing a yelp from you. Second after his lips crashed on yours again, making their way down, passing your neck, collarbones, stomach, until they reached their destination.

You found it hard to breathe as he kissed your inner tight, getting closer and closer to where you needed him most.

“Eren,” you whimpered, your eyes closed, hands gripping the sheets. “Please…”

You felt him smile against your thigh before his tongue flicked against your clothed clit lightly, coaxing another high-pitched moan from you.

You put the back of your hand against your mouth quickly, embarrassed at the sudden reaction. You felt the bed shift before you opened your eyes and saw him parallel with your own body again.

“Don’t,” he asked as he removed your arm from your face. “I want to hear every little sound you make.”

He kissed you once before making his way back, hooking his fingers on your panties and sliding them down painfully slowly. The cold air on your skin peppered it with goosebumps, yet when you felt Eren’s face lower to your center, your body ignited once again.

A moan got stuck in your throat as you felt Eren’s slick tongue go all the way from your entrance to your clit, circling it, literally driving you crazy.

“Eren,” you moaned, the back of your head buried into the mattress as you wound your hands through his hair, completely ruining the bun, his chestnut hair falling to the sides and framing his face.

His fingers dug into your thighs as he pleasured you with his tongue, awakening the passion in you that was dormant during his absence.

Eren loved the taste of you on his tongue as he sucked on you, holding down your squirming hips. He knew you were close; he remembers everything your body language tells him.

“E-Eren, I’m gonna—” you choked out, confirming his observations.

You felt cold air hit your slick folds as Eren drew back, quickly discarding himself of his last piece of clothing before he leaned down, planting a sloppy kiss on your lips.

“Ready?” he breathed into your lips, receiving a nod.

The burning sensation followed his dick breaching your entrance, stretching it out after so long.

“Fuck,” he groaned against your mouth, having forgotten just how good your pussy feels.

You choked out a groan as you wound your legs around his waist, urging him to plunge deeper, despite the slight pain that strains you.

“This good?” he asks between his heavy breathing as he makes his way deeper into you.

“Yeah, yeah,” you nod quickly, your voice out of tune.

He finally hits your cervix, staying like that for a few moments, allowing you to adjust, peppering your neck with kisses as your chest rises and falls heavily.

You kiss his lips as you place a hand against his buttocks, urging him to go on. He goes back to the point of pulling out before hitting you deep again, building up his pace as he does so.

Your mind is getting hazier with each thrust – it seemed that the room turned into a sauna as you could almost see the huffs of air that escaped both of your mouths.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he groaned against your ear as he pinned your hand above to your head, intertwining his fingers with yours.

He was barely controlling himself as your pussy clenched around him – he probably never had to restrain himself with you as he does now, regarding the absence of your touch for such a long amount of time. You’ve never been apart that long, and he hoped you’ll never be again.

“Eren!” you screamed, sensing your release fast approaching as you wound your hands around his neck.

He pounded into you hard, bringing some steamy memories of your times before for a moment.

Finally, you fell, arching your back, your stomach gliding against his, as every nerve of your brain exploded. Eren continued thrusting into you until a few moments after you felt his own release spilling inside you.

He moaned against the crook of your neck, planting a few kisses. He rolled to your side and faced the ceiling with his eyes closed, until they snapped open again, hearing you sniffle.

Guilt washed over him like a tempest as he leaned on his side, gently gripping your waist as you covered your eyes with the back of your forearm. “Did I hurt you??”

“No!” you yelped and removed your arm from your face, placing your palm on his cheek instead. For a moment you were so frightened he would blame himself for something he didn’t even do.

“No,” you repeated, more softly. “I’m just really happy you’re here.”

He leaned his forehead to yours, worry leaving his body almost visibly. He sighed as he brought you closer.

You tucked a few of his locks behind his ear, making him look a couple years younger. “I love your hair.”

Eren chuckled, his eyes still closed in the afterglow bliss. “Captain hates it. He said –”

Then it dawned on him. “Wait, how did you get here?” he leaned on his forearm as he looked at you, genuinely interested, amusement threatening to widen his smile any moment.

“I simply asked Captain.”

Eren raised an eyebrow. “And he let you?? Just like that?”

“Well,” you trailed off. “He did mention something about a punishment for insubordination…”

“Unbelievable,” Eren whispered, as he sunk back into the mattress, quiet laughs emanating from his chest, as you drew shapes on it with a stupid smile on your face. “And you still came.”

“I’ll be fine if you visit me at least twice while I’m behind bars?”

You two laughed even harder, and this moment, this tiny moment in the vast space surrounding everything, was perfect.

[crispyjenkins]

Rexobi. I really just wanna see Rex and Obi-wan drinking together and complaining about the disaster that is Anakin Skywalker. They decide to team up to get anakin to calm the heck down and to talk about his feelings. Anakin doesn’t realize what’s going on but gets the idea he needs to play matchmaker with his master and his captain. He thinks he’s the smart one but he’s really not

(i have once again chickened out of your full prompt and instead give you the leadup to rexobi getting anakin to talk about his feelings. 

i uhhh may be unable to think of anything but a rexobi au à la this post by @norcumii and @dharmaavocado about roleswap-ish senior padawan obi hella vibing with this mutant clone that can’t get above the rank of captain even as an arc trooper because the kaminoans are Like That, and qui-gon is going spare, because between anakin somehow being allowed to be in charge of a whole battalion and obi-wan picking fights with every single seperatist leader, he and cody never get a moment of peace. and like. just obi and rex being dumbass 20 year olds trying to deal with a general/master like anakin in the middle of a war. i don’t have TIME for that though

thank you for the prompt as always, i think this is the only rexobi/obex prompt i’ve ever gotten and this ship is criminally underappreciated. like?? kadavo?? anyways here’s whatever this is)

Alt+R to Quick Reblog on Desktop, Hold the Reblog Symbol to Quick Reblog on Mobile

 Not for the first time, Rex wishes Kote were the one here dealing with this, because “how to comfort your favorite Jedi” hadn’t exactly been covered in ARC training – actually, Alpha probably withheld the information on purpose, the fucker.

  But Kote is on the other side of the galaxy with the 187th and just as upset they’re not here in Rex’s stead: it’s barely a month off General Kenobi returning to his own face, and Rex knows his vod would strangle the entire Senate if given even half a chance for deploying them separately on their general’s first mission back after the Hardeen... incident. 

  And Fett’s Ghost knows Rex’s own general is going to pitch a fit when he finds out Rex is here instead of taking leave like the rest of the 501st, but Kote certainly wasn’t about to let Kenobi go all the way to Alderaan unguarded so soon after his supposed death; and honestly, Rex would have been offended if they had asked anybody else to do it. Thankfully, Kenobi hadn’t seemed offended when Rex had shown up at the Jedi Temple’s flight hangar before he could take off; instead, he had been rather amused. 

  Even luckier, Alderaan is barely a day’s jump from Coruscant, so they don’t have to spend too much time awkwardly pretending that Rex hadn’t attended the man’s funeral in Kote's place (that he would have attended anyways), or that Rex doesn’t know Anakin hasn’t spoken to his former master since their debrief to the High Council about Cad Bane. Which Rex should absolutely not know in the first place, but Anakin is his friend, for better or for worse, and Ahsoka thinks her master airs far too many of his grievances to his captain.

  It isn't until their cruiser is making the descent over Alderaan that Kenobi finally addresses the tension between them, which only proves that Kenobi is well aware of it, but had put it off as long as he could. It's a humanising observation, that Rex wishes he could have had when he isn't the only vod in a ten mile radius that isn't the pilot, because at least then he wouldn't be the sole receiver of the soft smile Kenobi gives him as he joins Rex to wait by the shuttle's access hatch.

  Rex thanks his progenitor's laughing corpse he has his bucket on, because all he can do is stare. 

  "You are worried about Anakin," Kenobi says matter of factly, though not unkindly, and Rex lets out a breath that's almost a laugh. 

  "I promise I am far more discrete with my thoughts in the field, sir."

  Kenobi chuckles warmly, tucking his arms behind his back to watch the planet under them grow larger as they approach. "Do try not to worry so much, my dear, this will all resolve itself in time." 

  It's hard to stare right at his gentle assuredness, so Rex looks away. "You have far more faith in his ability to forgive than I, sir."

  That laugh strains at the edges. "Yes, well, I'm afraid some of my lessons seem to have been... lacking."

  Rex has regs carbon-printed on his brain, he knows that even without the direct chain of command, the soft push and pull of his relationship with Kenobi, the steady, serene growth of it, is... problematic, for so many reasons that he wouldn't know where to start. Not least of all is rank, how much more important a Jedi is than a replaceable CC-track washout, but, well, Rex had washed out for being too emotional, so it's not as if he's exactly unused to reacting to things inappropriately for a good little soldier.

  "It's not my place, sir," he murmurs, remembering Kadavo, remembering Umbara, remembering the hand Kenobi had laid on his shoulder for far too long after the Blue Shadow virus, and has Rex really been this gone since then? "just say the word and I won't mention it again. But just because Kote isn't here doesn't mean you have to... shoulder all of this alone."

  In fact, it's wildly not his place to make such an offer, however implicit, but that month on Kadavo did happen, and Rex isn't so self-deprecating to believe he  hadn't had a heavy hand in helping Kenobi make it out on the other side as well as he did. He doesn't think so little of the bond they had formed then, to believe that Obi-Wan is unaware of it. 

  Not when he smiles at Rex like that, like he's a warm cup of caf after a week in the trenches, like Rex is... worthy of such sincere affection. 

  As the shuttle settles around them and the pilot announces their arrival over comm, Obi-Wan simply says, "I did not for a moment believe I was, my dear."

-

  "You and Rex seem close."

  Normally Obi-Wan can feel Anakin coming from an entire corridor away, but he also knows Quinlan has been teaching him a few Shadow tricks, so he isn't entirely surprised when Anakin appears at his elbow in the empty bridge looking like a smug necu.

  Aside from eating firstmeal with Kote in the mess, Obi-Wan hasn't even seen Rex today, much less interacted with him: as he understands it, Rex is trying to round up the remaining 501st shinies that are running around the Negotiator, so Obi-Wan really doesn't know where Anakin had gotten that notion. Recently, at least. 

  Anakin rolls his eyes and scoffs, leaning back on the railing next to him and crossing his arms. "Please, Master, even Snips has noticed."

  Obi-Wan refrains from telling him that anyone with a modicum more self-awareness than him has noticed. Be that as it may, "This is one of those times where I truly don't know what you're trying to say, my dear: I have been close with Rex since he was in the 212th."

  It isn't even an exaggeration, that there had been... something between them before Anakin whisked Rex away to his own battalion after his knighting, though back then it had been nothing more than friendship. If he recalls correctly, and he does, the cleanup of the Ryloth capitol had been the first time since then that they had worked closely, while Anakin had been on the ground with the locals and Mace had been with General Syndulla, and Obi-Wan had found he still quite enjoyed the way they worked together. Their time on Naboo combating the Blue Shadow virus had only endeared the captain more to him —he does remember a slip in propriety in his relief that Rex had been rescued safely with Padmé and Ahsoka, a hand left too long on the captain's shoulder until Kote had called him away— enough that Obi-Wan had been both relieved and horrified that it was Rex there to support him on Kadavo.

  "Cody said Rex was the one to go with you to Alderaan; you sure nothing 'happened' while you were there?" Anakin chuckles to himself like he's being incredibly clever, like there isn’t a hickey visible over the collar of his under tunic.

  Obi-Wan raises a brow slowly and refrains from rolling his eyes. "Despite what you may believe, Anakin, not everyone leaps into committed relationships after life-threatening situations." Not that Alderaan had been life-threatening, it had actually been as close to actual leave as Obi-Wan has had the entire war.

  "Please, it took Padmé and I ages to–" 

  Anakin seems to swallow his tongue, then, face rapidly going purple, and it really is a miracle the entire Republic doesn’t know about his marriage; the GAR certainly does.

  Sighing, Obi-Wan checks the chrono and decides it isn't too early for another cup of tea. "If you have a specific question about my relationship with Captain Rex, I do wish you’d be direct, my dear."

  Anakin splutters. "Relationship?!"

  "Great Maker, Anakin, you’re easier to spook than a half-starved blurrg." He pats Anakin’s arm, his sonbrother floundering for anything other than abject confoundment, as Obi-Wan turns away from the bridge to go locate both tea, and his commander to hopefully finalise their newest mission orders. "Don't worry," he calls over his shoulder, "I'll actually let you come to the wedding, unlike someone."

  Not that Obi-Wan has any such plans, Maker knows he and Rex have yet to address their feelings in the first place, but he'd be lying if part of him doesn't want to conspire with the captain in question —and perhaps Ahsoka— to see just how far they could take this before Anakin realises they're stringing him along. 

 Remarkably, Rex is waiting by Obi-Wan’s office with a flimsi cup of tea and a harried smile that promised quite the day chasing after shinies, and Obi-Wan decides conning his former apprentice can wait.

Mando’a: vod/e — “brother/s”, “comrade/s”, “sibling/s”, technically gender neutral but used most often in fandom as “brother/s”