#I might add color later down the road at some point

[ach-sss-no]

Prompt: companion

Aragorn is having a great time hiking with his new buddy Gollum! 

(there’s a really good fill-in fic that focuses on their totally fun trip together: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5457410/1/A-Long-and-Weary-Way I feel a little bad plugging it because it’s almost ten years old and the author probably never wants to hear about it again, but if it hasn’t been taken down it’s fair game ¯\_( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)_/¯ )

[acourtofantumbra]

Pulling at the Thread of the Day Court and the Dawn Court Pt.1 - Alchemy & Other Realms

☆ All SJM spoilers: ACOTAR, CC, and TOG ☆

I might be putting this insanity out into the tumblr wilds, but trust that I do not think anyone would ever care to read something this long. Idk if my college thesis was this long. This is a literal invitation into how my neurodivergent brain works. Expect real a to b to q to wow we've just fully veered off the road... where are we even going? energy. If you get tired along the way — yeah, trust me that's normal.

So, I'm doing my first re-read of ACOTAR!! Tbh during the first go around I struggled with the OG trio (I DNFed ACOFAS multiple times lol) and it's been well over a year since I've read them. But recently, I binged every other SJM book/series. So during my messy reread I've been picking up on a lot. And enjoying it more! But there were two fleeting moments from ACOMAF & ACOWAR that caught my eye and led me down what will become (maybe) the longest fucking theory spiral. Like multi part...

Honestly? It's been so fun. My job is very soul sucking.

In short — nothing about this will be short lol — the thread I followed brought me to Helion, his Day Court, and weird connections to both the Thesan/the Dawn Court and one of ACOTAR’s many unexplored Faerie Realms. And some realms not in ACOTAR. I also take a look at both Helion and Thesan’s powers (as well as some others) that have me questioning... some unexplored "magic" from multiple worlds. Happy to call all of it crack theory, but I will be citing as much canon as tumblr's image limit allows. This is gonna be a long and winding road!

I always add books and page numbers (and try to add any other relevant citations) to the visuals/sources I use, so check those out if you need some extra info!

Color Key: spoilers, notes from me 2 u, important, important + links, mentioned later in the post, mentioned in another post of mine or in a future post

Day Court Powers and Dawn Court Powers

Alright, so the moment that caused me to spiral was a snipe from Lucien in Chapter 11 of ACOWAR. Feyre’s plan to GTFO of the Spring Court is fully in motion, but she's freaking out about Hybern weaponizing faebane. Breezing past that, Lucien confronts her about being a big ol’ liar whilst reminding her that he has other friends, ok? 

So, two things: I was trying to remember who Lucien’s friend was and thought, Oh right, the ‘Master Tinkerer.’ The friend that made Lucien’s golden eye, which is itself magical.

But then I got caught up in a different question... Like hold up, what healing powers did Feyre use in this moment he’s talking about?

Because that's the main power of the Dawn Court that's canon thus far. Especially because Lucien is pointing out that his friend’s light and Feyre’s light comes from “the same power,” which he seems to know intimately, and their “light is identical.” At first, I was just confused because who is this non-High Lord person with High Lord power? And are we all cool with that or...?

So I flip back to ACOMAF to remind myself wtf we’re talking about here… which of Thesan’s — or the Dawn Court’s — powers did Feyre use in the Hybern/Cauldron event at the end of the book? A display noticeable enough that Lucien clocked Feyre's light looking familiar — perhaps because his mechanical/magical eye might have related functions. 

As it turns out we're not talking about Thesan’s powers at all… we’re talking about Helion’s powers. Which might be why Lucien is intimately familiar with how the power works — for wholly different reasons... like having inherited Helion’s powers himself.

So Feyre breaks through Hybern's wards so she can get her sisters and IC out and reestablishes her bond speaking with Rhys, but notably she still can't feel the bond with Hybern's spell crushing down on it. But she pretends she's broken the "curse" Rhys has put on her to make her like him more than Tamlin...

Tamlin... my dude... no...

And while Feyre gave an Oscar worthy performance convincing everyone that her very nice Night Husband was evil the whole time, Lucien is suspicious as hell... and so is his eye.

Lucien knew Feyre was full of shit and with “centuries of cultivated reason” he might know about some other lies *cough* who his real dad is *cough*. But his mating bond with Elain has freshly snapped into place… so his priorities shifted, one could say, and doesn’t call Feyre out.

Ok, so where are we now? 

Feyre used Helion’s Day Court power - his light and his cursebreaking/spellbreaking to take down Hybern’s wards so the Night Court could get her recently Made sisters out of dodge. Lucien clocks this because he has a friend in the Dawn Court with the same abilities and the same light and also maybe because he personally knew Papa Helion’s powers were being used.

Here's a post from whitewolf-ofdoranelle: detailing some evidence about Lucien maybe knowing the truth about Helion and his powers.  

About Light in the SJM Multiverse:

It's becoming more important by the second!

We have many different shades that seemingly allude to overarching people/powers/plots. Most of the time when we encounter characters using or emitting light, they/we don’t exactly know where it comes from or how it works. Which is why so much of the understanding re: our shining characters is still just speculation at this point.

But we know it's for sure important with the introduction of the Starborn Line in Crescent City and the lore that connects Midgard and Prythian (tho the stories are not identical... someone is lyinggg). We’re building that knowledge more extensively as the multiverse comes into play.

For example, when Feyre glows after the mate-a-thon with Rhysand in the mountain cabin she wonders what court's light is turning her into a 100 watt bulb...

It very well might be a different light! Helion's light has been described as healing! Of all the glowy boys — Thesan is actually the glowiest and the brightest! Are they different? Are they the same? I really don't know!!! And I'm sorry if I've made you more confused now too. Tho I do delve into Thesan more towards the end.

A thought I've had re: Helion's kind of light (I'll get more into in another post) has everything to do with Pelias... and Helion's sensitivity to the Dread Trove.

In ACOSF, Helion has to have the IC cover the mask and physically remove himself from the area... no one else has this sensitivity (at least to this extreme) and all Helion has to say for himself is this:

It's worth noting that in Midgard they don't seem to have the same distinctions regarding light powers. Like... everyone who glows (minus Hunt) is Starborn?

In Prythian we have Dawn Court light, Day Court light, Night Court shadows and perhaps this (to borrow the Midgard term) Starborn light. Pelias, the controversial figure in the lore connecting P + M in the King Fionn and Theia story, is said to be a Starborn prince. But at every turn the Princes of Hel are quick to point out that Pelias' power and his light are nothing like Theia's — who is, by their claim, the true Starborn power holder — and her daughters'. They also say Theia's daughters have starborn and shadow gifts, but that isn't necessarily part of Pelias' skill set either... I'm lookin' at you Aidas.

Anyway, I've toyed with the idea that perhaps Pelias' light powers, because Midgard lacks the distinction between light powers, could be Day Court-like. And it would make sense that the Dread Trove would ward against anyone in that lineage considering "Pelias wielded [Luna's] Horn until he died" (HOEB). JUST SOME THOUGHTS.

Check out this absolutely incredible (a comprehensive) theory post from @wingedblooms about the different kinds of light in the SJM Multiverse

But back to Lucien’s friend who has Day Court powers… who is she? 

It’s Nuan! A character I was like, "She seems cool, can’t wait to get to know her.”

And then ACOWAR ended and we never heard from her again... womp. But, some might call this a loose end.

It's me. I'm calling it that.

Considering she played a big role in Lucien’s life (a former main-ish character with nothing but loose ends), provided critical help to win the war against Hybern, has a suspicious amount of power, technical skills, and connection to distant faerie realms we still know frustratingly little about… Nuan has nothing but potential! Welp, let’s get into it. 

So remember how Feyre is like “What if everything I eat has faebane in it, wow that’s suddenly a huge problem for us right now on the verge of war?” And then Lucien is like, “You have my friend’s powers, you liar?” Coincidental? Cool.

When Nuan is finally introduced by name, she's shown up at the tensest High Lord meeting ever at the Dawn Court. Why? She wants to let everyone know she invented a cure for that pesky Faebane. Helpful!

There is a metric ton stuffed into her introduction and it's hard to even know where to begin, but I'll try.

Just know the “she looks kind of like Amren thing” is incredibly specific and out of nowhere.

Whenever SJM throws in an “oh, I just kinda thought that… strange” and “oh hm maybe i saw that person glowing like a 60 watt bulb but maybe not” etc etc etc… statements, they are always important. There are more of those moments to come and every series by her is full of these.

Anyway, ACOTAR has had 5 books (4 novels, one novella) and this comparison to Nuan is among one of the more specific pieces of the “who and what is Amren” puzzle we get. We’ll get to it, but we’ve got a mountain the size of Ramiel  to dig through first. 

Back to the Dawn Court scene: Being his usual discriminatory self, Beron aka the High Lord of Autumn is suspicious of Nuan’s miracle cure for faebane for because he's an asshole and a xenaphobe — we’ll come back to this. But she counters with her own commitment to protecting the fae from being poisoned and powerless. Go Nuan! It also seems like she's a very dedicated scientist, but that behind this science there is also magic. Makes sense when you consider the whole magical appendages gig she has!

Nuan monologues about the Mother aka higher power/god/[insert mystical lore here] situation who is suspect #1 in the whole “what are the gods?” conversation. The gods, etc. are known lore — which exists in different forms ACOTAR, TOG, and CC — and they're complicated enough to warrant their own massive post.

Anyway, Nuan explains that the Mother provides “everything we need on this earth.” Nuan simply needed to find what the Mother has provided Prythian to stop Hybern from “wiping out” their powers. Considering she applied this logic and it worked… seems legit... and important?

So yes, the way she phrased her scientific method struck me... and left me with so many more questions than I started with. Like what did you use and how did you do it and where did you find it??? What do you mean this earth?! I could keep going!!!!

However, her antidote can’t protect fae entirely because physical objects made from faebane will still have dangerous effects. Sounds like her compound is able to… dare I say… break the curse or spell of faebane? But if  the physical object that makes fae vulnerable comes barreling at them… well that’s a whole different story. Kind of like how from the first scene I mentioned: Feyre could break the wards and the spell silencing her mating bond with Rhys, but she still couldn’t feel any of the physical effects of the bond with Hybern’s spell shutting her down.

Nuan, it seems, not only has Day Court-like powers as a person whose family isn’t from Prythian, or the Solar Courts, she can transform magic/power into physical objects - magical mechanical body parts and medicines, for ex. Kind of like less spooky Nesta sword versions of Made objects?

But this is apt considering she’s not just a tinkerer (a word that will always make me lol), but Thesan introduces her as an alchemist.  

Let's talk about alchemy, baby

So let’s take an unplanned detour off the cliff of what tf is alchemy? VERY COMPLICATED is what it is! You may wonder where the heck are I'm going with this... patience my friend. Possibly somewhere... maybe nowhere... idk. Look, I said this would be long.

I promise we'll delve into actual historical contexts, but I'm gonna be real with you... I'm not a scholar, or a philosopher, or an archaeologist, or a theologian, or a chemist, or an anthropologist. I took courses on these subjects, but I just enjoy learning about this stuff/consuming content about it. Alchemy is very mysterious, very "lost to time," so it's hard to get it right. And just to keep it 100... my deepest and longest exposure to alchemy comes from a beloved manga and anime series. If you're like... "yup, absolutely not." Skip the rest of this post if you'd like... or skip ahead. To both fandoms... I'm so sorry for what I'm about to do. lol.

Alright, raise your hand if you too love the manga and anime series Full Metal Alchemist… If you’re not raising your hand, I highly recommend giving it a whirl. And maybe don't ruin it by reading any of this. If you think Kingdom of Ash has insane world building culminations and… pain... yeah FMA has that and emotional pain I’ve never healed from. *sobs* 10/10 

Much like SJM and her use of universal mystical concepts and traditions, FMA also references much of the real history of alchemy and, by association, incredibly complex mystic religious principles. And what would ya know? Turns out FMA is a super helpful tool to explain/understand this very difficult subject.

So let’s take a quick look at the main character in FMA…

That’s Edward. He’s a rascal. He’s also an incredible alchemist who’s able to transmute — woefully basic explanation: turn objects from their original form into something else through the law of equal exchange — without a transmutation circle. That's a rarity among even the greatest alchemists. Because he can do this, at age 12, he becomes the youngest State Alchemist (he works for the government begrudgingly). Though, in the image above, that's Ed with a transmutation circle and hm... is that a star shaped rune? I digress.

You might ask... where is there an instance of a "law of equal exchange" in SJM's worlds? It might not be a perfect parallel, but... there's definitely something going on with give and take regarding magic. And that has major implications re: how much magic each world has (and how much the Asteri need to consume/wreck worlds for). I'm a broken record but... that perhaps will be its own post one day.

When Nuan talks about the Mother providing what that world needs... I feel like we're touching on something here. And as an alchemist, her work would be centered around this law of balance. Of course, we get absolutely no details from SJM.

But let's look at something we've encountered a bit more, like the Great Rite. Note: not my favorite magic tradition in these worlds... But it keeps coming up, especially where characters with mysterious pasts are concerned.

I've also made a post tying it in with Hunt from Crescent City and... idk... once I saw it, I can't unsee it.

First off, Lucien shakes off shadow hands multiple times talking about the Great Rite... please take note of that for a point below.

But we get reference of a tradition that must occur every year for their magic's cosmic "give-and-take." Sounds equal exchange-like.

High Lord becomes the Hunter (Hunt... is that you?) who needs to find the Maiden (Bryce is this what you guys are doing?) selected by the magic. Then they "couple" *sigh* and generate magic that's released back to the earth and all is well and magical for the coming year. Sure.

The Maiden has come up countless time in the references to the triunity or triple goddesses throughout ACOTAR, CC, and TOG (Also long and complicated - I am 100% doing a post on this). Short version: the triple goddess = mother, maiden, and the crone. Three-faced goddess. All the moon goddesses implicated. Witches and their goddesses... Persephone-like characters... etc. etc. etc. I'll get into it another time... this is my super bowl. But the Maiden has everything to do with the Mother and vice-versa, just as Nuan pointed out in her assessment of balance and magic within this world.

Outside of the Great Rite's Hunter and the Maiden ritual, Lucien says the rest of court takes a part in the night, "though it’s not the Great Rite, our own dalliances tonight will help the land, too" (ACOTAR, Chapter 21). Energy spent becomes energy reaped... even if they don't get the ritualistic title. Is this reminding you of science class and the first law of thermal dynamics: energy can't be created or destroyed it can only be transformed? It should.

It's notable that every Court has a Great Rite they must comply with to power the magic of the land, though we're only familiar with the Spring Court's Calanmai tradition. But in ACOSF, Gwyn mentions multiple times that when females "come of age" they can, and seem to be expected to, participate in the Rite. And we all know rituals with titles and milestones have never gone wrong for anyone... *stares in Crescent City* (The Drop). But also, we're seeing instances in both CC and ACOTAR where magic is waning... like the balance is off. Rhys tells Feyre that Starfall souls are less plentiful and well... we know the Asteri are over indulging in first light. Essentially, exchanges are not equal and there are traditions in place to keep them that way! What's changing? What does this mean?

The TikToker ahappyhermit posted her first podcast episode about Starfall and the dwindling souls and it's awesome. She's also got a lovely reading voice!

Back to FMA, transmutation boiled down also feels suspiciously similar to Aelin and co. drawing their wyrdmarks... something many SJM theories speculate will make a big return come CC3/ACOTAR5.

Alchemists even wear objects (clothes? yup! prosthesis? yup! fake eyes... eye patches? yup!) or have tattoos (Aelin and Bryce's world walking tats? TOG witches w/ the Eye of the Goddess tats?) with transmutation runes to help them attempt to do what Ed can do — transmute without crouching down and drawing out a rune.

In an attempt to try and spare you the full rundown of the science and magic of both alchemy and the world of FMA... there's gonna be metric tons of nuance I'm leaving out. The FMA fandom are effectively scholars at this point and I just want you ALL to know I know I'm watering some of this down.

Why can Ed transmute without a circle? It's really complicated, and important, but I'll do my best to summarize. First, it helps that, like Nuan, he has a metal arm - in FMA it's called automail, it's as complex as we've come to know Nuan's work is (albeit a little less magical), and basically he can do science faster/easier with it (I'm so sorry this would simply take too long to explain). And because *giant and complete FMA spoiler alerts across the board - like seriously I'm going to discuss all of the big reveals* he does some majorly taboo alchemy — resurrection of human life — that takes his leg and arm (and his brother's entire body, but not his soul leaving him as animated armor). Performing the taboo human transmutation opens a portal to the Gate of Truth. It opens, revealing a dimension of information which manifests as a shadowy void with several shadow-like hands coming out of it and a single large eye within. And this isn't just pure FMA canon, it draws inspiration from the lore of the Tree of Life.

Shadowy hands and something with a big eye watching you in a knowledge void? Hm... Let us turn to Nesta spiraling out and falling down the House of Wind steps and into her Making memories from the Cauldron. This does not include the MANY times characters, from multiple worlds, mention feeling shadowy hands (*wink* Dorian), but we saw examples with Lucien above.

The Cauldron kind of sounds like a big eye in a shadowy void that is perhaps a different dimension stacked with information, huh?

And what happens after Nesta's spiral? She comes to and realizes she's sparked and embedded her hand, and then handprint, in stone... which is also glowing.

Did anyone else find this moment/detail weird when they were reading? Cassian found it super weird!

Back to Edward, at the Gate of Truth, he meets a god, Truth. It's a whole thing. Insanely long story short, by reaching the Gate, Edward sees into the void that holds the truth of the universe. This allows him to bypasses the need to draw runes and instead channels the energy of alchemy/all the nature bending stuff he does by his own will.

Effectively, Ed seeing beyond the Gate allows him to break the rules of nature and freely wield a "different magic".

Interesting, because what Nesta has taken from the Cauldron seems to allow her to bypass the natural order of things too. No markings or weapons needed.

Throughout the series some (Illyrians) call Nesta a witch and refer to her different, powerful magic as unnatural. In fact, even the other magical beings of Prythian do not get her magic.

Hypothetically, and just pretend with me, Nesta could (she gave it back) do a kind of alchemy without the limits of nature/the laws of Prythian because she she took too much from the Cauldron/void of truth... it stands to reason that, much like using the wyrdmarks in TOG, that alchemists like Nuan are tapping into something totally different magic-wise. Like most High Fae have some magical capabilities, but the High Lords are usually the ones with the more robust skillset. Alchemy might be this secret link to why characters — multiple groups of high skilled/non royal fae/even humans in TOG — can display huge power... as well as create objects with incredible abilities like arms and eyes... and... Prythian iPods?

Helion might not have tinkerers like Thesan, but he does have piles of libraries and scholars... oh ya you can be I will be doing a post just on libraries.

Anyway so we've got some suspicious powers around, suspicious magic objects created for other purposes originally, and magical objects like body parts and medicinal powders. We've got multiple instances across worlds that implicate magic and cosmic balance... specifically that balance being off now.

Especially with magic being targeted (First and Second Light in HSOAB) as a deity food source - I think correcting the broken state of magic with alchemy could very well become... something. And I explain below an instance we already have seen where non-magical magic does just this in the SJM multiverse.

But in the next part of this theory spiral this connects (perhaps!) to Nesta and the Cauldron/Gate of Truth concept I outlined. Specifically, alchemists who see it and come back have taken too much from it. It comes at a great personal cost, but they have superior nature-bending abilities. The "great personal cost" thing is a TOG quote... just btw. Spoiler alert: witch mirrors

Ok, I promise just a few more comps using FMA and we'll move this train right along...

Finally, in FMA and alchemy seven is also big number and I get into some other instances in the real history below. There are seven Homunculi, beings with tremendous power who have their own agenda with a much bigger scope than what's happening on this sole planet/realm. And actually, there's a secret eighth Homunculus that's been hiding in plain sight for the whole show (like a secret 8th court?)... and ends up being the creator of the other homunculi... as well as being Ed & Al's dad (like said secret court being an origin point for all our favorite fae?). What is a homunculus? It refers to the medieval legendary concept of a being Made and brought into existence by certain means of alchemy and it requires the Philosopher's Stone (too complicated to even get into, but it comes up again in my Pt. II post). Also fun fact: in FMA, Homunculi all carry the mark of the Ouroboros... like that (witch) mirror in ACOTAR that people have been mighty suspicious of.

The Homunculi are aptly named after the seven deadly sins - pride, envy, lust, wrath, greed, sloth, and gluttony. Makes you think... Asteri are pretty gluttonous... Valg? Princes of the Pit? Angels? Scions? Some High Lords? Nesta? IDK?! Anyway, the Homunculi begin as villains and some change their allegiance along the way. But not all not all of them are inherently evil. Despite looking like the human characters/beings in FMA, "Homunculi are still aberrations of nature created by violating the laws of the natural universe, and as such, have no souls." It's complicated, but they're incapable of accessing the Gate of Truth or regular alchemic (read: magic) powers, because they lack souls. Some weird Valgy/TOG god/Asteri/can't get through a damn portal parallels, no?

Ok, that was still SO long, and I'm just gonna leave these many kernels of thought I have failed to really wrap up here... whilst staring into my own void... and catalog of all the characters and beings we've run into described as something else or Made or bred. I will spare you from the whole chimera conversation... FOR NOW... but I'm looking at all of the spooky murder pets our heroes have fought off... and truly every Asteri "experiment" being. Just know that.

Has Sarah watched this show? Dude, I don't know. But I do know that we both entered the world of fantasy via Sailor Moon. According to this post she even wrote wildly popular Sailor Moon fanfiction. So she has watched and loved at least one anime. FMA is wildly popular, has a rich fantasy plot that's a masterclass in world building with brilliantly researched foundations in global mystical traditions, and it's penned by a woman! So, no, I'm not 100% convinced she hasn't.

So, is alchemy real? Kind of...

OK, I swear I'll focus now. So alchemy! There was a time when people believed it was real (from the ancient past to Isaac Newton who wrote a lot about alchemy and very real science). The way I have come to understand it, alchemy exists within the crossroads of science and mythology. It's even been considered a kind of witchcraft or spellwork. However, alchemy did either lead to, or exist along side, many important scientific laws and discoveries we still hold as truths/are taught today.

So... witchcraft, eh? We've had allusions to witches in ACOTAR, but we seem to be lacking the noted presence of such beings like we've seen in CC and TOG (though we still don't fully understand their powers across the board)... unless they're hiding in plain sight dressed as something else?

Interesting... no? I am far from the first to suggest the Made Archerons are witches (and Pt. II will have more witch talk and citations to great theory posts I didn't write). But hey, they could be alchemists too...

We know from Nesta's perspective in ACOSF that she absolutely took more than she should have from the Cauldron and she is using/making tools (read: swords) right and left. Plus, Mor's description sounds suspiciously like alchemy that's... gone rogue or without equal exchange. Also, more simply, everyone calls Nesta a witch (specifically the Illyrians) and she's cool with it. But that's could be because she revels in being scary and we love her for it.

Alchemy as word reveals much about it. Like most terms that have an "al" to start (algebra, algorithm, alfalfa, alcohol, almanac...) is an Arabic syllable for “the,” and we see it show up in the language of math and science.

"Alchemy was rooted in a complex spiritual worldview in which everything around us contains a sort of universal spirit, and metals were believed not only to be alive but also to grow inside the Earth... Historian Nevill Drury, in his book "Magic and Witchcraft," notes that, "The word alchemy is thought to derive from an Egyptian word, 'chem' or 'qem,' meaning black — a reference to the black alluvial soils bordering the Nile ... We know that the Greek word 'chyma,' meaning to fuse or cast metals, established itself in Arabic as 'al kimia' — from which alchemy is derived." Live Science

"Alchemists attempted to purify, mature, and perfect certain materials. Common aims were chrysopoeia, the transmutation of "base metals" (e.g., lead) into "noble metals" (particularly gold); the creation of an elixir of immortality... The perfection of the human body and soul was thought to result from the alchemical magnum opus ("Great Work"). The concept of creating the philosophers' stone was variously connected with all of these projects." Wikipedia

There's a lot going on there, but we're speeding right along. You can ask questions at the end of class. No, seriously ask them because I'm probably not gonna dig that deep here.

Alchemy has roots in many different ancient places and sprung up independently of one another.

"[There were] at least three major strands, which appear to be mostly independent, at least in their earlier stages: Chinese alchemy, centered in China; Indian alchemy, centered on the Indian subcontinent; and Western alchemy, which occurred around the Mediterranean and whose center has shifted over the millennia from Greco-Roman Egypt to the Islamic world, and finally medieval Europe." Wikipedia

As it turns out, Sarah and alchemy have a lot in common — they love mixing a matching the myth of many places into one magical tangle. There's a lot to unpack there and I wont get to all of it here... but I will try to eventually. One thing I will definitely touch on in another post is alchemy's connection to the God Hermes who keeps coming up in my research — he has many powers, but notably he's a world walker.

So from the quote above I'm gonna dive into connections with what we know about elemental fae magic, then we get back to Nuan and Alchemy's far reaching geographic history, and how that brings us to major questions marks around Helion and Thesan and their Courts.

Elemental Fae Magic vs Alchemy

So we don't know everything about elemental fae magic across worlds, but from the recent books and leading plots... we get a ton of focus on weapons (swords) being the biggest world connections (CC 3), Nesta forging narban blades, and Rhys explaining finally what this world is and what magic/fae used to be like.

Something new, eh? Something different?

As the LiveScience quote above points out, alchemy is magical, scientific, but it's also deeply connected to the Earth and laws of the universe. So elements play a big role and, you guessed it, we get the number 7 again (if you don't get why I keep referencing 7 I encourage you to take note every time the number 7 comes up in TOG, ACOTAR, CC because it's near constant):

"The elemental system used in medieval alchemy... consisted of seven elements, which included the five classical elements (aether, air, earth, fire, and water) in addition to two chemical elements representing the metals." Wikipedia

If you're unfamiliar with the concept of aether, here's an incredibly rushed explanation that's still somehow too long:

Aether has roots dating back to ancient Greece and means, "in Homeric Greek, 'pure, fresh air' or 'clear sky'. In Greek mythology, it was thought to be the pure essence that the gods breathed, filling the space where they lived, analogous to the air breathed by mortals. It is also personified as a deity, Aether, who is at times relates to Chronus, Erebus, Nyx, Chaos and Hemera (this is its own post) in traditional Greek mythology. Aether is related to αἴθω 'to incinerate', and intransitive 'to burn, to shine'."

Traditionally there are 4 elements - air, earth, fire, water. But in the Medieval Age (read: alchemy time), scientists concluded there was a 5th element. Aether was considered the material that fills the region of the universe beyond the terrestrial sphere. Unlike the four terrestrial elements that were subject to change and moved linearly, aether was a celestial element that moved circularly and had none of the qualities the terrestrial classical elements. Aether also is tied in quite often with light. And this is significant because light is notably how scientists (have — some theories since disproven — and currently do) measure distance and travel within space.

I find aether particularly interesting because, within the SJM multiverse, we have seen magic wielders display powers that would fall within the terrestrial elements (ex. Autumn Court's fire powers, Rowan's/Whitehorns' wind powers, House of Many Waters & Aelin's mom's water powers, etc.). But then we have these outliers whose powers work a little differently... perhaps more powerfully... specifically when we're talking about light and shadow. And with the allusions to burning, shining, and breath... we've got a lot of interesting Starborn connections. Also... travel within non-terrestrial spaces??? Come on now!

Back to Elemental Fae

In the ACOSF passage above, Rhys explains that Prythian Fae magic used to be more elemental — like the elements above. He also says their kind of magic could forge great weapons, just like Nesta who creates her narban blades... and a reminder that there are the 5 discussed elements and also 2 metals (we wont get into specifics here, but just... metals ok?) to create the 7 alchemic elements.

Tons here to analyze but take a look at TikToker chemicalrosie killing it on the analysis of elemental fae magic, weapons, and connections across the SJM worlds. She does most of the heavy lifting on this point (thanks Rosie).

In Crescent City we get more hints of elemental fae magic. In fact the Houses themselves seemingly represent these elements: House of Sky and Breath (aether? Also potentially air?), House of Earth and Blood (earth), House of Many Waters (water), House of Flame and Shadow (fire... also aether?). Under the House of Sky and Breath there are even beings called "Elementals," though we don't exactly know what an elemental is yet because their mentions are limited. Am I screaming "alchemists" into the void? Sure am. If they were elemental fae... wouldn't they just be called fae??? We do know they belong in the same House as angels, fae, and those blessed by major gods (which we know can give a magical or non magical being gifts of varying levels from TOG).

We also get mention of an Elemental War, which Lehaba mentions a distant relative sprite being involved in. Though that is sort of the extent of what we know about it (unless I'm wrong and feel free to tell me I'm wrong always).

We also get another depiction of elemental fae magic forging a weapon (refer back to that TikTok above if you want to delve into who this is and what it depicts in the multiverse).

So we're not gonna get too much deeper into elemental fae magic (tho let me know if you want further digging on this because my unhinged brain knows no bounds), but let me sketch my overarching point with this.

We have multiple points of reference within the SJM Multiverse where elemental magic and its noted difference to starborn/aether-like magic is being woven into this bigger world-spanning plot. Obviously, I referenced CC and ACOTAR here, but I could have dumped a ton of TOG references in here too (and will... later!).

We also have a multiverse with magic that seems... out of balance. We do not not know why all of these element-related mentions have been baked into the plot here and there. What was the Elemental War and why are magic abilities so different among Fae at the very least — and why are they different than they were before?

We also have metal/Made/superior substance swords linking our multiverse and being forged despite that not happening in a very long time. But now that Nesta has relinquished her stolen power back to the Cauldron... and we've got a world walker stuck in Prythian who may want to leave with one more sword than she landed with... seems like special weapon forging might be a useful skill. If only there was someone who could make magical metal objects without the powers of some spooky void or magical land decree...

Oh wait... we do have that person. And perhaps she also has a whole team of alchemists like her.

That's right folks... the last part... of this first part...

Back to Nuan and Other Faerie Realms

Oh my god this is so long. If you're still reading... I think we're officially betrothed? Idk. I love you.

Ok, so Nuan is described to us as so unique looking (look, I am not saying this is a great moment from SJM) she can only compare her to Amren... a [we have no idea but lots of speculation] being from another world.

Then we get a stark moment of xenophobia from Beron during the Dawn Court-High Lords meeting... because Nuan's parents are from a Fae realm called Xian. Xian is a faerie territory located somewhere in the Continent (I will speculate a ton below) that notably supported the loyalists during the war that resulted in the wall between the mortal lands and the fae realm. That means Xian was pro human slavery and that they ultimately lost. Nuan follows this up by reminding High Lord Asshat that she is as Prythian as his sons (let's go girl).

Beron's outburst also causes Thesan to jump to her defense because (that's his girl) his mom was from Xian... actually the majority of his court is from Xian?

ALRIGHTY THEN! Where to start?

So first off, just extrapolating from what we get in this exchange re: Xian... a place like most places SJM has not explained at all to us in that we know almost nada about it. If Xian supported the loyalists... and then they lost... and then a bunch of fae relocated to the Dawn Court in search of "a better life," we might (read: I do) assume that this was a territory south of the wall. Faeries, after the war, were not allowed to stay in the southern part of the continent.

Why do I find this interesting? Why have I spent 800 years getting to this point about an alchemist from Xian? Why do I even think alchemy is worth spending this much time thinking about when this is the only time we encounter it in ACOTAR?

Well, because it's not the only time we encounter it in the SJM multiverse.

So, in TOG, there are alchemists on the Southern continent who provide really important firelances to Aelin & co.'s fight against the Valg. A magical, very effective weapon that non-magical beings can use... and it's so impressive Aelin is relieved that her waning fire magic will be supported by such... firepower.

You know what else conveniently pops on the Southern continent in TOG? Healers and their Torre Cesme... Yrene Towers ilu. Isn't it just so coincidental that the Dawn Court's powers just so happen to be healing powers? And that in the TOG world there's an entire Fae healer community that relocated to the Southern Continent, bred healing powers into the mortal population, and then just... disappears? And also like are dead in crypts that are unbreakable for Valg related reasons, but I digress.

And something else that's fun is that Thesan and Nuan aren't even the only characters in that scene to get a cryptic allusion to a familiar sounding Southern continent that is notably... not one we've met via ACOTAR.

When Feyre describes Helion (it always comes back to him doesn't it?) in, yes, that meeting of the High Lords at the Dawn Court... I swear to all these freaking gods I didn't plan this! Anyway, she "all the sudden for some weird reason" starts thinking about a place her dad (feeling like I have to do a deep dive on Papa Archeron because the more I research not looking for him the more he pops up) visited as a merchant — south-eastern kingdom that sounds suspiciously Antica from Tower of Dawn. And we know when she thinks fondly of her father's merchant days she also always brings up spices... so there's that. (worth noting that this scene with Helion is BIG in my pt. 2 post)

So, obviously we get allusions to actual empires/places within these "different realms" in the SJM multiverse. Xi'an is the name of a real province in China (and has gifted the world so much food-wise and i'm sure countless other ways but I wont rest until I have cuminy lamby noodles asap) and the Khagnate/Southern Continent of the TOG world draws inspiration from the Mongol Empire (how I feel about SJM's... useage of these empires is it's own separate convo). It also includes a lot of the territories where alchemy sprung up independently and thrived that I mentioned before.

Sadly I'm out of images I can post (holy crap), so just... google it

Cool so we've got a lot of relevant territories covered here re: their SJM multiverse parallel.

Obviously Amren is the mystery that keeps giving and tons of people have their theories about her... and I guess SJM at one point said she's some kind of archangel... personally? IDK! Do I think it's strange, in my untangling of this curious maybe from another world territory population, that Amren... a being we know is from another world chose a Xian fae body? Yup! Especially because the southern continent, as we learn in Tower of Dawn from the Stygian Spyders (her handmaidens... which is what I thought Amren could have been, but that's not my theory battle I choose to fight) that there was a big ol' door/portal/whatever that Maeve walked herself and clique through. Hm...

Also, let us not forget when Nuan casually mentioned in her alchemic practice that the "Mother provides everything [they] need on this earth." What does she know that we doooon't?

And while I know I've wanted more, more of the other solar courts — I think perhaps they've been held back because they'll play an integral role in whatever happens next. I mean in addition to everything else Thesan's got a population of winged beings that sound suspiciously like Midgard's angels and Helion's got the only flying horsies (and libraries... I cannot stress how preoccupied I am with libraries in these worlds).

Re: Dawn Court... light-filled healers in TOG (specifically Yrene) play an essential role when it comes to the Valg (who we're not 100% are also the Asteri or Daglan, but let's say they're in the same fam). Yrene can "cure" the people the Valg infect and *the biggest of TOG spoilers* she kills the big bad Valg with her powers. But before she does that... Erawan (which will always just remind me of the fancy shmancy grocery store) wants to capture her and says her powers/what she can do goes far beyond what she understands... and... at the end of the day... us too... SARAH!!!

I will be doing a verrrry deep dive into TOG-world healers because every single page I read describing... like anything about them was making my SJM insanity senses tingle. We haven't spent a lot of time with Thesan and his powers, but we know Feyre's blood can heal others so... curious to see where that one leads.

But the other thing we've got in TOG is a lot of people of varying... let's call them heritages having varied power abilities... and even humans being able to use magic (like wyrdmarks). They've also got a god city and scions and I simply cannot spend anymore time going on tangents here, but know I only have more questions... no answers... help.

OMG we made it. To recap we've got: connections to other faerie realms (whether in ACOTAR or the multiverse which would implicate some world walking), we've got alchemists/alchemy, we've got healers, we've got two light wielding courts with some magic overlap and, and at the very least, magic irregularities. We've got gods all over the place. We've got... so many questions... but hopefully some thought provoking parallels!

If I had to make my very bold "conclusion" to whatever hellscape of a hypothesis this is it's that I do believe the Dawn Court and the Day Court have some mix and matching travel/world walking situations with the southern continent in TOG and ditto for that relationship regarding more elemental fae and Midgard. And with alchemy (that I really hope either exists in this world, manifests as just witches like babes I'll take it) acting as the connecting thread between the power balances of the worlds... idk I think we're gonna get some answers there. And I think perhaps they'll be very important to connecting the worlds.

Mostly... this is my plea to SJM to bring back Nuan! Tell us about the other glowing boys (Thesan & Helion).

Seriously, if you read any of this... thank you and just know I'm sending you a little virtual kiss. Ok, let's both go touch some grass now.

Pt. II is mostly written and coming to a tumblr near you soon.

[meanwhileinstasiville]

I see all the yellow and I get followed around by the cars and...

You guys are stacked up against *every single old world stereotype from everywhere on earth* about that standard Latino build; laziness, pestilence, Animal Farm of the pigs as fascists, corruption, graft, sickness of the heart and of the mind.

Dear Arin, your brother acts and socializes and even attempted to court women, like a latino. And who absent that, seemed keen on tabling doumas like a Russian, a probable heritage from the perogi preparing great grandma of gangnes drive. And not white so much. Whataboutism, though definitely. Walking by "otterlifter" summons a yellow clad person, cooper, or otherwise? Mazatlan? Any of a number of college-meets-siskyou buildings?

Actives "that must not go unanswered" like *walking down the street* *across a bridge* *up a hill*? Really?

Whatever it is, it's not whiteness. American even at times. Slavic quality more and more, I swear.

(Am glad it's not dying, or that I can find shoes *because someone intends to mock me* rather than going barefoot, or that I eat daily because someone wants to ascribe or draw conclusions from it) Really.

...But what does it do? My parameters don't change anyone else's for being harassed all the time.

*seems to be getting a lot of exercise, the stationed person from the library lobby who spends time hogging the community phone there* (Since I started sitting in the corner)

*seems the mumbler girl who holed up; outside what was the paddington throwaway store, what the vicinity of love revolution has for seating, at the top of the library stair in the magazines, is taking to walking all the way to clay street to meet me there*

*Exponentially increasingly bizarre conversation downstairs as of the last three days or so*

*used to see this stuff at the mountain avenue crossing below the highschool where the walking path met the road* (any of the random encounters waiting for me to have them)

*used to see the car thing piled up as curated traffic at the walking path meets garfield location* (stacks of cars from encounters at intersections around town and the outskirts)

*and first spot next to the coop where had sat red hondas and blue fords before that, yet another cooper because some economist mags were left on a low library shelf* In the large print section (I'm going to hazard a guess that you became an economist because Eric read that, ryan. So, economics is about *making people ***do things*** not reading and citing indicators for praises; military strategy is about killing people *it's not about studying maps for notable features* ("we'll inflict so much pain on them (meaning I think, the fed) that they'll have to lay people off" said an old issue of the economist about fixing things. Which is why *you can't ever afford to actually be wrong* as a late friend might observe. Out of every hundred people; who lives dies works gets sick or has unmet needs?

(Following by cars based on make model and even color, is not a solution to any problem that I have. I am not for want of it when it is not there)

Unless of course, it's the nazi thing; which another friend strongly denies. So I lived at *both* an address of a dead friend and later a living one. I squatted a place in highschool formerly occupied by a family or two of illegals who spoke spanish. I am not any of them. I feel like this is more important than ever, to point out

Add to that the yellow clad woman with a leash and then the guy in yellow coat who made several passes *to be seen* next to the library

A motorcycle with sidecar, I don't know guys seems gangs plus fascism

[wrenhyperfixates]

The Raven Haired Rebel

Prologue

Pairing: Loki x reader Series Summary: After invading New York, it was decided that, as a punishment, Loki would work for SHIELD. Yeah, right. After escaping from their custody and stranded on Midgard, the God of Mischief decides to prove he’s the one thing no one ever thought he was: the good guy. Now a vigilante, Loki attempts to make amends for his past wrongdoings while also evading the Avengers, including their newest member. You. Brought in specially for the case, you notice more and more details about the prince’s story don’t add up. When you get the chance to turn him in, will you listen to your employers or your heart that believes Loki’s done nothing wrong? Chapter Summary: In which Loki decides to forge his own path. Chapter Warnings: none :) A/N: Welcome to the start of my new mini series! The idea came from the Send Me a Fic Title ask game. This was a title sent in by @lokistan​! Hope you enjoy!

Permanent Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan​ @lowkeyorlokificrecs​ @gaitwae​ @whatafuckingdumbass​ @castiels-majestic-wings​ @kozkaboi​ @cozy-the-overlord​ @birdgirl90​ @myraiswack​ @mythicalgarlicknot​ @what-a-flammable-heart​ @marvelouslovely​ @laurenandloki​ @fallinallinmendes​ @sophlubbwriting​ @mooncat163​ 

RHR Tag List: @happygalaxymilkshake​ @electroma89​ @stardust-walker​ @i-would-kneel-for-loki​

Masterlist

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

Loki wondered what his cell on Asgard would look like, for surely he’d be transferred there any day now. For three days now, he’d been held in the belly of a SHIELD base in these ridiculous cuffs. Tony had, at least, sent down that drink Loki had asked for. Whether it was a taunt or a small bit of kindness, Loki honestly wasn’t sure. Either way, he’d downed it in one gulp; Midgardian alcohol never having a strong effect on him. Honestly, he probably should have been concerned if it was poisoned or not. Then again, after everything he’d been through, what did he care?

“Brother,” Loki greeted Thor as he walked into view. “How lovely of you to finally grace me with your presence. Though I take it this is not a leisure visit, hm?”

“You know full well it is not,” the God of Thunder replied with a stern tone.

“And here I was so hoping we could catch up.”

“If you want to talk, then talk, Loki. Explain yourself. What has transpired that you have attacked so many innocent people in this way?”

Loki wanted to laugh at that. Innocent? Who was Thor to talk of innocent with all the unrighteous battles he’d fought, all the blood spilled by his hands? The God of Mischief had done what? Attacked a military base? Made a few people kneel? Corralled a few groups into buildings? Which really was for the own safety so they wouldn’t be in the way of the battles on the streets. But no; conquest was apparently only just when Odin decided to do it. When Thor wanted to follow in his footsteps. But for Loki, there was a whole other set of rules. Of course, no one ever bothered to outline them for the trickster, just let him know he failed to obey them.

Besides, he hadn’t been in his right mind. Rather, he’d been under the mind stone’s influence, under Thanos’s control. He worked his jaw as he tried to figure out whether to say that or not. If he had any sense of self preservation, he probably would have. Yet after living his whole life being told he was weak, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Whether Asgardian culture, his family, or he himself were to blame for that, he wasn’t sure. Still, best just to stick with his wit.

“Pardon, brother,” Loki finally replied. “If it bothers you that much, I will stop following your example.”

“You dare insinuate I would do such a thing?” Thor rhetorically asked, appalled and shocked now that his honor was called into question. “Truly, brother, your mind is far more twisted than I had imagined. I see now I should not have advocated for you; you are too far gone. And yet, I already have, so your second chance you shall have.”

“How benevolent,” Loki rolled his eyes.

In reality, Loki was actually kind of touched Thor had spoken on his behalf. It was more than he expected from the blonde. Though, he had a feeling he hadn’t been spoken of in the most flattering light. Regardless, Thor opened his cell and, accompanied by a couple agents, led him to the upper floors of of the base.

The light blinded Loki for a minute as he saw sunlight for the first time since he’d been locked up. The glares passing agents gave him did significantly less to burn him, though. He was used to scorn. Of course, he did feel a wave of regret as he realized he’d probably killed some of their colleagues, their friends. Even if he didn’t have control of himself, he’d still done it. Why did he have to be so weak as to let Thanos gain control of his mind, he wondered? Such horrid deeds had never been in his nature before, though it seemed Thor was ready to believe he’d been evil all along.

The brothers were silent the whole way to Fury’s office, even as they waited for the director to come in. From his seat in front of the desk, Loki surveyed the office. Nice enough, he mused, but could use some more color. Maybe some drapes. Loki wondered if he should laugh that that’s what he was thinking. Though, in all honesty, it might be a chuckle of relief, knowing that his thoughts were finally his own again.

When the director did finally walk in, he and Loki just eyed each other for a moment, sizing the other up. Loki was fairly confident he could get out of this room, out of this base, if he really wanted to. But what was even the point? He wasn’t particularly interested in playing a game of cat and mouse, as SHIELD would try desperately to recover him. No, he’d rather take whatever punishment was about to be doled out. At least for now, anyway.

“Well, thank you for having me,” Loki quipped, being the first to break the silence. “I am afraid I have never been much good at small talk, though. How about that weather?”

“Funny,” Fury deadpanned. “Glad you didn’t lose your sense of humor when you killed my men.”

Loki’s smile faltered ever so slightly. It seemed like people were going to keep bringing that up despite that it had not even been his intention to kill anyone. Injure and temporarily dispose of, sure, but not kill. He supposed that having been on the verge of collapse himself, he wasn’t able to be as precise as he usually was.

“That little stunt you pulled should have you locked up for life,” Fury continued before Loki could respond. “However, we are prepared to offer you a deal. You are going to work for SHIELD to make up for your crimes.”

“Ah. I see. So gracious of you. And my other options are?”

“You come with me back to Asgard,” Thor chimed in, “and father can do whatever he wants with you.”

Well, that created three possible paths, really, Loki figured. Be sent to Asgard and locked up there was option one. Then the second was to be sent back and killed. Was it bad he kind of hoped for the latter? Oh, it definitely was. Yet, that’s how he felt. And then he could stay here, play along until the opportunity came to break free. Live his life as he wanted for once.

“Alright,” Loki agreed with a smile that he was sure would be seen as more untrustworthy than anything else. “When do I begin?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A week of tedious lectures later, Loki was out in the field. He’d listened with rapt attention as he’d undergone his brief training. And somehow they deemed him trustworthy enough to send on a mission already. So, here he was in a Quinjet with his fellow agents. Maybe they didn’t entirely trust him. After all, Clint kept eyeing him with something akin to murder in his gaze.

Still, once they touched down, Loki followed the procedures he’d been taught. Thankfully, they hadn’t trusted him with any of the more important jobs, just securing the perimeter. That, of course, was a mistake on their part. As soon as it was time to break apart from the others, Loki created a double of himself. Meanwhile, he causally strutted over to a nearby motorcycle. Ok, he had to admit he didn’t really know how to ride one, but he’d make do.

Loki’s drive was surprisingly smooth as he escaped his would-be employers. The joke was on them for trying to tie him down, he thought. It was actually rather freeing to be racing along the open road, wind in his raven-black hair. Maybe he could find a nice little secluded home somewhere and live the rest of his days out in peace. And then he saw a burning building. Really, he should just keep going. You Midgardians had forces to deal with this. And yet, something made him pull over and rush inside, saving those he found trapped by the flames.

“I can never thank you enough,” a lady blubbered as she clung to her child, who Loki had just saved. “Please, what’s your name? How can I repay you?”

“You can call me, Loki,” he replied with a charming grin. “And really, no thanks necessary. It is just what I do.”

And as he rode off again, Loki decided he was going to make that last statement true. Look out, Midgard, he thought to himself. Looks like you have got yourself a new superhero.

[iam93percentstardust]

Hey, I hope you're had a very pleasant birthday and birthday month! If the prompte are still open: Can you do Stony with Tony finally and sorta randomly confessing his love to Steve and Steve only then realizing that what he feels for Tony is romantic love as well?

Hello! Sure thing! Quick note: there’s a change between present and past tense for a flashback, for anyone who doesn’t like that kind of thing

As always, everything I write is also on ao3

~

“I love you,” Tony says, and Steve doesn’t quite know what to do about that.

He won’t say that he’s thought about it before because he hasn’t. But he won’t say that he’s never thought about it either—because he has, occasionally, glanced at Tony’s ass outlined by his perfectly tailored pants and appreciated the sight, and he has, once or twice, wondered what Tony’s warm, sparkling eyes would look like when hazy with pleasure. But a quick, glancing thought that he immediately moves on from is not the same as being attracted enough to Tony to think about asking him out or anything past that.

And now that he’s faced with that question, he doesn’t know what to say. Is he supposed to thank Tony? Is he supposed to acknowledge his feelings and say that he doesn’t feel the same way? Is he just supposed to ignore what Tony said? This is why he has so much trouble with his dates—he never knows how to act in a way that isn’t awkward. No wonder Natasha recently declared him hopeless after he came back from his last date covered in her sticky drink because he accidentally called her a dame.

“I love you,” Tony says and Steve doesn’t know what to do about that, but as it turns out, he doesn’t have to do anything, because Tony nods immediately afterward, says, “Good talk,” and turns and walks away like he wasn’t expecting an answer—or at least, not one that he would like.

Steve doesn’t know what to do about that either.

~

“Do you think I’m in love with Tony?” he asks Natasha later that day when they’re relaxing on the couch while some mindless sitcom plays in the background.

Natasha blinks at him and then caps the nail polish she was using and puts it on the coffee table. “Do you think you’re in love with Tony?” she asks carefully.

He frowns at her. “That’s not what I asked.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure I should just tell you what to think.”

He sighs and takes another sip from his Coke, only to realize that it’s empty. Yeah, that describes his life pretty well. “I’m gonna get another one,” he says, standing up. “Do you want something?”

She shakes her head. It’s not until he’s in the kitchen, grabbing another Coke from the fridge, before she asks, “What brought this on?”

Steve thinks about the vulnerable look on Tony’s face as he said those three words. He probably wouldn’t like it if Steve told Natasha what they’d discussed. Or, well, he’d probably act like it was fine but he’d secretly feel hurt and might put the workshop into blackout mode again. Steve hates it when the workshop is in blackout mode. He doesn’t like that he can’t get to Tony when he’s feeling so terrible that he has to shut himself away. He wants to be there to support him, and he hates it when he’s the one who makes Tony feel like he has to close off the workshop.

“Nothing,” he tells Natasha.

She gets up to come into the kitchen, where she eyes him for a moment and then declares, “Tony finally told you, didn��t he?”

How does she always know?

“How do you always know?”

She smiles enigmatically. “I always know,” she says in that mysterious tone.

Steve glares at her. “Tony told you, didn’t he?”

“Maybe he did and maybe he didn’t.”

“One of these days, you’re going to have to admit that you two are friends.”

“Hmm,” she agrees. “But not today.” She hesitates, watching as Steve starts preparing a ham sandwich. “So Tony told you he loves you and you said?”

“Nothing,” Steve says with a shrug. “JARVIS, do you think it would be a good idea if I took this to Tony?”

“Sir has not expressed an explicit desire to keep you out of the workshop but I believe he would not appreciate you down there at the moment.”

Steve sighs. “Great. Could you send U up here to bring this sandwich down?”

“Of course, Captain Rogers.”

With that taken care of, Steve turns back to Natasha, following her back out to the living room. “I didn’t say anything because Tony didn’t give me the chance. He just took off.”

Natasha is quiet, studying him for a long moment. He knows what she’s thinking, since it’s probably the same thing he thought: that Tony was too afraid to hear the answer to give Steve the chance to respond. Eventually, she asks, “So how do you feel about it?”

“I don’t know,” Steve says honestly. “I can’t say I’ve ever thought about Tony like that before but—we act kinda coupley, don’t we?”

Before Natasha can respond, the previously bright sky outside goes dark. There’s a bright lightning bolt right outside the window, followed by the crash of thunder and then a loud rushing sound. It dissipates after a moment, the sky lightening again.

“Captain Rogers, Agent Romanoff,” JARVIS says, “Thor has returned to the tower.”

~

The Steve and Tony story goes something like this: instead of going on his planned road trip, Steve returned to the tower the day after the Chitauri invasion to offer his apologies to Tony about what he said on the helicarrier. Somehow—and he’s not sure how, even to this day—he found himself getting wrapped up in the tower repairs with a room of his own on one of the lower floors. And by the time those were done, Tony had apparently also redone some of the apartments near the penthouse as a headquarters for the Avengers. Steve hadn’t been lacking for options after the battle (the Army, in particular, wanted him back) but he’d moved into the tower permanently instead.

He and Tony had clashed a few times in those early days but once Bruce came back from wrapping up his affairs in India and Natasha and Clint left SHIELD to join them, they settled into a bit of a truce.

And over the semi-regular movie nights and the training spars and the late-night conversations after they both couldn’t sleep, that truce became a friendship and before Steve quite realized it, Tony had become one of his best friends. Slowly, Steve found himself being pulled out of the shell he’d withdrawn into after waking in this new century. Tony dragged him to lunch at new and exciting places, places that Steve could never have even dreamed of when he was growing up. They planned missions and training days together. Steve had even gotten adept enough at handling the press with Tony to feel confident accepting interview requests with him.

He hadn’t realized though that Tony had taken it as something more serious though. And now that he does know, he’s not sure what to do about it.

~

He eventually goes to Bruce, since Pepper is busy dealing with a business merger and Colonel Rhodes is out of town in some undisclosed location (though Steve is certain that Tony knows where). Bruce’s lab isn’t quite the wonderland of light and holograms that Tony’s is, but it’s still impressive to someone who grew up with nothing. Tony makes sure that Bruce has all the latest equipment so the lab is a gleaming marvel of sleek instruments with silver and white colors everywhere. It doesn’t look like the most soothing environment but the speakers pipe out some sort of piano music that Steve vaguely recognizes and there’s a teapot on one counter, keeping whatever Bruce is drinking warm.

Bruce is currently examining something under a microscope. Steve can make out what looks like a purple smear on the slide from where he’s standing in the doorway, but that’s it. Bruce doesn’t seem to have noticed him yet, even though JARVIS announced him, so he waits patiently until Bruce has rolled away from the microscope.

“Bruce, you got a second?” he asks quietly.

“Hey, when did you get here?” Bruce asks, offering him a tired smile. He waves Steve over to the teapot and offers him a cup.

“Just a couple minutes ago. I didn’t mind waiting,” Steve assures him. “What’s the blend?”

“Lavender and chocolate.”

“Sure, I wouldn’t mind a cup.” Bruce hands him the steaming mug. Steve has to add the sugar himself (only Tony knows how he prefers his tea).

“What brings you to my lab? Tony’s downstairs today,” Bruce says, fixing a cup of his own.

“I’m not looking for Tony. Not yet anyway,” Steve corrects. “I did want to talk about him though.” He hesitates and then decides to take the plunge. “Has Tony ever said anything to you about—ah—”

“About his feelings?” Bruce asks knowledgeably. “It’s come up a few times.”

Steve takes that to mean that it’s come up fairly frequently. Tony does like to overshare sometimes and trying to figure out what he’ll overshare about and what he’ll clam up about is about as accurate as trying to make one of Clint’s trick shots. “He told me today,” he begins carefully. “But he didn’t let me say anything.”

“Well, he wouldn’t,” Bruce says, like that’s perfectly reasonable and not absolutely surprising to Steve. He must see the confusion in Steve’s face because he adds, “He only just figured it out a few days ago himself, even though he’s been talking about you for months. I don’t think he was expecting you to feel the same way as him right after he realized it.”

“But why would he say it then?”

Bruce takes off his glasses, holding them in front of him as he thinks. “Tony—he’s got a weird relationship with love. He told me once that he thought he’d lost the chance to tell Pepper he loved her, first in Afghanistan and then with the palladium poisoning.”

“His parents,” Steve realizes. “He didn’t get to tell them either.”

“Exactly,” Bruce says, pointing at him with the glasses. “He doesn’t like to wait. So even though he knows you don’t feel the same way, he felt it was important to tell you.”

“What, in case I die tomorrow?”

“Or if he does.” Bruce must catch the stricken expression on Steve’s face as he smiles gently. “It’s not just about getting the feeling off his chest for Tony. It’s about making sure that you know you’re loved too.”

“Oh,” Steve says softly.

~

Normally, he would go down to the workshop to think about something that’s puzzling him but he doesn’t want to bother Tony right now. Instead, he goes to his second-favorite room in the entire tower: the library. The library was designed specifically by Tony for Steve after he mentioned how much he liked the tablet Tony had given him but how he missed paper books too. He hadn’t been angling for a library out of the conversation but Tony, generous to a fault, had immediately gotten to work on one.

It’s a beautiful room, completely incongruous with the sleek modern style of the rest of the tower, but perfect despite that. It takes up an entire two floors of the tower with balconies, a spiral staircase, and several sliding ladders for Clint to reenact a scene from some movie that Steve hasn’t gotten around to watching yet. Tony had done the room in dark wood with enough windows to make it feel light and airy instead of cramped. There are little nooks hidden among the shelves and a few window seats for anyone who wants to gaze out over the New York skyline while they read.

It’s perfect, made all the more so because Tony designed it for him.

“Steve, you should have realized how Tony felt sooner,” he mutters to himself as he settles on one of the cushy armchairs with his sketchbook. But how could he have? According to Bruce, Tony hadn’t even known how he felt until a few days ago.

He sketches as he thinks, no subject in mind until he looks down to find that he’s roughly sketched out Tony at his workbench, arguing with DUM-E over something silly. Steve smiles fondly down at the drawing, rubbing his thumb over the curve of Tony’s cheek. He remembers this argument. It had been a couple weeks ago. Tony had asked DUM-E to bring him a wrench and instead, DUM-E had brought him two screwdrivers, three hammers, and a level before finally bringing the wrench. It had made Steve laugh, which had just encouraged DUM-E. Tony had acted frustrated but he knows Tony well enough to know that Tony had been secretly proud about DUM-E’s personality, both for DUM-E and for himself. After all, as Tony said, any monkey could design an AI. It took skill to design one with character.

In his sketch, he’s drawn something of that conflict in Tony’s face—the frustration in the downward turn of his mouth but the pride in the twinkle in his eyes—and it only makes him more beautiful.

“Beautiful,” Steve repeats, awed at the thought. Tony is beautiful, when he’s tinkering, when he’s flying, even when he’s going toe-to-toe with Steve over something stupid (usually Tony’s self-sacrificial tendencies).

He flips through the book, taking in each drawing: Natasha, Tony, Clint, Thor, Tony, Bruce, Tony, Tony, Tony. “Yeah,” he murmurs, looking back down at the drawing he just finished again. He thinks he’s got it figured out.

He stands, tucking his sketchbook under his arm. “JARVIS, do you think Tony would mind talking to me now? I’ve got something important to tell him.”

JARVIS is quiet for a moment, then says, “Sir would be happy to see you.”

He makes his way downstairs, thinking about what he’s going to say, but as soon as he sees Tony—wonderful, beautiful, perfect Tony—playing with one of those incredible holograms he designed, the words fly from his mind and he blurts out, “I’m not in love with you.”

And then he winces. Yeah, okay, so he’s a bit of a disaster.

Tony looks hurt for a moment, but it’s quickly covered up with dramatic offense. Before Tony can make one of his infamous quips that’ll just make light of the situation, Steve crosses the workshop and pulls Tony’s hands into his, rubbing them gently with his thumbs.

“I’m not in love with you,” he repeats. “But I think I could be soon. I’m not where you’re at yet—my brain isn’t nearly as quick as yours, Tony, of course you’re a step ahead of me here too. But Tony, you’re on almost every single page of my sketchbook. We go on what we might as well call dates together. We talk for hours. I know you almost as well as I know myself. I’m not in love with you yet but I think I’m only a couple dates away from it, so you should take me out, and we’ll see how fast I can catch up.”

Tony is smiling by the end of his little speech. “How are you always so good at that?” he asks.

“I was born like this,” Steve says seriously, only to crack a grin when Tony laughs.

“No you weren’t,” Tony argues. “You were born small and spiteful.”

“And full of good speeches. But no one wanted to listen to a little guy like me so I had to bottle them up to use on you.” He pauses and looks down at Tony. “Um, not to pressure you, but does a date sound good?”

Tony thinks about it for a moment. “Depends. Where are you going to take me?”

“Oh, am I taking you? You’re the billionaire, shouldn’t you be treating me?”

Tony’s eyes darken as he purrs, “Only if you’re very nice.”

Steve shivers. He hadn’t really thought about how it would feel to have the full Tony Stark Seduction TechniqueTM turned on him, but he’s thinking about it now and it is absolutely delightful. “What if I’m not nice at all?” he whispers, hands tightening on Tony’s.

Tony’s smile turns downright filthy and he leans up to brush a kiss over Steve’s cheek. “Hmm, I’ll think of something,” he murmurs into Steve’s ear.

He’s not going to act like a caveman and take Tony to bed. He’s not. He’s going to—“Sal’s!” he blurts out, immediately regretting it when Tony takes a step away, brow wrinkling confusedly. It’s really cute. Steve wants to kiss it away.

“What?”

“Sal’s,” Steve says again. “Best burgers in Brooklyn. I want to take you there.”

Tony smiles again. “Sounds like a date.”

[harryhandstan]

so..I hate that this is so late but happy to finally have this done and be posting it for y’all! hope you enjoy! thank you to my betas @tbslenthusiast, @serendipitystyles, and @summertimestyles​ you’re all angels!! also sham was so kind to help me create a playlist for this fic which you can find here!

this is for @taintedwonder​‘s Styles Valentine’s Day fic challenge and most of the photos from the header were my inspo along with prompts 3. Can you just hold my hand? and 6. Let’s run away together.

as always any likes, rbs, replies, and feedback is welcome and very much appreciated!

word count: 4.1k

writing tag | masterlist

You can read his face before he even opens his mouth to speak.

“You have to leave again, don’t you?”

He doesn’t answer at first, just joins you where you sit on the bed, an arm around your waist to urge you closer to him. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, as if that will soothe the sting of what he’s about to say. He buries his face into your neck before he speaks.

“Only for a little while, angel.”

You don’t respond by returning the kiss like you normally would, narrowing your eyes down to where he’s hiding his face, “How long is a ‘little while’?” 

“You could always come with me, y’know..” 

He’s avoiding the answer and he knows it, eyes darting up only briefly to look at your face. 

“How long, Harry?”

He’s fiddling with the hem of your t-shirt now, focusing on the loose thread hanging instead.

You nudge him lightly, pulling his attention back up to you, “Just say it! How long?”

He sucks in a big breath before releasing it and then the words come out in a rush, “A few weeks, possibly a month.”

You have to take your own deep breath before asking, “When do you have to leave?”

“Promise you won’t be mad?”

“Promise.”

“My flight’s on the 14th.”

“February 14th? As in we don’t get to spend Valentine’s Day together?”

“M’so sorry, love, I really thought we were gonna get to spend the day together.” 

He’s pulled back from where he was hiding his face, studying yours now. It hurts him to see the disappointment written there; the pinch in your brow, the downturned corners of your mouth, the way your eyes have temporarily lost their shine and fallen misty.

“Ya really could come with me, y’know. Take a bit of time off, would do you some good to take a break.”

He knows better, knows it’s just a fantasy that you would ever be able to get that much time off from work to be able to travel with him.

“C’mon, love, let’s run away together.”

The way he’s looking at you know, it really wouldn’t take much more convincing to turn his fantasy into a reality.

“What am I gonna do when I’m cold and don’t have you as my personal heater to help me get warm?”

“S’why I left you my pillow to snuggle with. There’s a ton of extra blankets too, use as many of those as ya need.”

How could you explain that no amount of warmth from any blanket would ever compare to his? A blanket wasn’t capable of softly brushing your hair back from your face or tenderly pressing it’s lips to yours as you drift off to sleep. You open your mouth to try to illustrate such facts, but you close your mouth just as quick. You aren’t trying to be difficult or clingy, and you don’t want your last bit of time together to be filled with your complaints.

That thought only lasts for a moment, your anxiety building with each mile closer to the airport, “Well what do I do when your pillow doesn’t smell like you anymore?”

“I’ll try to be back before that happens, deal? Besides, you’ve got a whole drawer of my t-shirts to sleep in too. They all smell like me, right?”

“They do, but, Harry..what if..”

“Shh, hey, we’ve been through this before, right? S’gonna be hard for me to be away from you too, but I promise we’ll be alright. You can call me anytime you’re missin’ me, remember?”

His voice is that of someone trying to pacify a small child just before a tantrum, and you feel as though you’re being whiny and unreasonable. Missing him when he was away was almost unbearable though; everything seemed heavy and dimmer and you know it would feel like an eternity before you were together again. 

“Promise we’ll make up today the second I come home. You plan the whole day and just tell me when and where to show up, okay?’

The fact that it was Valentine’s Day didn’t matter so much to you. You and Harry made it a point throughout your days spent together to express your love to one another whenever you could, so today was really just..another day to spend together. So it’s missing him that has tears forming in your eyes again, just as they had the night before.

“Can you just hold my hand? Until..” You don’t finish the sentence, letting your voice trail off so he won’t hear it break.

“‘Course I can, baby.” He offers his hand, never taking his eyes off the road even as he lifts your hand to his mouth to place a kiss to the back of it.

Though you know he would never admit to it, you swear you feel the speed of the car slow just the tiniest bit, Harry wanting to add as much to your limited time together as he can.

Despite it still being light outside, coming home to the space you normally share together alone makes you want to do nothing but crawl right back in bed. It’s mid-afternoon and with Harry not home to motivate you to do something more productive, that’s exactly what you aim to do.

After dropping your purse and keys near the door and double checking the locks, you’re startled by the sight of a bouquet of bright pink roses adorning your dining room table. They definitely weren’t there when you left, and you pluck the small card nestled between the flowers with your name scrawled across the front. It’s Harry’s almost illegible handwriting and the sight of it makes your heart soar with excitement before you flip it open to read the message. 

It’s simple and small, more of his writing scratched across the cream colored paper in bold, black ink. Love, love, love, H. There’s a badly drawn heart underneath the note, and that makes you giggle out loud, filling the silence. If Harry were here, he’d have some cheeky comment about how adorable your laughter is, how he loved the sound of it.

“Don’t want you moping around the whole time m’gone, yeah? Promise me y’ll do more than just sulk around the place until I get back?” This reminder was given just before he’d had to rush off to catch his plane, giving you no time to offer him much more than a quick peck and a sad smile as an agreement. 

So technically what you plan to do would not be considered breaking a promise, just..catching up on the sleep you would’ve gotten if you hadn't had to wake up so early to ride with Harry to the airport. Normally that was something you would decline to do, preferring to sleep in, which Harry usually was fine with; but this time he had insisted on you accompanying him on his drive, wanting to get as much time with you on this day as he could. 

Just as you're about to venture down the hallway to the bedroom, you spot another item you’re sure hadn’t been on your coffee table earlier that morning when you’d left. It’s a medium sized box, messily wrapped with red paper and tied with purple ribbon and a bow. It’s quite heavy when you lift it, so you sit on the nearby couch to avoid dropping it. You waste no time tearing the paper away, lifting the lid to reveal a candle surrounded by tissue paper. 

There’s a pack of two lighters wedged next to the candle, and you curiously pull it from the box first to see more of Harry’s handwriting on a red sticky note. 

Baby you light up my world like nobody else...

That pulls another laugh from you, this one is bigger and echoes through the dimly lit space. The candle itself is a scent he knows you love, and you bring it closer to your face and inhale deeply. The smell of it helps ease even more of the unease and sadness of him being gone. You dig your phone out of your pocket to check the time and try to calculate whether his plane has landed and he would be able to answer a call from you. 

You ultimately decide to nap first and give him a chance to get settled. He would most likely be calling you later anyway, missing you just as much as you missed him and wanting to hear your voice. You could thank him then for the flowers, candle, and the laugh. So you continue your journey to the bedroom, slipping out of your clothes and sliding open the drawer of Harry’s t-shirts. He’s right, they do all smell like him and you run your fingers along the soft fabrics before selecting one. 

It’s plain white, one of his undershirts normally tucked beneath his expensive button ups and ruffles, but today it’s perfect and comforting attire to doze off in. It’s loose and just long enough on you that you don’t feel the need to put on a pair of your pj shorts with it, The bed is still messy from the morning, and you swear you can still see the outline of where Harry’s body normally tucks next to you on his side. You pull the blanket back and crawl into your usual spot, but it doesn’t feel right; it’s too empty and quiet without Harry. 

You grab his pillow from his side and try your best to replicate the way you would curl yourself around him if he was here. It takes a bit of time to adjust, but eventually you give up and just try to relax into the mattress as much as possible, covering your head slightly with the blanket to surround yourself with warmth.

You peek through the space uncovered to the alarm clock on the bedside table on Harry’s side, the bright red letters read 12:32 p.m. and you let out a deep sigh before drifting off to sleep. If you weren’t so tired, the thought that crosses your mind might just make you laugh again.

Alone in bed in the afternoon on Valentine’s Day. What a shame. 

You wake with a start, bolting upwards at the sound of your phone ringing loudly from somewhere near the bed. You don’t even bother to open your eyes to see who it is, just following the motions to answer and plop back down onto your spot as you let out an almost breathless and groggy “hello?”

“Not missin’ me too much, I see, took you a whole minute to answer,'' You know he’s joking by the hint of amusement in his voice and relief floods through your chest before any other feeling at the idea of him making it safely to his destination, “You alright, love? Sound a bit outta breath. Having some fun in our bed without me?”

“I..no, I was napping, promise, your call just scared me awake..how did you know I’m in bed?”

“I’m only teasing. Just a guess, figured you’d find your way back to the bed not long after you got home.”

“Found the flowers and the candle. Your note on the lighters made me laugh, thank you. How’d you do that though? They weren’t there when we left for the airport and you didn’t come back in.”

“Had one of my assistants drop the flowers off, and the candle’s been stashed in the closet for a week so she set it out for me while she was there. Wish I could’ve been there to see your face and hear that laugh,” He giggles at the thought of it, “S’that all you found? The flowers and the candle? I assume you found the one in the bathroom too, right?”

You’re more alert now, sitting up again to try to process what he’s saying more easily, “What do you mean? There’s more? The bathroom?”

“A few more, yeah. Hid here and there for you to find.”

“You left me a scavenger hunt? Do I at least get clues to help me find them all?”

“I’ve just given you one, haven’t I? Might be persuaded to give you a few more later.”

You’re up off the bed now, making your way to the bathroom where another surprise awaits. You hesitate for only a moment, stopping just as you reach the door.

“What’s in the bathroom? More flowers? One of those big, fluffy teddy bears?”

“M’not gonna tell you! You gotta go in to find out!”

Flipping on the light switch has you gasping at what you see. A heart, entirely made from more red sticky notes, each one embellished with reminders of his love for you. You stumble over words, trying to form a coherent response.

He senses your shock even through the phone and graciously gives you a moment before asking, “S’the heart all wonky or does it look nice? Told them to make it as straight as possible.”

“H..it’s beautiful! How did you have time to write all these before you left?”

“Finished up most of them last night after you fell asleep. They came to me a lot easier with my muse snoring next to me.” 

You truly don’t know what to say to that. You’ve never had someone be so bright and loud with their love for you and just this simple expression makes you feel so incredibly special and loved.

You know that emotion is flowing through the phone when he speaks again, softer and lower, “Y’sure you won’t let me fly you out here to be with me?”

There’s the sound of another voice before Harry barks out another laugh, “Jeff says m’proper miserable without you. He said he’d pay you whatever your salary would be for the next month just to have you here.”

“Tempting, but..” Harry knows how much you love your job and how such a long absence would jeopardize the career you’ve built, so you know he probably won’t mention it again.

“Technically it was gonna be part of my present for you, so..I’ll give you another clue.”

“How very generous of you, H. Will this one make me cry too?”

“Maybe. Knowing you, probably,” You roll your eyes but listen for further instructions, “Just remember I had to rush and there’s still a few I didn’t get to add but, go get your laptop.”

“What’d you do to my laptop?”

“Would ya just go get it? C’mon I’ve gotta hang up soon and I wanna hear your reaction before I hafta go.” 

“Alright, I got it. What now?”

“Go to your music library.” He gives you a moment to navigate through your programs, “Should be a playlist there with your name on it, lovie. Wait, are you already crying?”

“Shut up! Yes!” You wipe at your eyes with the hem of his t-shirt you’re still wearing as you try to read over the list of songs, “This is so sweet! The flowers, the candle, the heart and now this. Harry..I didn’t get you anything and you did all this for me. Thank you, I love you.”

“Love you more,” You can just picture the smug smile on his face, pleased that he’s done a good job of surprising you, “You can make it up to me later.” 

“Don’t push your luck there, H. You’ve just been forgiven, I still have time to change my mind, you know.” 

“I know. I wouldn’t blame you if you did.” You hear what you assume to be Jeff’s voice again in the background, “I gotta go, babe. I’ll try to call again later, alright?”

“Wait! I don’t get any more clues? Can you at least tell me how many more are left?”

“S’no fun for me if I give away all my secrets now, is it?”

It’s only a day later when you find yourself in the kitchen, uncertain about what to make for dinner, eyes scanning over the ingredients in your pantry. Your laptop sits on the counter nearby, and you hum along to My Girl playing through the speakers, a song selected for you by Harry for the playlist he recently made for you.

You’re about to give up and heat up your leftovers from the Italian take-out you had treated yourself to the night before, when you spot the pack of Haribo gummy bears wedged in the corner. You almost have to stand on your tip-toes to reach it, and when you run your hand along the shelf you find another bag of sweets not far from the gummy bears. You smile down at the two bags, his favorite candy and yours sitting side by side.

There’s another of Harry’s red sticky notes on the pack of gummy bears: Being away from you is unBEARable. More of his cheesy jokes you’re sure he thought of himself. Your candy is void of any words, just another messily drawn heart, this time with your name in the middle. 

You decide to FaceTime him this time, wanting to see his face. It only takes 3 rings for him to answer, a tender “Hi, baby.” falling from his lips. The room he’s in is dimly lit, but you can still see him well enough to notice his hair is damp. His curls are more pronounced than usual, which was a sign he’d been too tired to much more than probably run his fingers through after his shower.

“Found another of your surprises.” You hold the candy up for him to see and he smiles.

“Better save me some of those Haribo, and not just all the colors ya don’t like either.”

You tear open the bag, sticking your tongue out at him before popping a few into your mouth, “I might, if you tell me where all the other surprises are.”

You can see him temporarily consider it, biting his bottom lip and meeting your gaze before he shakes his head, “Nah. I will tell you there’s only one more though..well, depends on how you look at it, but to me they only count as one.”

“They?”

He mimics locking his lips, and you decide to drop it for now, knowing you would most likely have to trick or beg him to tell you later. You’d let him think he won. For now.

You roll the top of the bag of candy down, opening the cabinet to tuck them back into the same corner you found them in. They just didn’t taste the same without him there to enjoy them with you. Plus you still had a still had leftover garlic knots and mushroom ravioli you planned to dig into later.

“S’that the playlist I made for you? Sounds like it.”

The song has changed to At Last, Etta James’ voice filling the small kitchen, “Yeah. I love this song.”

“Me too. Reminds me of you now..my love,” You sway a bit to the music before stopping, leaning forward to where your phone is propped on the counter, “Wish I was there t’dance with you.”

You try your best to hold back your emotions of missing him, but you imagine how he would rest his hands on your hips if was here. How he would spin you to face him and move his hands to rest on your back while he led you around in a slow circle across the floor. It wasn’t just his hands you longed for, it was the way he would bend to your ear to sing along to whatever song you were dancing to, especially one like this he knew you loved. You missed his voice in person, the way it would surround you with a comfort and peace you’d never be able to replicate with anything else. 

No matter what you do you can’t stop your thoughts from trailing to how when the song was over, he would lift you to sit on the counter and kiss your forehead. You’re wearing one of his hoodies tonight, and you pull the sleeve down over your hands to use to try to quickly wipe away any tears before he sees them. Once you feel you’ve reined in your emotions to the best of your abilities, you clear your throat before speaking again.

“I miss you, H.”

“I miss you too, angel.”

The music has changed again, Don’t Worry Baby by The Beach Boys lifting the mood enough you don’t feel so heavy and overwhelming with your yearning for him. You take a deep breath, planning to ask him about his day, but before you have a chance he says, “Go to your bedside table. The top drawer.”

“What?”

“M’tryin’ to tell you where your last surprise is. Go to our bedroom and look in the drawer. I’ll wait.”

You flash him a smile before turning to make your way out of the kitchen, through your living room and down the hall to your bedroom. It takes a bit of searching before you uncover a stack of bright, pastel colored envelopes tied together with the same purple ribbon as the candle from the day before. You work quickly to untie the knot and turn the lamp on so you can read the front of each one. There’s 4 total; open when you need a laugh, open when you miss my hugs, open when you need a reminder of my love, open when you miss me.

You tear into the final one immediately, setting the others aside for later. It’s not very long, the perfect length to boost your spirit even further. Just the thought of him taking time to sit down and write his expression of love for you makes you grin, and has that same feeling of being loved spreading through you as it did the previous day when you saw the heart on the bathroom mirror.

You had almost forgotten leaving him on hold in the kitchen until you hear, even from 3 rooms away, the sound of him singing along to whatever song is playing now. You close your eyes, picturing for a moment that it’s a typical night when he’s home, darting around the kitchen while he makes dinner or puts dishes away.  

You make your way back through the house to him, envelope in hand. Each one had been a different color so the second he sees which one you have his eyes brighten, his smile growing bigger the closer you get.

“Of course you opened that one first. Did y’like it?”

You shake your head no, breaking into a laugh when you see the look of disappointment on his face, “I loved it. Very charming of you to do all this just for me, H.”

“Yeah? I did a good job surprising you then?”

You roll your eyes. This man and his need for praise was too much, but he was yours, and you were his and you would do anything to assure him that you loved him just as much as he loved you.

“You did an amazing job, really, Harry. I never expected you to be able to do so much so last minute.”

His mouth drops open in mock dismay, looking down and shaking his head, “I can’t believe you would ever doubt me!”

You don’t say anything, just shake your own head at his teasing, sharing a look of adoration before you look away.

“Hey, did I leave my lip balm there? The coconut kind I use before bed? Thought I had it in my duffel but I couldn’t find it when I got here.” 

“Yep. I used it earlier when I got out of the shower. Want me to send it to you?”

“Nah, you don’t have to, but..you could bring it to me in person if you wanted.” 

“I would if I could, Harry.”

The tone of a new text from your phone startles you, and you try to suppress your elation as best you can at who it’s from. It’s Jeff, confirming the time of your flight he’d helped you schedule for the following day. Harry knows you too well, would instantly be able to read your face and be suspicious of what you were up to. You step away from his line of sight to let the thrill run through you, to let it fully wash over you so he wouldn’t see. You return as quickly as you can, brushing it off as if you’d just gotten a text from your boss or a friend. He was oblivious, none the wiser at what you were planning.

It was your turn to surprise him. 

[clouditae]

First Love | 19

Yoongi x reader | 18+ | college au | tattoo artist au | angst | fluff | swearing

Word: 3.9k

Beta reader: jinned

happy birthday to yoongi

You first saw him in the multi-purpose room. Later learn his name, and on your third year, as he becomes your neighbor, you discover his lifestyle. Knowing your crush on him was nothing but that, you wanted to find the courage to look for love. Asking your friend for help, you’re pointed in the direction of the expert. Your neighbor, Min Yoongi

Chapter Index

You lie in bed staring up at the ceiling as the tips of your fingers brush along your lips. You can’t stop the smile growing as you remember the kiss. How he brought his lips to yours, taking you by surprise for a moment before your eyes flutter to a close and feel his lips move along yours. It fits perfectly with yours; soft, warm and sending butterflies in your stomach. You felt the fireworks and the rapid beating of your heart—it’s completely different from Hanbin. You toss to your side, burying your face in your hands as you feel the blush creep along your cheeks. You love him. You told him confidently that day and you have no regrets. 

So what does that mean for the two of you? Are you a couple? You thought the same thing with Hanbin, but it wasn’t until he asked you to be his girlfriend that you learned you two were just dating for a few weeks. Ari even told you that everyone starts dating to test the waters before they decide if they want to be official or not. So, you’re not a couple with Yoongi. Unless he has a different view on what official means and that kiss makes you a couple? But it also might not be that. Maybe it’ll only be a kiss and that’s it. You’ll never know what it’s like to date him and you’ll be alone the rest of your school year and find some old dude to be your lover because you’ve only loved Yoongi since then. 

“Oh my God I’m scaring myself,” you mutter to yourself, sitting up. You have to talk to him. You have to ask him if what happened that day means something more to him like it does for you. Climbing out of bed, you slip on your shoes and step up to your door, hand outstretched towards the handle. But you can't bring yourself to grasp it. Your hand idles, thoughts fighting against each other before you’re back in bed. “I’m not going. I’ll wait it out.” You’re under your cover, hiding from reality. 

So much for thinking you’re a new person with so much confidence.

“You’re such a wimp.”

“I am not!” you defend, but you know she’s right. Ari is one hundred percent right today, but you don’t want to admit it out loud. 

“Yes you are. Now grow a pair of bigger boobs and go ask him!” She shoves you towards the door, but her push is barely strong enough to nudge you. 

It’s been almost a week since you had your kiss with Yoongi, and your last talk with him, too. He’s been unreachable—always at school or too busy to even give Hoseok the time of day. You’re thinking it’s because he has an important assignment coming up, but then you’re also thinking he’s having second thoughts about the kiss. He never said anything to you that day after the kiss. He told you he needed to focus on his work and you left. Nothing was said. Nothing is ever said when it comes to him. 

Why do you like him again?

“I’ll do it later,” you whine, stomping your feet like a child as you climb into bed instead. 

You can see her staring daggers at you as she stands in the middle of the room with her arms crossed over her chest. You can see she’s thinking of something, but you don’t know what. Finally, she says, “You have a week to talk to him. If you don’t, I’ll go over there and ask him myself.” You can’t help but open your mouth in shock. Did she really just— “Got it?” she says, rather than asks. Groaning, you toss your blanket off you and slide off your bed, grabbing your backpack on your desk chair and slip on your shoes. “Where are you going?” she asks as you turn the handle to open the door. 

“To study on campus,” you half yell, opening the door, heading out of the room.

You're about halfway down the hall when you hear your dorm room close and open again with Ari yelling, "You better not forget what I said!"

No words are said from you as you push the side door open and head down the flight of stairs. You almost trip from the frustration Ari gave you, but you catch yourself and take careful strides down the rest of the steps. No one is really outside today—no one is heading towards the bus stop to take the fifteen minute drive towards campus. Maybe you'll have time to calm down in the shuttle and prepare yourself for a test that's weeks away.

You just needed to get out of the room and away from Ari's unnecessary glares. Reaching the sidewalk, the shuttle has just pulled to a stop. It seems like you'll have to wait fifteen or thirty minutes before the vehicle will take you to the campus. As the doors open, a few people exit the large, white bus—one of them being Yoongi who notices you immediately. You can feel your heartbeat quicken, the butterflies fluttering in your stomach in an instant. You don't understand how he can cause such chaos within you, but he does it every time you see him. You can imagine the kiss so clearly. His soft lips brushing along yours, thumbs running across your skin leaving a hot trail behind.

He's looking at you expectantly as the rest of the passengers leave along with the driver towards the buildings. It's not as obvious for you as it is for him, but you realize your mouth is open as if you're going to say something. Your body betrays you rather quickly before your brain can even comprehend what you're doing. Yet, he continues to wait there for a few more seconds before he turns his attention ahead of him and he starts towards his room.

"Um," you begin, seeing him stop in your peripheral, "I was wondering..." Wow you're struggling. Where did all that confidence you had when he kissed you go? Where did the ‘don't think just do’ motto go? Swallowing the lump in your throat, you turn to face him. "What are we exactly." Okay. You said it. Now the ball is in his court.

He's staring at you with a look you can never read, eyes blankly staring and mouth set tightly. Is what you thought about earlier really true? Was it just testing out the waters? Does he not like you? Why are you always right?

"What do you want us to be?" he asks.

You blink once. Twice. Just trying to comprehend what he just said and double checking with yourself to make sure what you heard is right. "What?" you ask, not wanting to answer just in case you did hear wrong.

He takes several steps towards you until he's a few inches away, his cedar wood cologne invading your senses as he repeats himself, his warm, minty breath fanning your face, "What do you want us to be?"

Okay he’s close. He’s super close. You can see the flecks of light brown swimming in his darker brown colored eyes. Taking in a deep breath, you answer, “I want to be more than what we are.” You said it. You did it—oh God you said it. What’s he going to say?

“Friends?” is his response to your statement. 

Is he testing you? Is that what he thinks you mean? You shake your head nevertheless. “More than friends,” you mumble, feeling smaller than you did when you first opened your mouth. 

He watches you. Searching for something you don’t know of. You can’t help but squirm, eyes shooting down to his black shirt as he looks at you for a moment. Finally, he answers, “Okay.” Your gaze is back to his again, shock clearly visible on your face. “If that’s what you want,” he adds.

“Is that what you want?” you ask him. 

He hums in response before he slowly leans in. Your breath catches in your throat as you see him get closer and closer before you close your eyes and wait. You’re going to kiss him again. You’re going to feel his warm, soft lips against your own— “The bus is coming,” he mumbles, and your eyes shoot open, head quickly turning to look behind you. The bus has its left blinker on as it slowly gets onto the road. You’re quickly running past him, never saying your ‘goodbyes’ as you run as fast as you can to the stop before the bus drives past it. To your luck, you make it before the bus does. As quickly as possible, you dig through your backpack for your bus pass as the bus driver notices you and pulls over and comes to a stop in front of you. 

The doors open and you smile gratefully as you step onto the vehicle. “Hello,” you tell him, taking in a deep breath after running the short distance suddenly. He greets you as you press your card to the scanner, hearing the satisfied beep, and make your way down the aisle and take the window seat just in front of the second door at the center of the bus. You’re putting your card back into your backpack when you hear the scanner go off, indicating that another person barely made it. The bus jerks forward as you zip your backpack up and someone sits next to you.

You look at the figure in surprise and realize it’s Yoongi. He settles into his seat, eyes forward as the bus skips the second stop, turning right onto the first cross. "Let's go on a date," he says, finally turning his attention on you. He looks so calm when he says it while it's most likely clear that you're in complete shock. "What do you have to do today?" he asks.

"I...um"—you swallow the lump in your throat—"I'm going to fill in my study guide for my test in a few weeks," you answer, hiding your hands under your backpack to clutch the straps tightly. Your heart is racing so hard right now.

"Let's go on a date after."

"I don't know how long it'll take for me to finish..."

"I'll wait," he replies as he looks ahead, seemingly not wanting to hear any more excuses.

For the rest of the ride you're lost in your thoughts on the entire scenario that played out within the last ten minutes. You try to hide the smile playing on your face, so you look out the window. The ride towards school is a quick one, only one stop was made before it comes to a stop at the final destination on campus and you follow Yoongi off the bus, walking out the door behind you.

You let out a shaky breath, trying to calm your excitement as you cross the small road and head towards the library entrance. The two of you are walking side by side down the pathway until you finally reach the building entrance. The outdoor seating is empty as Yoongi opens the glass door for you to enter first. You shyly thank him and enter inside. Pressing your hand to your chest, you feel the beating of your heart as if Yoongi being a gentleman is foreign to you. He’s done it before, but now it’s real in a sense. It’s not practice for you like it was before—it’s genuine. Yoongi is back at your side, and reaching the elevator lobby, you enter the stairwell and head down the stairs to the lower level study area.

Yoongi follows in tow, walking quietly as the two of you enter the rather empty room and you take the table under the skylight where the sun shines through the clouds and trees. Taking a seat, you try your best to hide the blush creeping when Yoongi sits next to you. And so, you try your best to focus on your study guide while Yoongi messes with his phone.

It's been a few hours when you finally finish answering all the questions. You put the guide away in your notebook, close it as well as your textbook and finally turn to Yoongi. He has one hand outstretched before him while the other is tucked under his head as he sleeps. You're lost in awe as you admire his beauty. He looks so peaceful; lips slightly parted, the tips of his jet black hair lie along his eyelids, and you can faintly see his back rise and fall with each breath he takes.

Your heart swells and you can't help but raise a hand and let your fingers brush the strands of his hair away from his eyes. His hair is softer than you thought it would be. Your hand lingers in his hair, brushing the strands away further back from his face before his eyes slowly open. Your hand is immediately back at your side, the color to your cheeks turning pink as you try and pretend you’re just packing up rather than staring at him for a few minutes. 

From your peripheral you can see Yoongi slowly sit up, stretching his arms before rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Are you done?” he asks, voice croaky and gravelly. 

“Y-yeah.” You stutter, packing everything into your backpack. You’re clearly not looking calm with a few papers falling from the stack as you’re trying to put it in your binder, or your zipper getting stuck when you try to open your backpack, or even your hair continuously falling into your face no matter how many times you push it back, but either he doesn’t notice or he’s pretending not to. “Uh.” You clear your throat. “Did you still want to…” 

“You hungry?” he asks, saving you the struggle of trying to finish your sentence. You hum in response, letting out a quiet breath. It’s hard to play off like you’re not internally panicking. He rises to his feet, and you do the same, holding your bag in one hand. “Let’s go eat,” he voices, pushing his chair in and waits for you to follow before the two of you head upstairs. 

As you step out into the crisp, Saturday afternoon air, the once blue sky is gone and replaced with gray clouds. You slip your arms through the straps of your backpack as you put it on, attention turning to Yoongi as he tells you, “Let’s have sushi.” You agree, already imagining the taste of the rolls you’re going to consume as the two of you head in the direction of the food court. Yoongi walks alongside you, the two of you walking in a comfortable silence. It’s something you’re not used to in all honesty. He usually walks ahead when the two of you go somewhere together, and the rest of the time you’re trying your best to keep up. Now, however, he’s keeping at your pace and it makes your chest flutter and a smile trying desperately to appear on your face. You’ve never felt so happy and nervous at the same time.  

Reaching the food court, you see a few people sitting scattered at the tables working on their assignments or chatting with their friends. You follow Yoongi towards the Japanese stand where the line is empty. When you reach the register, the man smiles and asks, “What would you like to order?” Yoongi says his order then looks towards you. After a few blinks of confusion, you realize he wants you to add your order in as well. Telling the man your order, he totals up and takes Yoongi’s card who had it out already before you could even dig in your backpack for yours. 

You find a table at the corner of the building, isolated from everyone else. You take a seat against the wall while he takes the chair across from you. “You’re nervous,” he comments after a few seconds of silence. You open your mouth to answer, yet nothing is said. You close your mouth and look away in embarrassment. You finally have him, but you can’t help but feel like you don’t. That this could all be a dream. “Are you having second thoughts?”

You shake your head, suddenly all the words spilling, “I want to be with you. I just never expected for it to happen and I’m just…a mess.”

He watches you for a second before saying, “Okay.” His name is called and he leaves to retrieve your food. 

While the two of you eat, no words were really said. You can’t think of anything to say, and Yoongi seems to be distracted with his food. It takes about halfway being done with your plate that he finally strikes up a conversation. Sadly it’s about your summer, so you had to do a lot of dodging when it came to Hanbin. Would he get jealous? Angry? Will he ask what happened between the two of you? You’re not sure, but you’re not going to find out right now. 

During his summer, Yoongi tells you he spent most of his time working at his shop, mastering his producing skills, and hanging out with Hoseok when they’re both free. “A simple summer,” he explains, placing a roll in his mouth. 

When the two of you finish, you feel satisfied and happier to have spent a calming date with Yoongi. You remember the last time he took you out on one—well a practice one, but the two of you argued and the whole date was ruined. This one’s real, and so much better than any date you’ve been on. Throwing your box in the trash, you head out the building only to be met with heavy rain. You stand under the awning with the rain pouring and the campus empty as far as the eye can see. Yoongi sighs, “Guess we’re running.” Turning to look at him, he does the same before his hand grabs yours and pulls you out from under the awning, the two of you running. 

You cut through the Psychology building, getting a bit of protection from the rain before you’re running along the road towards the bus stop. You try your best to shield your eyes from the rain, but nothing you do helps, so you rely on Yoongi to lead the way. Your legs are burning by the time you reach the bus stop, the two of you hiding under the bus shelter with heavy breaths. Looking around you notice that no one is around. You’re guessing everyone left before the rain hit while you were oblivious to the possibility of it coming. You should have brought an umbrella or—

Yoongi cups your cheeks softly, bringing your attention to him. Looking at him you take in his features. The tips of his hair stick to his forehead, drops of water fall from it, his mouth slightly parted as his pants become lesser. No matter how he looks, he will always take your breath away. 

“I want to know that when I wake up tomorrow, I can see you and hold you without thinking this is a dream. I want to be more than friends, too.” 

You’d think you would have so much to say from his confession, but nothing comes to mind. So, you repeat what he said hours ago when you told him what you wanted, “Okay.” You’re surprised, and it may be evident on your face as you watch his eyes dart from side to side as if he’s searching for something you don’t know. You try your best to let him know that you want this, that you want to be with him more than anything, and you can only hope it gets through to him. It seems like it does as his eyes stop searching and he’s looking at you with a calm, confident look as he leans in, eyes closing and his lips gently press to yours. 

Your eyes come to a close as you kiss him back, feeling that unfamiliar, yet wonderful sensation you felt when he kissed you the first time—the fireworks, the dozens of butterflies swarming your stomach, and your heart racing faster than when Hanbin kissed you for the first time. Warmth over takes the cold as your lips brush along with familiarity, as if the two of you kissed a thousand times before. You want to enjoy the kiss for as long as you can, but he pulls back lightly, his warm breath blanketing your lips. Opening your eyes, you can see his soft gaze staring at you for a brief second before he kisses you one more time as the sound of a vehicle comes to a stop in front of you. 

You feel like you’re on cloud nine, like nothing in this world could break you down right now. The feeling of his kiss lingers on your lips, and you want nothing more than to lean forward and kiss him again. You just want to be lost in his lips. 

As the two of you separate from one another, the shuttle doors open and the two of you quickly get in. Taking a seat at the back, you sit next to the window and Yoongi beside you, taking your hand in his as he settles further into his seat and closes his eyes. 

You’ve never enjoyed a bus ride as much as you do right now, feeling his thumb brush along your skin as the driver comes and goes at the next two stops, no one else enters the shuttle. The rain continues to pour from outside, creating small puddles on certain parts of the street with cars zooming over them and creating a splash. Music is playing over the speaker, a faint soothing song against the overpowering rain and cars zooming by.

A while later the shuttle comes to a stop in front of the entrance to your dorm building, Yoongi’s eyes open and he gets up from his seat, your hand still in his as he leads you out of the vehicle. You thank the driver before the two of you are running across the parking lot and up the flight of stairs to the second floor door. You hide from the rain as Yoongi fishes out from his pocket his ID and presses it to the scanner. A beep is heard and he opens the door, letting you enter first. 

Walking down the hallway, you stop at your door, turning to Yoongi. He tucks your hair back behind your ear as he instructs, “Go get warm before you catch a cold.” You nod. “I’ll see you later.” 

As he turns to enter his room you grab his hand. He turns back around. “We’re a couple,” you say, your statement not sounding like a question like you wanted. He nods in response. “You’re my boyfriend,” you mutter, nervous for his answer. 

He chuckles, a smile you’ve never seen before appearing on his face. You forget how to breathe as you stare in awe at his simple yet bright smile. “I am.” He steps forward and places a kiss on your forehead. “Go inside,” he tells you, and you let his hand go and do as instructed. Pressing your ID to the scanner, he whispers, “Goodnight.” and you enter your room, the biggest smile on your face with cheeks as flushed as they can be. 

Ari drops everything she’s doing and listens to you as you tell her about the greatest date of your life. 

[criminalmindzjunkie]

I Carry Your Heart With Me (Part One)

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Summary: Spencer and the reader are reunited for the first time in fifteen years. 

A/N: Very excited to get the ball rolling on this one. I hope you all enjoy it! Message me if you would like to be added to the taglist.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 4.5k

“I cannot believe you talked me into this,” Damien mutters from the passenger seat, his icy blue eyes wide with fright. He pulls his gaze away just long enough to point at a lone cow grazing to the left of the road. “Look! That cow is just like… standing there. No fence around him or anything. What’s stopping him from stampeding into us the second we get out of this car?”

Damien sounds so genuinely horrified that you almost feel bad for laughing. Almost.

“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem, Dee. Besides, that cow didn’t even look up when we drove past. We’re not even on its radar.”

“Oh, yeah? Ever heard of a little thing called mad cow disease?” Damien persists, in typical dramatic flair. You roll your eyes at him and he curses underneath his breath. “You know, when I agreed to go with you to this wedding, I pictured something more akin to a five-star resort with a minibar and a heated pool. Not rogue livestock and shitty cellphone reception.”

“You didn’t agree to anything – you practically begged me to take you with me.”

Damien waves his hand, dismissive, his eyes still roaming over the pasture. “Because I wanted an excuse to take a week off work. This is not the controlled environment I expected.”  

“If you don’t quit complaining, I won’t hesitate to push you out of the car and leave you here with the cow,” you retort. In your periphery you’re able to make out Damien raising his middle finger to you. Rude.

You chuckle and fix your attention back on the dirt road. You’re driving almost painfully slowly, because the very idea of having to pay extra for damages to this already astronomically expensive rental car makes you feel nauseated. Despite your efforts, the car is covered entirely in dust. Its once pristine, white paint job has transformed into a muddy color.

There goes my deposit.

You shake your head at the thought. You had more pressing matters to concern yourself with; i.e., the fact that you were approximately five minutes away from coming face to face with the one person you swore you’d never speak to again. Two months seemed like ample time to prepare yourself in theory, but now that it is no longer some far-off thing, you know that your attempts at preparing yourself were in vain. With each day you crossed off the calendar leading to your departure date, your anxiety grew and grew until you worried your poor heart would give out under the stress. Getting onto the plane bound for Montana felt like the proverbial nail in the coffin, and a hefty dose of Dramamine was the only thing that kept you from spiraling as the plane ascended into the air. You slept through the entirety of the trip and, much to Damien’s chagrin, there is a sizeable puddle of drool on his left shoulder to prove it.

The lengthy nap helped. The tight band constricting your chest had loosened, and you pulled out onto the highway feeling refreshed and rejuvenated. You had Damien by your side and five vacation days to enjoy. Your best friend was getting married to the love of her life, and you were hellbent on standing by her side through it all. Spencer Reid can kiss your ass, as far as you are concerned. No way is he going to ruin this for you.

You are still very much clinging your take-no-shit mentality when you breach a hill and the ranch comes into view, effectively expelling every single positive thought from your head. Aforementioned anxiety reappears in full-force and you stomp down on the breaks.

“Fuck, I don’t think I can do this,” you squeak out, casting a look at Damien, whose eyes are trained on the sprawling expanse of the house ahead of you. “We can still turn around – no, we should turn around. There is no version of this that won’t end in me getting embarrassingly drunk and crying in front of everyone. I’m turning around.”

Damien’s hand on yours, strong and steady, is the only thing that keeps you from whipping the car around and retreating with your tail between your legs. His fingers pry your white knuckled grip off of the wheel slowly, his thumb rubbing reassuring circles across your skin. Its sweet and so overwhelmingly gentle that you’re a bit stunned. You glance at him in a silent question, as if to ask who are you, and what have you done with my friend?

He gets the message loud and clear, because of course he does. Damien fixes you with a smile, grip tightening on your hand.

“I’ve seen you hold your own against some of the biggest names in journalism on an almost daily basis – looking damn sexy while you do it, might I add,” Damien chuckles, and you can’t help but give a weak laugh of your own. Damien’s smile grows at this, and he continues, “If you can handle your business against those conniving pricks, I’ve no doubt that you can tough it out for this. You’re not the type of woman that lets some guy dictate what she does or doesn’t do. And you sure as hell aren’t the type of woman that would let some guy rob her of the opportunity to stand by her best friend on the most important day of her life. As the person who probably knows you better than anyone else on the planet, my opinion of you is pretty rock-solid, if I do say so myself. So, unless I’ve completely overestimated the extent of your badassery, I suggest you rethink that plan. What do you say?”

You avert your eyes and swallow against the lump in your throat.

“Spencer’s not just some guy. For a long time, I was convinced that he was the guy,” you whisper. The car is silent, save for the quiet crooning voice of George Michael flowing through the speakers. Damien squeezes your hand, prompting you to continue. You blink up at him with wet lashes, lips pulled into a sad smile. “Have you ever been in love?”

Damien shakes his head and rubs his thumb along the top of your hand. “I can’t say that I have, babe. Haven’t been that lucky.”

You let out a shaky breath and bring your other hand up to wipe at your eyes.

“Maybe you’re better off. I’ve only been in love once,” you gesture to your pitiful appearance and choke out a wet laugh. “Look where that got me. He fucking crushed me, and fifteen years later I’m still broken up about it. It’s pathetic.”

Damien frowns and shifts in his seat so that he’s fully facing you.

“I don’t want to hear you say that self-deprecating shit again. You were hurt by someone you gave your heart to, and I can only imagine how devastating that must feel. Being upset about seeing him again does not make you pathetic. The fact that you’re here, about to spend a week with the guy just so you can be there for Cassidy, is pretty damn admirable as far as I’m concerned.” Damien ends his monologue by pulling you into a tight hug, and you couldn’t be more thankful that he’d come with you. Not only was he a secret sweetheart, he also gave the very best hugs.

By the time he releases you, the tension in your chest has eased significantly. You nod once, and Damien’s rewards you with a smile.

“I am pretty cool, aren’t I?”

Damien snorts rather unattractively and rolls his eyes.

“I take back everything. You suck, and I don’t know why I bother with you, you narcissist.”

Now that the mood has lifted significantly, you reluctantly press your foot against the gas pedal.

“Too late. No takesies backsies,” you singsong. “You think I’m sexy and badass, and I’m never going to let you forget it.”

Damien mutters something undoubtably snarky underneath his breath, but it’s drowned out by the sound of gravel crunching underneath the tires. That, and the sound of your blood roaring in your ears as you inch further down the driveway.

The house, a beautiful log cabin with stone accents along the underside, is massive. Standing at two stories tall with a large wraparound porch and more than a dozen large windows, it’s a far cry from the modest little cabin in the mountains that Cassidy had made it out to be. Even Damien is slack jawed at the sight of it, sitting pretty against a back drop of rolling mountains, and you can’t help but feel a little smug.

“Still want to complain about that five-star resort?”

Damien shakes his head dazedly, “I retract my earlier complaint.”

All too soon, you roll to a stop and put the car in park. Several other cars are parked haphazardly in the grass around you, and that annoying voice inside your head wonders which one belongs to Spencer. It’s not that you care – you totally don’t – it’s just that you are kind of hoping that he hasn’t arrived yet. A few hours to acclimate to the environment before having to deal with him would be nice.

“You’ve got this, babe,” Damien murmurs. “And I’ll be with you the whole time, just in case you need a reminder.”

You flash Damien a nervous smile.

“You’re a really good friend, Dee. I’m really glad that you’re here,” you say, before narrowing your eyes at him. “If you tell anyone I said that, I’ll deny it.”

Damien snorts and pushes open the door.

“Get your sassy ass out of the car. I’m ready to mingle.”

As soon as you set foot on the porch, the front door flies open and a flash of curly red hair precedes a collision that nearly sends you flying back into the railing. Ecstatic squeals rip through the otherwise serene evening air and two boney arms envelop you into a tight hug.

“I cannot believe you’re actually here,” Cassidy laughs as she squeezes you tight. Her enthusiasm has you joining in, the two of you laughing happily and pulling back to examine one another. Cassidy places a sloppy kiss to both of your cheeks before throwing an arm over your shoulder. “I fully expected you to just blow off the whole thing, if I’m being honest.”

You cast at Damien, who’s watching on with an amused grin on his face.

“Believe me, she tried.”

Cassidy turns her attention to Damien and extends her free hand.

“I take it you’re the infamous Damien that I’ve been trading emails with?”

Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion, “Wait, what? The two of you have been emailing?”

Damien accepts Cassidy’s hand and gives it a firm shake, all while smiling smugly.

“Yep. Me and Ms. Cassidy go way back.”

“I mean, that’s cool, I guess, but why?”

Cassidy and Damien share a look, both of them shrugging.

“Mainly to talk about you,” Cassidy admits, not even bothering to look apologetic. When you frown up at her she waves her hand dismissively at you. “All good things, I promise. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” Cassidy punctuates her words with a patronizing pat on your shoulder.

“I knew letting you two meet was a bad idea,” you grumble.

Cassidy simply drops her arms from its place on your shoulder in favor of tugging on your hand.

“Come on, sour puss. I want you to meet my husband. He’s a real sweetie – you’re gonna love him.”

A flash of white-hot panic shoots down your spine and you dig your heels into the floor.

“Wait,” you squeak out, eyes wide. “Is… Is he here yet?”

Cassidy’s eyes shine mischievously, briefly flitting up to Damien before returning to you.

“He is. And you’ll be happy to know that pictures do not do the Good Doctor any justice.”

Salt, meet wound.

“Don’t know why you’re telling me that,” you mutter.

“Denial is not just a river in Egypt, my friend,” Cassidy singsongs as she begins tugging you forward. For someone so tiny, she makes easy work of forcing you through the threshold.

The foyer is just as impressive as you expect it to be – beautiful cedar walls and a grand staircase that leads to the second floor. If you weren’t horribly on edge at the current moment, you would definitely comment on the fact that the foyer alone is probably larger than your entire apartment, but you’re too busy scanning the immediate area for tall skinny white guys with stupidly curly brown hair to comment on the grandiosity.

Cassidy leads the two of you to double doors to the right, and just as she’s about to push them open, the shrill ring of your cellphone offers you an out.

You slip your hand from Cassidy’s grip and give her a faux apologetic look.

“I should probably take this – it might be work.”

Damien narrows his eyes at you. “I thought you left your work phone at home.”

You ignore him and begin taking a few steps backwards, “Is there somewhere private I can go?”

An indiscernible look flashes across Cassidy’s face and then her lips pull up into a sugary sweet smile. “Follow the hallway to the very end. Leads to the back porch,” she says. “No need to rush. Take all the time you need!”

Okay, weird, you think to yourself, but the idea of putting off the inevitable for a few extra moments is too tempting to pass up, so you continue your retreat. You make it to the back door in record time and let out a relieved breath as you bring the phone to your ear.

“Hi, mom.”

“Hi, baby. I was just calling to make sure the two of you got there safely.”

You push open the back door and the breathtaking view of the ranch prompts you to take pause; sprawling fields and rolling hills as far as the eye can see, grazing livestock congregating near a lazy stream at the far end of the property, and several horses running across the expanse of the left field. It was wonderfully serene and vastly different from the bustling rat-race that was New York.

You smile to yourself when a loud moo rips through the otherwise quiet ranch. I could get used to this.

“Yeah, we made it,” you murmur into the receiver. “You would love this place, Mom. It’s probably the prettiest place I’ve ever been. I’ll send you a picture when I hang up.”

“How’s Cassidy? Still a little spit-fire, I assume?”

You lean against the railing and let out a snort, “Oh, absolutely. Don’t think that’ll ever change.”

“I’d hope not,” your mother hums. “How does Damien like the ranch?”

“He’s not exactly a fan of the livestock,” you chuckle. “Damien’s never even seen a real cow before. City boy through and through, that one.”

You and your mother share a laugh that dissolves into a comfortable silence. Comfortable, until the telltale clearing of your mother’s throat warns you of the impending inquisition.

“So,” your mother begins. “Are you going to tell me how it went, or are you going to leave an old woman wondering? “

You sigh and run a hand through your hair. “Fortunately, I have yet to run into him. I may or may not be hiding out on the back porch as we speak in an attempt to avoid just that.”

“Y/N,” your mother chastises. “Prolonging the inevitable isn’t going to make this any easier.”

“I know, I know. I’ll go in there soon. It’s just a lot, you know? I needed to take a breather, first.” Just until my hands stop shaking. Or until Cassidy comes hunting for me. Whichever comes first.

“I know, baby,” your mother coos. “I’m proud of you for trying. Just don’t drag things out, okay? You’ll only make yourself sick with nerves.” Unfortunately, that ship has sailed. The rolling in your stomach can attest to that.

           You laugh a humorless laugh, “I don’t know, Mom. You always like to remind me how stubborn I am. I’m sure if I put my mind to it, I can just avoid him for the entire week.”

           A tiny movement at the very corner of your vision and a loud creak makes you whip your head around, and what you see has your heart falling to your ass.

Spencer Reid, looking absolutely stunning in a pair of khaki dress pants and a white cable-knit sweater, sits in a porch swing with wide eyes and a book clutched tightly in his hands. Soft, caramel-colored curls frame his face and a five o’clock shadow runs the length of his jaw, adding a bit of grown-up flare to his otherwise boyish features.

He looks every bit as beautiful as he did on the day he broke your heart.

--

Spencer knows that he should have spoken up as soon as you walked onto the porch. It was immediately obvious that you hadn’t seen him, and he swears he’s one second away from clearing his throat and launching into the introduction he’d been planning for the last sixty days. But the words die on his tongue as he drinks in the sight of you.

You’re so close to him for the first time in years and it’s more than a little bit dizzying. And yeah, he’s used his very limited knowledge of how the internet works to Google you on more than one occasion, but the version of you leaning against the porch railing is a far cry from the pixelized one. A light breeze rolling through the air lifts your hair away from your face, and Spencer’s breath catches in his throat as he surveys every perfect inch, from the curl of your lashes to the smattering of freckles on your nose. He indulges himself, eyes settling on your cherry red lips, fascinated by the way they move as you talk on the phone. Spencer is intimately familiar with those lips – can recall the way they felt pressed against his own. The years spent apart have done nothing to dull the memories. He’s not entirely sure if that’s a good or a bad thing.

It amazes him how you’ve somehow managed to change a lot, but also not at all. You stand before him as an oxymoron personified, and it’s a lot for Spencer’s poor heart to take in. Your hair is a bit lighter than he remembers, as well as a little longer, but it still looks just as soft and he can recall with startling clarity how it felt when he used to run his fingers through it. You have a few more laugh lines than you did, as well as a scar on your left elbow that hadn’t been there before, but everything else about you is so painfully familiar that Spencer could almost pretend that no time had passed – that he still knows your body as well as he once did.

Spencer knows this isn’t true. Every seven years, the body resets; old cells destroyed and replaced with new ones. You’ve both spent enough time apart that your bodies have reset twice over. You’re as much of a stranger to him as he is to you.

Spencer positively abhors the thought.

The sound of your laughter pulls him from the depths of his mind, and while the laugh isn’t warm or inviting in the slightest, he relishes it. What was once one of his favorite sounds has existed in his head as only a memory for far too long. Hearing it in person is jarring in the best of ways.  

The euphoria he feels dies a horrible death when you speak again.

“I don’t know, Mom. You always like to remind me how stubborn I am. I’m sure if I put my mind to it, I can just avoid him for the entire week.”

Fucking ouch.

Spencer cringes hard, too hard, because the porch swing screeches out an angry creak and you whip around and holy shit, have your eyes always been that entrancing?

He watches as your entire body goes rigid, tensed as if you’re about to bolt. You blink hard, eyebrows drawn together to form an adorably bewildered expression as you assess him. Spencer hopes he doesn’t look too disheveled. He hadn’t even thought to freshen up after his trip, an oversight that he’s regretting terribly as your eyes flit over him.

Spencer isn’t sure why, but he stands up. Maybe it has something to do with feeling vulnerable. Maybe he just wants to close the distance. The two steps he takes towards you support the latter. He’s thankful that you don’t move away, but the blank expression on your face worries him.

The two of you stand five feet apart, but you feel worlds away. Spencer refrains from speaking for as long as he can stand, which is only about thirty seconds.

“Hi.”

Your lips part, and Spencer holds his breath.

“Hi.”

More silence. Spencer gulps.

“It’s good to see you,” he says, cautious. The last thing he wants to do is fuck up within the first five minutes. Unfortunately, his brain and his mouth seem to have some sort of disconnect, and Spencer continues against his better judgment. “It’s been a while.”

It’s been a while? That’s seriously the best I can come up with?

Spencer contemplates drowning himself in the nearby stream.

“It certainly has.”

“Five-thousand, five-hundred and seventeen days.” And roughly thirty-six and a half hours, but who’s counting?

Muted noises flow out of your phone speaker and you pull your eyes away from Spencer. He’s both relieved and devastated.

“Yeah, Mom, I’m fine. I just ran into someone. I’ll call you back later, okay?”

Spencer agonizes over the fact that he’s been reduced to someone while you and your mother exchange goodbyes. You’re smiling when you look up at him again, but Spencer’s seen what a genuine smile of yours looks like, and this isn’t it.

“I didn’t see you sitting there. My apologies.” Your formality makes the situation all the more excruciating.

Spencer lets out a nervous laugh, “I suppose avoiding me is out of the question now, huh?”

It’s hard to tell who’s more horrified by the words that tumble from his mouth, you or Spencer. A fierce flush spreads across your cheeks. It’s the first crack in your otherwise calm and collected exterior thus far and Spencer relishes in it. Maybe you’re not as unaffected by him as you seem.

“I… I’m sorry you had to hear that,” you stammer, blinking up at him with guilty eyes. “That wasn’t very kind of me.”

“Don’t worry about it. I can’t say that I’m undeserving of your anger,” Spencer whispers so quietly that he worries you don’t hear him over the gentle flow of the stream. The hardness that returns to your eyes lets him know that you heard every word.

You clear your throat, signaling your unwillingness to discuss that particularly painful topic. “You’re still partial to Cummings, I see.” You gesture to the book clutched tightly against his chest.

Now, it’s Spencer’s turn to blush. The book in his hands, tattered and worn from years of use, is incriminating. The two of you both know what lies just beneath the binding. The fact that Spencer has it with him now makes him think that he might as well be wearing a t-shirt that reads, I’M STILL NOT OVER YOU.

Spencer raises a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. Old habits die hard, I guess.” His eyes scour your face for a sign of anything that might clue him in to you feeling the same way. A flicker of something dances across your face, but it’s gone so quickly that he can’t be sure if he imagined it. He forces a nervous smile. “If I remember correctly, he was your favorite.” It’s a shitty attempt at a joke.

You exhale a shaky breath and to his absolute horror, your lower lip begins to wobble. He wishes he could reach up and pluck his words from where they hang heavy in the air.

“Not anymore,” you murmur, and fuck if that doesn’t absolutely wreck him.

Spencer shouldn’t ask, but he can’t help himself. “Oh. Why not?”

He holds his breath, anxiously anticipating your next words. You seem to be battling with yourself, mouth opening and closing several times. Spencer is content to wait as long as it takes for you to answer, but the universe is much more impatient than he.

The door leading onto the porch swings open and out walks an honest to God Abercrombie and Fitch model. Or at least, a man who meets the qualifications and then some. Long, flowing blonde hair and a crisp white dress shirt makes Spencer’s unruly brown mop and dumpy sweater look pitiful in comparison. Spencer frowns.

“Sweetheart, you’ve been out here for like ten minutes,” the man chastises as he closes the distance between you and him. Spencer watches him wrap his arm around your shoulders and pull you to him like someone might watch a car wreck happen; with equal parts horror and morbid curiosity. “You can’t hide out forever.”

All traces of rigidity leave your body and you melt into the man’s side. It happens in such a way that screams familiarity, as if the pet name hadn’t already driven that point home. The awful, gut-wrenching realization slams home and Spencer has to fight to keep his knees from buckling.

“Uh, sorry,” you mumble, before nodding your head in Spencer’s direction. “Damien, this is Spencer Reid.”

The man’s – Damien’s - eyes go almost comically wide as they settle on Spencer’s dejected frame, before schooling into a cool indifference. He offers him a polite smile that’s a little tight around the edges, but doesn’t outstretch his hand.

“Ah, Spencer. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Spencer swallows hard to keep himself from barking out a crazed laugh. He’s heard of me! That’s certainly something, considering the fact that no one thought it necessary to tell Spencer that you have a –

Spencer’s eyes dart down to your left hand. Thankfully, mercifully, your ring finger is bare.

“Uh, y-yeah. It’s nice to meet you.” The words burn as they roll off his tongue.

Damien nods at him before turning back to you. There’s an unmistakable fondness in the way he looks at you as he speaks. “Cassidy wants everyone back inside. They’re about to serve dinner.”

You smile up at him, not even casting a parting glance at Spencer before Damien leads you back inside. Spencer stands there long after the door closes behind the two of you.

The book feels heavy in his hands.

-

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taglist:  @is-this-even-important @evelyncade @usuck​ @m0rce1ddd​ @bauhousewife​ @whxt-to-write​ @spencerwaltergubler​ @lovesicksofi​ @idgafayiowf​ @shadyladyperfection​ @mercy-burning​ @sapphic-prentiss​ @itsmytimetoodream​  @m0rce1ddd​ @bauhousewife​ @whxt-to-write​ @spencerwaltergubler​  @enchantedcruelsummer​ @no-honey-no​ @inkstainedwritergirl​ @tnoh13​ @xxconfettiitsaparade​ @calm-and-doctor​ @muffin-cup​ @fortheloveofcriminalminds​ @arcticrory​ @holl2712​@themanwiththreephds @blameitonthenight21​ @stellabelle​ @me-a-hopeless-romantic​ @musicxlover97 @anightflower​ @andiebeaword​ @annesauriol​ @haylaansmi​ 

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Horse info 101

A horse girl’s guide to the basics for fic writing with an important and lively horse involved:

This got kinda long I’m kinda sorry but not at all lol 

There's three basic gaits (speeds with different patterns of hoof-fall/leg movements

Walking is the slowest and is a four beat gait, meaning each foot hits the ground at a different time. Usually the same pace as a walking human when the horse is calm. Some breeds can walk HELLA fast though. Most horses will fill the same spot/hole where their front hoof was with their back hoof on the same side. If they overstep they clip their fetlock (joint lookin bit above the hoof) or pastern (bit between the hoof and fetlock) and can injure themselves. 

Now trotting. The middle gait, a person can jog next to a trot at a comfortable pace but if you push them a little horses can trot faster than your average HS track endurance athlete. Once again some breeds can trot HELLA fast. This is a two beat gait in that two diagonally opposite legs are moving in unison. In some english saddles (I’ll get into that later if we have class time) it’s easier to post while the horse is trotting rather than sit for the gait. That just means you stand up in the irons (stirrups on an english saddle, we’ll also cover that later) at the same time that one of the front legs moves forward. 

Also, see how the trotting horse’s head looks? That’s how they travel when they’re relaxed and attentive. The tucked head thing you see Roach doing is because there’s tension on the reigns and Henry learned to ride for an english seat not a western pleasure seat (might get into those but they’re really not important)

Time for the Canter/Lope. This is a three beat gait so that means two legs are moving in unison and the other two are not. Horses canter/lope fast. This is the go-time gait. Some performance/dressage horses are trained to canter extremely slow but if we’re talking transportation trained horses they’re not gonna be that kind of slow. Your average human is not gonna be able to keep up with this for long if at all. This varies in speed too. There's a rather casual canter seen in the gif directly below, then below that is the balls to the wall canter/lope that most horse people just refer to as a run. That’s as fast as they can go.

Basic tack names

Halter + Lead/Lead Rope - these can be made of rope, leather, nylon (more modern) but the halter is generally used for leading and tying.

Bridle - this is the one that you use while you ride, it holds the bit in their mouth. There’s millions of different types of bridles but they’re usually made out of leather even now. sometimes you get rope/nylon ones but I don’t trust them.

Reins - connect to the bit and you use them to steer and control speed. Horses trained in western or one handed riding will ‘neck rein’ which means if you move your hand to the right and the left rein brushes their neck they will move to the right.

Bit - the metal piece in the horses mouth. most english riding bits are broken (joint in the middle) and most western ones are solid. there’s a gap behind the horse’s front teeth and that’s where the metal sits. Some horses have smaller mouths than others and do better with solid bits because the ‘broken’ ones will hit the top of their mouth and hurt. There’s also things called ‘shanks’ on some bits which are just longer pieces of metal that attach to the sides of the pieces in their mouth and point downward. This gives the rider more leverage and makes any tug on the reins stronger. (google “Horse bit shank” if this doesn’t make sense)

Saddle - you sit in it. simple right? wrong. There’s two main types of saddles, Western - with the horn like you see in the running gif, and English- the loping gif without the horn. The saddles used in the Witcher look like the pre-english saddle versions but the basic parts you need to know are the same. The part where you ass goes? that’s the seat. the part right in front of your crotch? That’s the pomel. that’s your ‘oh shit handle’ if anything goes screwy (other than the mane). The part that sticks up and keeps your ass in place? That’s the cantle. I like western saddles SO MUCH MORE but i also grew up mainly riding western so im biased. 

Stirrups/Irons - stirrups and irons are where your feet go. In western saddles they’re called stirrups and they’ve got wider decorative leather flaps (called fenders, also originally added to protect trousers/legs from the horse sweat and the buckles of the cinch) and on english saddles they’re called irons because they are usually made of iron and rather slim. Geralt’s irons look pretty similar to modern ones, slim leather straps, minimal iron (or steel or any other strong metal really). Traditional english riders have knee high boots like you see in regency costumes which removes the need for the fenders like on western saddles. 

Cinch/girth - this is what keeps the saddles on. You take a strap and attach it to one side of the saddle, run it under the belly right behind their front legs and attach it to the other side. Its usually made of a strong fabric with wool or some kind of softer lining for western riding. English riding uses a leather one most of the time though this horse girl hates them because they’re harder to cinch up. English saddles use buckles while Western saddles use another leather strap to run through the chinch/girth buckle and you either tie it off or use it like a belt. 

Chest strap - this keeps the saddle from sliding backwards. It’s attached to both sides of the saddle by buckles and between the front legs its attached to the cinch/girth. this is pretty universal but not always used. Geralt uses one though. 

Saddle pad - goes under the saddle to protect the baby’s back and whithers (spot where the neck meets the back and the mane ends)

Tacking up and untacking takes time. This is usually 5-10 minutes when done at a leisure pace and done right.

Basic grooming

Brush down before tacking up - you don’t want stuff chaffing the pony while you ride

brush after untacking- helps clear skin of irritants and feels nice

Shedding scraper/curry comb to get rid of shedding hair - if you want a pic of these just google them I think I’m close to the pic limit for my post. 

HOOF PICK - keep the baby's feet clean and clear if rocks so they don't bruise but also so nothing get infected

Yes, plz brush their mane it gets MATTED - a hairbrush works but a wide tooth comb is best

Horses roll to itch their backs and clean off, sounds counterintuitive with the dirt but it works

Shaving a little spot for the bridle to sit is pretty modern but it's easier for everyone involved

Horse Colors- guys roach is not brown she’s a chestnut color

The only thing I have to add to this is that the “Leopard” one is called “appaloosa” in the US at least, and “Pinto” is also reffered to as “Paint” and there’s all sorts of different patterns that you can see. also i want a buckskin so bad. yes i was obsessed with Spirit as a child why do you ask?

Travel care of your babies

Horses CAN and have subsisted off roadside grasses and grazing at night BUT it's good for them to get a lil something extra ESPECIALLY if you’re keeping them in a stall at night where they can’t graze.

Hay and grains like cracked wheat, oats, barley and the like are commonly found in horse feed. Also a lil drizzle of molasses is chock full of calories and all my horses LOVE the taste.

also while we’re talking food: some horses cant keep all the juice/bits in their mouth when they eat apples (we fondly call it making applesauce) or other treats/veg. Yes it gets all over your hand, yeah its kinda gross, but there’s worse things.

Shoes. Babe's need horse shoes. Especially if they're walking over rocks and roads.

Throwing a shoe (when it comes off on accident) is painful sometimes and if left un-dealt with can affect their joints and spine. Imagine walking around in one heeled shoe and one athletic shoe all day. Ow.

On that note though, on lighter travel seasons it's nice to give their hooves a break from shoes (also cheaper)

Horse moods:

horse mood ear chart here: I cant add much tbh

If a horse is comfortable/happy/relaxed they will ‘chew’ on nothing. Just kina a little lip smack type deal. My horse’s bottom lip would hang a couple centimeters below his top one when he was relaxed and I would put my chapstick in it while I fussed with other things.

When a horse is uncomfrotable/scared/tense their lips get sealed tight. I call it ‘fish butt lips’ bc they’re watertight and NOTHING is getting in there. 

Stamping hooves can be a few things. Antsy and ready to roll, nervous, deadass scared, or playful/excited. 

A full whinny is communication - saying hi, warning, scared, etc.

the really soft whinny is called a nicker and its my favorite sound okay? that’s little soft communication and its usually reserved for times when they’re comfortable.

When they’re really relaxed they’ll cock one of their back legs kinda how we shift our weight to one hip. 

general fun facts:

Some horses fake limp when they don’t want to work bc they are lazy and smart and realize their person will get off and check them out and maybe even give them a rest. 

You do a preliminary leg injury test by running your hands slowly over their legs and checking for hot spots - inflammation caused by injury is warm

Basic horse saftey is never stand directly in front of the horse if theres a possibility of spooking, if you’re gonna walk behind them walk out of reach of their hooves or right up against that ass. If they cant get a good wind up it wont do as much damage (on that note though I rode/trained horses for 18 years and was only kicked once by a foal). 

It’s kinda common sense not to walk/sidestep between your horses legs and under their belly but we do it all the time bc its a trust thing? adrenaline? its fun?

laying on your horse’s back sans saddle, and facing their butt is so nice okay, that ass is soft and cushy and perfect for a nap. I miss laying on my horses while they ate like this every damn day. 

Horses can sense your moods. Not unlike the whole ‘witchers smelling you’ thing. They can feel a difference in the tension on the reins and in your posture when you’re tense or relaxed.

Some horses will take care of their riders, some are absolute shits and push the limits for funsies. Some horses will only behave for people they’re used to too. Some horses have trauma from being mistreated and will have triggers kinda like people do. We had a horse who would freak the fuck out if anyone walked around with a red had but as soon as you took it off she was the most level headed horse we had.

A good portion of horses (Who aren’t scared of children) will behave better with kiddos or novice riders because they feel they’re nervous.

If they hurt while they’re moving they usually limp but sometimes they’ll buck. It’s their defense mechanism. 

Horses can’t sleep for too long laying down because their body weight will collapse their lungs. Most horses sleep standing up.

They can sit like a dog and it’s hella cute. 

Stung by bees? Most horses will take off at a dead sprint bucking and hopping unless you’ve done a lot of trust work/training with them

They also run and jump and buck and rear to play.

If theres two horses in a pasture together one will chew at the other’s whithers (or anywhere else) to ask them to scratch them the same way. its very cute and they sometimes try this with people.

horses hug. I cry. 

the whole deal with the rider/horse relationship is it’s a mutual trust you’re building. They let you sit on their back and do weird shit and you trust them not to throw you.  

Thank you for coming to class today! If there’s any questions feel free to message me! I’m not kidding I wanna answer your questions and I miss my horses so this is fun for me.

@elliestormfound​ here it is boo! lol 

[princesssarisa]

How "Cinderella" (2015) Could Have Been Better

1. Add just a few lines to make Ella seem less passive early on.

Yes, I know, it's victim-blaming to accuse Cinderella of being too passive when she's being abused. But it might have been nice to see her make a tiny bit more of an effort to stand up for herself and to show how truly trapped she is by Lady Tremaine. For this reason, I would slightly rewrite the scene at the breakfast table where the stepfamily ban her from eating with them and first call her "Cinderella."

Either at the beginning of the scene or in another, earlier scene, I'd show Ella giving a few coins or some bread to a family of beggars outside. This would foreshadow her later kindness to the Fairy Godmother in her beggar disguise, but more importantly, it would set up a slightly different breakfast exchange. After Lady Tremaine dismisses her from the table, I would have had Ella finally show a little anger and say "You can't do this! It's not right!" only for Lady Tremaine to say something like "Would you prefer to have no food today at all? Or would you prefer to sleep in neither the cinders nor the attic, but by the side of the road with your friends?" She would point to the window, Ella would glance outside, and in the distance down the road she would see the beggars she helped earlier, pleading for alms from a passing wealthy rider only to be cruelly rebuffed. Maybe the stepsisters would add a remark too, e.g. "You'd fit right in! You're just as filthy as they are!" Only then, realizing that her only two choices are servitude or homelessness, would Ella withdraw in despair.

This change would also add meaning to her later remark "It's not so bad. Others have it worse" when she first meets Prince Kit and tells him the little she does about her home life. A vivid visual reminder beforehand that others do indeed have it worse would make that line feel less like abuse apoligism.

2. Don't imply that Ella stays with her stepfamily entirely by choice.

Adding to the above, I would rewrite Ella's conversation with the girl in the marketplace, so as not to claim that only her love for the house and the memories of her parents within it keeps her from leaving. That passage of dialogue is probably the most disliked among this movie's critics and I agree that it's flawed. When the girl asks Ella why she stays, I'd have her reply "Where would I go if I ran away? How would I survive? I have no family still living and no money of my own." Then she would go on to say "Besides, I promised my mother and father..." The rewritten dialogue would imply that caring for the house for her parents' sake isn't the reason why she puts up with her stepfamily's abuse, but her way of coping with it, since she always copes with hardship by trying to find the good in everything.

3. Make the destruction of her mother's dress more dramatic.

Now of course in live-action it would be over the top to have the stepfamily rip the dress to nothing but tatters the way they do in the animated version. But just having them rip off a few pieces here and there is underwhelming. Let them do more damage, leaving the dress looking truly pathetic and making it clear that it would take hours for Cinderella to mend! Take some inspiration from the new Sony version and have them throw ink or some other staining liquid on it, while insulting its "garish" pink color! Anything to recapture the trauma of the original animated scene.

4. Make more of the visiting princesses at the ball European.

I like the fact that the cast isn't entirely white. But did Disney not see the unfortunate implications of having most of the princesses at the ball be women of color with exotic names and dressed in exotic garb, only to have the Prince reject them all in favor of a white, blonde British girl? The fact that the princesses aren't portrayed negatively the way they are in some other adaptations, and that Princess Chelina even looks at Ella with admiration instead of jealousy, does slightly help matters, but only slightly. I'd say to reduce the number of "exotic" princesses by half, and have the other half be French, German, Scandinavian, Eastern European, etc. It would mean a whiter cast, but it would also reduce the sense of a white, blonde British girl being elevated above women of color.

This is one of Disney's better live action remakes, but these four changes would bring it closer to perfection.

[siriusheadspace]

illicit affairs - sirius black x reader

Warnings: angst, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!!)

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: You and Sirius start seeing each other in secret around Hogwarts since his best friend Remus has a crush on you, but is too shy to act on it. Inspired by "Illicit Affairs", by Taylor Swift.

A/N: God, all of a sudden I developed this hyper fixation with Sirius. I got a bunch of ideas for stories with him (and all of them inspired by songs lol) but this was the one that felt more structured. I haven't written in a while and English is not my first language so be kind lol

Words: 2k ish

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Make sure nobody sees you leave Hood over your head Keep your eyes down

You could swear the entire Hogwarts castle heard your hitched breath while you tried to make your way to the Gryffindor tower as silently as possible. Sirius was the one to leave first this time, heading for his dormitory while you had to count to 300 - you forgot your watch this time. You were sure it was his time to wait, but you didn't contradict him after he zipped his pants, gave you one last rough kiss, and said "Later, then?".

Tell your friends you're out for a run You'll be flushed when you return

It took some time to develop this relationship to the point where you didn't have to talk and check each other's stories to avoid being caught. You knew your friends and roommates didn't believe you were risking getting caught and losing house points just for a night walk around the castle, but they gave up on you telling them who you were seeing.

Take the road less traveled by Tell yourself you can always stop

It started last year, in your sixth year in Hogwarts. You always had a crush on Sirius, but that's not uncommon - nearly every girl on your year couldn't help falling for his long, silky hair, his gray eyes, his long, yet toned body, and, of course, his devil may care attitude. But he never really paid attention to you, just some light flirting in a party at the Gryffindor common room one time; you were pretty sure he didn't know your name. But it changed last year. You can't quite point to when, exactly, you noticed the Marauders would go quiet once you walked by. But it got to the point where you would always notice. You'd pass by them on purpose, flattered by the attention Black was finally giving you. But you didn't notice that it was his friend, Remus, that gave you the most passionate looks.

What started in beautiful rooms Ends with meetings in parking lots

At a party right after a Quiddich match, you decided you would do something about it and give Sirius the chance to make a move. You took hours getting ready, borrowed a dress from a friend, the cleavage more revealing than anything else you ever wore, the fire whiskey burning your throat and your shyness. Once you came down the stairs, you could feel the glances at you, running up and down your body, another rush to add to the whiskey and to boost your confidence. Your friend group was close to the Marauders and you thanked the gods for it. You were all dancing together, and Remus excused himself after a few songs - you later figured he might be trying to get confident enough to make a move - once Sirius perfume got to you. Sandalwood, something citric and tobacco, all mixed to intoxicate you. You started dancing closer to him, and, in a spike of lust, grabbed his hand and went to an empty room. He looked confused but didn't complain when you pushed him against the wall and kissed him fervently. You felt his smirk, his excitement, once he pushed you back against a table and pulled your legs around him so he could lift you and sit you on it. He only stopped to catch his breath once you were panting and pulling his lower lip between your teeth. You felt like a goddess when his long fingers explored your body, lingering on your exposed curves. You unbuttoned his shirt while he unzipped your dress, and, without giving it a second thought, with a spark of pain between all the pleasure, you had your first time with the infamous Sirius Black.

And that's the thing about illicit affairs And clandestine meetings And longing stares

When you were finished, the combination of soreness and embarrassment started to make your chest heavy - the first time of many. Sirius was a gentleman, though, helping you fix yourself enough so it wasn’t obvious that you were doing what you just did, not commenting on the blood, or when your nails pressed against the skin of his shoulders out of pain. You felt his stares during the next few weeks, trying to find a way of talking to him and meet him again, maybe on a date, something more romantic than snogging on dark, empty classrooms. One night, you were reading in the common room and noticed him alone, leaning against the wall, close to the portrait of the Fat Lady. Once he felt your eyes on him, he left the room, and you felt a rush, getting up, counting to ten, and following him to another empty classroom, where he quickly took your book off your hands and moved them to his neck.

It's born from just one single glance But it dies, and it dies, and it dies A million little times

You were anxious to repeat his steps, standing against the wall, waiting for him to look at you. But he sure followed you to yet another empty room. That time, you actually had a conversation after you were done, but it was far from the romantic invitation for a date at Madame Puddifoot. "You need to be less obvious", he said, buttoning up his shirt. "I just did what you've done last time", you said, pulling your skirt up, feeling the warmness between your legs, the humiliation of being scolded like a kid by the person responsible for it. "But if it's going to happen that often", he smirked, "we have to figure out a way to do it in a way that people don't have to pay the tiniest amount of attention to find out, baby", he completed, and started scheming. You agreed to his plan: whenever any of you wanted to see the other, you'd send a note with a smiley face, something that wouldn't be revealing and wouldn't mean anything to anyone but the two of you, and you'd meet at three in the morning at the come and go room. "It's safe. And it has an appropriate name, don't you think?", he laughed, and you shot him a weak smile. He walked to the door but before he opened it, you put your hand on his arm. "Sirius", you said, and he noticed that he liked the way his name sounded on your lips when you were composed as well, and scolded himself for the flutter in his chest caused by it, "Are you doing something this weekend? I thought we could go to Madame Pu..." "We shouldn't be seen in public, doll", he said, trying to give you one of his smirks, but you noticed how his eyes still looked sad. It didn't matter, though - the weight of rejection pulled you down and you had to use all of your energy not to break down crying while going back to your room. Sirius went first. Once you were about to go up the stairs that would lead to your room, you heard his laughter with his friends coming from the other staircase. Unbothered by your encounter.

Leave the perfume on the shelf That you picked out just for him So you leave no trace behind Like you don't even exist

You've dealt with by rationalizing it in many different ways. You thought that the next time you got a piece of parchment with a smiley face, you'd just ignore him, happy to imagine him alone and pathetic, waiting for you. But you never had the strength to do it. You'd always fix your hair and some makeup and went straight back to his arms.

Take the words for what they are A dwindling, mercurial high A drug that only worked The first few hundred times

"Why does it have to be like this?", you asked, feeling brave, six months after your first encounter. "Y/N", he said - you felt a shiver up your spine like you always did when you heard your name in his voice - "I'm a bad friend. And I'm trying to avoid coming to terms with that", he completed with a sad smile on his face. Once he noticed your confusion, he explained how he started noticing you after Remus admitted to having a crush on you, but never had the guts to tell you. That Remus made him notice things about you he wasn't paying attention before - how your lips would pout when you were concentrating during Charms, how your soft curves were visible under the heavy wool of the sweaters you liked to wear - but it was you, in a burst of attitude, pushing him against a wall that made him give up on being a good friend for Remus on what concerned you.

And that's the thing about illicit affairs And clandestine meetings And stolen stares They show their truth one single time But they lie, and they lie, and they lie A billion little times

You accepted your status as a shameful secret. Remus still gave you fond looks and eventually had the courage to get close to you, trying to help with your DADA homework, complimenting haircuts, holding doors open to you. And you thanked him with your heart full of guilt, Sirius' stare burning on your back. After one of your encounters, Sirius brushed his fingers against your cheek and pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. You were still shocked at the demonstration of affection when he left the room first, and you started counting to 300 again. 151… Is he falling for you? 208… It can't be. It has to be just physical. Why would he fall for you and still keep you as a secret? 299… It clicked. He could fall for you a million times, it would never be as important as his friendship with Remus. And you loved him a bit more because of that. 300.

And you wanna scream Don't call me kid Don't call me baby Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else

You tried seeing other guys. You went on dates, and you blushed at their compliments, but none of them had a fraction of the effect of Sirius had on you. You still hoped he noticed when one of them would hold your hand on the way to Hogsmeade. You could only hope it hurt him as much as it hurt you to see him flirt with other girls. To listen to his voice calling them "baby".

Don't call me kid Don't call me baby Look at this idiotic fool that you made me You taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else

One night, you were whispering his name with him already inside you, your shirt undone, your bra unclasped, your skirt pulled up, when the door opened. The pain in Remus’s eyes as he understood what was happening in front of him was something you knew you would never forget. Sirius left you there, dressing himself quickly while apologizing profusely to his friend. You turned around and tried to fix yourself, and they left without even looking back at you.

And you know damn well For you I would ruin myself A million little times

None of them ever spoke with you again. It was as if you were taboo. Even James and Peter wouldn't pay attention to you once you spoke in class or told a funny joke to your friend in the common room. You figured it was fair. They had to do what's best for their friendship. And if pretending you didn't exist was the price to pay for that, they'd all pay it. When you saw them all laughing together, joyful, you knew you'd do the same.

But, sometimes, you could swear you felt Sirius’ gaze against you. And you knew that was as close as he'd get to ever touching you again.

[flying-nightwing]

Throne of Blood (3/3)

Hello there! Last part of Throne of Blood, I hope you appreciated this little serie! I loved t write it tbh, it was a nice change from the usual DC stuff I write. If you want a bonus chapter, let me know! I thought about doing either a prequel for when they invaded the castle, or some headcanons if y’all have some.

Ps: I realised I kinda made Bruce to be the bad guy here, oops. Sorry about that, but to my defence, family drama was something I built toward from the beginning 😅 Full disclosure, I have nothing against Bruce and Damian pls don’t come at me

Masterlist in bio / pinned!

Pairing: King!Jason x reader x Roy

Word count: 4414

Warnings: same as the last parts (cautious nsfw) + family drama lmao

"--and the might of the casc… cascade could never compare to the ce… cerul… cerulean of her eyes. She was his hope, the only thing he cherished, none of his posse...ssions could ever be worth as much as a minute with her"

You paused to breathe as you reached a paragraph break. You could feel Roy's relaxed stare on you, a small smile ever present on his lips. His hand was absentmindedly rubbing your knees that were lying over his thigh, while his other arm was snugly wrapped around your waist. The quiet crackling of the fireplace indicated the need to add a log, but neither of you wanted to move from your nestled position. Eventually one would have to, though, before the room grew cold. 

"I like it when you read to me" Roy hummed, almost like he hadn't meant to say it out loud. But if you knew one thing about him, it's that he carried very little shame when it came to love. He would never intend to hide his thoughts when they came, and you admired that about him. Still, you couldn't help but look down in embarrassment. 

Him and Jason had taught you to read some months after you joined them, when he passed you a map to find a town's name and you had to tell him you couldn't. Ever since, you worked often on your reading skills, leafing through whatever seemed interesting from Jason's library. But you weren't a natural, far from it. 

"I can't even pronounce all the words correctly" You mumbled. "It must be hard to follow sometimes"

He gently pushed your chin up so he could look into your eyes again. It didn't matter for one second for him that you didn't have the diction of an erudit or the flow of a poet. All he wanted was to hear your voice and watch your eyebrows knit in concentration when you butted on a difficult word. He liked the little things so much better than the finished product.

"I think it sounds perfect"

The corner of your lips rose slightly at his praise as your heart skipped a few beats. Even after all the time you spent together, he always managed to find the right word to make you love him even more, if it was possible. His constant and unconditional support was your crutch, the thing you could rely on no matter what happened, the safe space in which you would never feel judged for what you couldn't do. 

"You know" He began again when he noticed you had trouble believing what he said. You wanted to believe him, but deep inside he knew it was harder for you, and he understood all too well the feeling of not being enough. "I couldn't read either before I was taken in by my warden"

You tilted your head to the side, frowning slightly. You had never known. 

"Took me years to get average at it. And you should have seen my writing-- Hell, you should see it now, it's catastrophic" 

You couldn't help but giggle along as he laughed. It was contagious.

"It's the same with Jason--No wait, the brat actually taught himself how to read somehow" He blinked slowly, like he was still surprised by it. You weren't really, you knew Jason was even smarter than you were aware of. Than anyone was aware of. "But his writing was terrible until he got a proper tutor, that I know of for a fact"

"But his writing is so…" You trailed off, trying to find the right word. "Exquisite"

"Now who's pulling out the big words, uh?"

"Shut up" You laughed, lightly hitting his chest with the book. “Don’t mock me”

“I’m not!” He argued, giving you wide, innocent eyes. He looked too cute for his own sake. “I swear I’m not. You’re just adorable when you get all flustered”

“We better start gearing up now” You evaded the subject, clearing your throat. “Jason will be expecting us--”

“Just one more chapter” He interrupted softly, caressing your waist. “Please?”

You held his stare for a moment before you were convinced, and you nodded, a sheepish smile on your face. You opened the book to the page you had marked and found the paragraph you had stopped to. 

“As he was sitting by the window, he couldn’t help but think about the ar-arrival of the spring, only a few weeks away if nature de...cided to be kind--”

“My Lord, my Lady” 

You paused your reading and looked up. This time, it was Roy who looked the most annoyed of the two of you. 

“It’s time”

You sighed and nodded, putting down the book on the table. Roy was clearly disappointed, but he helped you nevertheless get back on your feet, being careful not to pull on your bandages too much. You were healing well for your condition, you could now walk around and sit down without much help. Still, Roy and Jason didn’t like the idea of leaving you on your own for too long, just in case someone tried to come for you. You definitely couldn’t wield your axes just yet, so it made you an easy target even if you weren’t bed ridden anymore. 

You walked out of the chamber beside Roy, him following your slower pace without complaint. You reached the other end of the hallways and entered another room with chests and racks, where your equipment was kept. You began putting on your suit, the one you had made when you rode beside the Red Hood, well before he was king. It was all black with a red pointed arch on the chest that imitated Jason’s sigil, which was outlined with a single silver following your collarbone. It rose up the back of your neck and was reinforced to protect your vitals. 

“Could you help me pull it up, please?”

Roy nodded as he finished to lace his arm braces, stepping right behind you. He picked the stiff fabric and gently tugged it over your shoulder, brushing his fingers against your skin along the way. He was even more careful with your injured shoulder, making sure it wasn’t bent in any way to fit through the suit. He and Jason had advised against you wearing it, but you were stubborn and refused to show weakness in front of the enemy. Besides, it looked great on you. Roy then buttoned up the suit on your back and up your neck before giving you a kiss on the temple. 

“Close your eyes, I’ve got a little something for you” He whispered in your eyes, and despite your initial confusion, you did as you were told and shut your eyes. You felt something being passed over your head and gently rest on your shoulders, then straps being adjusted on your sides. “You can open the now”

You did as he said and looked down as he gently directed you to the mirror on your left. He had placed a beautiful piece of equipment that paired well with the colors of your suit, lightweight and practical, that covered your shoulders front and back. You usually went without, but it was appropriate considering another arrow in the back would do you no good right now. And since you most probably wouldn’t be using your axes anyway, you could do without your full shoulder movements range. 

“Where did you get this?” You asked as you trailed your finger on the skillfully crafted metal. There was no doubt it had been made for you by how it fit with both your body and suit. It must have cost a fortune.

“The blacksmith in town, the one living near the gates of the castle” He began. “His son was killed by the guild of thieves that lived uptown, the ones we wiped off right after the undertaking. He wanted to thank us somehow, and when he learned about what happened to you, he made this as a present”

“It’s… Very beautiful” You breathed out. “I’ll have to thank him later on. This must have taken so much time to make”

“But you deserve it” He said as he placed a light kiss on your jaw. “You deserve the best. And the best suits you”

“Thank you” You nodded, taking his hand. The leather of his archery glove was rough against your skin, but it had also become a comfort born from the endless days you spent training and hunting on the road. It was tied to some of your best memories with him, and it still amazed you how a simple touch could bring it all back vividly like that. “Come on, Jason must be waiting for us”

You went down to the court, where Jason was talking with the commander and some generals. Upon hearing your footsteps, he perked up and turned around, taking you specifically in. He smiled and nodded, heading for the three black steeds, groomed and in full armor, in the hands of the stable hands. You followed him and grabbed the reins of your mount, carefully climbing on its back and sitting in the saddle.

“Are we ready?” Jason asked.

“Of course” Roy replied first, then both of their eyes set on you.

“Let’s do this” You nodded firmly.

With a kick of your heels, you took off the court and onto the bridge, in the direction of the Wayne Kingdom.

---

“Soooooo…” Roy trailed off. “Do you think he stood us up or..?”

You looked away from the horizon and to Roy, who was slouched over the pommel of the saddle while his horse was trying to dig for grass through the snow. “Maybe he’s trying to ambush us”

“I don’t think so” Jason mumbled, his eyes still set northwest. His back was straight with a hand resting on his hips, the other holding the reins tight. His horse was attentive, chewing on its bit in anticipation. “It wouldn’t be like him, not while we’re on this hill anyway” 

You nodded as your fingers flexed around the reins, a bit bored and definitely not impressed by the opposite party being late to their own meeting. There was barely any wind over the field, and the thick cover of the cloud didn’t let the sun rays through. Still, smoke came out of the horses’ nostrils with every breath they let out. 

“There they come”

You glanced forward again at Jason’s warning, seeing a small party of riders coming your way. They didn’t seem to be in a hurry, walking rather than trying to reach you at a trot. The closer they came, the better you could point out characteristics for each rider. The one at the front was wearing all black with a cape that fell over the pale gray horse he was riding. It was almost white, but the dark skin around its eyes and nose proved differently. The second rider was on a smaller chestnut horse, and was a child. You blinked a few times, but his youthful features were obvious. The two other riders some paces behind were an escort, soldiers with steel armors and banners from their kingdom. 

After a long waiting for them to actually be at hearing range, they finally stopped a few meters ahead and assessed your party. Jason was visibly tense, but his blue eyes gave nothing out on how he was feeling about seeing his father in front of him after all this time. They stared at each other for long minutes before the piercing glance of Bruce Wayne set on you. You clenched your jaw, not backing down, until his eyes finally left you. 

“Your… Friend seems to have healed quite well” The older king spoke first.

“Don’t act like you give a fuck” Jason sneered. “You were the one who made this coward attack on her happen in the first place”

“Watch your mouth, runt” The child on the side almost barked. “You’re speaking to a legitimate King, unlike you”

“And who the fuck might this goblin be?” Roy said before he could stop himself. While the child looked appalled, Roy was still very relaxed on his horse. He might have been the only one to be, even if you did want to laugh at the outburst.

“I am the blood son, the true heir to the throne” He replied with all his might, except it didn’t quite have the desired effect, since he was on a pony, for one. “You peasant will respect me, or--”

“Damian, please” Bruce interrupted firmly. “Now is not the time to settle this”

“But--”

“Why am I not surprised that you fathered a brat?” Jason leaned forward, feeling taunting for a moment. “Which one of your concubines had enough bad luck to get pregnant? Selina? Or was it Richard’s lover, whatever was her name? Or maybe Talia, oh memorable Talia--”

“Don’t speak of my mother that way” Damian pulled his sword out. 

“So Talia it is” He smirked. 

“We are here to negotiate peace, not fuel a war” Bruce replied sternly. “I can do much worse than an arrow in the shoulder of a loved one, you know it. So be careful what you’re advancing about my family”

“Then keep your son on a tighter leash” Jason said, his face returning to a serious expression. “I still haven’t made my mind about keeping peace, don’t give me reasons to leave this meeting before we can discuss it”

“I should be telling you this” He squinted his eyes slightly. “You have thrown over a stable ally of this kingdom and stole the crown, then taken prisoner the King of Blüdhaven without giving a follow up on his state. You are in no place to threaten a war, yet here you are”

Jason waited a few seconds, not letting his stare waver. Then, he sighed and whistled. The plains were silent, until the faint sound of hooves cantering on the crisp snow grew closer to your position. Soon enough, you were passed on your left by another rider, slowly walking around you and toward Bruce’s party. Dick had a neutral expression as he turned around, stopping at Bruce’s side.

“Here” Jason waved his hand dismissively. “Your golden son, unharmed albeit slightly vexed”

“You should still pay for a crime like this” Bruce said.

“It’s fine” Dick tried to appease the tensions. “I do not wish to further this conflict, I have done enough already as it is”

“Why didn’t you fight back, Richard?” Damian asked in a judging and accusatory tone. “This is a disgrace to our family, and a display of weakness--”

“I was trying to avoid a much worse escalation of this conflict by owning a diplomatic mistake I made in the first place” He bit back. “What would you even know of politics, spoiled child?”

Roy laughed, and the sound only seemed to anger Damian more. You were in the middle of a family conflict, and unlike him, you didn’t know this side of the family well. You didn’t really know how to act, so you observed what would go down rather than actively participate. 

“I find the ginger man’s insolence unwelcomed in this matter” Damian said, trying to wash down the humiliation his brother had just handed to him. “He’s got nothing to do with it, and he’s got no title. He shouldn’t even be speaking”

“He speaks because I say he can” Jason defended Roy in a heartbeat, his tone strong and authoritative. “As far as I’m concerned, I’ve got a crown and you don’t, which puts me above you in status and therefore my wishes outweigh yours”

Your eyebrow rose slowly as your eyes met Roy’s, who had an equally stunned expression. Jason had never used his status against anyone like that. It even seemed to take Damian by surprise, which was, with what you had learned about him in the last minutes, a hard feat to accomplish. If you were honest with yourself, while you loved Jason as a humble king, you were curious about the other side of him, even if he would show it in private.

“Your crown was stolen” Bruce reassessed. “The Kingdoms surrounding yours have decided this gesture would not stand. I wished a peaceful surrender from you, but it doesn’t seem like I will convince you to do so. You have three days to abdicate, until the next full moon, or your kingdom will be taken back by force”

“You think this is wise?” You finally spoke up on instinct, and all eyes turned to you, looking at you with surprise. You weren’t about to let those threats stand, especially not from Bruce. “Ever since King Jason came into power, he wiped out a guild that stole from families and murdered good people. Our kingdom is the safest for miles around, so much we get waves of new settlers even in winter. He lowered taxes on the population so much that most towns in the country have become flourishing trade posts in the span of a year, and instead taxed the nobility and cut on useless balls and dinners. Nobody starved last winter, and nobody is starving this one. Do you think the word didn’t get out to the other countries around? People are starting to want this for themselves too, and you think putting them through a devastating war will make things better? It will only make them resent you, those who didn’t already. We have people in every castle you know of who are ready to turn against you the second they get wind of aggression--”

“Bullshit” Damian called.

“Are you ready to take the risk?” You raised an eyebrow at him, before returning your glance to Bruce, who betrayed no emotion. “You will lose this war if you start it. You should consider your people before you send them to slaughter”

Silence fell over the hill for a moment.

“... What she said” Roy grinned, breaking the silence.

Bruce looked at Jason for a reaction, or most likely, some sort of opposition to what you had just said. Instead, he only readjusted his reins and straightened his back. “You heard right,” He said, not wavering. “You have three days, until the next moon, to annulate the warrants and back down. Think about your people, Bruce. Make the right decision”

With that mocking reprise of his father’s previous words, he turned his horse around and left him dumbfounded. With one last glance to their party, you followed Jason, trotting, then cantering away and back into your borders. Once you passed your soldiers’ road control, you slowed down to a walk.

“Huh” Roy exhaled as he leaned forward to glance at you over Jason’s horse between you two. “I didn’t know we had spies in other kingdoms”

“Now that I think about it,” Jason blinked a few times, his brows slightly furrowed. “Neither did I”

You shrugged. “Maybe we have them. That would be neat” 

You saw confusion, then astonishment flash in their eyes like their reactions were synchronized.

“Wait, did you just--”

“Did you fucking lie to Bruce in his face?” Roy cut off, almost yelling. Then, he laughed. “In his face?”

“By the time he realizes, no, if he even realizes I bluffed, we’ll have a solid plan to ward him off, no matter what he does” You explained. “We win”

“How did you manage to convince him?” Jason had an innocent incomprehension written all over his features, like a child in front of a magic trick. He was adorable. “You had me convinced”

“Oh, boys” You grinned. “You think women survive this long in the world without becoming excellent liars? How do you think I managed to infiltrate the staff for a week before we invaded the castle?”

“By… Um” Roy trailed off. “Cleaning well?”

You laughed. “People had questions, my dear. I had to build myself a credible life to feed them, so I wasn’t thrown out of the castle instantly. Lying to the enemy is a skill I learned to cultivate a long time ago”

“You’re awesome, you know that?” He sighed, a loopy smile on his face. Jason still had a starstruck expression on his face, his eyes sparkling with admiration.

“Wouldn’t hurt to hear it again, I must admit” You teased back, jutting your chin up. “But there is one thing that would be better… Last one in the bedroom owes the first one a shoulder massage”

You didn’t wait for them to register your words before kicking your horse to a gallop, no doubt closely followed by them.

---

The dancing light of the candles of the chandelier left a soft glow on your naked skin, moving around and spreading warmth as it crawled up and down your body. You were sitting upright as hands moved gently on your shoulders, careful to avoid the sensitive area of your still healing wound. In your laps was Jason’s head, your hands threading slowly in his black hair as his eyes were shut close. He wasn’t sleeping, his breathing made his chest rise too fast for him to be. But he was relaxed, his neck muscles were untensed on your legs and there were no harsh lines on his face. 

You looked behind you when Roy’s hand stopped massaging, pulling your hair to the side and kissing the back of your neck. 

“You really gotta get a faster horse” Your lips curved upwards. “You’re always losing these races”

“I think my horse’s speed is just fine” He whispered back. “Besides, you are both right where I want you to be”

Jason smirked. “Losing is always suddenly part of someone’s plan when they never win”

“Laugh all you want” He sighed, dramatically laying down on his side beside you, then leaning forward close to Jason’s ear. “We all know I end up winning anyway when you beg my name like a prayer, My King”

You could feel the shiver travel up his spine on your laps, as well as the sudden shift in the tension in his muscles. You played along and let your hand slightly pull his hair, which surprised a moan out of him. His eyes opened wide, the blue of his irises being quickly consummated by the black of his pupils. Then, his glance set on Roy, something hard to read beside the promising spark in it.

“Are you sure you’re ready for a, what, fourth go at it today?” He raised an eyebrow as his hand brushed his cheek. “I didn’t think you jaw recovered from earlier”

You laughed airily as Roy grinned mischievously. “Maybe you can take that voice when you put that brat child in its place” You suggested as you trailed up your hand up Jason’s bare chest. “I’m sure he would be happy to get back on his knees if you did”

Roy groaned at the suggestion, already imagining the whole scene behind his fluttering eyelids. However, Jason didn’t quite follow up on his reaction. “Don’t tempt me with…” He trailed off, then noticed the mood change. “Hey, is there something wrong?”

Jason blinked, then shook his head and gave a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. “I’m fine” He muttered, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on Roy’s lips. 

“No, something’s bothering you” He insisted gently. “What is it, Jay?”

Jason sighed, shaking his head. “It’s nothing” He replied, looking up to the ceiling. “Don’t worry about it”

“It’s clearly not nothing” You said as your hands threaded softly in his hair. “What’s eating at you?”

A silence followed your words. It was like Jason was searching for the right words, like he wanted to say it so bad but something else was holding him back. You were patient, however, and you didn’t mind that he took his time to tell you. You knew he would talk when he’s ready.

“It’s what Bruce said” Roy beat him to it, speaking barely over a whisper. “Isn’t it?”

You looked in between the two men, noticing how Jason did not deny Roy’s words. It was like they were having a silent conversation for a few seconds, before Roy put a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“It’s how he didn’t see him as part of his family anymore” Roy spoke up, addressing you this time. “How Bruce didn’t seem to have any regret about replacing him in any way possible”

“Even after all this time” Jason gulped. “He won’t even stop reminding me he didn't care”

“Oh, my love” You reached for his hand and grabbed it, intertwining your fingers with his and giving it a squeeze. “He doesn’t deserve you beating yourself up about him like that. You’re worth so much more than anything he could even give you”

“She’s right,” Roy nodded. “We’re your family now, not him. Not him ever again. And I promise you we’ll never betray you that way, we’ll never set you aside. You’re our lover, you’re our King, you’re the most important person for us, and we would do anything for you”

You could see the crystal gleam of tears pooling in his eyes before he blinked them away, resisting the urge to break down. Jason had not often known true affection until he met Roy, then you. He felt like he didn’t deserve either of you, and sometimes he wondered why exactly you decided everyday to stay by his side. But you did stay, you did support him and guided him when he needed it. He wouldn’t have been anywhere near where he was right now without you. 

“You’re both so good to me” He whispered, adoration clear in his voice as he glanced at you, then Roy. “What would I do without you?”

“You’d be wonderful either way” You smiled as you slipped beside him, careful not to pull on your bandages. Soon enough, Roy joined him on the other side, snuggling into him. “You’d miss on major cuddling, however”

His chest rose in a silent chuckle as he pulled you and Roy just a little bit closer. “Give yourselves more credit, I’d crash and burn without you both by my side”

“Let’s not bother with what ifs, yeah?” Roy replied, his lips curved upward as he kissed his shoulder. “It only matters that you’re here with us today, and that you are a damn good King. The rest doesn’t matter”

“The rest doesn’t matter” Jason repeated in a mutter, nodding lightly. “Only you. Only us” 

[haliyam]

Asset

zeke x reader/oc, slight levi x reader/oc

summary: Levi slips into the Liberio internment zone during the festival and finds himself distracted. (Season 4 and manga spoilers ahead)

Reader does have a background that’s hinted at, default name Lucy, but if you have the InteractiveFics browser extension, please feel free to use it to change your first name! This is actually part of a series I'm hoping to write (brain willing lol), but this can stand alone too.

AO3 link if you prefer to read there

hello! i haven’t been on tumblr in a while but stumbling back into aot made me need to write something, and everyone’s fics and gifs here are amazing! 

--

Jean looks around, tilting the brim of his hat forward just before they cover his eyes. “You sure about this, Captain?”

“Nothing wrong with making sure they haven’t caught on,” Levi nods, adjusting the lapel of his jacket. “Or that that bastard hasn’t changed his mind and informed on us to his superiors.”

Jean’s eyes flicker to his at the very thought. He spots a familiar hesitation in them, but it’s quickly fettered away with a nod. When Levi is sure he has nothing more to say, he returns it, and Jean departs for the crowd with a casual swagger that belies his doubt.

Levi hasn’t asked them their opinions on this operation. Of course, they’ve all offered it anyway—but Hange has decided, and he trusts their decision. On that point, the Scouts had all agreed. 

Today the internment zone gates are open to all visitors, Eldian or not. Triangular streamers of all colors canopy the streets, and flutes and drums and instruments he’s never heard sound out in joyous cacophony in the near distance, tempting curious ears from beyond the gates. The festival is definitely a trap—but admittedly, a beautiful one. He’s never seen this much cheer since Historia’s ascension, or maybe since they retook Wall Maria. Back then he hadn’t exactly participated, much less left his quarters until it was later and Hange insisted he show himself… but this celebration is in full swing. Between Jean, Connie, and Sasha, Jean was the best choice to bring along. He’s the most likely to stay on track.

...Which is why it shames Levi when he’s caught off guard staring into a stall filled with all kinds of … food, he can only guess. Onyankopon introduced them to new desserts, but this is different. Bright and vivid, the tangy scent of them fills the air, but they’re not lollipops or candy or chocolate. He was supposed to turn the corner into an alley  right before this one when he spotted it, and now…

“Here.”

A packet of one of the strange desserts is shoved into his face so quickly that he almost darts back. He reins it in at the last minute, only fixing a glare upon whoever dared invade his personal space like that, much less present themselves as a threat.

You.

A young woman in a simple dress, hand clasped around a packet of mouth-watering orange-yellow strips of the stuff. 

“Here,” you smile politely, apparently unfazed by the suspicion he levels at you.

“What is that?”

“Dried mangoes,” you reply, taking a step or two closer to let your arm relax. “You were looking at them, right? They come chocolate-covered, too, but I say try these before the other variants.”

He doesn’t answer. The people manning the stalls beneath the vivid tents in the festival have all been  overly  friendly, but that’s par for the course, and they know to turn to their next prospective customer when he quickly walks past. Damn his own eyes. They almost make him regret his rule not to accept anything from anyone unvetted.  “No thanks.”

Now you give him a different look. A curious one, which makes him almost curse under his breath. He’s supposed to blend in; not draw attention to himself. Levi turns away, heading down the road again and meaning to turn for the alley once he’s shaken you, but you’re already walking next to him.

“Have we met?” you ask, still looking at him.

“No.” He thinks he would remember if you had. And this isn’t good. Now you’ll try to commit his face to memory.

But you look away instead as you bar his way once more—down, to be specific, so you can fish a small piece of the dessert from the packet and take a bite. “Not poisoned,” you promise, clearly biting back a grin while you pause to chew. Infuriatingly, you begin to mirror his squint. “You aren’t from around here, are you?”

He stares at you, and is still deciding between bewilderment or irritation when you continue, “It’s not a bad thing. I’m glad that you decided to drop by.”

“What?”

At least the look he gives you makes you recoil just a little now. That’s more what Levi is accustomed to. But it doesn’t stop you from talking. “You’re not from the zone,” you answer, motioning to his bandless left arm. “Not many outsiders want to come, in spite of the festival… so thank you for giving it a chance.”

You extend your arm again, your hand and the packet almost touching his chest in this renewed offer. 

He really shouldn’t be doing this. He should be pointing you toward a distraction and leaving, or otherwise putting you off to the extent that you voluntarily leave him alone yourself. But the hope in your gaze is too tender to spoil, reminds him of too many in the past who deserved more than him to be here now—or it’s the festival getting to him. 

With a sigh, Levi takes a strip of dried mango from the packet and watches your lips curve upward into a bright smile. He shakes his head, barely just stopping from rolling his eyes as he thinks about how you probably picked a dessert far too sweet for his tastes—but he’s in for another shock when he takes a bite and finds it sour instead. Well, sweet in parts and sour in others. It’s different, but he doesn’t dislike it at all.

It must show on his face as he chews, which is terrible, because you take it as an invitation to speak again. “They’re from the southeastern archipelago. Eldia never conquered much of that continent—and thank goodness for that,” you seem to add quickly for good measure, “but it did pick up a few of their delicacies. It’s common Eldian fare whenever they’re in season.”

“I see,” he says, just to be forgettable. “Thank you.” It’s likely that being rude will make someone like you remember him more, and that isn’t his goal here today. As he swallows the strip (it was too small), Levi almost doesn’t notice you nudging him forward toward the next stall. But he does, and he gives you a look. “What do you think you’re doing?”

You grin sheepishly, knowing you’ve been caught. “I never meet non-Eldians within the zone. Especially none like you. I'm going to tour you around the stalls a little - I know the scents might be confusing, and the armbands are… well. But there are good, honest people here.”

“That so?” the remark is aimed toward you, because his suspicions remain, but he realizes his mistake when your eyes look even more earnest than before.

“There are. And good food, as you can tell,” you say proudly. You offer him the packet again. “Let me show you.”

He should really get going. He and Jean mean to rendezvous in an hour, and he still hasn’t left the festival grounds. 

But the look in your eyes tells him you’re going to be very annoying if he refuses. Or maybe that’s what he tells himself when he lets you.

This is how Levi finds himself guided around the festival that afternoon, getting all sorts of history lessons on food (and tea) as he tries them - but only bites, and very reluctantly of course, because he doesn’t care to get too full before tonight, when his stomach has already begun to turn. It’s that he knows he has no right to enjoy himself with the novelty of this event, with the optimism in your quiet laughter when he balks at the spicy undercurrent in the skewer of meat you have the audacity to stick into his hand. Not when he knows what’s going to happen tonight. Not when he doesn’t even know your name.

You tell him, finally, when you take a break by a quiet corner in the festival. Over here they’re selling older Eldian art pieces, some painted and others carved figurines, and the scent of lacquered wood faintly invades his senses. He gets a brief respite only when you lean closer to him to let a passing merchant through. Lilies. “I’m Lucy. I thought you should know the name of your tour guide.”

The name sounds familiar. It’s probably a common one he heard during their last visit. 

You’re holding your hand out to him, expectation now in your gaze. He’s clearly spoiled you.

Levi stares at your hand. He doesn’t care to shake it, but again—better to be forgettable. He wracks his mind for a name.

“Kenny.”

Kenny? Levi inwardly sighs.

“It’s nice to meet you, Kenny.” You exchange a good, solid handshake, but you are quick to pull away immediately after. Why? Has he been compromised?

He hopes not, as you give him a reassuring smile and look ahead. At the far, far end of the next avenue is the plaza where the crowds will settle tonight, but you can’t see it from here. “Are you here for Willy’s play tonight?”

“Isn’t everyone?”

“Between you and me,” you say, leaning just a bit closer again as you move on from the area and smile at a waving shopkeep, “It’s probably going to be boring. I would leave after the festival.”

Levi looks down at you, meets your gaze with a critical eye for the first time since your meeting. He ignores the way the afternoon sun sets a golden highlight around your hair. “You think so?”

If you notice, you deflect his look with a little snort. “The Tyburs,” you almost spit the name, with a venom not unfamiliar to someone in his line of work but uncharacteristic enough of what he’s seen of you that he spares you a blink. “The Tybur family’s official policy is to leave the rest of the Eldians on the wayside while they live in their beautiful estates. Why speak now?” Your hand, gentle all this time paying the vendors, passing him food, tossing it in your mouth, now clenches at your side. “He’s a coward. So…”

You trail off, biting your tongue as you turn away briefly. Hatred is something far too familiar for Levi to balk at, and so he doesn’t. Because it wasn’t hatred he saw in your eyes, but a strange defeat. He has to wonder, but he stops himself before he can. That will be moot after tonight.

“He’s saying something now,” he replies blankly, letting you hear the shrug in his tone. He doesn’t really care to defend someone with only a few hours left to live, but maybe he feels guilty for knowing even that much. Death has always been a certainty in his life, but the how and the when? “Some people never say anything at all.”

His words break you out of your stupor. It appears you weren’t really talking to him after all, but now he wishes he bit his tongue. The idea of you leaving before the play actually sounds like a good one, and he should not have gainsaid it.

“I suppose you have a point,” you say, looking slightly abashed at your outburst. Sighing, you gesture around the area. “So what do you think? Not bad for a home of devils, right?”

The question has him turning toward you so sharply that you begin to squirm under his gaze. The truth is you’ve been able to deflect his uninterested, even hostile expressions so far, but this one is new. His eyes are walled off for the most part, but a telling indignation flashes across his grey eyes so quickly you wonder if you even saw it. He sees it in the way you search them.

You gulp and then clear your throat. “I lived here when I was younger,” you explain, appearing both frightened and encouraged. Ultimately unable to withstand his gaze, you start to walk again, down the road toward the plaza. 

He hardly notices himself following suit. “You left?” You were allowed to?

“My family isn’t from Liberio,” you admit, slowing to keep apace. “I came here to join the Warrior program when I was little.”

Now the expression in his eyes is indecipherable, but curiosity gives it the smallest edge as his gaze flits to your armband. Pale grey, almost white. 

“I didn’t make it,” you say, quickly, since bringing up Marley’s prized Warriors with anyone from outside of the motherland is an awful idea this soon, “so I was called back home. But I had fond memories of this place, all things considered, and now I’ve chosen it as mine.”

A strange feeling now worms its way into Levi’s chest. He’s already managed to shut off his thoughts and apprehensions about tonight’s operation - they can’t afford doubts, after all, and anyway those have never stopped him from getting the job done - but it makes him uncomfortable.

“Where do you live?”  Will you be spared the worst of it?  

You look surprised, but you smile all the same. “A few blocks from here. An old doctor and his family let me stay with them when I was little, and I still stay there now. Now I… work at the hospital in the zone.”

“You’re a doctor too?”

The question seems to dismay you. “Not exactly.”

He frowns before he can help it. “You’re pretty dodgy for a tour guide.”

Now you can’t help but laugh in what almost looks like offense. “Me? I’m the one who’s been talking about myself, between the two of us,” you say, your indignation diluted with your ringing mirth. It sounds clearly over the din. “I don’t even know where you’re from!”

“You do. Not here.”

Levi feels the side of his mouth quirk when you laugh at such a small remark, but you manage to get a hold of yourself before he can respond. 

You meet his gaze again, shaking your head in disbelief, and something appears to click in your mind as your lips part with revelation. 

“You’re a war veteran, aren’t you?’

Levi graces you with another blink. “What?”

“I won’t ask where,” you promise again, raising a hand in surrender. “You just remind me of someone I’ve met at the hospital.”

He quirks a brow. “How should I take that?”

“Oh! Not as an insult!” you laugh again, covering your mouth, but your lips are pursed, still stifling another smile when you lower your hand. It takes another moment for you to compose yourself. “I meant rather that… you have soulful eyes.”

His soulful eyes stare straight at you, utterly deadpan. “Soulful.”

You stand by it, clearly suppressing mirth again. “Soulful.”

Levi sighs with some exasperation, as if to wonder how his life choices have led to him having to put up with all this, and it must be the most you’ve gotten out of this man since you interrupted his consideration of those snacks. Somehow you can tell that even his irritation should flatter you. “Anyway,” you say, when he seems resigned to all this, “if you aren’t completely sold on watching the play tonight, maybe you can drop by the hospital instead.”

Levi narrows his eyes at you. “Why would I do that?”

“Well… we don’t get visitors often. But the patients always appreciate them.” After a pause, you add, “Not always. But even just sitting with them is something.”

His furrowed brow relaxes. Not that he’ll be able to say yes - not that he wants to - and not that he’s ever cared all that much for bleeding hearts. It’s really more the determination in your gaze that gets him. Like you’re not exactly going to take no for an answer, or worse, and maybe closer to his heart, that you refuse to let the possibility cross your mind. 

“There’s one patient I would love to introduce to you,” you continue, when you catch the hesitation in his silence. “He calls himself K—“

“Lucy?”

A familiar voice calls your name from amid the crowd. The smile that simply illuminates your features as you turn to look over your shoulder draws Levi’s eyes to yours rather than to your mouth this time.

Before you can look, a pair of arms encircles your waist, a beard nuzzling your neck while you squirm and laugh, trying to elbow your way out of the embrace to no avail. It’s token resistance that leads only to his nose nudging at your jaw, mouth grazing your neck. “Zeke, stop!”

“So this is where you’ve been hiding,” he murmurs, his glasses nudging your cheek, whisper tickling your skin. “Meeting ran late. You know how Magath is.”

“I know,” you say as you manage to wrangle your way out of his grasp. “But please don’t do that in front of my new—“

You glance to the side with an apology ready for him, but Levi has disappeared. Your hands grasp Zeke’s sleeve for balance as you get on your tiptoes, but you cannot spot his hat among the crowd.

“—friend.” You frown. “He was just here.” 

Zeke quirks a brow. “Who?”

“Kenny,” you say. “He was wearing a dark suit and a fedora. Just a little taller than me, black hair… you didn’t see him? And—are you all right?” You reach for his fingers, kneading at the pads of them with yours. “Your hands are so cold.”

Zeke shakes his head, dismissing your second question. “A little taller than you,” he enunciates instead, withdrawing his hands to make a show of stroking his beard. “So did I see another runt? The answer is no, sorry.”

You give his hip a light smack. “I’m not a runt. I’m taller than Pieck!”

“By an inch.” When you make a face at him, Zeke smiles, hands pawing at your shoulders before running down your back and pulling you to him, your chest flush against the wall of his stomach. “Do you want us to look for your Kenny?” he asks, his thumb ghosting your lip. 

“He’s not my Kenny,” you give him a look, even though he knows his hands are already giving you other ideas. His other one is stroking your waist. “I just thought he looked lost.”

“My bleeding heart,” he says fondly. “You can’t save everyone.”

You shoot him a look that he ignores. This isn’t the place to get into that discussion, so you shrug it off. “I guess I  was  imposing on him. At one point he seemed like he’d rather drink rotten milk than listen to me. I just thought we’d built a rapport...”

Zeke snorts. “Okay, okay. I’ll listen to you.”

You squint at him. “Don’t let me twist your arm.”

He grins, leaning closer to whisper in your ear. “I think I let you do a lot more to me than just that, Miss Blanchard.”

The flush that predictably spreads across your face makes him laugh, that warm, hearty chuckle that makes your knees weak. He bends down to touch your lips with his, smiling when you seek his mouth to deepen the kiss. Your hand fists around his shirt, the slightest hum of enjoyment from your throat drawing him further into your thrall, but the nudge of a passerby makes him pull away after a moment. His lips envy the disappointed pout that seizes yours as he closes your hand around his. Zeke lifts it to plant a more chaste kiss to your knuckles in apology. 

“But before all that,” he says, “how about that festival date you promised me?”

Zeke gives you a questioning look, as though a part of him might actually doubt that you’ll say yes. Really it’s that he wonders if you’ll still gaze at him with those tender eyes this time tomorrow, but you can’t possibly know that. 

You shrug, intertwining your fingers with his. “I’ll let you twist my arm.”

“You let me do a lot more—“

“Yeager...”

“Heh heh.” He withdraws his hand so he can wrap an arm around you instead as he guides you back to the heart of the festival. “I ran into the others while looking for you. The kids wouldn’t shut up about some good wrap nearby—and while their faces were full of pizza. What do you think?” 

You lean against him, unable to help the warmth that you practically radiate as he holds you. He knows it too, pulling you closer. You shrug him off briefly to take a last glance around for Kenny, but he really is nowhere to be found. 

Ducking back under Zeke’s arm, you smile. “Why not?”

Out of sight, trying to stave off the nausea, Levi watches the pair of you walk away from beside one of the many festival stands littering the avenue. How couldn’t he have realized who you are? Lucy is the name of the asset that sack of shit wants retrieved before the operation begins. He had wondered why, thought it some political ploy that would come into play later on. He didn’t expect the reason to be so... mundane.

He can’t believe he almost felt worried. He knew there had to be something strange about you, ignoring how he was clearly trying to get away. Had you been taunting him? A trap, just like this festival?

It hadn’t seemed like it. Your smile appeared to be genuine.

Not that it matters. He gets smiles all the time that he doesn’t care for; why should a beautiful woman’s remain with him or be any more noteworthy than another’s? 

Dismissing the sight lingering in his mind’s eye, Levi turns for his true objective. He’s wasted enough time. 

...And anyway, any person who would take up with that monster probably has some skeletons of her own.

Levi supposes he’ll find out later. 

---

Thank you for reading! :)

The series I mentioned planning should be zeke x reader/oc, but because levi is very tempting, I'm also planning/considering a levi/reader AU (or ending??) of the ending post-rumbling (we'll see). 

EDIT: This is a oneshot which can stand on its own, but if you're interested in a series I've posted the first two chapters of interim, the first of the Zeke-centered fics I mentioned I intended to write! It's a prequel that starts in Liberio after Zeke, Pieck, and Reiner come home post-S3. It'll go into Reader/Lucy's relationship with the Warriors, particularly Zeke, + how exactly they ended up where they are here in Asset. Levi makes a return appearance once we get to the sequel to Asset, going into the Raid on Liberio and onward.

EDIT 2: And if you'd like something completely Zeke-focused in the same year as Asset, here is a short fluff oneshot to accompany art I commissioned of Zeke and Lucy. It will have Lucy's appearance there (and I suppose her appearance is a spoilerish for the family name which you will discover in interim chapter 1), so if you don't want to see what she looks like then don't click it or just scroll down before the art loads. XD these trivial moments takes place some time before Asset, but still within the month that passes between the end of the Marley Mid-East War and the Raid on Liberio.

[jean-kayak]

Chapter 14

Summary: A relaxing summer at home after your second year of college sounds nice, until someone comes back and makes it anything but

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x black!fem!reader

Warnings: really this chapter is just fluff, underage drinking (reader is 20), Eren being a huge SIMP and SAP, reader gets a little tipsy, suggestive like once bc its Eren

Word Count: 3408

A/N: This one is not even close to being as long as the next chapter, but yeah, I really went in on the fluff and cuteness on this lmao enjoy

Tags: @iwascrybaby​, @germinvasion​, @styxtm​, @prxttyguardian​, @bigdaddyzawa​, @erensblackgirlfriend​, @kbbvbz​, @tomsadversary​, @pettyluxury​, @protectpancakes​

Chapter Summary: A mini vacation makes Eren come to a stark realization

Playlist for this Chapter:

1. While We're Young- Jhené Aiko

2. Morning Glory- Kehlani

3. Normal Girl-SZA

4. Off The Grid- Alina Baraz ft. Khalid

You raise your eyebrows when he tells you that you need a pack a bag, and you frown at him in suspicion, but he doesn't even blink at you as he goes back to whatever he was doing.

Your parents weren't home at the time you were leaving, so you just told them that you were hanging with Ymir for a couple of days, Jean wasn't going to be home, and you were going to be back before him, so you figured you didn't need to tell him anything.

So Eren decides to leave late at night on Friday, and ten minutes later he texts you that he's outside, and then he's driving down the street and to who knows where. You yawn widely, tears forming in your eyes, and you wipe them away as you notice that you've been driving for more than thirty minutes.

"You taking me somewhere in the country or something?" you ask, seeing that you don't recognize your surroundings anymore.

He chuckles as he reaches over to grab your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. "I told you. It's a surprise, it's about a couple hours away."

You roll your eyes when he tells you it's a surprise but nod anyway even though that still doesn't tell you exactly where you're going, and he huffs when you say you're going to go to sleep for the rest of the ride, and as you doze off, you feel his lips on your hand.

You feel something shaking your shoulder, and you breathe in deeply as you peel your eyes open, looking around to see you're in a parking lot. "Where are we?" you ask with a yawn, looking ahead of you to see a big building about two stories tall.

"Furniture store." You frown, turning your head to look at him.

"A furniture store? Why?"

"Wanted to change up my apartment," he answers, getting out the car and you follow.

"And why did I have to come?" you ask, meeting him on his side of the truck as he locks it.

"To get you some practice, since you wanna do interior design. You can use my apartment as a project or something." You feel your face heating at the thought, and you mask it with a scrunch of your nose.

"You're a dork." He smirks softly as he wraps his arm around you, walking you towards the building.

"Only for you."

The automatic doors slide open, and the place is pretty huge, but not big enough where you feel like you might be lost, and you let him lead you whichever way. "Okay, so what do you start with?" he asks you, stopping at the living room section, and you shrug.

"Colors, I guess," you admit, looking at the different couches. "What's your favorite color?" you ask, absentmindedly running your hand over the back of an armchair.

"Any color that you look good in." You roll your eyes as you scoff, turning to look at him.

"Which is?"

"Everything." You chuckle as you push at his chest lightly, almost thinking it's a lost cause until he speaks up again. "I don't know. Dark green, maybe?"

You nod as you look at the different furniture. "Okay, that's a start. And sometimes, I look at how big you want something to be depending on what you want to use it for. So, for example, how big would you want your couch to be?"

"Big enough for us to have sex on." You drop your head as you scoff, having trouble fighting the smile off your face.

"You're insufferable." You're pretty sure Eren makes you walk through the entire store, looking at stuff that you know he doesn't even own, and you notice that he keeps asking you if you like certain things or not.

"Why does it matter if I like it or not? It's your apartment," you add, and he busies himself with pulling the drawers open on a desk while he keeps his other arm wrapped around your waist. He mumbles something that you don't catch, but you don't get to ask because he's pulling you somewhere else.

You're almost out of the place when your eyes land on the prettiest coffee table you've ever seen. You gasp in surprise, stopping in your tracks and walking towards it, pulling Eren with you.

It's a deep mahogany, glass on top, and there's storage for smaller things like magazines or coasters, and it's just right height, you never understood the appeal of coffee tables that are nearly touching the ground. "You like it?" Eren asks you, jumping you out of your trance.

"I love it," you breathe, running your hand over it softly. "But there's literally nowhere for me to put it," you joke, giving it one last look before you start to walk away, and you stop when you realize Eren's not following. "Are we leaving?" you ask, pointing towards the door, thinking that maybe he wanted to look at something else.

But then he's waving you off, walking towards you. "Yeah, let's go."

"You know we just passed the college Jean goes to, right?" you say, your eyebrows raised, and Eren just shrugs as he keeps his attention on the road.

"Yeah, so?"

"So? What if he sees us? He said he had something to do for school," you stress, starting to feel yourself panic a little.

"Don't worry. Seriously, he's not going to find out." He sounds confident, so it calms you a little bit, but that panic is still underlying. He grabs your hand, giving it a soft squeeze. "I'm being serious. I already checked beforehand, we're fine."

You nod this time, his words reassuring you as you start to notice the light poles on the street you're driving down are covered in decorations. The further he drives down the road, the more decorations seem to be lining the buildings. "Is there some kind of festival?" you ask, looking around.

Eren shrugs as he pulls the truck into a parking spot on the street. "Let's find out," he says, and you're once again following him out, and when you get out, you can hear music playing. You follow the sound of the music, and you reach what must be the main area because there's suddenly food trucks lining the streets, a bunch of activities to do, and a crowd of people dancing.

They've cut off the whole street for the occasion, and you smile widely as you look around. "I think this is some festival for the town or something," Eren says, remembering hearing something about it before he went back home, and you bounce on your feet excitedly.

"Well, we can't just stand here!" You grab his hand, almost pulling him off his feet as you run towards the thicker part of the crowd. He laces his fingers with yours as you both walk through to look at the different venues and the different food they have.

He nearly buys everything that your eyes linger on for too long, and you firmly tell him to not buy you anything else, to which he just responds with a roll of his eyes, both of you knowing that he's still going to do it.

He watches you fondly when you get excited about the face painted, but he denies it when you say that he should get one. "Oh, come on, you have to get one," you urge, feeling the paint on your face starting to harden.

The person who did yours tells you that you could paint on Eren's face and that only makes you more excited. You force him to sit down on the bench as you look through the options, grabbing his wrist when he tries to sneak away.

"Just pick one, please?" you say, and he gives you a warm look as he smiles softly.

"Fine." He gives in, and you grab the brush excitedly. "Anything yellow," he responds when you ask him what he wants.

"Why yellow? Because I look good in it?" you tease, picking out something that's easy for you to draw.

"It's the color you picked on the fortune teller." You freeze, looking up at him, before smiling softly as you dip the paintbrush in the paint.

"You remember that?" you ask shyly, and he would nod, but you're already starting to paint on his face.

"Of course I do. It's the first time I talked to you." He huffs softly when he sees you shy away again before you focus on the flower you're drawing. He chuckles softly as he watches you stick your tongue out in concentration, and you pull away with a frown.

"Why are you laughing at me?" you ask, grabbing his chin to angle his cheek closer towards you.

He moves before you can turn his face, pecking a kiss on your nose. "Because you look cute." You shake your head, feeling your face flush warm before grabbing his chin again and moving his head where you want it.

"Okay," you sigh when you finish, putting the brush down, and you hold the mirror up for him to see what it looks like, and you put your head on the side of it. "Do you like it?" you ask impatiently, and he nods as he stands, pulling you up with him.

"Yeah, it looks good for someone with no art skills," he jokes, making you roll your eyes but you laugh anyway, and you both walk away as he takes out his phone.

You peek over his shoulder, not realizing he opened the camera app, and he plants his lips on your cheek that doesn't have paint on it, snapping the picture, and he locks his phone before you can see it. You're trying to convince him to let you see it, both of you walking closer to the music, and suddenly you're being pulled into the dancing crowd.

Both of your eyes widen in surprise, but then you notice a kid grabbing your hands, and you laugh instantly as you start dancing, blending into the crowd, but to Eren, you're the only one he sees.

And huh.

Is that what this feels like? He's always seen it in movies, read it in books, but he's never experienced it like this, the feeling so strong. He unlocks his phone, his heart skipping a beat when he looks over the picture, the biggest grin on his face before he looks back up at you.

You look like you're having the time of your life, and he realizes that he's fallen so far, so fast in so little time. He feels like he's living in some kind of movie, and he always thought it was unrealistic to feel this way about you in a short amount of time, but the longer he looks at you, the more he believes that it's more than possible.

And he looks back down at his phone, making the picture his lock screen.

"Let me have some more," you whisper, and Eren rolls his eyes as he scoffs, checking to make sure the coast is clear before handing you his glass.

"Woah, woah," he says when you take a huge sip of wine, taking the glass out of your hand. "Ease up will you," he chastises, setting the glass on the stool next to the both of you.

"I have to get as much as I can before they see me," you respond, having trouble hiding your giggles as the alcohol fills your system.

The festival had started to die down, and he saw a sign for wine and art. He knew they weren't going to let you have any, but he was having a hard time denying you, and now he scoffs at your tipsy state. "We're supposed to be painting," he responds, grabbing the paintbrush.

"Well, what are we drawing?" you say, your words slurring just a bit, and he shrugs as he wraps his arm tighter around you.

"Whatever you want," he says, adjusting the both of you on the stool you're sitting on. He was surprised the both of you could fit on it, but he only took that as an excuse to hold you. "How about four flowers?"

Your eyebrows crease before you turn to look at you. "Why four?" He smiles at you, and you feel like you should know the answer, but you can't think of it. "The fortune teller?" you try, and he nods, making you roll your eyes.

"Why are you such a sap?" you reply playfully, and he laughs softly before putting the brush in your hand, then putting his hand on top of yours. He guides your hand over the canvas as you start painting. "How'd you know that these are my favorite?"

"Lucky guess." It's the flowers you had in your hair at the wedding.

You frown at him again, but go back to painting anyway, the strokes not as clean due to a variety of reasons, but the outline comes out good, and he helps you color them in.

He lets you have one last sip before he tells you that you're not getting anymore, and you frown but listen anyway. "Why aren't you drinking?"

"Because I'm driving," he replies lamely, and you nod softly as your mouth falls open.

"Oh. You're so responsible."

He rolls his eyes. "Thanks," he says dryly.

You both finish your painting around the same time everyone else does, or rather people are starting to get less incoherent, so they can't focus on painting, and Eren takes the canvas, leading you out of the gallery with an arm around your waist.

"I'm so full and tired," you whine, your steps a little wobbly, and he chuckles as he carefully puts the canvas in the backseat before helping you in.

He starts driving away and about ten minutes in, he realizes you're really quiet, so he assumes you've fallen asleep, but then you gasp, making him jump out of his skin and almost swerve off the road.

"What the fuck--"

"A drive-in movie, we have to go!" you yell, probably a little bit more loudly than you needed, pointing out the window, and he looks to see an empty lot with cars and a giant movie screen.

He finds himself already slowing down and turning into the lot without even thinking about it, backing in so that you can watch the movie from the bed of the truck. He gets out first, letting the tail down so that he can set up some of the blankets he still has in his truck before helping you up, your steps shaky as you get in.

He lays down first, and you follow, and he chuckles as you instantly grab a blanket, wrapping yourself up before you lay on him. "Don't fall asleep, this was your idea," he speaks up when he hears you go quiet again, and you shift slightly.

"M not sleep. I'm just tired," you mumble, making him huff fondly.

The movie that's playing is something he's never seen before, and he's actually pretty focused on it when he feels you moving, and he just assumes that you're trying to get comfortable.

"Eren," he hears you whisper, and he hums to show that he heard you, keeping his focus on the movie.

"What, baby?" he says when you say his name again, and he tears his eyes from the screen to look down at you.

"I want a kiss," you say softly, and he half rolls his eyes before leaning down anyway. "One more." He sighs fondly before leaning down again, cupping your face in his hand, and he pulls away when you try and deepen the kiss.

"You're drunk, baby," he tells you, and you frown as you shake your head.

"No, I'm not," you argue, and he raises his eyebrows at you.

"Intoxicated," he tries, and you purse your lips as you think.

"Maybe." He huffs again before kissing you on the forehead.

"I'll kiss you again when you're sober." You groan softly in protest, but you don't say anything else as you turn your attention back to the movie.

~

Eren rolls his eyes when he hears you complain about being tired for the millionth time that night as he guides you into the dark apartment. He leads you to his room, catching you every time you almost fall, and the moment your eyes land on the bed, you're flopping on it face down.

"Hey, you gotta change first," he tells you, dropping your bag on the floor softly, but you groan softly, turning your head so that you can breathe.

"M fine," you argue, and he scoffs as he walks over to you.

"Trust me, you'll want to get changed." You groan as you roll over, unbuttoning your shorts, sliding them down your legs before letting them fall to the floor. You roll back onto your stomach, reaching under your shirt to unhook your bra, maneuvering it out from under you before it joins your shorts on the floor.

"Are you happy now?" you groan, and he rolls his eyes again as he moves back to your bag. You feel the bed dip next to you as he climbs in, but you don't move.

"Can you sit up for me?" he asks, and you sigh, turning your head to look at him. "It'll only take a second."

You sit up slowly as you start to feel a headache coming on, blinking slowly, and you notice that he's putting your bonnet on, and he catches you when you try and lay back down, not letting you go until all of your hair is in it.

"Now you can lay down." He barely gets the words out as your body hits the mattress again, and you get comfortable as you snuggle your face into the pillow, and he notices that you're blinking gets heavier, but you're looking at him.

"What?" he questions softly, running the back of his fingers over your face gently, and you give him a sleepy smile.

"You're really pretty," you mumble, and he huffs in surprise as he feels his face heating up.

"You think I'm pretty?"

You nod as fast as your body can let you, sighing heavily. "You're like...like," you nod again. "Yeah, you're like really pretty." And then you're out like a light.

Your soft snores fill the room, and he finds himself smiling fondly as he watches you sleep, and before he can think, he's slowly getting out of the bed and grabbing his sketchbook. He slides back in the bed, and all of the images from earlier today come flooding into his head and onto the pages.

He doesn't know how long he sits there, filling every last inch of the paper in you, but he can't stop until he's drawn everything. He draws your face when you were concentrating on painting on his face, he draws you attempting to concentrate on the painting even though the wine was making you even more incoherent, and he finds himself smiling for long enough that his face hurts.

When he gets all of those images out of his head, he looks back over at you before starting on the next drawing, chuckling softly at how your face is smushed by the pillow.

And he wonders if it could work between the both of you, but he doesn't know how you feel, and he doesn't want to do anything that will cause you to stop talking to him like you did back then even though he still doesn't know what he did.

But he's scared to ask, and part of him thinks it's the reason for that conflicted look you have in your eyes sometimes, and he wants to ask you what he did so that he can fix it because he doesn't want to hurt you. Not when you mean so much to him.

When he thinks that he's gotten most of the images drawn, and when he's about to run out of room is where he should call it a night, putting the book somewhere you won't be able to find it easily before laying down next to you.

You breathe in deeply, shifting closer to him in your sleep, and he carefully lays you on his chest, and the familiar weight of you puts him to sleep.

|Chapter 13|Masterlist|Chapter 15|

[angelkurenai]

Lucky idiot - Dean Winchester x Reader

Title: Lucky idiot

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Hey sweetheart May I request a DeanxReader Imagine where reader is a mermaid but with a twist?Idk if you know the kids show called 'H2O just add water'But basically reader always turns into a mermaid if she gets into contact with water.And I imagined that reader would rescue dean from drowning after he was pushed off from a cliff by a ghost or sth?Then like thelittle mermaid moment where he sees her face after waking up.Then sam shows up and reader disappears.Then they meet her at a cafe I❤️u

“Look, all I'm saying is if you'd let me drive for this ti-”

“Get back to research, Sammy, I've got enough things on my head. Don't need you to make me more dizzy than I already am.” Dean grumbled before his brother could even get to finish his sentence.

“Which is exactly my point here.” Sam couldn't help but huff “Do you really think it's a good idea to drive while being so dizzy? I mean, for the love of, Dean, you nearly drowned three to four hours ago! Unless you're trying to finish the ghost's job right now, I was thinking that maybe, just maybe, letting me drive would give both of us higher chances of getting out of the car alive.”

“Bold of you to assume that if I let you drive, you'd get out of this car alive.” the older Winchester retorted with a half smile, that didn't feel even half as real though, before focusing as much as he could on the road before him “Besides, I've been more than nearly killed plenty of times and despite the trip to the other side, I was always the one to drive the car. I'm fine, just like every other time, Sammy. Only impatient to get some food. Again nothing new.”

“And that's supposed to calm me down now, or what? Honestly, Dean-” Sam huffed, shaking his head “I can't understand you sometimes. It was pure luck that you even found yourself out of there, alive. I mean, if the fall from that kind of cliff didn't do it then the water would have certainly been it and you know it.”

“But again it wasn't. Neither of the two did it for me as you can see, tough as it might have been. Unless, of course, your ranting is looking to be a serious contestant in that?”

“I assure you, me and my ranting are not trying to bore you to death. It's the last thing I want. But that doesn't mean I am not going to talk about it. Seriously Dean-” another shake of his head that this time earned an eye roll from the older Winchester “You could have drowned so easily and yet somehow you found your way to the shore, which let me point out is absolutely not normal. Not in the kind of situation you were in. Not unless there was some kind of help coming from very deep within that part of the water which is even more disturbing to think about. Maybe in equal measures to you not admitting that you being safe and sound on the shore within minutes from the spot you fell is suspicious. What if the ghost isn't the only supernatural creature here to begin with? What if we have to look more into other beings like...”

Sam kept going. Dean was sure of it. Not because he was listening closely, not because he was paying attention to every word and pondering over it because he had to admit that he hadn't made it out of the water on his own. There was no way he would have made it out alive on his own, that much he knew and could understand just like every other sane human being would easily would. That didn't mean it was because that's what he was currently wondering about. Not when there was little wondering to do about it, no. Both because he didn't have the mind to and also because... well, for the same reason as to why he couldn't listen to his brother at the moment. The images running through his mind.

Yes, he was sure Sam was talking to him but only because of the murmuring he could hear, which sounded more like a distant echo. And it was exactly because of those images which he couldn't shake off, he could never forget, that everything else around him sounded and looked distant and blurry. As if he wasn't part of the scenery, as if he wasn't living in it, but was actually more immersed in another world.

And truth be told, he was in a way. He was too focused in his memories, in the images, in the feelings that were still as vivid as they were a couple hours ago when he really felt them that he was almost reliving the moment. Even if part of that world, part of those feelings and moment were also just as distant and blurry as the present.

Dean was struggling, his entire body was struggling, his lungs were struggling, every cell and every inch of him, struggling to hold onto life. He wanted to hold onto the air in his lungs desperately so but as even more of it left and he couldn't find new one, his actions became more frantic and panicked than his thoughts. The fact that he had not been able to prepare for any of it had not helped to give him a head start of any kind, making it easier and faster for his vision to get blurry and filled with dark spots as the air and therefore fight left his body.

It was only when his mind had started feeling like it didn't care anymore, like there was no reason for fight and like maybe, just maybe, sleep would be a good choice. It wouldn't hurt anymore and he wouldn't have to struggle too hard, even if he really didn't get the chance to wake up ever again. His mind was in such a haze that all reason and will had left, perhaps even his perception of reality too. Because in his haze as he looked up he saw the blur of something that shouldn't have been there not only because he was all alone and sinking but also because it looked like something that shouldn't exist.

Then again, as he thought of it now in the car, he found about the existence of many things that shouldn't exist. Killed plenty of them too.

And yet none like this. It was no surprise that he kept it to himself, that he still wondered if it was all real in the first place. The flash of a shimmering white tail, not one of a shark or a dolphin, a fish could have been accurate if it wasn't for its shape and the colors that it reflected, sparkling under the minimal sun that could reach such depth almost holographic, extending long - almost endless in his eyes at that moment - brushing past his arms and legs, it was all still there in his mind. Vivid and clear as much as it had been that moment, which wasn't to say a lot, but he still could not shake off the feeling of arms wrapping around his body. Real hands, belonging to a human, touched his face. A small shake, he was sure there was that, but not only was his head a mess his eyes were also nearly closed and what sight he had was blurry. It didn't last long, Dean was surprised to even remember it, before a pair of arms wrapped around his torso and it was in that moment he felt the pull only followed seconds later by water moving past him at a speed that is by no means normal, but is certainly enough for Dean to close his eyes shut completely. The dizziness it offered mixing with his already hazy mind, led easily enough to him losing both track and sight of what was happening; and he was fairly sure his consciousness too.

He felt like he was coming in and out of consciousness far too many times for anything to make sense. There was no telling apart reality from hallucination to even dreams.

The feeling of being dragged into the shore was something like a ghost feeling in the back of his mind, arms around his torso dragging him and struggling to pull him out of the sea, sounds of struggling and an effort beyond the person's strength – because obviously the lack of water and presence of drenched clothes that only became heavier this way along with the sticking sand made it all much harder to move. Similar to that was the feeling of a pair of hands, human-like, far too human-like and that somehow set Dean on edge, that pressed on his chest, pushing with all the strength the person could master. And certainly similar to the feeling of hands on his face, the touch much more clear than when he was underwater, though still under a veil of haziness in his minds.

All of those moments, though, despite how blurry they seemed, despite how hard it was for him to figure out if they were real, he knew there was one that he couldn't have dreamed of; that it had to be real. The feeling of lips pressing on his cheek, chaste and feather-like and very hesitant much like the way a forehead rested against his; all shortly after he felt the water pour out of his lips – out of his lungs – like there was no ends. But there was, and in the end he could finally get the precious and much-needed oxygen his body was craving for. He was probably – certainly – still very dizzy and his vision had plenty of black spots but there was no mistaking the sigh of relief he heard, human-like so human-like, and a hand cupping his cheek.

“What could you possibly be doing there you idiot?” the voice was low, sounding very much English and very much human “If only you knew how lucky you were.” a small laugh, and it was probably the sweetest sound he'd ever heard, one he would never forget, he should never forget and he knew he'd hate himself if ever forgot “Lucky idiot. Hm seems fitting, since I can't get a name out of you. Who knows what-”

He could not remember more words being uttered, not from that soft and caring voice. He only remembered someone, someone that sounded a lot like Sam and was most likely him though his dizzy brain couldn't even put that together, call out his name in the far distance before came the sound of hasty rustling and water splashing. It was in those hasty few seconds that he got something he wished he could hold onto forever: His eyes slid open, just slightly so, catching sight of a face, your face.

Admittedly he had felt all air leave his lungs for the second time in that moment, and when your eyes met his and he noticed you pause for a half second, he couldn't stop himself from reaching out to touch you to make sure you were real. Or at least try to, because he didn't have the strength to get more than halfway there. Fact which he regretted later because he couldn't tell if you really had been a fragment of his imagination, what if the face he saw was only in his mind – hard as it would be for him to even dream and therefore make up such a sight.

A sight that combined with the very much mermaid-like, he could only now tell that he was driving and had sobered up, tail vanishing below the surface of the water had been keeping him on edge. Too much for it all to just have been a fragment of his own imagination. Not because it sounded and looked too crazy, nothing could with the kind of life he had, but because he didn't want it to be just him. He wanted it to be real even if he didn't know where he would ever get to see that face, feel those gentle and caring hands that had pulled him to his safety (if he was right about all of it) and hear that compassionate if not clearly teasing voice that revealed a real spark and personality underneath that he could easily adore.

Wait- Adore?

“That's it. That's the caf- Wait- Aren't you gonna stop he- Dean? Dean? Dean!” Sam nearly yelled to get his brother's attention, thankfully making the older Winchester press on the breaks and make the car come to a halt. The younger Winchester could only thank their lucky stars that the road was empty at the moment.

“Huh? Wh-what?” Dean blinked in surprise, as if finally having been brought back to reality.

“Alright, that's it.” Sam huffed stubbornly “We go in there, get something to eat and then you give me the keys and I'm keeping them for the next three days for sure. And I won't hear a single thing from you. We're lucky to be both alive at the moment. Got it?”

He did not leave any room for argument as he stormed out of the car and made his way to the cafe they were originally heading to. Dean, in all honesty, couldn't be more glad for it. It had been anything but silent in his head all this time, he could use a couple seconds of not thinking and not talking to put himself together because at the end of the day he had work to do as well.

Or at least that was what he kept telling himself, repeating the words over and over again like a mantra, to the point he almost believed it. To the point he believed that he had gotten you off his mind, to the point he believed he was getting over everything and to the point that he had convinced himself he was focused on the job and there would be no further distractions. Or at least so he thought until he pushed the cafe's door open and before he could take more than one step inside, felt something – or rather someone – collide with him.

He looked down, lips parted and ready to retort, only for the words to die out in his lips and every though to drown in the sea of disbelief and surprise that took over his entire being. Once more all air had left his lungs and yet the struggle for air had never been as painfully sweet as now.

“Well, look at that...” your voice was soft just like the smile that formed on your lips as your eyes locked with his and Dean still had trouble wrapping his mind around the fact that you were there, right in front of him; before you added in a low voice “It's the lucky idiot.”

[marcemello]

Anne’s Grief

tImerry christmas and happy frogidays! I was going to disappear for the rest of winter break but then I realized that I have NOTHING to do other than work, so I figured I’d do something that I enjoy at least.

 disclaimer, 1. I’m going to be talking about death and covid-19 in this, but not in depth (this isnt a vent, I’m just mentioning these things to support my point here) 2. amphibia’s helped me out a lot, so I AM going to be biased here. might as well just say it. 3. don’t expect me to add anything new to this conversation, this is just my perspective on things. 

I don’t see the argument that anne’s grief should be betrayed better a lot, but I have seen it. based on my own experiences, anne’s reaction to all the stuff that went down in true colors is pretty realistic and isn’t out of character for her at all. after reunion, we just saw a little about how anne wasn’t taking the events of toad tower well at all, but she clearly wasn’t going to talk about it. at the end of hopping mall anne let her guard down (about missing her mom, not about reunion) but didn’t even let herself cry for long. she’s been hiding her feelings for the whole show! it makes perfect sense to me that she’d continue to do so in season 3. the more canon-supported reason is that anne already feels like she’s a burden on the plantars during the road trip and her time in newtopia, so she wouldn’t want to bother her with her own feelings. it’s probably also just that those feelings are a lot to deal with, I mean your best friend betraying you and falling to her possible death after a tense swordfight is a lot for a kid to process, and so is being stuck in a whole nother DIMENSION from your family. jeez. 

so yeah. anne compartmentalizing is already canon and confirmed by an interview from matt as well. so her doing that with marcy isn’t that much of a stretch at all. everyone grieves differently! when I lost my grandfather, i didn’t see it for myself, but when I got the news I started laughing and asked my mom if she was joking. I didn’t cry until about a month later, and it wasn’t sobs, just tears. it was during quarantine so I wasn’t with my support system like anne was, but I think the connection is still there for me. sometime death/traumatic events don’t really settle in until some time’s passed. despite what people think of SU future, it’s still a good example in my opinion. it’s been a while since I’ve watched it, but I think at least 3 years passed since the events of change your mind? anyway, steven’s trauma didn’t kick in right after everything had happened, it took him some time to realize that what happened to him wasn’t okay. I just think it’s the same with anne. 

and yknow maybe anne won’t even get to go through the whole usual stages cause MARCY ISN’T EVEN DEAD. you could think of the whole marcy tank thing as marcy dying and being revived because of what andrias said about conquering death in yunan and olivia, or you could just go with marcy being on the brink of death and then getting healed (I’m going with the first one) either way marcy’s alive because of supernatural causes and anne should have no reason other than amphibia being a whole other dimension to think marcy’s just cool and alive. but I guess you could also think of it as anne just being connected with marcy (and sasha) cause of the gems, but I don’t know about that one because marcy and sasha don’t have their gem powers anymore. it’d be pretty funny if anne accepted marcy as dead and then BOOM she’s back actually and possessed by an ancient amphibian hivemind!

point is, anne’s reaction (or lack of one) to marcy’s death isn’t very out of place. her avoiding all mention of her until recently might be intentional, but who knows. 

this ended up longer than I wanted to be but it was fun writing this, also I might post again before new years but if I dont, happy 2022! the passage of time is imminent