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absolutebl · 2 years

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hi! i graduated from film school this year & i've been reading thru ur blog for weeks now. u've talked abt cinematography before & it's a subject i'd love to hear more of ur thoughts abt. which shows do u believe use cinematic storytelling (framing, staging, symbolic parallels, lighting, color coding) to their advantage the most? shows which benefit from a rewatch/slower watch in order to notice visual details & which can be analyzed in terms of visual language. which would be ur top picks? ty!!

OOO, what a good question.

10 Best Uses of Cinematic Storytelling in BL

Okay, I should say up front that this is not BL's strength.

Second, I work tangential to ET but my degrees are not in film studies. So, much of what I know has been gleaned from coworkers and just floating constantly in and out of the industry, I may not always use the right terms.

The post where I get the most weedy about filming technique is actually the one where I talk about different directors in BL (their styles, camera preferences and camera angle choices, that kind of thing).

BL Directors - Overview

Finally, for each pick, I’m going to talk first about what I liked about the story, and then how the filming technique is used to serve that.

1. Restart After Come Back Home AKA Risutato wa tadaima no ato de

Atmospheric study in rural Japan meets complex family dynamics built on a romance framework of city boy meets country boy. It’s beautiful and icy sweet. Slow moving in places but ultimately worth your patience. Full review here.

This was the first BL that came to mind when asked this question. This movie highlights Japan’s sweeping atmospheric style (learned at the feet of Kurosawa) applied to a very simple little BL story about coming home. Like with HIs the move, the Japanese countryside itself is a major player and character, but unlike His this movie really makes use of its beauty as a metaphor for possibilities and acceptance. Some of the establishing shots are truly breathtaking. The use of color and shadow is also tailored without being brazen. The film uses it to contrast the the two leads, one of whom is closed off from his family and his home and, to a certain extent, life but open to love, and the other who is open to all sensation and the outside world, but closed off to love. How these two men are filmed, framed, and lit is interwoven with these traits - dependent on their internal emotional states and whether they are together or alone. Cold lighting, sometimes too direct, when they are feeling exposed or challenged, darker cool hues when they are internally reflective, warmer even angry reds and golds when they are coping with emotions around connection and intimacy with each other. And finally the closing shot of bright full day, revolving sparkles and lens flairs that’s implying a forthright acceptance and unity, not just of each other, but of themselves.

It is, simply put, a really beautiful movie to just watch as a visual piece of art, we are so lucky it also happens to be BL.

2. I Want to See Only You AKA Kimi no Koto Dake Mite Itai

This is a beautiful piece of cinema well acted, about two boys who are opposite personalities and grew up together. It is very pretty and this is the kind of atmospheric elegantly performed BL that only really comes from Japan (complete with dead fish kisses - what you thought Korea invented them? oh no). I felt like I was “supposed to like it” more than I did. Ultimately I was left feeling as if I had seen it all before. So for me this was lovely but slightly unmemorable.

Another show that is VERY similar is His the series (I Didn't Think I Would Fall In Love AKA His - Koisuru Tsumori Nante Nakatta). Only it has a beach setting.

I mention these two in this post and at this juncture, because they are very stylistically Japanese but lack intentionality to their filming. So they feel workmanlike in a way that I often accuse Thai BL of.. It’s almost as if in coming from Japan they can’t NOT be pretty about it. Like good filming technique is so expected, it’s part of the DNA. In actually, both these stories might have been served better if the filming were more gritty and raw, sticky, like BLs from Taiwan or the Philippines, but Japan (like Korea) doesn’t do that.

3. Seven Days

Never doubt my ability to recommend this show. One of the best live action yaois ever made, with perfectly structured angst, fantastic characters and acting, and no problematic tropes (rare in Japanese BL). The leads have excellent chemistry although it’s low heat there’s still some cute mutual kisses.

Seven Days pretty much used the original manga as a storyboard with just a few exceptions. And yet because it takes itself and it’s characters seriously (this in not a slapstick JBL) it’s softer and less cartoony than most Japanese live action yaoi. The color pallet is muted, and staging and farming is almsot too simplistic but somehow smooth and organic, rather than choppy or stilted. It looks genuine, not fantastical (see Korea coming up). The cuts are gentle with us, it never feels hurried or rushed, even though this is not a very long piece. It’s classy without being in your face about it.

This is spot on cinematography entirely subsumed by a story. It’s point (if ti can be said to have one) is that it doesn’t have a point of view, and therefore the story just shines. Never once will you feel thrown out by a perfect shot, and yet, every shot is perfect. This is cinema FOR story. This director trusted the script and the actors implicitly and did not feel the need to do anything fancy, which is, in and of itself, remarkable. This is like a perfectly executed piece of sushi. It doesn’t need anything, no sauce, no seasoning. The filming itself relishes its own simplistically.

I actually picked these first 3 BLs intentionally, and all from Japan. Because I feel like they kind of show the range of Japanese cinema has when it is being subtle. By which I mean less derivative of manga and owing much less slapstick. (See something like My Love Mix Up.)

So now let’s move into the relm of manga filming styles.

4. Minato’s Laundromat AKA Minato Shouji Koin Randorii

As of writing this post this show hasn’t ended yet, so not review, you can read my watch along here. But I am still picking it on the basis of the way they use doorways and transitional spaces to represent where the characters are in their different life stages and emotional development (and how they flipped that at the end).

Also this BL is cribbed directly from the manga, shot for shot in places.

This show is an exploration of how maturity is defined under the contest of an age gap romance, roles in society, and liminality - crossing the threshold form child to adult, from fear of love to acceptance, from immaturity to maturity. The series uses characters in doorway, reaching through them, crossing them, and notions of inside spaces versus outside spaces to represent this. I talk about it a lot in my watch along so I won’t rehash here but it is actually BRILLIANT.

5. Old Fashion Cupcake

This show had me from the moment they broke the egg yolk with the chopsticks in the opening credits. It’s about a younger man with a long cherished crush on his boss (who is ten years older and going through a midlife crisis) who decides to save and seduce said boss with pancakes. It’s wholesome, comforting, sexy, and a very necessary narrative about still having hope, interests, and openness to affection at any age. It’s coming of age/queerness packaged in a subtle critique of expectations around masculinity and love and loneliness... and it’s beautiful. Full review here.

The filming style is very much Japan’s close camera work, super tunneled into spaces, confined and almost, but not quite, claustrophobic. It’s using that to highlight how trapped by inertia Nozue feels, and how trapped by his feelings Togawa feels. Nozue in particular is filmed at home hidden, hiding, in the dark, shadowed, and withdrawn - as tidy as his place is, it (and how he occupies it) is an extension of his loneliness and self isolation.

The cinematographer is using that in contrast to the moments of pull back and central framing when the couple is shown sitting and eating together, usually brightly lit, showing them both opening up to each other and, in Nozue’s case, to sensation.

The very final shot of the series, with the big cheerful window, and Togawa feeding Nozue across the table is a representation of how freed they both are by their acceptance of each other.

Not to mention the way the food is shot in this show, and how food and openness to new sensation are used (and filmed) as an allegory for sexual awakening (lust in terms of indulgence - I will never get over those hamster cheeks) and consequently (ultimately) fulfillment.

More on Japan’s cinematic style here.

6. Cherry Blossoms After Winter

Korea took on early Japanese sweet yaoi but gave it their signature softness and precise production style with a STUNNING color palette (beautiful pastels and sun-saturated over-exposure), manga framing style, some traditional BL character archetypes, that tiny edge of bullying roughness and out-of-control seme, plus FINALLY a palatable take on the stepbrothers trope and it was, in a word, classic. Sophisticated and understated CBAW is not slow, it’s just subtle.

This show is dream-like, as if the whole thing took place under cold water on a warm spring day, dappled sunlight slanting through trees above. Is there plot or peril? Not really. Do we care? Also, not really. Look, I can’t help it, I’m old school and so is this show. I grew up reading sweet yaoi, and this was THAT YAOI just on my screen. There’s no objectivity with me and CBAW. It’s a beautiful pastiche and I loved it for how it made me feel and what it reminded me of. It’s not flawless, but it is a wonderful experience. It’s like a Maxfield Parrish BL. Is the filming style serving story, I’m not sure, but it is serving nostalgia.

7. Color Rush

A unique paranormal twist elevates this classic high school drama into a pitch-perfect allegory for the queer coming out experience and one of the best BLs of all time (I will fight you on this).

It’s no accident that I chose so much Color Rush for my screen caps in the post on yaoi framing styles. It is SUCH a manga (yes I know, it’s Korean). The cuts from one shot to the next could actually just have stepped off the page. If Wes Anderson did BL it’s be something like this.

Of course the use of color is just phenomenal - the range of hoodies, and the different backgrounds. The marriage of simplistic wardrobe with simplistic setting is about precision not the mundane. How Yoo Han is using color to seduce AT ALL TIMES is intentional brutal as we are never to forget the threat this entails (our POV and this movie’s is entirely Yeon Woo). Color is the vehicle and the predator, the danger and the light, it is sexual awakening, it is being gay, it is embracing the monster within - right up to and including the color rush itself as something essentially orgasmic. I can tell you, purely on the basis of the fact that the manwha was in black and white, that this BL must be better that its source because it had color to use in its storytelling. Because it had color to play with. If that’s not the visual voice of cinematography telling me a tall tale, I don’t know what is.

I will never get over this show.

8. Semantic Error

Korea hit it entirely out of the Parks with Semantic Error by doing a university set BL featuring everything we expect from BL just done exactly right. It has Korea's signature quality executed perfectly, and added bonus good story, great pacing, stunning visuals, and fantastic chemistry. You cannot ask for more from a BL, let alone a KBL. And the film team was part of this.

Frankly I would have used screen caps from Semantic Error as much as Color Rush in that post on yaoi framing techniques, but I wrote that post too long ago. This BL owes more to its Japanese roots than any other Korean BL I’ve seen: story, characters, and filming style. That image above with the backlit windows and the empty classroom? Could have popped out of Takumi or Boys Love (would have been more blue toned though), not just classic BL but the beginning of BL.

This is another KBL one where the use of color, particularly contrast, is incredibly strong. In this one cool vs warm tones are tools for characterization. (Usually they are used for mood, but not really in this show.) JaeYoung is usually wearing warm tones or shot in warm lighting and with warm backgrounds (reds, oranges, yellows), except when he enters SangWoo’s space. SangWoo is the opposite, almost always in cool tones and lighting (greens, blues, purples). So we get this fire and ice contrast between the two of them, with the lighting playing up who is “winning” the argument or the intimacy levels by being either warm or cool (or transitioning between them in the course of the shot). When JaeYoung manages to crumble SangWoo’s defensives, it gets warmer, when SangWoo is in charge of the narrative drive, it gets cooler. It’s very clever.

I think Korea is particularly good that this tonal character association and mood enhancement because they use it in high concept Kpop MVs all the time.

9. Cutie Pie

Very high production and a lot of visual references to yaoi gave this show a whiff of Japan but ultimately it stayed firmly in Thailand’s BL camp veering from absurd to appealing to annoying and then back to absurd again. If you can roll with the arranged marriage conceit and very lifestyle D/s relationships, the chemistry is spot on even if the plot is naff and sappy and driven by miscommunication. Watch this one for the pretty, give it a pass on depth.

But if it has so little story for the cinematography to support, why did I pick it?

I like the setting chosen (it’s no accent this is top of my list of best Architecture in BL) but I also love the clean filming style, it’s very very manga for Thailand. Cheewin does this well sometimes (see alos SCOY). Not really the best BL by any stretch of the imagination, but there is something candy bright about this one that really harkens to reading yaoi, and Thailand just doesn't do that very often. This is why I chose it.

Wardrobe, setting, and color choices are all used to really highlight the differences between the characters in terms of age and life stage. Also Zee has really learned how to push his physicality since Why Ru U? so that his body positioning in particular just looks EXACTLY like the seme of some 2000s yaoi.

10. Until We Meet Again

UWMA is a work of narrative genius, and all the actors all turn in stellar performances, it is the best Thai BL from a storytelling perspective. It’s two interwoven narratives, present and past, of lovers who have been reincarnated in order to find each other again and forgive each other (and their families) for that past.

But this is a strange one to chose for this list, since the cinematography is workmanlike at best. There’s repeat cuts and other annoying tics, and general hallmarks of New’s style as a director (which is, quite frankly not particularly stylish). BUT, one of the fun things to watch for in this BL is how New contrasts central framing with peekaboo (AKA dirty) framing with regards to the two lead couples.

Korn & In, the past selves, are secretive, scared, and hiding everything. They are usually filmed with things dirtying the screen: walls, and other objects, so we get this voyeuristic feeling of always peeking around a corner at them, and seeing something we shouldn’t. The few times we see their intimacy fully framed it’s at night, staggered, and/or off center. This illustrates not just the secrecy but the instability of the relationship.

Dean & Pharm, the present selves, the camera treats as a representation, in part, of Dean having learned from his past not to hide who he loves. They are often filmed full figure, and centrally framed, full lighting, bold and direct, standing upright, holding hands, or kissing.

In other words, New is using framing techniques to highlight in a way the couples “outness,” the state of their relationship, is related to the outside world and also how they feel about it and themselves.

And there they are, my 10 picks.

Honorable Mention: Light on Me

The filming in this show was precision engineered. The frame was kept uncluttered, characters appeared exactly in the center, there was little visual noise, and the lighting was full on, even in night shots. To me this reflected the character of TaeKyung - honest and almost stilted in his mannerisms. I feel like the director filmed this series as if the show itself were TaeKyung: careful and clear and specific.

This may come off as one-note or simplistic to a casual viewer but it’s actually quite difficult to film something so precisely and still make it interesting to watch. It forced the viewer to focus almost entirely on the actor’s faces, their nuanced emotion, and their interpersonal relationships to the exclusion of all else. Lucky for us those actors served the lens beautifully.

There is literally NOTHING distracting about this directing style. It’s like the camera was a neutral white room, a well-lit gallery in which the narrative hung suspended for us all to stand and stare at in hushed silence.

I mention not so much because it serves up story, because it doesn’t, but because it is the opposite, it allows the story to serve itself.

All my stuff on the BL filming side of things:

Yaoi filming, staging & framing techniques

Favorite Uses of Metonymy In BL

BL Directors - Overview

Lighting

Diffuse point lighting

Backlighting & Silhouettes

Unidirectional focused lighting

Spotlight on romantic couple moments

That lens flare moment

Framing

Staggered couple framing

Linear cinematography + near perfect framing, in distance shots

Central Aperture Framing

Peekaboo Framing

Acting

Favorite Subtle Character Attributes

Ohm’s Acting

Gun's Acting

We Best Love: Seme/Uke & Sam Lin’s Acting Screen Presence (Charisma + Experience)

Saint’s Physicality

OffGun & The Evolution of Chemistry for a BL Pair

Why Nanon Korapat's Acting is FANTASTIC

Meta Post - All My Stuff on the BL Industry - Master Post talking about financing & production: This is a complication by request of all the posts and discussions this blog has hand on the BL industry as an industry, includes studios, production, country analysis, actor and fan behavior

(source)

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the-apprentice-lia · 3 years

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hi, i'm in love with u. seriously, you got some real talent! also, i'm here to make a request, excuse me~~ can you write the main 6 and the mc in some sort of a date..? let's say it's their day, maybe it's been a year since they're together and the main 6 prepared a special day to the mc, plsss? thanks 🖤

hiii!! wait come back, i love you too!! thank you so much, i’m so glad you enjoy my writing!☺️ i’m honestly relieved at this headcanon since i’ve been writing so much angst so thank you! i don’t think i’d have been able to write a piece that would break my heart again!!

the main 6 on their one year anniversary with mc

asra

• let’s clear something up really quickly: asra’s the most romantic person you’ll ever meet. aside from maybe nadia. but this ain’t about her (for now). they’re 100% the type to leave you roses lying around the house with sweet little love notes, compose you magical poetry that makes the entire room smell of ambrosia and only unfurls when you’ve had a terrible day, and drop kisses to any part of you they’re able to reach during the day. so, for your one year anniversary? oh, get ready.

• i can see asra actually asking one of the arcana for the temporary use of their realm, (bonus if he says they’re free to use the magic shop while you two are on your date, and double bonus if a wandering customer who doesn’t take note of the ‘we’re closed’ sign is met with cunning, tapered amaranthine eyes, and a sly, vulpine smile.) and using his magic to enhance the familiar setting even more. he’s probably spent months planning this, ensuring everything’s absolutely perfect on the recurrence of day he first pledged his love to you.

• asra’s not there next to you when you awaken, so you call for him as soft morning sunlight filters through the window, falling across your empty bed and your summons echo through the deserted store. he’s obviously closed it for the day since you’ve slept in, and as you stumble towards the kitchen, you stop as you notice the new outfit laid carefully out on your shared desk, with a note lying beside it.

• “follow me to where you first met me through the palace fountains.” you take in the painstakingly-calligraphied note with a soft smile. asra’s hand-writing is… questionable at best, and barely-legible scribbles at worst, and this note has the prettiest handwriting you’ve seen. the little ‘I’ at the bottom of the note tells you where you need to go, and you grin as you rush to get ready.

• as you pay more attention to the outfit, a soft smile crosses your face. the beautifully put-together ensemble (asra has impeccable fashion sense, fight me) is in your favourite colour, and you sprint to the bath-chamber just so you can put it on sooner. when you finally emerge, you meet your own eyes in the mirror with a beam. it fits you delightfully, outlining the shape of your body and falling perfectly, the fabric looking as if it’s made just for you. you give a little twirl in the mirror with a raw burst of laughter; you not only look and feel beautiful, this is asra’s gift to you and you couldn’t be happier in it.

• finally finished, you follow the trail of magic asra’s left— a shimmering, iris-purple trail that’s obviously reflective of his aura— to where a final gift waits for you, with a carefully-scrolled note left behind it. “open me when you’ve found our spot,” it reads, and you grin at asra’s layers of planning. it means so much to you that he cares about you so much, truly.

• you let your eyes flutter shut, attuning yourself only to the unique aura of the magician’s realm. you know the world is slowly falling away around you, and as you open your eyes again, asra stands before you with the biggest smile on his face. his eyes are twinkling and you know, in that moment, that you’d follow your lover to the ends of the earth.

• it’s the lake where you first entered the magician’s realm to visit asra. painted in the fiery-amber hues of an eternal sunset, the amaranthine sky stretches and ripples before you endlessly, fish jumping between the reeds. they sway gently in the breeze and stretch away from the marigolden reflection of the sun-setting sky on the lake, bleeding in an amethyst kaleidoscope into an electric blue that you long to slip your fingers through. it almost looks as if it would feel like silk.

• “mc, you’ve found me!” comes his teasing voice as he sweeps you up in his arms. he kisses you deeply, before stepping aside to let you take in the picnic he’s set up near the water’s edge. well, picnic in the most basic sense of the word, you think as you look in wonder around you. asra’s set up a beautiful array of coloured blankets, fairy lights hovering in the air all around you. he’s enchanted the glowing orbs to revolve slowly around the two of you, and you find yourself falling even more deeply in love with the beautiful person in front of you.

• after the magical evening in the magician’s realm, you give your fellow arcana his domain back as asra’s hand in yours pulls you through the fabric of the realms and you’re standing back in your shop.

• when you waken in the morning, after your (practically non-existent;) lovely sleep, you find it’s long past the time that the two of you usually decide to open the store. again, asra’s broken duties (which in and of itself is a great feat?!) simply to spend time with the love of their life. you show your appreciation with extra cuddles that he accepts with a sleepy smile, his warm and utterly contented aura mingling with yours and making your morning even better.

nadia

• okay she’s probably tied with asra in the romance department. she just can’t help it! gifts have always been her love-language, even when, only known as the youngest satrinava princess, the only meaningful gifts she used to be able to give were the gifts she made herself— intricate devices, levers and pulleys in the latest fashion that wax and wane with the sun so that your plants never want for any light— you name it, she could have, and probably had before, made it. so, when she was young, since she was so insecure and unsure of herself, gifts were the only way she was ever able to show affection.

• now, of course, she’ll move you close to her wherever you are with a gentle hand around your waist, press little kisses to your cheeks or forehead, pull you to her and press a soft kiss to your lips— no, your beloved never fails to show you just how much you mean to her, just how much she loves you. however… she does love to see the berry-red blush spread across your face at her lavish gifts, the small, adorable “thank you, nadi,” she’s certain to get. she also absolutely lives for doesn’t mind the thank you hugs.

• and so, the first thing you see as you awaken on your one-year anniversary, is an actual mountain of presents. and this is not an exaggeration. no, this is… as large a pile of gifts as you’ve ever seen, sitting in the corner of your shared chambers together. your mouth hangs slightly open as you take in the sheer volume of presents she’s got you. you had been sure of your gift (singular!!) to her, but looking around you… doubt slips into your mind. you shake it off, calling into your chambers.

• “uh… nadi?” your voice echoes through the empty space as you ruffle your hair with your fingers, swinging your legs out of bed and onto… is that a path of rose petals?? and not even just scattered, an entire, beautifully arranged path of (somehow) amaranthine rose-petals. it’s so soft, and you can’t help laughing in incredulous delight as you savour the silken feel of the path beneath your feet. of course, you follow it. you’d hate for all her obviously meticulous planning to go to waste— no, you’re going to make sure this day goes exactly to plan! you step across the gossamer-soft, sweet-smelling path laid out for you as you approach nadia’s divan next to her paper folding-doors that she usually changes behind. you exhale softly as you take in the breathtaking outfit in front of you, squealing with delight as you sweep it up in your arms and twirl behind the doors.

• when you’ve changed and fixed your hair, (if it’s to your liking ordinarily, she’s even matched accessories for you!) you step out from behind the doors only to be swept towards a dressing-table by one of nadia’s attendants. they’re finished quickly, and as they leave you go to look in the mirror, and stop in your tracks. that’s… you? the person staring back at you is quite unfamiliar. you stare with no small measure of disbelief at smooth, rosy-apple cheeks underneath star-filled eyes, and soft, blushing lips, hanging open.

• if gowns are more to your liking, the one nadia’s chosen for you is absolutely stunning, even more so on your figure. it looks as if it was made for you! in your favourite colour, the hue that undoubtedly looks best on you, it fits at your waist and flairs out prettily, billowing around your ankles as you turn this way and that. the fabric falls off you perfectly, nadia would have spared absolutely no expense, and the shoes she’s picked out accentuate your great beauty even further. whatever your chosen outfit, however, nadia ensures that you look absolutely breathtaking in it.

• once you’re finished, you follow the trail of rose petals through your chamber doors, taking your little gift with you. anyone who sees you on your way absolutely stops in their tracks. anyone who sees you? immediately in love with you. gay or straight, doesn’t matter— they’re absolutely besotted with you now!! you note the lack of servants with a faint smile— nadia’s had most of the palace staff dismissed for the day, a skeleton-crew keeping the palace running on minimal functions for the day. today is your day. it belongs only to the two of you, and she won’t have her duties as countess interfering.

• when the trail finally ends, at the entrance to the palace gardens, you bend ever so slightly (someone cranes their neck at this and gets a little slap upside the head from a mildly irritated portia. don’t interrupt her! she’s fangirling so. hard. all her ship dreams are finally coming true!!) and pick up the parchment note nadia’s carefully scrolled. when you pick it up, it immediately unfurls in your hands to reveal the most elegant calligraphy you’ve ever seen. if you think nadia’s writing (when she isn’t planning or inventing, that is) isn’t the most lovely handwriting you’ve ever seen, you’re wrong. “come and find me,” reads the elegantly curving script in nadia’s hand. even simply reading it, you can almost hear the teasing, lilting air to her voice she would have had as she’d read the note out, and you set out with a warm smile to go and find your love.

• you think you know exactly where to find her, you think with a small smile to yourself. you’re quite enjoying yourself, playing nadia’s game. you could never hope to beat her at any game of wit, but you’d lose to her again and again if it meant having her guiding hands on yours, teaching you patiently, her soft voice tickling your cheek, her soft kiss ‘well done’ as you master a concept. you love this woman so much, it’s almost overtaking. as you’ve been reflecting, your feet have been carrying you towards the part of the garden that has always belonged to the two of you.

• ever since you pulled her away from the insistent clamour of the court to hide in the little clearing you two had unwittingly stumbled upon, you had always met here for your strolls through the gardens, made out read together here, and always enjoyed your time alone, here where nobody can find the two of you. (well, actually… portia found your little spot ages ago, but felt too terrible to interrupt your time together. she’s also probably been leading everyone subtly away from your spot together. “no, they’re not to be bothered! no, it can wait! leave them alone or so help me—”)

• when you finally reach the secluded clearing right in the thicket of the palace gardens, you turn into your safe-haven together, and lose your breath. nadia hasn’t turned towards you yet, but the clearing is strung with beautiful lights that dot the bushes around you and make it seem like there are little fireflies in amongst the bushes, there are new wildflowers planted all through the thicket that gives the little clearing even more of a charming atmosphere, and the soft blanket that’s spread across the floor is a classic daisy-white, edged with lace and strewn with baby’s breath. there’s a feast fit to feed many more than two people on a slightly raised honey-oak wood platter.

• nadia herself is dressed in an outfit you haven’t seen her wear before, a long, flowing cream-coloured dress that fits her waist and flares out in a single layer, a slit running up to show most of a long, perfect leg. her hair is open and tumbling in beautiful, shining amaranthine waves down her back. the dress billows around her arms only to cinch in at the wrist, and you find yourself unable to look away. “nadi…” your voice is soft, and she turns to you, anything she has to say dying on her lips as she inhales sharply.

• “my love, you look… exquisite,” comes her breathy voice, her eyes sparkling as she takes you in wearing the outfit she picked for you. “well, it’s all thanks to you,” you say lightly, trying to take away from the fact that your face is so hot you think it would burn you to touch it. she notices, and stifles her fond smile lest she embarrass you. instead, she strides across the clearing in one quick motion, takes you by the waist, dips you over, and meets your lips with her soft, full ones. you sigh into her, running your hands through your hair as you’ve been longing to do since first you walked into the clearing. she reluctantly pulls you back up again when you break away for air, keeping her arm around your waist as she pulls you close to her again, stroking your cheek as you look into her eyes, lost in how utterly regal she is. you’re seized by another wave of admiration and love for this woman. you can’t even find the words to tell her how much she means to you, and so you pull her to you in another kiss.

• you don’t even realise you’re pouring all your love for her into your kiss both figuratively and literally until she pulls away, looking at you with an utterly overwhelmed expression, tears tinged with rose-petal pink rolling down her cheeks. “oh, nadi i’m so sorry! oh, please don’t cry!! i didn’t mean to— mmrph!” she cuts you off, meeting your lips with such fervour you take a step back— but she pulls you back to her, moulding you into her person as if the two of you are one and the same. but in a way, you are. you’d be a shell of a person without your love, and you know how deep her affection for you is.

• “mc… that was overtaking,” comes her soft voice. “oh nadi, i’m so sorry i wasn’t thinking!” you stumble over your words, berating yourself again and again in your mind. “sometimes it just happens and i don’t realise it, but—” she shushes you, her eyes shining. “you love me… that much?” her soft voice comes, and you pull back in confusion to take her in.

• “uh… nadi. you’re the most stunning, clever, kind, resourceful person i’ve ever met. you’ve got the biggest heart and i absolutely love you for it. you make me so, so happy,” you tell her, a wide smile on your face. “of course my love for you is overtaking! i think i fall in love with you a little more every day,” you confess, a sheepish smile on your face as you look away from her, but she turns you back to her by your chin, pulling you to her for another kiss.

• “you complete me.” is her only reply. you know she can’t put what she feels for you into words, but you look up at her with surprise as she takes your hand suddenly. “mc i can’t put all that i feel for you into words but my aura will allow you to see just how much i adore you,” she tells you with a warm smile as you place your hand on her face, opening your mind to her aura. it’s a simple spell, you shouldn’t be feeling this drained simply from tapping into nadia’s aura, and yet… when the full force of her love for you hits you, you actually stumble. when nadia catches you, her laugh is warm and full of love as she lowers you both down onto the picnic blanket. you snuggle further into her arms, resting your head on her chest as her arms encircle you. “oh, nadia. thank you.” you don’t say anything else, hoping she’ll know just what you’re thanking her for. she does. you think she’ll always understand you, whether you tell her or not, and as she pulls away gently to pull a bowl of your favourite fruit towards the two of you, you’re struck by how lucky you are. how lucky, to have this incredible woman sitting here beside you at all.

• “come here, mc,” comes her soft voice. for once, she doesn’t need to put on a front for anyone. it’s just her and the one she loves. will make as if she’s going to feed you, and then tease you instead, maybe getting a little juice on your cheek and kissing it off you. the rest of your picnic together is spent simply talking quietly, enjoying each other’s company. you dance slowly in the clearing, your head on nadia’s chest as she leads the two of you in w slow dance, her hand securely around your waist. neither of you need to say very much, and the beginnings of sunset comes to find the pair of you stretched out lazily on the picnic blanket. her head rests on your lap as you stroke her hair gently, probably running your fingers through it a few times, and singing her a lullaby or just a sweet and or slow song.

• a.n: yes, i said singing. i don’t care whether you think your voice is pretty or not, (it is. fight me.) nadia loves it because it’s uniquely yours. nothing puts her more at ease than your slow and steady voice reading or singing to her. look, some voices are deemed by most people to be the standard, lovely voice— and if you fall into that category then great! i’m so happy your voice is like that!! but if you don’t, i want you to know that some voices are made just to sing softly-spoken lullabies and i think that’s beautiful. <3

• but towards the end of your picnic, you’ll tell her tentatively, “nadi… ?” she’ll hum in response. “yes, my heart?” “well um… i know you got me all those gifts and i just wanted to say thank you,” you say softly. she sits up, coming to cup your cheek. “anything for you, my dearest. but what troubles you?”

• “well it’s just that my gift isn’t all that, i just made it myself,” you’ll try to tell her, but she’s having none of it. is shushing you by the second sentence. “don’t say ‘just’, mc. i made some of your gifts myself, too. it means that you care for me so, that you know well enough what i’d like,” she tells you with a gentle smile.

• you’ll pull out the small, carefully wrapped package in your favourite colour. “here it is,” you tell her shyly. “i hope you like it.”

• when she unwraps it, she looks to you with shining eyes. “mc, this is beautiful!” she tells you. it’s a jewellery box you smelted using magic. the intricate engravings on the top took an especially long time to do, but they’re in native prakran and your home language, looping elegantly through one another to form confessions of love, linked so that they’ll never end. in the middle are the numbers ‘II’ and ‘0’ in roman numerals, and she looks to you with glassy eyes before you tell her softly to open it.

• when she does, she loses her breath. “mc… is this you and i?” she asks you, looking up at you with the most beautiful smile you can’t help but give one in return. you nod in response, your mouth curving up ever so slightly as you recall the memory. “oh, this was our first ever dance!” she tells you, her eyes alight at the memory. “i remember how we pushed and pulled like magnets. you knew everything i was going to do before i did it, mc, and you trusted me to lead you. it was the first time i truly saw you dance, and it was uniquely beautiful,” she tells you, smiling at you. you can’t help but meet her lips at her adorable expression, pulling her to you as she tilts your head up and to the side, resting her hands on your hipbones.

• she has a gala for you over the next few days where she leads you again in the palatial dance, the two of you dancing in sync and a beautiful rhythm as she spins you around in your beautiful outfit, but today belongs to the two of you.

• you’re not getting any sleep tonight! so enjoy. but seriously, it’s the most loving, gentle night you’ve had with her yet and that’s saying something since nadia takes care of you so much. still so filled with passion, though. the morning after, she’s cancelled everything to simply lay with you, and you’re overjoyed at the unexpected gesture.

• you’ll definitely blush as you catch sight of her thoroughly marked neck, and she’ll pull you to her sleepily. you’ll both get the rest you deserve.

julian

• as you awaken, you notice that your room is empty, and you call out for julian as you step out of bed. “hey, jules!” your call echoes through the empty house.

• julian hasn’t left you a trail of rose petals, but rather detailed, encrypted instructions that lead you through the town, picking up items everywhere you go. every time you solve a clue, a grin spreads across your face— they’re all so thought through, so meaningful. you love this man and all his melodrama so much.

• when you’re finally finished with the list, you find yourself in a secluded section of the whispering woods, looking around yourself in awe. this part of the forest is lit with bioluminescence, beautiful flowers and plants streaked with all sorts of glowing colours curling into the undergrowth and lighting up the night with bursts of colour. julian sits on a dark picnic blanket, a lantern beside him, with a luminous blue, star-like flower held out towards you. “you’ve found me, mc,” comes his playful voice, and you just barrel into his arms, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing with all your might.

• all through the picnic, julian softly tells you how much you mean to him and how much he loves you, as you feed him bits of lobster claw, and eventually when the night is over it finds the two of you strolling slowly back to your house, julian’s hand tightly in yours.

muriel

• when you awaken muriel’s right there beside you, pulling you into him gently. “happy one year anniversary, mc,” he murmurs into your hair. the two of you will just snuggle and relax for the entire morning, and towards the middle of the day he’ll tell you with the biggest, tomato-red blush on his face that he… picked out an outfit for you that he thought you’d like, (with asra’s help, of course— or maybe he asked nadia, and she was surprised and taken aback but utterly delighted to help her friend) and would you like to get dressed now… ? he’ll come and pick you up later, when everything’s all set up.

• you take in the outfit with a soft smile. although it’s simple, you love it. you dress right away and spend the rest of the afternoon matching accessories and shoes, and doing your hair. if you like dresses, it’s a simple forest-green summer dress that hugs your waist and flares out, that you pair with a little locket muriel made you when he confessed his love to you. you’re wearing heels or flats, but either way you look lovely. if not a gown, you wear a simple forest-green shirt and a pair of linen trousers. either way, the simplicity makes you look radiant.

• when muriel comes back to get you, he takes you in with wide eyes, a blush spreading steadily across his face. “whoa… mc you’re so pretty,” he’ll tell you with a soft smile, and you can’t resist pressing your lips to his. he takes your hand in his and walks you through the forest. little murmurs of “mc you’re so lovely,” and “mc i love you so much,” break the calm forest noise as the two of you stroll through wildflowers and holly, until you reach a clearing full of wildflowers. it’s night now, dusk has long since fallen, and the meadow looks even more beautiful as you turn back to muriel with a grin. “muri it’s so pretty! thank you for bringing me here,” you tell him with a soft smile.

• he pulls you forward to the picnic blanket, and the two of you lay down with your faces to the stars. as he feeds you, he’ll point out constellations and tell you their stories, his voice soft and full of love. when he tells you the story of orion and the pleiades, you groan in protest you find that he still chases them across the night sky. “i’d chase you across the night sky for all eternity,” comes his quiet voice, his warm breath tickling your cheek as crickets chirrup quietly all around the two of you.

• come morning, the two of you accidentally fell asleep in the clearing… but neither of you are even mildly unhappy about that, and you laugh together the entire way home, making jokes and retelling the stories from last night in silly voices.

• muriel cuddles with you for most of today, as well.

portia

• when you wake, it’s to the sweet smell of something baking, and you throw your feet out of bed immediately, sprinting to the kitchen as you take in portia, with tousled morning hair in her sleep-shirt and underwear, baking your favourite desert. you sneak up behind her and tickle her sides, and she almost drops the tray she’s holding, setting it down quickly to turn to you, a stern expression on her face. it quickly melts away as she’s reminded of how adorable you are, and instead she feeds you a bit of batter or custard, kissing your nose as you give her a big morning hug, coming up to meet her lips and running your fingers through her hair.

• “oh, mc…” she signs into your lips. “good morning to you too, my love,” comes your answering voice, a smile on your lips. her lips curve up as well. “happy one year anniversary, mc!!” she shouts, barrelling into you with another bear hug. “oh, sweet arcana, let me die here,” you sigh into her arms before she thwacks your forehead lightly. “nuh uh, mc. you’ve already done that once,” she reminds you as you grin sheepishly.

• when she’s finished baking, you two probably take a nice warm bath together. you’ve each bought each other outfits, and you go to seperwre corners of the house, giggling softly, to change. your outfit is definitely cottagecore, and as you change into it you’re taken by how cute it looks. if you prefer gowns, yours is a classic white sleeveless picnic dress that hugs your waist and flares out around your ankles, with a tie at the back that folds sweetly into a bow. you’ve got straw wedge heels that go perfectly with the dress, and classic accessories to go along with it. if you prefer trousers, you have a classic set of light brown trousers and a cream-coloured shirt with a classic hat that matches your trousers.

• you’ve bought portia a lovely petal-pink dress with billowing sleeves that cinch around the elbows, that flutters out to the ankles, (you had it measured specifically so she doesn’t trip in it) and a soft tie to go around her waist. you’re hoping she leaves her hair open, and as the two of you meet in the kitchen in the middle of the house, both of you smile at the other. before either of you can say anything, pepi gives a proud little “peep!” and sits in between the both of you, tilting her head. the two of you haven’t left her out of the fun, and she’s got a sweet little cream-and-pink coloured bow around her neck. the two of you laugh as portia turns to you. “i knew you’d look amazing in that, sweetheart!” she tells you with a grin. “give us a twirl!” you do so, and spin her in your arms, pulling her in for a kiss as the two of you grab the picnic basket and head out.

• the meadow is big and beautiful, stretching into the distance. there are wildflowers everywhere, and as you lay out the picnic blanket you can’t help pulling portia up to you and away from the blanket to dance with you among the flowers. dancing with portia isn’t like dancing with any of the other main 6. dancing with portia is… instinctual. you’re led by your shared love and trust in each other, and it’s gentle but sure. you know she’s there to lead you in the dance, and her hand around your waist is secure. as you dance, she rests her head on your chest as you now take control, leading the two of you in a slow spin and then dipping her to meet her lips with yours.

• you feed each other, and read to each other, simply enjoying each other’s company until the sun sets.

lucio

• lucio has the entire day planned to a tee. the outfit he’s picked out for you is obviously lavish and probably worth more than some people make in a lifetime. gifts are also his love language, but he’s very domineering in what he’ll give you. it all conforms to what he wants you to wear and like. and so, even if you aren’t too into the overly expensive outfit, you wear it anyway and take yourself down to the gala he’s planned specifically for today.

• “ah, my darling mc!” he calls to you, as a smile lights up his face. he pulls you to him, dipping you for the whole court to see as he rights you again, wrapping his arm around your waist. “oh, mc. you do know that i love you more than life itself, don’t you?” comes his dramatic voice, soft so only you can hear.

• when the banquet is finished, get ready to not sleep at all have a lovely relaxing night.

#asra headcanons #asra x mc #countess nadia #julian devorak #julian the arcana #lucio the arcana #muriel the arcana #muriel x mc #asra the arcana #nadia headcanons #portia the arcana #portia devorak #julian headcanons #the arcana fluff #nadia the arcana fluff

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thornedrose44 · 3 years

Text

It's Funny Right Up Until It's Not

Read on AO3

It's funny because it's harmless…

It's funny because it's never a big deal…

It's funny because it's forgotten by the next day…

It's funny because she's fine.

She's always fine…

Until… she’s not...

It's funny right up until there's a growing pool of blood.

It's funny right up until Kara's hands just can't seem to stem the flow.

It's funny right up until Kara can't get her to open her eyes no matter how much she screams.

It's funny right up until the moment Kara realises Lena might actually die this time…

*****

Lena always said she would start to worry if she didn't have an assassination attempt at least once a week, claiming she would phone her enemies to check that they were all still kicking - concerned they might have passed away or even worse… lost interest.

Lena was the one that joked about it from the start, her dark-edged humour and flair for the dramatic finding their niche with the topic of the failed attempts on her life.

Alex jumped in next - her humour similar to the youngest Luthor and her affection for Lena not high enough for her to find the subject of Lena’s death off putting like she would with anyone else. Her amusement at the failed attempts taking a harsher edge towards Lena than necessary. "You know why they keep missing you? You run so stupidly that logical aiming no longer applies."

Kara could chart Alex and Lena’s friendship by how the jokes changed. How Lena was no longer the punchline but the assassins, how they were idiotic for daring to take on Lena, "I mean seriously! What sane being in the known universe would think: 'I know that Lena Luthor stopped an alien invasion, is probably the smartest person on the planet and is practically a sharpshooter but me and my crappy store bought pistol will be more than enough to take her on'."

Alex's shift into more positive banter led the way for the rest of the Superfriends to get in on the action. They placed bets on when the next attempt would come. They would reminisce about the most ridiculous attempts so far - the spiderman impersonator that had used suction cup gloves to slowly climb the side of L-Corp was a particular favourite, exhausting themselves halfway up and crying for Supergirl to save him.

It became one of the most regular jokes amongst them, an old and familiar friend that they could fall back on and break the ice with when the need arrived.

Kara had hated it to start with. Had hated Lena's nonchalance and the twinkle of mirth in her eyes after her latest would-be assassin was carted away in handcuffs. Had hated Lena’s morbid humour. Had hated the bullying disguised as playful banter that Alex had inflicted on her best friend who always shook it off far too lightly. Had hated how it became a comfortable staple amongst her friends.

But… with every failed attempt that Lena walked away from without a scratch… Kara's hatred reduced. She started to laugh at the jokes and appreciate the compliments that Alex now tucked into her banter (each one an apology for those that had cruelly come before). She started to engage in the bets and fondly roll her eyes in faux exasperation when she would find Lena working away even as they swept up the glass from the latest attacker.

And once the Supergirl secret was out, their friendship more solid than ever, Kara finally poked fun as well.

It was funny because Lena was never hurt.

It was funny because Supergirl would always, always, always be there to save her in the nick of time.

It was funny right up until Supergirl was too late.

*****

Kara had been in the training room at the time, her powers dampened by the green suffused walls. She hadn’t heard the ringing from the watch calling - screaming out - for help. She hadn’t heard the gunshots. The skyrocketing heartbeat.

She hadn’t heard any of it.

Alex had insisted, after assessing Kara’s technique to be a little lazy in a fight the day prior, that they re-sharpen her skills in the training room. The sisters had spent the morning laughing between thrown punches; exhausting themselves and bickering good-naturedly. Kara had made Alex swear that they would be finished before eleven, not wanting to be late to her standing brunch with Lena that she always looked forward to.

It should be noted that it takes Kara a minute to somewhat recharge in the morning light streaming through the DEO’s windows on the mezzanine balcony after her training sessions. It was something Alex and Lena had spent a significant amount of time working out, taking into consideration the kryptonite strength in the training room and Kara’s typical sunlight absorption rate - neither liking the idea of Kara powerless for an extended amount of time.

So... it took a minute.

A full minute spent talking to Alex about… Kara wouldn’t even remember after everything that happened next.

She would, however, remember the moment when her super-hearing kicked back in and she was overwhelmed by the high pitched warble from Lena’s watch, followed by the sound of Lena’s barely there breath and thready heartbeat.

Kara won’t remember taking off so violently that Alex was thrown back several feet. She won’t remember smashing through the DEO’s ceiling nor the sonic boom that accompanied her flight and shattered hundreds of windows.

She won’t remember landing with such ferocity the entirety of L-Corp shook, matching the tremble running through her body.

She will, however, always remember the growing pool of blood and how she dissociated at the sight of it. Some strange voice in her head whispering that it must simply be red wine that had slipped through Lena’s fingers. She’d always liked wine, the voice would soothe, a particular cabernet with a price tag that would make Kara’s eyes water, that’s all it was.

She needed it to be wine.

It didn’t matter that the puddle - lake, ocean - was more than a single bottle’s worth.

It didn’t matter that Lena only drank wine with others, her solitary drink of preference being whiskey.

It didn’t matter that Kara had never seen Lena’s elegant fingers ever let a single drop fall from her glass, let alone an entire bottle.

It didn’t matter because it could not be blood.

Lena doesn’t bleed, not that much, not ever.

Because Lena was always fine. Kara was always there on time.

Always.

The next thing that would be forever ingrained in Kara’s memory, seared into her mind’s eye like burnt pixels exposed to the same image endlessly - a ghost overlapping everything else - was Lena’s body taking centre stage on the red carpet of her own creation.

Lena, pale beyond comparison, curled into a small ball, single arm stretched out and stained crimson. She was wearing Kara’s favourite dress - green with a white printed flower design - she had worn it to their first brunch after they had reconciled. It was associated with hope, reunion and new starts. It complemented Lena’s green eyes making them sparkle and twinkle even more when the light streaming through the little restaurant’s window had hit them at just the right angle.

Lena’s cheeks had flushed a pleased pink, ears burning a warm red when Kara had stuttered out a compliment that day. That brunch had settled something between them, ensured they walked with linked hands towards their new future rather than struggling on different paths that occasionally converged.

Now it was stained red. Splattered almost beyond recognition.

Kara won’t remember crying or screaming for Lena to wake up. She only knows she must have done it when she looked in the mirror hours later to find her cheeks marked with semi-permanent tear tracks whilst her throat ached from overuse.

She won’t remember flying Lena so carefully and tenderly to the DEO.

She won’t remember landing.

She won’t remember the expressions of utter devastation on Alex, Brainy, Nia and J’onn’s faces.

She won’t remember Alex having to shove her away so that she and the medical team can get to Lena.

She won’t remember Brainy and J’onn forcibly restraining her.

She will remember the sound of Lena’s heart stopping for thirty seconds and feeling like the whole world had ended.

*****

The space was filled to the brim with loved ones that couldn’t bear the idea of leaving whilst the medical staff fought to save Lena’s life

Brainy and Nia were sat huddled together against one wall, Nia running a calm hand down Brainy’s ramrod straight back. J'onn stood in the corner, observant gaze sweeping protectively over everyone, ready to swing into action at the slightest indication someone required him. Sam and Ruby - who had flown over using the L-Corp jet the second they had heard - were curled up on one of the two benches, Ruby’s soft cries muffled against Sam’s curled shoulder. Kelly, meanwhile, was hovering nearby, flitting between people, providing endless comfort and support.

It was Kelly that had gently tugged Kara to the bathroom and washed away the crimson marking her skin and brought her a change of clothes, telling her in gentle tones that she didn’t need to be Supergirl in this situation.

It was permission to fall apart, to just be the best friend and not the hero.

Kara didn’t know she needed that until she finally realised no one had touched her since she had brought Lena in, that she hadn’t sat down or rested either. Her stiff posture and clenched jaw warding off all those that wished to provide comfort.

The second permission was granted to her, Kara immediately sought out her adoptive mother, who had just arrived, and collapsed into her arms, willingly breaking down and begging between sobs for Lena to be okay.

Kara and Eliza took up the other bench - mirror images of Sam and Ruby - Eliza, intermittently, pressing reassuring kisses to Kara’s head as they waited and waited and waited.

“She’s stable.” Alex announced with little ceremony as she stepped into the room, cutting right to the chase knowing a delay of any kind would not be appreciated by those sitting in the makeshift waiting room/DEO hallway. There was an instant audible expulsion of air that accompanied the sheer relief of the room's occupants.

Kara, however, didn’t sigh in relief, didn’t whisper a thank you to any deity listening, instead she got to her feet and approached Alex, desperation clear in her eyes and in the shake of her hands. “Can I see her?”

Alex blinked taken aback by the suddenness of the request but not the request itself, “Kara, she’s-”

“Please.” Kara begged, blue eyes pleading, legs shaking, ready to drop to her knees in supplication if need be.

“Kara, I don’t-” Alex murmured, looking quickly over at Eliza for support.

“Take her.” Eliza interrupted, tone serious and grave after spending hours holding her daughter who hadn't cried this much since the destruction of her entire planet. “Take her to Lena.”

“Okay, come on…”, Alex shook her head in wary acceptance, moving to hold open the door to Lena’s room.

*****

“She’s in a medically induced coma.” Alex explained quietly, her voice only just audible over all the whirring machines that Lena was hooked up to.

“Will she...” Kara asked, trailing off unable to finish the question.

Unable to imagine the still, pale mannequin laid out on the bed before her being all that Lena will ever be.

“Her body needs time to heal.” Alex explained carefully, not directly answering Kara’s question, “Once we’re more confident that she…” Alex cleared her throat, trying for tact and simplicity, “That she’s improved, we’ll back off the medication and gradually encourage her out of the coma.”

“Okay.” Kara accepted, sliding into the seat beside the bed, fingers reaching out tentatively to wrap around Lena’s limp ones.

“Okay?” Alex repeated, confused by Kara’s lack of pressing questions.

“She’ll wake up.” Kara murmured, bending down to press a kiss to Lena’s knuckles. “She’ll be fine. She’s always fine, isn’t she?”

“Uh…” Alex mumbled, uncertainty twisting her insides as she approached her sister who seemed so… lost.

“How many attempts has she survived now, huh?” Kara asked, her tone light but so dreadfully wrong and out of place like an easy-going dinner with friends jarred from its natural rhythm by the sharp squeak of a fork against a plate.

“Kara?” Alex whispered, stepping towards her sister like she would a wounded animal. "She's really hurt and I don't-"

"She’ll be fine, Alex. She’s always fine!" Kara hissed, blue eyes turning fierce with an ethereal red glow that had Alex stopping dead in her tracks. "It happens every week like clockwork and Lena is always fine!"

"This… this isn't like those other times…" Alex said slowly.

"YES, IT IS!" Kara screeched, the embers in her eyes sparking dangerously.

Alex swallowed thickly, a genuine trickle of fear running down her spine at the disturbing mish-mash of emotions flickering across Kara’s shadowed face. The only thing that made Alex see her sister in the dark swirl of emotions was the tender way she continued to cradle Lena’s hand as she ranted so loudly it shook the walls, every word undoubtedly audible to those seated just outside.

"They're all the same, Alex. It doesn't matter if they are professional or amateurs.” Kara snarled. “It doesn't matter if the plan is simple or complex. They've all tried to kill her and failed! It’s the same fucking thing as all the others! It’s not different."

"I-" Alex began in a futile attempt to soothe her sister’s heartbreak and loathing, but she might as well have tried to turn the tide.

"It's a joke, right?!” Kara laughed darkly, “That's how certain we are that they will always fail. That she will always be okay! We wouldn't joke about it if there was any actual risk, right?!” Kara asked, not waiting to hear the answer as the question itself was enough to punch a hole in Alex’s chest and leave her gasping for breath. “Because how fucked up would that be? That I laugh about my best friend… the woman I… my Lena, dying nearly every week." Kara’s voice cracked with true despair.

"Kara, you didn't-"

"Yes, I did and so did you. So did everyone.” Kara accused, laying out their crimes that they were all undeniably guilty of. “We laughed. We placed bets. We minimised it but didn't actually do anything. There is an assassination attempt on her life every week and yes, we stop it when it happens. But have we ever actually done anything to prevent it in the first place? Or did we just like the joke too fucking much?" Kara sobbed, finally turning away from her sister to gently lay her head atop of Lena’s frail hand.

"Kara…" Alex croaked; hot tears spilling from her own eyes at the sight of her sister becoming undone and knowing that any comfort she could offer was limited.

Lena’s state was precarious, her life still in the balance.

And with regards to the source of Kara’s anguish and the failings she had thrown at all of their doorsteps… well, Alex couldn't refute them especially knowing she had been the worst of them. The guilt was like that of a thousand blades slicing her up from the inside out, and she barely staggered to the door where Kelly was waiting with sympathy and love that Alex had never felt so unworthy of.

"She's going to be okay." Alex called out over her shoulder as she fell into Kelly’s arms, knowing Kara couldn’t hear her over the sounds of her grief and pain… but needing to say it nonetheless. Needing the words to be out there in the universe.

Needing them to be true.

*****

Kara stayed by Lena’s bedside for the entire week that Lena remained unconscious - an ever present sentinel that barely slept and only ate when Eliza forced the food onto her. The tumultuous swirl of fear and guilt that had become her constant companion, weighing heavier than the two worlds she already carried on her shoulders, kept her ever-vigilant and on a hair-trigger for even the smallest of threats to the young Luthor’s life.

Alex stopped by once a day to check in but she kept her distance, neither sister ready to address the crimes Kara held them both accountable for. The older Danvers looked almost as wrecked as Kara, dark circles under her eyes revealing deep-levels of exhaustion and stress - Kara wanted to ask how she was and check that she was looking after herself but the words just wouldn’t come. When Alex stopped by, Kara huddled even closer to Lena’s bedside and kept her gaze fixed and purposefully away from her sister’s.

Brainy and Nia, on the other hand, more than made up for Alex’s short visitations, setting up shop in Lena’s room whenever they could free themselves from the responsibilities Kara had unwittingly dumped on them - Brainy had stepped up to cover for Supergirl’s sudden disappearance in much the same way Nia was covering for Kara at work. Both had heard Kara’s distraught cries when she had seen Lena in the hospital bed and both were shouldering their own fair share of blame and guilt.

Brainy wasn’t very good at showing how distraught Lena’s near death had made him, hiding behind a tablet screen as he sat in the corner of Lena’s hospital room, but Kara was more than aware of the grief-stricken glances Brainy would send to his intellectual equal when he believed no one was looking. Kara didn’t call him out on it, merely gave his shoulder a squeeze every now and again before giving the Coluan some privacy - trusting Brainy above everyone to not let anything happen to Lena.

Whilst Nia hadn’t known Lena as long as everyone else, she was a gentle soul with the kindest heart that Kara had ever seen, her loyalty and love was firm and sincere regardless of how short a time she had known someone as was the case with the CEO. Lena was the person that Nia went to for support about sibling drama because Lena, unlike Kara, knew what it was like to truly doubt family love and how to cope when that support which everyone expects to be unconditional vanishes without a trace. Lena was the person that Nia had started to go shopping with, their appreciation for designer and statement fashion providing them bonding time that no one else could easily (or willingly) provide.

Eliza stuck around, the temporary dissolution of the sisterly bond that the two sisters’ typically depended on forcing the Danvers matriarch to step in and pick up the disjointed pieces of her family. She was the one that compelled Kara to shower, eat and nap. She was the one that dragged Alex by her ear into Lena’s room for her flying visits. She was the one that took point on Lena’s care, Alex too emotionally spent and frazzled to lead, and Kara untrusting of anyone else when it came to treating her best friend.

The medication was steadily backed off on the fifth day, Lena’s tests showing promise that she was improving. Lena groaned intermittently on the sixth day, groggy and confused - utterly unaware of Kara who flitted constantly over her with every sound like a worried mother hen. It was the seventh day - Kara’s mind fleetingly linking it with something holy and divine - when Lena awoke.

“Lena?” Kara whispered as Lena’s eyes fluttered open, green eyes slowly focusing and showing awareness that had been lacking whenever they flashed open a day prior.

“Kar-” Lena began, her voice fading out after the first syllable, her mouth so dry that her tongue barely managed to apply any moisture to her cracked lips. Kara responded immediately to her needs, her every nerve tuned in exclusively to Lena after days at her side.

“Here, small sips…” Kara encouraged, holding out a cup of water and straw which she pressed gently against the other woman’s lips.

After Lena had drunk her fill, Kara placed the cup back on the side before retaking Lena’s hand tenderly in her own.

“Better?” Kara checked.

“Hmm…” Lena hummed affirmatively, green eyes greedily moving over Kara’s face causing the blonde to flush and wish for the first time in the last few days that she had spent a bit more time on her appearance.

“I-” Kara began, her voice cracking with emotion as her lower lip trembled with barely suppressed sobs.

Kara had so much to say. So much.

The words had come endlessly whilst Lena had been asleep, thousands upon thousands of conversations she was desperate to have with her best friend playing on endless repeat in her mind’s eye scripted to perfection. She had promised herself she would have them all, would say them all the second Lena was awake and listening. She had memorised them and mouthed them to herself as she sat by the bedside, pressing kisses to Lena’s knuckles to mark the end of each sentence.

But now… her signature ramble had deserted her. There was so much to say and Kara was already overwhelmed at simply being able to stare into intelligent green that she so adored.

“Kara?” Lena called out soothingly.

And much to Kara’s embarrassment, the kryptonian promptly burst into tears upon hearing her name.

“Kara, it’s okay…” Lena rushed to reassure, squeezing Kara’s hand and tugging her closer so that Kara could bury her face into the pillow Lena was resting her head on - even in her broken down state Kara was so careful of Lena’s injured body. “I’m okay.” Lena repeated until Kara’s cries began to quieten and her shoulders stopped shaking, reducing down to a mere tremble.

“No, you’re not…” Kara hiccupped, turning her head to peer into concerned green eyes.

“Of course I am.” Lena reassured with a light, dismissive chuckle that made Kara tense up and her jaw clench. “That idiot couldn’t aim for shit.” Lena scoffed with an amused roll of her eyes that meant she was blind to the rage visibly brewing in her best friend’s countenance. “I’m thinking of turning the corridor leading into my office into a target range. Only those that can hit three out of five targets can gain access. That should stop like eighty percent of the assassins and then those that do make it through will at least be worthy of-”

“SHUT UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Kara demanded, throwing herself from the bed, hands clamped tight over her ears as she paced the room with such heavy footsteps that visible cracks in the tiles marked her every move.

The sudden silence that followed would have been suffocating if it were not for the familiar beeps of the machines that monitored Lena’s precious heartbeat. Slowly, Kara pulled her shaky hands away from her ears and glanced at her best friend with her peripheral vision, not ready to face those green eyes after her outburst. Lena was watching her curiously, no hint of fear in her expression or body language, eyebrow raised and lips pursed.

“Kara?” Lena encouraged, inviting an explanation with that single word.

Kara inhaled roughly, rubbing at her creased forehead with tightly wound fists. “It’s not funny, Lena…”

Lena cleared her throat and began with a tone that always accompanied her dry, snarky wit, “Well, maybe not right now but by the third attempt after this one-”

“NO!” Kara bellowed in total disbelief that Lena completely failed to get it. “YOU NEARLY FUCKING DIED.”

Lena yet again rolled her eyes and waved a hand as if to sweep it aside like it was a meaningless report that she had made a minor grammatical error in. “Kara, you’re over-reacting.”

“I AM REACTING THE RIGHT FUCKING AMOUNT TO SOMEONE TRYING TO KILL THE WOMAN I-” Kara’s voice cut out sudden and sharp.

Finally, Lena’s mask of nonchalance and indifference cracked. Round green eyes, slack jaw and hands tightly fisted in the bed’s blanket. A deer in the headlight that had never believed a car would ever come and had just been forced to watch it swerve erratically by, missing her by an inch.

Kara sucked in her lips, holding in the single word with all of her mighty strength before deflating and stating for the record, “It’s not funny. It was never funny. Never.”

*****

Kara didn’t keep her distance after that but that didn’t prevent a sizable chasm from opening up between them. It was nowhere near as bad as the fallout from Supergirl-gate, but it was ten times more awkward. The confession that almost happened, the assassination attempt and Lena’s near-death were swept momentarily under a rug but they loomed over them both regardless.

The Superfriends served as a suitable buffer, all of them (except for Alex) coming in on rotation to catch up with Lena throughout the day, keeping her occupied (though, Kara’s stony silence and brooding glare was definitely the elephant in the room) until exhaustion pushed Lena into a deep slumber.

It lasted two days which is more than Kara thought Lena would let her get away with but she hadn’t taken into consideration how fragile Lena was from her injuries. Kara hated herself just that little bit more for always assuming everything was fine, that Lena was unbreakable and failing to see what was really going on below the surface.

“How long are you going to give me the silent treatment for?” Lena questioned, peering over at the blonde who was sat in the corner of the room typing up a fluff piece article to keep Andrea’s wrath at bay as she kept herself sequestered in Lena’s hospital room. Kara pointedly ignored the question, shoulders curving forward to keep her tightly locked towards her laptop screen.

“Come on Kara, talk to me, please?” Lena whined, sounding like a child denied her favourite toy and not someone that had gone through an incredibly traumatic event.

Kara’s jaw clenched, self-awareness making her realise that if she hadn’t of been the one to find Lena, hadn’t watched the grim bruises littered across pale skin lighten to murky blues and greens… she wouldn’t be able to tell that Lena had only just escaped the sweep of death’s scythe.

“I hate it when we are not talking.” Lena declared soft and earnest, finally pulling the kryptonian’s gaze away from her computer screen to the woman that Kara knew with absolute certainty would always make her breath catch no matter how much time passed. “I know my humour is a bit insensitive but I genuinely didn’t mean to upset you. Kara, just-”

“I’m in love with you.” Kara interrupted, the words slipping out easily after being held onto so tightly for years.

She was so drained of emotion, of thought, of strength, her heart battered and bruised by everything she had gone through, but the core of her loved Lena without end. With nothing else in her, there was nothing to hold back that limitless source which had been begging to be released.

“I have been for a long time,” Kara admitted gently, fingers shifting away from her keyboard to gently interlace - her gaze dropping down to focus on their interaction, “so much so that I don’t even really remember a time where I wasn’t in love with you.” Kara shook her head ruefully. “I should have told you earlier but I just… I was so scared of losing you, in even a small way… What if I told you and we hung out a little less? What if I told you and you stopped hugging me as hard as you do? I know I should have… I know it's the exact same reason - excuse - as why I kept Supergirl a secret and I know how…” Kara swallowed thickly, the crinkle between her brow deepening even further. “I should have learnt but you mean so much to me. I didn’t know… I’ve never loved like this before. When I heard… your heart stop. It was Krypton all over again and I just…”

“Kara.” Lena breathed in awe.

“I am so in love with you,” Kara repeated, practically begging for Lena to accept it as the truth; she didn’t care in that moment if Lena returned her feelings, it wasn’t about that, it was about Lena knowing she was loved. Truly and deeply loved. “Please believe me.”

“I believe you.” Lena whispered causing Kara’s head to jerk upwards to find Lena looking so small and vulnerable. The youngest Luthor timidly tapped the empty space next to her, “Come here.”

“I…” Kara hesitated, afraid of getting close again - so utterly afraid of destroying this beautiful moment between them.

“Come here.” Lena beseeched and Kara was on her feet and settling next to her best friend in an instant unable to deny her anything. Immediately, Lena reached out for her, directing Kara to lie down and rest her head on the uninjured side of her chest. “Just listen.” Lena requested; Kara did as she was told - though her super hearing and the beeping of the monitor in the corner told Kara that Lena’s heart was beating strong and steady, it was nothing compared to feeling it hum under her cheek. “It’s beating for you,” Lena revealed, her voice little more than a whisper muffled by how she pressed her lips to Kara’s forehead, “it's always been beating for you.”

*****

Lena fell asleep not long after but Kara stayed awake until the early hours of the morning… just listening to Lena’s heart and experiencing the regular rise and fall of Lena’s chest with every breath. She slipped out of Lena’s room before dawn, going to shower in the changing rooms before the early morning shift change.

Freshly clean and dressed in clothes that Eliza had brought by, Kara watched the sunrise from the balcony that she had initially heard Lena’s watch calling to her for help. She had returned to the spot whenever she had managed to pull herself away from Lena’s room - her self-flagellation tendency making itself apparent.

“She uses humour to cope.” Alex muttered, moving to stand by Kara’s side as they watched the first peeks of orange appear on the horizon, both blatantly ignoring how the glass was new and that there was a patched up hole in the ceiling above them.

“I know that.” Kara replied.

Alex sighed, resting her forearms on the balcony guard, “There are worse coping methods.”

“I know that too.” Kara acknowledged, pursing her lips and shaking her head. “It’s not about that… not really anyway…”

“Then what’s it about?” Alex inquired.

Kara loved Alex best when she was like this. Encouraging but not overbearing. Guiding but not directing. When she was just her big sister and not her over-burdened protector. She was easy to talk to like this and this version of her had been coming to the forefront more and more with Kelly’s gentle love and care.

“She’s laughing to deal with incredible trauma.” Kara summarised before turning to look at her sister and asking the question that had been plaguing her the most, “But why are we laughing?”

“Because she wanted us to.” Alex answered simply.

“Yeah,” Kara agreed, mouth twisting into a bitter smile, “she wanted us to but she needed us not to more… she needed us to help her… and we just laughed.” Alex cringed at that but she fully flinched at the question that came next. “If it was me that was getting assassination attempts every week… what would you have done?”

Alex closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, fortifying herself for the truth she was about to announce, “I would have taken the world apart to find and stop whoever was doing it.”

“Yeah…” Kara said quietly, there wasn’t much else to say. “I’m not going to apologise for yelling.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

“We need to do something.”

“I know…” Alex agreed, turning her back to the sun that was halfway to fully risen, “whilst you were watching over Lena, I may have started on something that might help.”

“So that’s where you’ve been,” Kara hummed thoughtfully, “I figured you were avoiding me.”

“I was.” Alex admitted readily, much to Kara’s surprise. “Well, not you. Lena.” Alex corrected, “I couldn’t face her until I had something… done something.”

“She misses you.” Kara revealed.

“Why?” Alex murmured sadly, “I was a terrible friend.”

“You’ve made up for it.” Kara refuted, nudging her sister’s side comfortingly.

“Have I?” Alex scoffed, unconvinced but happily leaning into her sister now that the gap between them had been bridged.

“That’s not for me or you to decide. It’s for Lena. And she misses you.” Kara asserted, giving Alex a moment to consider what she had said before dropping her own truth-bomb, “I told her I was in love with her.”

Alex whirled round to face her, loudly and joyfully exclaiming, “You did?”

“Yeah.” Kara winced, shyly rubbing the back of her neck, “You knew?”

“Not until recently.” Alex tutting at her own blindness, “I should have seen it earlier.”

“I didn’t want you to. I wasn’t ready to deal with it yet and you’ve always made me brave.”

Alex smiled at that, “How did it go?”

“Good.” Kare coughed, blushing profusely, “She… uh… loves me too.”

“That I’d known for a while.” Alex chuckled. “Are you two-”

“Uh… kind of? We’re acknowledging it but not acting on it.”

Alex’s brow creased at the lack of certainty to her answer, “What? Why?”

“Lena needs time to recover. And after everything,” Kara frowned, “I don’t think a little time to do that is too much to ask.”

“Responsible decision.” Alex complimented.

“Kelly’s advice.” Kara divulged.

Alex’s smile expanded to a proud grin. “Unsurprising.”

“Come on,” Kara ordered, clapping her hands together before slinging an arm around her sister’s shoulders, “show me what you’ve been working on, then you better go see Lena.”

*****

Two gunshot wounds, one to the torso and one to the right thigh, as well as two broken ribs, a black eye, stitches to her lip and her skin turned into an homage to Jackson Pollock by different shaded bruising. Lena catalogued the injury rundown given to her by the doctor with little interest; she paid even less attention to her treatment plan, the medication schedule and the intensive physiotherapy her leg would require.

All she really wanted was to get back to work; if Kara wasn’t there shooting her stern glares everytime Lena’s gaze wandered, the CEO would have happily been replying to emails on her phone as the Doctor lectured away.

“Did you even listen to any of that?” Kara asked once the doctor had taken his leave.

“I heard his name…” Lena grumbled, phone already in hand and frown settling in as she reviewed the most recent email from her marketing head who still hadn’t quite got it through their thick skull that weapons were no longer their main focus.

“And what was it?” Kara questioned, her phone vanishing from her hands with a flash of superspeed.

Lena huffed out a disgruntled breath. “It was...”

“It was?” Kara prompted, arms crossed over her chest, foot tapping the floor angrily whilst her nostrils flared.

Lena pursed her lips, schooling her expression to hide just how attractive she found a stern Kara to be. “It’s on the tip of my tongue.” Lena said slowly, playing desperately for time. “Doctor…” Kara merely arched an eyebrow at her. “Smith?”

“Not even close.”

“Damn…” Lena muttered with a pout.

“Lena,” Kara began with a sad shake of her head as she moved to sit on the edge of Lena’s bed.

“Ugh, you’re about to lecture me too, aren’t you?” Lena groaned.

“Lena, this is important.” Kara stressed. “Your treatment is important. Your health is important.” Kara’s blue eyes shone with love and Lena couldn’t quite meet her gaze. “You are important.”

Their confession of love still hung heavy between them despite Lena not explicitly saying the words in return. It should have marked a huge change in their relationship but it was lost amongst the tidal wave that had come before it, put on pause until the wake from the assassination attempt had dissipated enough for Lena to catch her breath.

“Fine…” Lena relented, reaching out to take Kara’s hand, gaze still shy and ducked. “I assume you were listening then?”

“Of course, I was. It was about you.” Kara replied so honest and sincere that Lena’s heart audibly fluttered on the heart monitor producing a smug smirk on the blonde’s face.

“Go on then, tell me.”

“Will you actually listen to me?” Kara checked, tilting her head to the side.

Lena lifted her head and met Kara’s eyes with a steady gaze of her own, “Of course, I will. It’s you talking.”

*****

The strangest thing about it all was the attention.

And for once it wasn’t negative media attention.

It was Kara and the Superfriends, they were being attentive. Lena hadn’t spent a single minute alone since she had woken up in the DEO hospital bed. Kara had been there the most to start with, her time in Lena’s room decreasing significantly a couple of days after the kind-of-confession (Lena assumed Kara was giving her some breathing room) but she was always present for any appointments and back for dinner, sleeping by her side in the decent-sized hospital bed. As Kara’s time decreased, the other Superfriends tagged in to fill the gap.

Brainy joined her most mornings for games of chess and to talk through some of the sticking points in Lena’s inventions. Nia covered the afternoons, filling the room with light and happy conversation, regaling her with stories of silly work disputes and helping her with her hair and make-up, teasing her like a little sister would when she mentioned wanting to look nicer for Kara.

Kelly would slot in every now and again but she made Lena uneasy, she looked at Lena like she could see right through her armour and it unsettled her. Her usual attempts to crack through awkwardness with a dry comment didn’t seem to faze Kelly and Lena’s obvious discomfort resulted in Kelly staying away for the most part; whenever, she did leave though she always made it clear that Lena could call her if she ever wanted to talk.

Lena pretended she didn’t know what Kelly was hinting at.

Eliza was the biggest surprise. Ever since Lena failed to listen to any of her doctors, Kara had clearly ratted her out to the oldest Danvers prompting the Doctor to personally take over Lena’s care, somehow innately knowing that Lena wouldn’t be able to ignore her like she did all the others. Eliza was a near constant presence in Lena’s room, reading through a pile of medical journals and historical romance fiction that Lena was slowly becoming tempted to borrow as time passed.

Alex was still a complete no-show.

Lena tried not to let it bother her.

Her and Alex had always had a tumultuous relationship - built on distrust and dislike at first sight. Kara had been their bridge and mediator. They had grown past it, grown to trust and like one another as time passed. It had been hard-fought compared to the easiness (Supergirl secret fallout notwithstanding) of their individual relationships with Kara. It was precious because of that.

Alex coming to see her with a bottle of whiskey, after defeating Leviathan and Lex being thrown back in jail, ready to fight to rebuild their friendship all over again was one of Lena’s dearest memories. Alex was the only one to reach out to her first after everything. Lena had to make the first move with Kara, Brainy and Nia. She had been too afraid of Alex to reach out, thinking their friendship would never recover… Alex had proved her wrong.

But now… Alex was avoiding her.

And Lena didn’t really know why, though a small voice in her head told her that Alex just simply didn’t care about her enough to visit…

“Did you have a good day?” Kara asked, stepping out of the ensuite bathroom dressed in cosy pyjamas, shuffling over to the side of Lena’s bed that had become her own.

“You don’t already know with your litany of spies?” Lena remarked, turning the page of her book with a single accusing finger.

“What-” Kara began, brow creased with confusion.

“I don’t think there is a single minute of my day that is not covered by one of your friends.” Lena revealed, snapping her book shut and shooting the blonde an arched eyebrow. “I can’t sneeze without someone already on hand holding out a handkerchief.”

“They’re worried about you.” Kara reminded her softly as she settled next to Lena, arm immediately finding its place around Lena’s waist and gently encouraging her to lie down beside her. “And they’re your friends, Lena.”

“Sure.” Lena tutted unconvinced.

Kara’s pliant body that Lena had become used to snuggling into became stiff and tense. “Do you think they are only here because I asked them to be?”

Lena rolled her eyes, perking her head up to look into sharp, unamused blue eyes, “Are you seriously telling me they’re not?”

“Lena,” Kara said, slow and serious, “they’re here because they care about you. Because they nearly lost you and they… they don’t want to be away from you.”

Lena stared into the deep blue eyes she adored and saw only earnestness reflected in them.

“Oh…” Lena breathed, her heart squeezing tight in her chest desperately trying to contain the swell of emotion that had just flooded it. “I didn’t realise...”

“We love you, Lena.” Kara whispered, her free hand reaching out to tuck stray locks of raven hair behind Lena’s ear. “You’re going to have to get used to us being around.”

“Hmm…” Lena hummed, cheeks blushing a pretty pink at Kara’s tender touch and the realisation that came with finding you have family. Lena buried her face in Kara’s shoulder, suddenly shy and embarrassed - Kara didn’t tease her for it, simply gave Lena the comfort and sanctity she craved.

They were quiet for a long time, the hum of the machines and welcome darkness of the room lulling them both to sleep. It wasn’t until Kara’s breath had started to deepen that Lena found the courage to ask about what had been weighing heavy on her.

“And Alex?” Lena murmured, breaking the silence and calm with those two words.

Kara’s deep, even breaths faltered. “She’s still not been by?” Kara asked carefully; Lena shook her head slightly, not trusting her voice to remain steady. “Well… ummm… she’s busy…”

“Yeah… of course…” Lena replied, letting out a sad sigh before falling into another troubled sleep.

*****

“You look like shit.”

Not exactly the first words she was expecting to hear from the older Danvers after a three week absence but Lena had known it would be something along those lines.

It was Lena’s last day in the DEO hospital room that had been her resting place since she woke up from the attempt on her life. Kara and Eliza were taking her back to her apartment that afternoon - both of whom were going to be taking up residence in Lena’s apartment alongside Sam and Ruby who were already staying there to support Lena’s long-term recovery.

Lena folded her hands carefully in her lap as she studied the redhead leaning against the doorway. “You don’t look much better.” Lena said after a long pause, arching a curious eyebrow at the dark shadows beneath Alex’s eyes.

“Touche.” Alex acknowledged with a dip of her head that gave her an excuse to keep her gaze directed to the floor when she asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Alex, you…” Lena stopped, grinding her teeth together in frustration before shaking her head, “You really don’t need to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend.” Lena answered simply, shooting the hesitant agent a melancholic smile. “Force yourself to be here. I assume Kara guilt-tripped you into being here.”

“Kara didn’t-” Alex began only to stop abruptly at the sight of the unimpressed glare directed her way. “Okay, she might have encouraged me.” Alex admitted, scuffing her toes against the floor in the exact same way Kara did whenever she was guilty of eating the last bit of Lena’s ice cream. “She can be pretty intimidating when it comes to you.” Alex’s eyes twinkled in a blatant attempt to get them to bond, to seal over the cracks between them with cellophane.

Normally, Lena would accept it. Would laugh and blush knowingly, giving Alex the free pass she was angling for.

That was before she nearly died and her second closest friend after Kara couldn’t be bothered to stop by for five minutes until the day she would be allowed to leave the only place they shared.

“Well, I’ll tell her you came by, so don’t worry.” Lena replied politely with a single nod of her head.

Alex flinched at the coolness of Lena’s response, “Lena… I…”

“Alex, I nearly died.” Lena stated bluntly, the truth of it like the swing of a reaper’s blade between them. “If what I overheard from some of the agents is true… I did die.” Lena chuckled darkly to herself at the sheer absurdity of it all, “I nearly die once a week, sometimes more. My life expectancy is incredibly short - don’t tell Kara that, though.” Lena quickly requested, she’d seen how much all of this had affected the blonde and she didn’t want to pile onto her pain. “I don’t think about it because if I do…” Lena trailed off, her gaze turning distant as she whispered, “I don’t think about it. What I’m trying to say is…” Lena exhaled deeply, letting go of her charged emotions and in a far more real way letting go of all expectations of friendship when it came to the older Danvers. “I don’t need to be around people that don’t want to be around me.”

“Lena.” Alex croaked from the door.

Lena didn’t look at her. Didn’t want to see the effect of her honesty.

So, instead, Lena reached out for the book on the bedside table, flipped it open and promised with a brusque business tone, “I’ll tell Kara you stopped by.”

*****

The return back to her apartment was a welcome shift, having grown sick of the sight of her hospital room’s four walls after the first day of waking up there. Lena was happy to be back in her own space but after a day that’s where the joy ended.

Being back in her apartment acutely reminded her of her current lack of independence.

She was no longer awake at six for work like she used to be, her injuries and medication making her sleep long and late into the day. Then when she was awake she found herself groggy and fatigued.

She couldn’t get up and make breakfast for herself, she couldn’t shower without support, she couldn’t focus for long without her attention drifting. Her penthouse was abuzz with life and activity in a way that it had never been before but she found she couldn’t quite enjoy it to its fullest with how she jumped at every loud sound and struggled to keep herself awake for the length of a film.

That wasn’t the worst part though...

There had been a certain safety and security that had come with being at the DEO: surrounded by armed agents that were there to keep her safe, her super-powered friends just a couple of corridors away at all times.

That’s not to say her apartment wasn’t secure.

It was probably more secure than the DEO with biometric locks, bulletproof glass and a panic room that could probably survive armageddon. And if that wasn’t enough, she currently went to sleep with one of the most highly regarded Doctors in the country as well as one of her best friends who would fight tooth and nail for her staying in her guest rooms and to top it off, she had Supergirl curled up around her every night.

The panic attacks started when she had returned to the apartment and her medication dosage had been decreased enough to lift the fog on her mind and allow the dark thoughts and fears to seep in under the cover of darkness.

She managed to hide it, mostly due to luck more than anything else.

Kara was out for most of the day still, off doing who knew what - the kryptonian had been particularly secretive about her recent activities - and Lena had managed to request privacy when she felt an attack starting that Sam and Ruby were always quick to acquiesce to.

She just needed to get past this, she just needed to push the fear, that she had kept tightly sealed in a little box in some far-flung corner of her mind, back into the abyss it belonged in.

If she could do that…

She just didn’t want to be afraid anymore, not when she had so many good things in her life, like her new bedtime routine...

“And anyway long story short…” Kara grinned, as she lifted Lena gently into the bed, tucking the sheets lovingly around her, “he gave me a camel.”

Lena chuckled, pressing a quick appreciative kiss to Kara’s cheek that had the blonde ducking her head bashfully. “I’m assuming you didn’t keep it.”

Kara winced, admitting weakly, “I kept it for like a week. It destroyed my apartment. Destroyed.” Kara stressed with a horror-struck expression.

“Really?” Lena prompted as Kara supersped to turn out the lights, change into her pyjamas and get into bed by Lena’s side.

“You remember when you popped round to my apartment for lunch one day and you thought there was a gas leak because of the smell?” Kara asked, holding out an arm for Lena to curl herself up under.

“Yeah?”

“Camel.”

“Huh.” Lena muttered thoughtfully, “I thought you were just having really bad flatulence.”

Kara gasped in shock and disbelief, “And you still wanted to hang out with me?”

Lena shrugged, licking her lips before declaring simply, “I’m in love with you.”

It was the first time she had properly said the words.

“I… umm… I…” Kara stammered incoherently, her entire face turning a lovely shade of tomato. “You like making me all flustered, don’t you?” Kara groaned.

“Yes.” Lena answered honestly, “Until I can…” Lena’s smile dimmed momentarily at the reminder that she was still not quite ready for that next step, “it’s the only thing I can do right now.”

“There’s no rush.” Kara assured, even as Lena heard a small clock ticking in her mind, counting down to the next inevitable bullet she would have to dodge.

*****

Lena had learned to be quiet from a young age.

She was told firmly that screams and cries and whimpers were not acceptable. That her nightmares did not warrant waking the house, did not warrant shaming the Luthor name with her tears and her petty fears.

Lena taught herself to wake with a mere sigh whilst her throat clenched tightly to hold in the shout of desperation that wished to escape.

Lena taught herself to sleep motionlessly, to not toss and turn as her dreamed body clawed and swam through a syrupy atmosphere whilst shadowy figures relentlessly hunted her down.

Lena taught herself to hide her nightmares from a young age - it was easy enough to do, she got a lot of practice in the Luthor Mansion and she had regularly brushed up on these skills since she started dodging bullets every other day.

No one would ever know the horrors that plagued her at night as long as Lena had her way.

What she didn’t count on was that the horrors could grow and mutate into terrors far worse than anything she had ever experienced.

For the first time since she was child, Lena awoke with a blood-curdling scream, her entire body trembling and skin clammy with cold sweat.

“Lena, you’re okay. You’re okay.” A soft voice soothed, warm arms wrapping gently around Lena to prevent her from causing harm to herself with her frantic movements. “Shh… you’re okay.”

“I… I…” Lena cried, shaking her head to clear the nightmare veil still shrouding her mind.

“You’re okay. You’re okay.” Kara repeated endlessly, each utterance just as soft and gentle as all the others.

“Kara…” Lena croaked, burying herself in Kara’s warmth and forcing the kryptonian’s arms to wrap even more around her. It was the fear that made her honest whilst the pain of her constantly aching body made the words tumble out even easier, “I’m… scared. I don’t want to die. I don’t…”

The pliable cocoon made of Kryptonian muscle hardened to steel in an instant at the confession. The murmured words of comfort ceased and Kara’s breath went from light and even to deep and irregular.

“Lena, you’re not going to die.” Kara whispered harshly, the words cold and vicious - but not towards Lena, never towards Lena - as if she could intimidate away any and all threats just by speaking it into existence. “You’re not.”

“This time.” Lena muttered, timidly reaching out to hold Kara with her own hands as she ducked her head under Kara’s chin.

“Lena?”

“I’m not going to die this time.” Lena breathed, “What about the next one? And the one after that and after that and… It never stops. And I don’t- I don’t want to die. I don’t want to be scared all the time. I want to be excited and happy because you love me.” Lena’s hands clutch handfuls of Kara’s pyjama shirt with white knuckles. “But all I’m thinking about is: how little time we have. How stupid it is to get into a relationship when I know the odds - because they offer them on a number of mainstream betting sites - of me making it to the next year is slim to none.”

Silence followed Lena’s speech, heavy and suffocating. Lena held her breath waiting for the kryptonian to reply.

The lightest touch of lips to Lena’s forehead allowed her to breathe out slow and steady.

“You are not dying.” Kara declared sternly.

“I’m just scared…” Lena sighed, snuggling closer to the blonde encouraging the lips to press repeatedly against her brow until the lines creasing it eased away, “all the time, Kara. All the time.”

They fell asleep entangled together - if Lena had been more with it she would have tried to get Kara to re-position herself into a more comfortable position, not that Kara would have been persuaded, unwilling to move an inch if it distanced her in any way from the youngest Luthor.

Lena awoke the next day to gentle fingers brushing through her hair, enticing her back to the real world that was illuminated by the bright morning sun. Kara was up and dressed, sat on the edge of the bed, running one hand through Lena’s hair and intermittently stroking her cheek whilst her other hand balanced a tray loaded up with pancakes, strawberries and orange juice.

“Mmmm…” Lena hummed happily, turning her head to press a quick kiss to Kara’s palm.

“Breakfast.” Kara announced cheerily, helping Lena sit up before placing the tray carefully on her lap and pressing a kiss to Lena’s blushing cheek.

Lena took a deep breath, taking time to appreciate the sheer beauty of this singular moment: the woman she loved sat next to her with an adoring look having made her favourite for breakfast. She wanted to be able to enjoy this without feeling like damocles’ sword was looming above her at all times.

“Kara?” Lena murmured, reaching out to interlace their fingers, seeking support.

“Yeah?”

Lena swallowed thickly, squeezed Kara’s hand once, and asked, “Can you ask Kelly to pop by? When she has a chance that is.”

“Of course.” Kara beamed, lifting their joined hands to kiss the back of Lena’s hand, her blue eyes shining with pride.

“I want to be excited. I don’t want to live in fear.”

*****

It was a few days later when Lena found herself alone for the first time in over a month. Kara was out during the day as usual, Sam and Ruby were out at the cinema enjoying some mother-daughter time whilst Eliza had left for a walk five minutes ago. Lena was working through some calculations at the dining room table - Eliza had positioned her wheelchair at the table and left her a warm cup of coffee to tide her over until she got back.

Admittedly, Lena probably should’ve realised that it was all a ploy because barely ten minutes had passed before the front door swung open and in strode one Agent Danvers.

Lena placed her pen back onto the table and quirked a perplexed eyebrow at the redhead, “Alex? What are you doing here?”

“I’m kidnapping you.” Alex declared with a smirk and cocked hip.

Lena pursed her lips, musing thoughtfully, “And here I thought if you ever did kidnap me, you wouldn’t be so open about it…”

Alex frowned, “You’ve thought about me kidnapping you?”

“Not you per se.” Lena explained with a wave of her hand before rolling her temporary wheelchair out from the table and over to her intruder, “The DEO or some other covert government agency grabbing me and hiding me away in some dark cell.”

“That…” Alex began, her intent to deny the possibility of such a scenario occurring dying after a single moment’s consideration. Lena chuckled sadly at the guilty brown eyes that dipped away from her gaze. “Nevermind.” Alex murmured, shaking her head and forcing back her usual confident swagger. “There’s something you need to see.”

“Alex-” Lena sighed, not really in the mood for whatever Alex had planned.

Suddenly Alex was in front of her, knelt down - not to patronise but to easily reach out for Lena’s hands.

“You’re probably my best friend,” Alex announced, firm and beautifully honest (a signature Danvers trait), “not counting Kara or Kelly. But Kara loves me as a sister above everything else. Kelly loves me as a romantic partner above everything else. You are my friend with no other requirements, no other levels… nothing else.”

“Alex, I…” Lena blinked, utterly taken aback.

“You are my friend and I love you.” Alex assured, her expression turning pained and remorseful, “You are my best friend and you nearly died and I realised that I… I haven’t been a very good friend. I was so mean to you to start with. For no fair reason.” Lena bit her lip and stared down at their joined hands, unable to hide how the constant hatred for crimes she did not commit (actively stopped) had left deep and everlasting wounds that she would probably never recover from. “And then when I finally started to pull my head out of my ass… I never apologised, I never… I just smoothed over it.”

Alex cringed with the memories but pushed onwards regardless - admirably brave and stubborn to a fault.

“When the Supergirl fallout happened, I knew you were suffering.” Alex admitted causing Lena to flinch in surprise and nearly pull away but Alex’s hold gently followed after her. “If it was me in your position, I would have… I would have destroyed so much and I was raised in a family filled with support and love and… I knew you were suffering but I… I just didn’t think. You’re always so strong and unbreakable that I just didn’t think. You’re my best friend and I have not treated you like that.”

“Alex,” Lena swallowed thickly, hanging her head in shame, “what I did during that time… I’m so ashamed.”

“You’re missing the point, Lena.” Alex murmured, “I didn’t mean to-” Alex exhaled shakily, rapidly blinking away tears on the cusp of falling. “You’ve made up for it. Now it's my turn.”

“You have nothing to make up for.” Lena rushed to reassure as Alex stood back up, chin held high and determined.

“Yes, I do.” Alex insisted. “Assassination attempts every week, Lena. That is not okay. A short life expectancy for my best friend is not okay.” Alex’s hands clenched into tight fists by her sides. “I should have done something.”

“It’s not your responsibility.”

Alex grinned bright and defiant, “It is now.”

*****

“Alex, what’s going on?” Lena said slowly, not really sure what she was watching play out on the screens in the DEO command centre.

Alex merely winked at the CEO as she stepped up to the console and called out, “Supergirl, how are things going?”

“Good.” Kara replied, her voice coming through loud and clear through the speakers. Lena watched in awe - as always - of Kara flying through the air, swerving around traffic like it was nothing. “Rounding up the last few stragglers; they thought they could outrun me in a van which has a max speed of like sixty.” Lena laughed at the stupidity of the escape attempt which immediately alerted the superhero to her presence. “Is Lena there?”

“Yep,” Alex replied with a broad grin, wiggling her eyebrows at the youngest Luthor making her blush a bright red, “so you better put on a good show for your girl.”

“Will do.” Kara promised instantly, accelerating and performing aerial aerobatic maneuvers with the sole purpose of impressing only one person.

Lena shook her head, her heart swelling with affection, as she rolled her eyes at Alex’s smug smile. “What’s the mission?” Lena asked, trying to regain some of her composure.

Alex’s smugness faded to be replaced with something far softer at the question.

“Shutting down the final CADMUS outpost.” Alex answered, crossing her arms and nodding over to Brainy who brought a map of the world covered in hundreds of red dots. “We took down any and all remaining Leviathan supporters last week. Lex supporters the week before that.” The red dots flashed to highlight the different groupings as Alex listed them off. “We’ve also finished gathering evidence on Edge, he’s going to be arrested alongside his allies first thing in the morning.”

Lena’s mouth had dropped open at some point and there was a light buzzing in her ears as stared blankly at the crossed off red dots. “I don’t understand.”

“CADMUS took a little longer just because of the sheer number of bases and how they decentralised after Lex was taken down, each working independently.” Alex continued unperturbed.

“Then how-”

“Lillian. She told us where all the bases are.” Alex answered without needing to hear the whole question.

That cut through Lena’s stupor in an instant and wrenched an almighty gasp from her. “What? Why?”

Alex’s expression turned melancholic yet again, clearly upset that the answer wasn’t obvious to Lena, that there had to be a more-than-love-reason. “Because you’re her daughter and you nearly died.”

“I don’t…”

Alex turned so her back was to the wall of red dots, hands on hips and unfaltering in the face of adversity. “No more assassination attempts. No more short life expectancy.” Alex asserted, waving a hand towards the screen. “This. All of this. You deserve this. You deserve to grow old. You deserve to not live in a constant state of fear. You deserve to be happy in love.” Alex’s jaw clenched noticeably as brown eyes shone with a watery film, “We should have done this years ago. We should have protected you years ago. We should never have laughed, Lena.”

“Alex…” Lena exhaled roughly, her bottom lip trembling as she tried to keep in the sobs, feeling so overwhelmed with love and gratitude. “Thank you.”

Alex didn’t acknowledge the words, she merely walked over to Lena and pulled her into a tight hug, providing her a much needed shoulder to cry on.

*****

“Did I mention how much I hate physical therapy?” Lena huffed through gritted teeth.

“Oh you know…” Alex replied with an exaggerated roll of her eyes, “just about every minute or so.”

Lena hummed, somewhat pleased at the answer, “I thought it was more than that.”

“Suck it up, Luthor.” Alex teased even as she got a bottle of water ready for Lena once she’d finished the exercises.

“Remind me again-...” Lena panted, “why I agreed that you could accompany me to PT instead of Kara?”

“You need tough love.” Alex answered, repeating the words Lena had used a week prior when she had requested Alex’s help. “You’d never finish a single exercise if Kara was helping you.”

Lena pursed her lips but didn’t argue.

Kara was loving, affectionate and probably the best support system Lena had ever had. She cared for Lena in a thousand and one ways that Lena had never believed she was worthy of. Unfortunately, all this made Kara the absolutely worst person to accompany her to physical therapy. At the first wince or sign of discomfort, Kara insisted Lena rest and take it easy. She barely made it five minutes through the session before Kara was escorting her back to the apartment to give her a bath and massage - Lena loved every second of it but accepted Kara would not be going with her to the next appointment.

“Not really seeing that as a downside at present.” Lena admitted, her muscles burning as they were steadily rebuilt and restrengthened.

“The sooner you finish PT, the sooner you can get around by yourself.” Alex reminded her knowing it was the single best incentive to get the CEO through this.

“Good point.” Lena acknowledged groaning as she pushed herself through the last rep. As soon as she finished, Alex talked her through recovery, handing her water to sip slowly from before checking her recovered injuries and scars.

“Hey Alex…” Lena began, shifting nervously as her breathing returned to normal.

“Yeah?” Alex prompted, arching an eyebrow having picked up on Lena’s odd tone.

Lena opened her mouth to speak before snapping it decisively shut, “Nevermind.”

“Don’t go shy on me now, Luthor.” Alex remarked, helping Lena unsteadily to her feet and guiding her over to a bench in the DEO training hall where they had been working out.

Lena nibbled on her bottom lip, and glanced at Alex’s profile. “I want to ask Kara out on a date.”

“That’s great.” Alex cheered immediately before quirking her head to the side, “What’s the problem?”

“I know I’ve been…” Lena winced, “hesitant.”

“Lena,” Alex said softly, “you’re recovering from serious physical, emotional and mental trauma.”

“But-”

“And despite all that…” Alex continued, settling into her role as cheerleader and confidant with ease, “you’re still taking Kara’s feelings into consideration. Despite everything you’ve been through you’re still being sensible and thoughtful. You’re not kickstarting a relationship until you’re sure you can give it the best chance.”

“You and Kelly have been talking about this.” Lena guessed.

“A little.” Alex answered only slightly rueful, “You’re my best friend and Kara’s my sister. It comes up in conversation.”

Lena chuckled at that, nudging Alex’s side playfully before announcing, “I think I’m ready.”

“That’s great.” Alex said just as enthusiastically as before, “So I’ll repeat, what’s the problem?”

“I don’t…” Lena sighed before confessing “I don’t know where to take her. I want to do something special.”

“Are you seriously asking for dating advice with my sister?” Alex questioned.

“You’re my best friend,” Lena shot back, “who else am I going to ask? You saw how Brainy handled dating Nia and well… Nia is dating Brainy...”

“Okay, I see your point.” Alex relented, “Though, when we talk about your dating life, Kara is not my sister.” Alex requested, “Just some random person called Kara.”

“Deal.” Lena accepted. “So…?”

“You don’t need to do anything special, she already loves you.”

“That’s exactly why I want to do something special.” Lena whined, “But I’m kind of limited by the aforementioned trauma…”

“Let’s get a coffee and strategise.” Alex declared, patting Lena’s back supportively. “Come on, you’re buying.”

*****

Lena adjusted the green dress that Nia had taken her shopping for earlier that afternoon, hating how it clashed with the cane she was using to move around with. A small candle lit table was set up on the balcony - Sam and Ruby having kindly moved it earlier - with one of Kara’s favourite homemade dinners, courtesy of Eliza, steaming in the early evening light.

Lena paced, awkwardly awaiting the blonde’s arrival; Alex’s words of advice and support on repeat in her mind to drown out her anxieties.

Kara, for all her patented Kara Danvers clumsiness, was the epitome of gracefulness when it came to flying allowing her to land almost inaudibly on the balcony by Lena’s side taking her by surprise. Lena jerked back at the sudden appearance but a familiar gentle touch to her elbow settled her in an instant.

“Lena? What’s all this?” Kara breathed, eyes darting from Lena’s green dress to the set table as her super suit vanished to be replaced by her standard shirt and chinos,

“Dinner.” Lena replied, swallowing thickly as she reached for Kara’s hand and mumbled shyly. “I mean a… date-dinner-thing. If you want, that is?”

Kara inhaled sharply, blue eyes wide with shock and barely restrained excitement. “I want. I really, really want.” The blonde dashed to the table, pulling out a chair for Lena clearly not keen for any kind of delay.

“Alright then.” Lena chuckled, walking towards Kara’s dazzling smile and everything it offered.

*****

“An hour.” Brainy said, laying down his opening gambit.

“Pfft… an hour, are you serious?” Nia scoffed, “Thirty minutes max.”

“Twenty.” Alex shot back with a challenging lift of her chin.

Nia pursed her lips as she considered Alex’s suggestion. “You’re on.”

The two women shook firmly on it, much to Kelly and Briany’s amusement, just as Kara and Lena walked back from the kitchen loaded up with snacks and drinks.

“What are you guys talking about?” Kara inquired, narrowing her gaze accusingly at her gathered group of friends who had set up shop in her and Lena’s joint apartment for their weekly games night.

Kara had moved in formally two weeks ago following six months of dating during which they had practically lived together for the entirety of it but had been wise enough to keep themselves places that could be just theirs until they were officially ready.

“Nothing.” Nia and Alex answered quickly and in-sync.

“We’re gambling.” Brainy answered guilelessly at the same time.

“On?” Kara asked, dumping the load of snacks in her arms onto the coffee table before crossing her arms whilst Lena laughed lightly as she settled on the couch next to Alex.

“Leave them be, darling.” Lena soothed, tugging gently on Kara’s pocket encouraging her to sit down and lean against Lena’s legs.

“Okay.” The kryptonian muttered, immediately acquiescing to the suggestion, all the fight going out of her as soon as Lena tenderly ran her fingers through blonde locks.

“Whipped.” Alex instantly coughed.

“And proud.” Kara accepted with a shrug, tilting her head to look up at Lena with adoring blue eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Lena replied without hesitation.

“Ugh.” Nia groaned, throwing her head back in exasperation.

Alex held out a hand to the youngest reporter, wiggling her fingers in demand, “Pay up.”

“She didn’t even make it a minute.” Nia exclaimed in disbelief.

Kara’s brow creased in a cross of confusion and outrage, “You were betting on me?”

“Yep.” Alex answered without the slightest sign of guilt. “On how long it takes for you to say ‘I love you’ to Lena.”

“That’s… I…” Kara squawked, mouth flapping open and closed before snapping shut in defeat. “I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s because Lena removes you of all verbal reasoning skills.” Brainy remarked drily.

All eyes swiveled to look at the genius in surprise.

“Did Brainy just make a joke?” Lena asked quietly to no one in particular.

“I think he did.” Nia said slowly.

“Nice one, Brainy.” Alex laughed, lifting her beer bottle up in respect and effectively setting everyone else in the room off with their own chuckles and giggles.

“Laugh as much as you like.” Kara rolled her eyes in amusement, “Doesn’t bother me.”

“Are you sure?” Lena checked, bending down to whisper privately into Kara’s ear, “I can ask them to stop.”

Kara turned to look up at the love of her life, reaching out to tenderly stroke her cheek and ease away the flicker of unnecessary concern.

“I’m sure.” Kara asserted honestly, her smile widening as she leaned up to kiss Lena slow and deep. When they pulled back, foreheads resting against one another, Kara whispered into the shared space between them. “It is kind of funny.”

It’s funny because Kara loves Lena.

It’s funny because Kara will always, always, always love Lena.

#supercorp #supercorp ao3 #supercorp fanfic #lena luthor

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asset35-maya · 3 years

Text

Nice Things

Inspired by this spectacular drawing of long-haired Nines by @marndraws

Gavin Reed never had nice things.

Every day was a fight for survival. He studied hard, worked hard and did everything he could to come out on top… but he never had nice things. If he did, they wouldn’t last.

Then the most beautiful creature to walk the planet entered his life.

A sheer scientific miracle. A combined feat of engineering and art. The most advanced android ever built… and the kindest soul the mean city of Detroit had ever seen.

Nines.

Gavin had no idea how to interact with the RK900 in the beginning. If it were any other new partner he’d have been his usual abrasive self, but there was something about the android that left him dumbstruck. No insults came to mind, so Gavin stuck to silent cooperation (and obedience, actually).

The RK900 model was designed to be aesthetically pleasing. There was no doubt about that, but it was how the android carried himself that took things to another level entirely. Poise, elegance and flair touched everything that he said and did.

It extended to the way he transformed his appearance after deviancy. Nines shed his Cyberlife uniform with the harsh turtleneck and stiff jacket in favour of softer, more delicate garments. He still stuck to dark colours, but his clothes were all loose and flowing. He dressed more like an interior decorator than a homicide detective (and it honestly served him well).

Gavin often had to tear his gaze away from the refined fabrics and unconventional styles that Nines wore. Gavin never had nice things… but he certainly had an eye for them.

And then there was Nines’ hair…

When Gavin had first seen the change from the default appearance settings, he had to leave the station, find a quiet alley and focus on bringing his breathing back to normal.

Nines… for some unknown, wild, spectacular, unprecedented, utterly amazing reason… had decided to lengthen his hair and let it hang loose around his shoulders.

The dark tresses were as expressive as the android himself. They danced when he laughed. They whipped the air when he animatedly told a story with his steel blue eyes flashing. They shone in every damn light.

Gavin couldn’t help but stare. He never had nice things… but he was drawn to them.

Not a day went by that he didn’t want to reach out and tuck the fine strands behind Nines’ ear, but he held back from giving in to such insanity.

Nines didn’t hold himself back though.

For all the times Gavin had been looking, so had he. He made his move in the middle of a very boozy Christmas party at the DPD. It didn’t take much of an effort. They left the party together on the flimsy pretext of Nines showing Gavin his Christmas lights at home… and promptly fell into bed together.

Gavin had never had nice things… but he knew exactly what he wanted, and when they were presented to him on a silver platter, he knew how to take them.

Nines’ hair was as soft as he imagined and even silkier than he dreamed. He couldn’t stop running his fingers through the lifelike synthetic fibres and Nines couldn’t seem to get enough of his touch either.

Bliss.

On the third anniversary of the Christmas party, the pair found themselves in very much the same position, only that they didn’t actually make it to the mindless office event this time. The day started and ended in bed.

Fairy lights glittered and tastefully-chosen tinsel framed the snow-laden windows of their loft apartment. The large Christmas tree emanated a warm glow that reached even the bedroom where they lay tangled in the sheets.

Nines was draped over Gavin’s chest, his fingers skimming idly across the warm skin.

“Sweetheart…”

“Nines.”

Gavin’s wary tone of voice made the android laugh. A velvet sound that the human would follow to the ends of the earth.

“What’s the thing you love most about me?”

Gavin exhaled loudly, hugging Nines closer.

“Baby, you know I ain’t good at words and shit.”

“I’m not asking you to write me a poem. Just tell me what you love most about me.”

He sighed and stared at the ceiling.

“Is this a test?”

“I don’t have to test you. I know everything there is to know about you. I can read you like a book even with my analysis software turned off.”

“Uh huh. Then why the inquisition?”

“Because validation is nice.”

Gavin snorted and carded his fingers though Nines’ gorgeous hair.

“Guess I can start by applauding your honesty.”

Nines hummed, rubbing slow circles into Gavin’s pec with his thumb. A few minutes went by and Gavin began to drift off to sleep.

“So what’s more attractive to you? My personality or my looks?”

Gavin’s eyes snapped open in alarm.

“What the ph-”

“There’s no right or wrong answer. Just tell me.”

Nines propped himself up on his elbows and peered into Gavin’s face. It was truly a magnificent sight. Two piercing blue eyes… plush lips curling into a smirk… a cyan LED… and a perfectly arched eyebrow. A pale, angular face… framed by sweeping curtains of dark, glossy hair.

Gavin gulped.

“I can’t choose. You’re the total package.”

“Cop out.”

“Pfffft. You tell me then. What do you like better? My mug or my sharp wit? Hah. Betcha can’t answer that for all the complex calculations your supercomputer brain can do.”

Nines tossed his hair over his shoulder and elevated himself further, pressing his forearms onto Gavin. His fixation with the human’s muscular chest was no secret.

“I can.”

“Huh.”

“You hardly said anything when we first met so I had nothing to go off for your personality-”

“Maybe I was mysterious and aloof and ya just couldn’t resist.”

“No, I actually thought you were kind of slow. All your medals and service awards didn’t make any sense to me.”

“Wowww.”

“So it had to be your body. Why else would anyone keep you around?”

“Is that why you stuck around too?”

“Maybe.”

“You little-”

Gavin reversed their positions on the bed, flipping Nines onto his back and curling huge biceps around his lithe body. Nines tipped his head back to allow Gavin to drag his teeth across his throat and latch onto his collarbone. Some moments passed like that until Nines regained control by hooking a leg over the human’s waist to slow him down.

“Fine. I confess. It was the leather jacket.”

“Seriously?”

Nines dug his heel into Gavin’s coccyx.

“It was everything about your appearance that you had control over… or weren’t born with at least. For instance, your face is conventionally attractive, but it’s all the lines and scars and little things that made me wonder what kind of a life you’d lived… what you might have gone through... how you came out stronger. And yes, your body is a temple, but it’s the work you put into it that I admire. You know how to take care of yourself and that’s…”

“Hot?”

“Hot.”

Nines accepted a rather sloppy kiss with grace. He rubbed his hands up and down his partner’s back.

“So. Tell me. What was it for you? What is it for you?”

Gavin’s right hand subconsciously found its way into Nines’ long hair and caressed his scalp. He sighed into the crook of Nines’ neck and took in the familiar scent that was neither entirely human nor entirely artificial. Everyone expected androids to smell like a new car but the fact was that each of them had their own unique smell. It was impossible to describe in words, but it was one of the many many things Gavin loved about Nines.

“Babe, I think you’re asking a shit ton of questions, but none of them are what you actually wanna ask.”

“Say more.”

“Gavin, do you love me because I look like a Greek god or is it because I’m smart as phck? Gavin, what did you notice first about my sexy android ass? Does the same thing get you off today, or is it something else?

I think… there’s something you already know… or something you think you know… and you’re just trying to get me to say it and dig myself into a giant hole.”

Nines didn’t respond but his LED did. Gavin chuckled and pressed his lips to the spinning yellow light.

“Called it.”

Nines rolled his eyes.

“It’s my hair, isn’t it?”

“Huh?”

“Admit it, you’re obsessed with my hair.”

“And you’re obsessed with my tits. We take turns objectifying each other. First sign of a healthy relationship.”

The android’s sharp nose scrunched up at a particular word and Gavin closed his eyes in resignation. Despite his best efforts he’d walked right into the trap.

“Dammit, babe, I didn’t mean it like that. I would never ever see you as an object-”

“My, my… we’re lying here two years to the day we became…”

“A thing.”

“Yes. And here I am reminiscing about what made you even look at me in the first place… and it turns out the credit goes more to Cyberlife than it does to me.”

Gavin groaned while his lover’s tinkling laughter rang out. He had to think fast if he had to turn the tables.

“So I’m that slow?”

Nines looked back at him, confused.

“You just dragged MY instincts. Like I’m dumb enough to fall for a program written by some geeky little code nerd. Like it was all totally predetermined and I didn’t see you tease and flirt and practically fall over yourself trying to get my attention for months. Huh?”

Gavin tightened his grip and gave his partner an affirmative shake.

“All those outfits and nail colours and pointy shoes and sparkly, shiny things. You saw me looking and you just kept stepping it up.”

He grasped Nines’ jaw and kissed him firmly.

“And your hair, baby… yeah, some genius worked on the tech at some point… but they didn’t tell you how to wear it. They didn’t tell you about the length or cut or angle. They didn’t tell you to walk around looking like a phcking prince. They didn’t tell you to roll the car windows down on the highway so your hair could fly in my face and drive me phcking crazy…”

Gavin thrust his fingers into the dark locks and pulled the android back in for a series of open-mouthed kisses and tantalising swipes of his tongue. Nines started to reciprocate physically, but Gavin swatted his hands away, not wanting to let things go further without making it clear who had gained the upper hand in their ridiculous game. He broke away panting.

“I love you. Don’t ask me why because there isn't one single reason. And I phcking love your hair. Not just ’cause it’s pretty but ’cause you’re the only motherphcker in that precinct who’d show up to the gristliest of crime scenes looking like a runway model.”

They stared at each other. Nines’ LED flickered.

“I… wow, sweetheart… okayyy… I… love you too.”

A moment of silence passed and Gavin rounded things off with his classic double wink.

“You’re welcome.”

Nines smiled, accepting defeat. He reached up and carefully rearranged his hair, letting it fan out on the pillow. Unable to keep the smile off his face, Gavin dipped his head down and returned his lips to Nines’, kissing him under the covers until his LED spun bright blue.

Gavin Reed never had nice things… until he learnt how to take good care of them.

Part 2: Red Dress

#reed900 #gavin900 #dbh gavin #gavin reed #rk900 #dbh rk900 #dbh nines #gavin x nines #gavin x rk900 #tw: implied sex #high romance #my writing #dbh writing

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sttngfashion · 4 years

Text

5.26 and 6.1 - Time’s Arrow

Oh my god. Y’all. It’s a new Fashion It So post. In the year of our Picard 2020. Yes.

For literal years, Charlie and I have been like UGH WE NEED TO DO TIME’S ARROW PARTS 1 AND 2 BUT IT’S JUST SUCH A MONSTER.

Well, I’m doing a complete rewatch of the series with my partner and we just got to these two, so IT IS TIME.

We open in a cave in San Francisco, where Data and Picard are checking something out:

Rent for the cave is $6,000 per month

Showing them around is this guy in a Science Outfit:

He’s ready to go night biking

We’ve seen this look before in both Silicon Avatar and Devil’s Due, and it’s functional, yet cute. Basically a windbreaker in jumpsuit form.

They find a couple of items in the cave, including a pocket watch from 1889 and also:

I left my head in San Francisco

IT’S DATA’S HEAD!!! And it’s been there for FIVE HUNDRED YEARS. What could have caused this? And why is Data’s head so absolutely terrifying?

Is that fondant

This head is, in a word, haunting. The 2020 of heads.

Data and Geordi chat in Ten-Forward about what the presence of Data’s head in the cave means. Data says it means he’s mortal; that someday he will die, and that’s comforting. Spoiler alert: that’s not what it means. But it’s a nice conversation.

Also, Guinan is here!!!

Merlot My God!!

Or maybe: Burgundy-lightful!! Or perhaps: De-Crimson-alize Sex Work!! Okay that last one was a stretch but I really think I missed my calling as a nail polish shade namer.

Anyway, she’s here in her classic look of a pizza-sized hat and a flowing gown/coat/top/robe. The collar here is a little too close to a mock turtleneck for my liking and honestly - this is a little staid for our friend Guinan. I want a TEXTURE or a SWEEP or some WIDE RIBBING or some PLEATS. Don’t worry, though...she will get plenty more later.

Then there’s some plot which frankly we DO NOT HAVE TIME to get into but let’s just say: the away team goes to a planet, there’s a temporal disturbance, and Data ends up here:

Huge mood

Where are we? Or should I say WHEN are we??

Well that old-timey font is a good clue...also the horse

Are we in the Old West land of an off-brand Disneyworld? Are we going to ride something called Large Lightning Mesa Train Tracks? What colorful characters will we meet here?

Winner of 1893’s Mustache Medal

This type of ‘stache is called a Fu Manchu, after the character Dr. Fu Manchu. It’s not...a great look? But it is memorable, which is sometimes enough. He’s also wearing a simple black cap, probably made of silk. He’s keeping it cazh.

So where are we?

SAN FRANCISCO, OPEN YOUR GOLDEN GATE / YOU’LL LET NOBODY WAIT / OUTSIDE YOUR DOOR

Yes, it’s San Francisco. And it’s *eyes popping out of head like a cartoon wolf seeing a busty babe* 1893!!!! That temporal disturbance was...disturbing.

So who else do we have hanging out?

Please check out our Vaudeville act, Knit Cap ‘n’ Bowly

These dudes understand those famous Bay Area MICROCLIMATES, amirite? We’ve got a Henley. We’ve got a buttondown. We’ve got a vest. We’ve got a coat. No matter which way the thermometer decides to go, THEY ARE READY. Also loving the pop of forest green on Knit Cap’s knit cap.

We also have a 49er:

No, it’s not Steve Young. I googled “famous 49ers” to complete this joke so if there is a more famous 49er please let me know

It’s a literal 49er. Since it’s 1893, this guy’s been hanging around in town for a while, and he’s also familiar with the layering techniques one must master if one is to conquer the Bay Area’s climate. He also has a kicky Colonel Sanders-type tie. He asks Data for money and gives him a few panhandling tips. He’s chill. We like him. But don’t get too attached if you know what I mean!!!!

Data decides he needs somewhere to stay, so he finds a hotel:

Brian.

Why is this so funny to me. Brian. Why would you name your hotel Brian. Brian!!!! I know it’s a last name but like...Brian. HOTEL BRIAN.

This bellhop’s name is not Brian:

Where’s your hat, bro

He’s giving us a classic bellhop look, complete with too many buttons. He gives Data the very important information that there’s a poker game happening in the back of the hotel, which means: Data is about to be RICH rich.

The poker game includes a few good looks:

Louie Anderson IS Wolverine IN a Lands’ End barn coat

Two plaids? Sir...I salute you

Colonel Sanders Goes to Carnaval

Data, of course, wipes the floor with them so hard that he wins their clothes:

Didn’t get that barn coat tho

Yes, that’s the actual vest and the actual hat of those guys from the previous scene. Oh, I love it. I love Data in a vest over his uniform and I love Data with a feather in his cap. Let’s call it macaroni.

Meanwhile, out on the street, the plot is happening:

Beige: inescapable

This is our first taste of the decadent 1890’s sleeves that appear in this episode, and these aren’t even the best sleeves!! These are an amuse-bouche of sleeves. An armuse-bouche, if you will.

Anyway, these two are aliens disguised as humans who are here to steal the 49er’s life energy.

Pew pew pew

I told you not to get attached!!!

Back on the Enterprise, Guinan is doing mixology:

She would never call it something as stupid as mixology though

She tells Picard that he needs to go check out the temporal disturbance, too, even though captains don’t normally go on away missions, and then she gives him this look:

It’s that serious

When Guinan looks at you like this, you do what she says.

Now this outfit is much better than the earlier one. We have some pleated sleeves, which I didn’t even think was a thing you could DO. We have some sort of functional(?) strap(??) across the front. We even have matching fingerless gloves which always make a look A LOOK. And if Picard wasn’t sure whether he needed to go on this away mission, she then gives him THIS look:

Okay now it’s REALLY serious

Back in 1893, Data is making something:

It’s actually just a really complicated and large music box that plays “I Left My Head in San Francisco”

He’s gotten his hands on some more period-appropriate clothing, including a bow tie and a vest. Since he’s not wearing arm garters and his sleeves appear to be the correct length for his arms, we can conclude that the shirt was custom-made, not ready-made, because Data is now a baller due to his poker earnings.

Then, Data sees this in the paper:

I know her!! From work!!!!

Yes, it’s Guinan. In 1893. In a hat!!!!

We cut to the literary reception, which is honestly not as well-attended as I thought it would be, considering it got a GIANT photo of Guinan on page THREE of the paper, but okay. And who should we spy there but:

You’ll love my secret blend of 11 herbs and spices

No, it’s not Colonel Sanders. (Sorry, I really have Colonel Sanders on the brain because of that Lifetime movie.) It’s Samuel Clements, AKA Mark Twain. I had an English teacher in high school who explained the origin of his pseudonym (it indicates a mark of two fathoms, aka twelve feet, on a steamboat) and for some reason she shouted MAAAARK TWAAAAAIN when she told us that story so now her delivery of that line is in my head until I die I guess.

Anyway, it’s Mark Twain.

He’s wearing his iconic white linen suit with a black bow tie, and he’s also wearing a lot of prosthetics, because the actor playing him (Jerry Hardin, AKA Deep Throat from The X-Files AKA Melora Hardin AKA Jan Levinson-Gould’s dad) (was that too many AKAs) (you get it, right?) didn’t look enough like Mark Twain, I guess? In conclusion: what if eyebrow wigs were a thing?

Twain is having a chit chat with “Madame Guinan,” who is wearing what can only be called a sumptuous gown:

It’s 11:30 and the gown is sumptin’ sumptin’

There are so many ELEMENTS to this look! First of all: the color. Royal purple. Fit for a queen. Appropriate.

Then: those sleeves! These sleeves are known as “leg of mutton sleeves” because they KIND OF look like a leg of mutton. Have you ever seen a leg of mutton? I haven’t. I’ve only seen these sleeves. Plus they have a stripe?? No, I don’t know why, but I LOVE IT.

The cuffs and the cravat bring this from “dress” to “lewk.” Top it all off with this hat and you have a true 1893 mood.

What bird is that feather even from

We get a few good extra looks in this scene as well:

Pink Lady is NOT wearing a corset

Look, sometimes you don’t have enough period-appropriate undergarments for all the background people and that’s fine. But I WILL notice.

Is that Loretta Lynn

I am loving all of this! That purple dress is fantastic, those stripes? I die. Military man has some fun flair on his shoulder, and there is a dude in a beautiful turban back there. Plus, another Black lady in addition to Guinan and That One Ensign Who Is On The Bridge Sometimes.

Data rolls in to the literary event in a different suit with a CRAVAT:

Craving a cravat

Data is like “we serve together on the same starship in the 24th century” and Guinan is like “huh” but then she’s like “okay” which...I’m not sure if I would believe that? But let’s just say it’s fine.

Over in the 24th century, the literal entire bridge crew is checking out the temporal disturbance and I DON’T LIKE THIS AT ALL:

Blue Man Group...on ACID

These beings are like ghosts but also like Dr. Manhattan but also like pure energy.

Then everyone goes through the temporal disturbance AND THE SEASON ENDS.

Fortunately for you, this post will continue...right now.

Okay, so we’re back in San Francisco in 1893. You can tell by the horses:

Also the fruit carts

Samuel Clemens is strolling around with a reporter, telling him that he has a great story for him that involves time travelers and, like, protecting the nation.

Here’s the thing about this episode’s version of Mark Twain: he’s kind of a dick. Was the real Mark Twain kind of a dick? I just feel like Mark Twain should be JAZZED about meeting time travelers and not acting like a fuckin’ time cop* and trying to put the Enterprise crew on blast.

Anyway I love his double-breasted vest.

See my vest

The reporter’s hat is technically period-accurate, but that style is SO associated with the 1930s-1950s that I would have gone with something else. He looks cute though.

Meanwhile, Data is wearing a three-piece suit:

My positronic olfactory synapses are interpreting something as...a fart

I hate brown, but this is fine.

Additionally, the beige baddies from before are back and this time, they’ve got a SNAKE CANE:

Love the snake cane, hate how they suck the life out of people

But we are not here for them, we are here to see our faves in period clothing. Our first look is at Riker, who is dressed as an actual cop, not a time cop like Mark Twain:

The past just had...so many buttons

I guess if you’re a time-traveling white man there are worse disguises than a cop. But WHERE DID HE GET THIS UNIFORM? I choose to believe that he found a cop with a similar large handsome body to his own and beat the shit out of him and stole his clothes. Now we can all enjoy imagining a cop being beat up.

The badge that Riker is wearing is a great historical detail; the SFPD started wearing them in 1886 and are reportedly the first law enforcement agency to have worn the seven-pointed star, which is now a common shape among sheriff’s departments across the United States.

But let’s move on to a better look: Dr. Beverly Crusher:

Curlz MT

Okay, now I have more questions. Beverly obviously wouldn’t beat someone up for their clothes, so where did SHE get HER outfit? And who did her hair? Did she do her OWN hair? Where did she get a curling iron? Does she know how to use a curling iron? Was it one of those ones that’s actually made of iron that you have to heat up in a fireplace?

We will get answers to zero (0) of these questions.

We actually get a much better look at her dress later, so let’s focus on that cloak!!! I love it and I also love her hat. Okay, I guess I had less to say about those than I thought.

Bev and Will, along with the rest of the officers, have somehow procured a room/apartment in some lady’s lodging house. It’s cute!

They gave it 5 stars on AirBnB

This also raises questions. How did they get this room? How many bedrooms does it have? Are they sharing one large bed? If so, who has to sleep crossways at the foot of the bed and why is it Geordi? We will get zero answers to these questions as well, so let’s move on to arguably the hottest costume in this two-parter:

I’ll be in Holodeck 4

Whewwwwwww. He’s giving us a rolled sleeve. He’s giving us a casual tweed vest. The pants? They’re perfect. And he KNOWS how that slouch is working. It’s working VERY well. But the Irish landlady? She’s having NONE OF IT.

Absolutely NO nonsense

She needs the rent, but Picard charms her and she leaves. So I guess that’s how they got the room. Her look is knitwear-forward:

Eileen Fisher does sound like an Irish name

She’s got a shawl AND a cardigan! The cozy factor is OFF THE CHARTS. She also has a brooch, because a touch of fancy is always welcome. I will say that her hair is a little more fashion-forward than I’d expect for a woman of her age and station. This is straight up 1890s hair, and she would probably still be rocking an 1860s look, which isn’t as sweepy and would likely involve more braids. Still, she looks lovely.

Geordi is also here looking dapper:

Make the collar as high as you can. I want to be sliced open by my own collar

You CAN go wrong with a three-piece suit, but it’s difficult to. He can’t wear his visor, so he has some kicky shades which we’ll get a better look at in a sec.

Back at the Hotel Brian (lol), the bellboy (who we learn in this scene is Jack London, inspired to be a writer by Mark Twain [citation needed]) lets Mark Twain into Data’s room and allows him to look around unsupervised. This is very bad hotel management.

Great Scott

Then Data and Guinan show back up, and Mark Twain hides in an armoire.

One short day in the emerald brocade

I think one reason I love Guinan’s looks so much, both in the 24th and the 19th century, is that our color palette is very similar. We’re both winters. Bold jewel tones are the vibe. This one is in a beautiful deep green fabric with what looks like a velvet flocking pattern on it. The collar is also velvet, and I love that sleeve with a flounce on top like there wasn’t already enough fucking fabric on the sleeve so they just added a random piece to be like “yes, bitch. I’m a sleeve.”

Naturally, the hat is also jaunty af:

San Francisco’s hottest milliner is: Madame Guinan

This hat has everything: feathers, netting, a brim, an angle that makes you think it’s going to fall off but it doesn’t. We stan.

Meanwhile, Picard is setting up a sensor in a hospital while wearing a hat:

I’m bowled over

We haven’t even asked where Picard got these clothes, but I would like to point out that he’s dressed as a lower-class guy, while Riker is a cop, and Geordi looks like a gentleman. Was there even a discussion they all had about how they would disguise themselves? Was Picard like “I just really want to wear a beat-up bowler hat” and since he’s the captain, they extrapolated from there? This episode is NOT CONCERNED about any of this. They all have clothes, end of story.

Bev even has TWO outfits!!

Hello nurse!!!!

I love this look. She still has her unlikely hairstyle happening, which means her nurse’s cap is sitting atop her voluminous hairstyle. (Not very practical, but realistic!) She’s sporting a simple striped dress and a button-on apron. (Look closely and you can see the two buttons holding the apron to the dress.) The fabric underneath might be cotton seersucker, but it’s likely a lightweight cotton or linen twill. You can see how closely her look matches these nurses from a similar time period:

Hello nurses!!!!

Deanna is also in this scene and this episode, but you wouldn’t know it from what she’s given to do. HUGE SHOCKER: TROI NOT GIVEN ENOUGH TO DO IN AN EPISODE. 🙃

She still looks beautiful:

Why aren’t capelets more popular

We never get a really GREAT look at her whole outfit, but I can tell you that it has a capelet, it’s in the red family, and the hat has a lot of business going on. For those reasons: approved. It has a flounce in the back too:

More fabric = more wealth

Sometimes I think about just how much fabric it took to make these old-timey dresses and I’m like...how did anyone get anything done?? It takes me like 4 weeks to finish a pair of leggings and those have like 5 seams and I own a serger. These historical bitches were sewing whole ass dresses in no time at all.

Okay, so Bev is in this hospital and here come some more energy-stealing aliens, disguised as healthcare professionals this time:

I cannot take a medical professional wearing a LIGHT BROWN TOP HAT seriously, sorry

Bev AND this energy-stealing alien have BOTH managed to get their hands on the SAME nurse’s uniform?? I guess in the case of the alien, she is a shape-shifter, so she got her clothes from...that. And her hair.

I hate this light brown top hat. If you’re going to wear a top hat, don’t DISRESPECT IT by making it BROWN, but if you’re going to make it brown, make it a good brown, like chocolate. Stupid energy-stealing aliens.

There’s a skirmish, the energy-stealing aliens disappear, and the real cops show up:

MOUSTACHE

Of course, the cops showing up is bad, because when has a cop showing up ever made a bad situation better? Never. Defund the police, but don’t defund handlebar mustaches. Those can stay.

Fortunately, Data has gotten a ping on that machine he was building before and shows up on a motherfucking HORSE:

Brent just wanted to show off

He’s back in his brown striped suit and red tie. Okay.

Everyone returns to the boarding house to suss out the situation, and we get a look at what Riker is rocking underneath his cop jacket:

Suspend me daddy

You can see very clearly here how the collar is not actually attached to the shirt. This was a thing people in the olden days did so they could wear their shirt for multiple days in a row and just switch out the collar and cuffs so they looked clean. As someone who is wearing the same sweatshirt for the third day in a row, I support this method. (If you’re interested on more info about collars, here is a very enjoyable article about them.)

We are also blessed with a better look at Deanna’s sleeves and bodice:

Black lace cuffs? Decadent!!!

You can also see Geordi’s shades, which suit him really nicely. One thing I’ve been enjoying on this rewatch is just how well LeVar Burton can act without having his eyes visible. He’s great. Let’s just all think about how great LeVar Burton is for a second

And also Bev’s dress:

I legitimately want this dress

I don’t think those buttons are functional. Can you imagine how annoying THAT would be? But I am absolutely in love with this dress. Two paisleys, Beverly???? A goddess. I’m also dying for that brooch with the chain. A+ look all around, great work.

Finally, FINALLY, Guinan meets the rest of the crew:

When you meet someone you won’t actually know for 500 years

She is wearing a hat that looks like a toilet paper cozy. Did your grandma have one of these? They’re so stupid and I love them so much.

Picard and Guinan meet for what is the first time for her, but not the first time for him, and honestly it is...sensual?????

If I got a m’lady from P. Stew I wouldn’t even mind

Patrick and Whoopi truly do some nice work in this ep. But we are here to yell about clothes, so: LOOK AT THIS DRESS ON AN EXTRA:

Gimme dat dress

I just want that dress to wear around my house. I legitimately bought an 18th century costume dress to do just that, so don’t think I won’t literally do this.

OKAY, WE ARE ALMOST TO THE END.

The crew, plus Guinan, go back to the cave where this all started:

Cave Club, the only club that meets in a cave

We get a nice look at the bodice of Guinan’s dress here and guess what: MORE BUTTONS. Buttons on the lapels, and also buttons on the front panel with the pointy top. I wonder if she has multiple front panels for that dress in different colors, like a Swatch watch.

Unbeknownst to them, Mark Twain followed them!! Then there’s a scuffle with the energy-stealing aliens during which a few things happen:

Data’s head flies off

Mark Twain gets sucked into the temporal disturbance

Guinan gets hurt

Picard stays behind to make sure Guinan is okay

So we end up with Mark Twain on the Enterprise, where he sees Worf, and he’s like:

Buh-WHAT

Worf is also confused:

This is...extremely perplexing

We have a few more looks back on the Enterprise, including Regular Guinan:

ShoulderSpreads™: The Bed Spread for Your Shoulders

I love love LOVE this outfit. The color is perfect, the shoulderspreads are perfect, the front draping is perfect. It looks like a velvet housedress from the 1960s except FANCY which is kind of my ideal aesthetic. And it’s red (my fave).

We get a quick glimpse at the barber uniform:

Bitch let me pass, idc if you wrote Huck Finn

This barber does. not. give. a. fuck!!!!

Geordi reattaches Data’s head, the one they already had, which means this whole thing was a ding dang closed loop. The reattachment also kind of diminishes the whole conversation they had earlier about how Data’s head in the cave meant that Data could die someday, because...he didn’t. He still might, but his head is back and he’s fine now.

Meanwhile, Picard is still back in 1893 and they have to go get him, but only one person can come back through the temporal disturbance, so Mark Twain is like “duh I’ll go get him.”

And finally Guinan and Picard can talk about how their friendship spans 500 years!!!!

Hey girl

Hey

YOU’RE WELCOME

*abolish the police

#SEASON 5 #SEASON 6 #TNG #TNG FASHION #STAR TREK #STAR TREK FASHION

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we-love-imagines · 3 years

Note

Yo! I absolutely love your headcanons, not only they are spot on, but they are really detailed and well written. It's always a pleasure to read them! If you don't mind, could you write some dating headcanons for italian boy Caesar? Keep up with your amazing work ^^

Ahhhhh! This ask made my day, you’re the sweetest <3 I’ve been meaning to write more for Caesar!!!

The reader here is gender neutral, but there are some implied gender roles in some of these hcs (Caesar likes to be the more traditionally masculine partner). Please enjoy!

Caesar Dating Headcannons

~Caesar is a flagrant Casanova. Before he met you, he always had someone new with him every other week. Initially, he and his friends thought that you were just another fling- but imagine their surprise when those few weeks together turn into a month, then two months, then six months... In what feels like the blink of an eye, Caesar has been dating you for a year! He doesn’t want you to know too much about his promiscuous past, so you’ll only find out how rare and special this is from his friends.

~We all know this man is all about grand displays of love. Every birthday, anniversary, and romantic holiday has some big gesture planned. Many of his tricks are clichés straight out of the movies: a ‘secret admirer’ leaving presents at your doorstep, surprise picnics on sunny afternoons, or over-dramatized, boisterous confessions of love as you stand above him on a balcony. If this man ever proposes to you, you know he’ll be on his A-game. While his romantic gestures often catch you off-guard, they sweep you off your feet every time!

~He’s very traditional when it comes to gift-giving. He likes to give flowers, expensive clothing or jewelry, and lovely little boxes of chocolate. However, he loves receiving gifts just as much as giving them. He’d never tell you this; he’s a little old-fashioned in the sense that he thinks it’s a little emasculating to receive gifts from one’s partner, and that he should be a provider. But he just can’t help the smile that creeps onto his face when you surprise him with tickets to a show, an expensive bottle of wine, or any kind of traditional Italian dish. For his birthday one year, you got him a fancy wine glass with his initials carved into the base. He almost started crying.

~Caesar has a very classy palette when it comes to cuisine. He favors the food of his country, finding it superior to anything else the world at large could offer. Despite this- he’ll eat anything you make for him. He finds it rude to reject someone’s hard work, so if you put anything you make in front of him, he’ll clear his plate. It sucks for him if you’re bad in the kitchen, but he’ll still praise you and compliment your burnt delicacies any day (albeit, with tears in his eyes from just how horrible your kitchen smells!). If you’re good at cooking/ baking, his compliments will be more genuine. Now, if you cook him authentic Italian food? You become his personal chef. He’ll refuse to eat anywhere else.

~Caesar really wants to come off as a storybook, Prince Charming kind of boyfriend. It might be from the stories he heard when he growing up or the dramatic romances he sees in those Italian soap operas he loves so much, but that’s what he’s trying to live up to. This leaves him bottling up a lot of his emotions around you, not wanting you to see the more vulnerable and darker sides of him. It’s only with a lot of time and affirmations of trust that he’ll open up to you, but he still struggles to tell the full story when it’s something very upsetting. He’s afraid you’ll see him as weak for doing so, even if you tell him otherwise. It may be a high bar to clear, but he wants to be perfect for you.

~Building off that last point, his unwillingness to open up leads to him hiding a lot of important information from you too. Again, this may be his flair for the dramatic and his desire to give you the most romantic love story possible, but it’s not rare for him to wake you up in the middle of the night saying “I have to go do something important. It may be a while before I return, amore,” and disappearing for weeks on end. These stints are usually long bits of training with Lisa Lisa, or something Hamon related, but he’ll never tell you the full story. Even when he comes home covered in bandages, he won’t give in to your pestering in an effort to keep you out of all the fighting. It annoys you to no end, but he’s stubborn.

~If you yourself are a Hamon user, he’ll want you as far away from any fighting as possible. He was raised with the idea that he was supposed to be a provider and protector in a relationship- so how can he protect his beloved if you’re fighting alongside him? It takes multiple battles and dances with death for him to be more okay with you in the line of action. He’ll never be a big fan of the idea, just more comfortable with it.

~He’s very nervous to move in with you. Part of him is afraid part of your romance will die when you see his private habits and you’re around each other constantly. To make up for this, he tries to be all romance all the time at first- trying to make out with you at 6am, slow dancing every single night in the living room, wearing his finest clothes around the house while you’re in your PJs. While it’s charming to see him put so much effort to impress you at first, it gets old for you both very quickly, and you two eventually acclimate to a very comfortable daily routine. He’ll never let you get too lost in the domestic grind, though, always having a sweet surprise ready for you after a bad day.

~Caesar is the jealous type. This mostly comes from his days as a flirt- he knows all of the best tricks, and when he sees others making moves on you, he can’t help but get miffed. He’ll either shoo your pursuers away or find an excuse for both of you to leave. After the incident is over and done with, you’ll have to comfort him a bit to get him to cool down, but after that, he’ll be all about giving you kisses and cuddles to make sure you don’t leave him. Part of this comes from a bit of guilt; in his time as a Casanova, he got with a few people who were already in relationships. Now that he’s on the other end of that, he understands the fear of your partner leaving you for someone else.

~Caesar is very big on presence. Even if you’re both busy, both doing completely separate things from one another, he likes just being near you. Reading side-by-side, watching movies together, or doing work in the same room always brings him comfort. While he certainly likes sparking conversation and doing things with you more than anything, just being able to bask in your presence is enough.

~After long, tiring days, Caesar loves to blow you bubbles. You both think it’s very childish, but you both can’t help but laugh when he’s able to make them into crazy shapes as they fly up into the sky. It works every time.

~While a little over-the-top, Caesar will give you a love story worthy of the big screen!

#jjba x reader #jjba #caesar x reader #jjba caesar #Caesar Zeppeli #caesar jjba #jjba headcanons #Battle Tendency #jojos bizarre adventure #Jojo no Kimyou na Bouken #sfw #inbox is open!

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officerjennie · 3 years

Text

Goodbye Kisses

(Prompted by myself on my birthday because help, I love them so much T^T) (Ko-fi and commission info in my blog header)

It mattered not how many times they said goodbye, each time still broke another piece of his heart.

There were times Jaskier had ample warning. Days or even weeks to steel himself, to play the brilliant actor he prided himself to be. Ample time to remind himself quite sternly what he was to his witcher, his noble white wolf, the man who had swept into his life with all the flair and cheer of a beaten and tired mutt and had promptly and oh so very rudely stolen his heart.

A heart that many had attempted to steal in the past, might he add.

Those blessed days, hours, weeks - whatever time he had to fish his heart back from his sleeves and shove it back in his chest to be guarded like it had never wanted to be - they were all that saved him from certain embarrassment and rejection. For every single time, no matter that he knew it would end, he allowed himself to be a fool and believe that their journey would go onward. That every morning he could wake up bleary and far too late to his witcher grousing over their late start. That every afternoon would find him practicing his lute and songs while he danced his way down whatever trail laid before them, following after Roach’s twitching tail and the regal visage of Geralt, the most dearest man to his heart.

It was not one of those times, however.

“Leaving,” was the only grunted explanation he got as Geralt brushed past him, Jaskier left blinking after him where he stood still in the doorway to the room they’d planned on sharing for the next few days at the very least. It took far too many seconds for his thoughts to catch up to him, the silly grin he’d had frozen on his lips, laughter caught and dying in his throat.

“Wh- hold on, wait! Garelt!” Jaskier danced a little in the doorway, unsure of whether to take off after his companion given his own stuff was still strewn all about their room - everything but the lute strapped to his back and the smaller of his coin purses that he’d kept to collect the connected bar’s patron’s generous donations at his performance. With great effort he stopped staring after him, sweeping wide eyes about the room, already mourning the loss of what he couldn’t grab in the next 30 seconds: the blackberry wine he’d been planning on breaking out this very night would have to be abandoned, as well as much of his clothes - oh, it would cost him a small fortune to replace them all, and his heart cried even as he ran about and scooped up what little he could before stumbling right back out the door, regretting that last pint of ale as it left him fumbly and even dropping some of the precious few things he’d managed to stuff in his arms.

It was a miracle in and of itself that he didn’t bumble into anyone on his rush down the hall and stairs, and another that he managed the door by himself with his hands and arms otherwise occupied. At least no grace from the gods was required to find Geralt, all Jaskier needed to do was head straight for the stable that was attached to the inn.

“Geralt!”

He spotted his witcher just as Geralt was swinging his leg up and over Roach, the mare already saddled and packed and grouchy from being awoken far too early for her liking. She tried her best to reach back and nip at her burden even as Geralt nudged her forward, stopping her only after a few feet when Jaskier stumbled in front of them.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you mean, what am I doing?” Gesturing with his arms so full of precious belongings was a bad idea but that didn’t occur to him until after he’d already done it, and attempting to catch the turquoise and emerald silk shirt only made him drop something else. “Dropping everything I own in the muck and grime is what I’m doing apparently - that was a gift, you know! A gift from my mother on her sick bed. Sure, sure, she recovered, but that’s not the point of things, Geralt, some warning would have been nice!”

“I’m leaving.”

“Oh, well darling, I didn’t notice, what with the whole storming out and straddling Ms. Nips-A-Lot - hey! No!” Roach knew exactly when he sassed about her and proved the name right, Jaskier barely dodging one of her hard nips that was aimed at his shoulder. It was luck and luck alone that kept all the rest of his things in his arms and far away from the mud below. “I meant advanced warning, Geralt, half a minute is not enough time for me to pack. And the least you could do is help me!”

Geralt grunted at him, and it was only thanks to their years of travelling together off and on that Jaskier could recognize it as his impatient grunt - which only made him want to huff indignantly, considering it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t get ready at the drop of a hat. But before he could properly huff at him Geralt slid off of Roach to help him.

Or...not. Instead of taking any of his stuff, or maybe opening one of the packs Roach was carrying, Geralt just oh so helpfully clapped Jaskier on the shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze as he leaned down to meet Jaskier’s gaze - and just that simple act of holding his gaze had Jaskier’s heart in his throat. Melitele help him but those eyes would be the death of him. He could drown in the abyss of them, captured and held prisoner but hardly against his will, lost in a sea of amber and warmth many would think so unlike his dear withcer-

“I’m leaving, Jaskier. Not you.”

Oh.

“Oh,” Jaskier said, the fluttering thing in his stomach dropping like a stone. Well. Just like his witcher to put a damper on things.

“Too dangerous.”

“How is it any more dangerous than what we’ve already been through together?” Jaskier tried to not get too distracted when Geralt’s hand slipped from his shoulder and down his arm, still firm on him, making it unfairly difficult to muster up a decent argument as Geralt took his elbow and started to guide him back to the tavern entrance. “When we met I followed you straight towards a devil, remember? Sure it wasn’t an actual devil but neither of us knew any better-”

“Devils aren’t real, Jaskier.”

“-and I still followed you right along, and ended up perfectly fine! Oh, and remember the dragon? A dragon, Geralt, how on earth could anything out here in the middle of bloody nowhere could be more dangerous than a DRAGON?”

Geralt gave him a look that suggested he was being difficult on purpose. “I don’t slay dragons. There was never going to be a fight.”

Any further protests were put to a stop before they could continue, hardly even a stammered out start passing Jaskier’s lips before Geralt was opening the tavern door for him, giving a squeeze to his arm before dropping the contact between them. “Stay here, and out of trouble if you can manage it. I’ll come back.”

Normally, Jaskier would have made a fuss over the insinuation that he might gravitate towards trouble - because, really, it was the other way around. Not that the end results mattered much which way it worked. It came down to semantics, really, but Jaskier still would not have taken the insinuation without at least trying to set the record straight a little. But…

But his heart had not been normal of late, nor had his mind. And with no time to prepare for Geralt’s rather sudden departure he’d had no time to school his reactions, no time to remind himself how he’d normally do things: what he’d say, how exactly his hand or arm would flourish in gesture, what emotions he should allow into his tone without raising any sort of suspicion.

So it wasn’t exasperation that colored his tone, no played up hurt nor frustration to punctuate his words when Jaskier half-turned to look up at his witcher, breath almost catching at how even on a dreary day like this Geralt managed to look neigh on ethereal in his beauty - when all Jaskier managed to ask him was “When?”

When would he again be allowed to get lost within that heated gaze, time having little meaning, the world fading into the distance? When would his nights end in laughter rather than the drop after a performance, his high from the crowd leaving him at an incredible low, alone without his dearest witcher to keep his thoughts at bay and far away from the darkened sea they went to on their own? When would he know beyond a shadow of a doubt that his Geralt was safe and relatively unharmed, unmaimed at the very least, able to return to him at all?

“When I’m done.”

Ever the romantic to match his thoughts. Jaskier huffed out air through his nose, readjusting his grip on the mountain of things in his arms, Geralt’s blunt honesty cutting through his rather melodramatic mode decently enough. Not well enough to have him rid of all the rather sticky feelings that loved to pop up unbidden, but without the clouds that usually left him dampened in their presence all those sticky feelings left Jaskier feeling rather...wistful, and, dare he say, whimsical.

Perhaps his mother was onto something when she said his moods changed less like seasons and more flittered by like insects swarming in the summer heat.

If he had had perhaps even an hour to prepare for this goodbye, Jaskier would not have done anything so far removed from their normal interactions and behavior. But that time had not been given to him, and the warmth from Geralt’s hand could still be felt on his arm, and Jaskier’s heart was skipping beats in his chest knowing it was concern that had his witcher so set on going it alone - and seeing it clear as the dawn itself in those beautiful eyes of gold.

With as much grace as he could muster with his arms ladened so, Jaskier closed the short distance between him and his friend. He couldn’t tell if it was shocked surprise that held Geralt still or not, or what kept him from jerking away as he’d always expected him to if Jaskier had ever dared to be so bold, but Geralt did not move back - and Jaskier found his lips brushing against the silver stubble on his cheek, rough against his own chapped skin but it barely registered against the thundering heartbeat that sounded in his ears.

A light kiss to his cheek was all he managed, and it amazed him long into the night that he found his voice past it all. “Be careful, darling.” Being so close to him Jaskier saw Geralt’s breathing stutter at the endearment, and like a good storyteller he took careful note of that and squirreled it away for later, leaning back away just enough to look up and catch the way Geralt was looking at him. “I’d hate to be a bard with no company.”

Upon reflection, getting to see his oh so completely and frustratingly composed witcher shift his weight nervously after such a simple thing was more than worth the slip in his own emotional composure. Even the muddied belongings were worth it when weighed against the delayed grunt of response, the flickering gaze towards Jaskier and away again, and the sudden start to Geralt’s movements that finally started him back towards Roach without another word.

Maybe goodbyes weren’t the worst after all if they involved such an adorably flustered boy (and, Jaskier thought, his own gaze flickering downward shamelessly, it never really was a burden to watch him walk away).

#geraskier #geralt #jaskier #the witcher #fanfiction #mywriting #first time writing them T^T #i did it! I wrote it!!

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cartoonfangirl1218 · 3 years

Text

Two to Tango

Note: Wow, it’s been like a year since I’ve written any EoA, and of course, of course, my inspiration was Estoma. I always thought tango as a dance for them and so... I made a fic. Thanks to @halloweennut for her advice in the dance and the ending. The dance was modeled on this one so if any of the description seems awkward, this was what I was trying to describe. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S_L-v8zQf14. As ever, hope y’all enjoy!

Esteban discreetly wiped his brow as he bowed down to what felt like his hundredth dance partner this night.

It had been thrilling to dance again, away from the cold eyes of the tyrannical sorceress. Feel his muscle memory flip to automatic as he spun around. The music lifts and moves him in a joyous way that he never thought he would have again. He needed to enjoy the night while he could. Before he went back to the “civilized silence,” the gloomy, culture-less Avalor and all the other miseries he brought upon himself there.

But even he had to admit he was exhausted after being on his feet all night yet he didn’t want to stop. King Lars had assured him the tango would play by now, as per Esteban’s request. The tango was one of the most complex dances in Avalor. Intense, passionate, por sabor! It reminded him of his childhood, watching his parents sweep around their ballroom on date night and wondering how two bodies could move that way. It reminded him of his youth- the way the guitar strummed and the music reached a tantalizing hilt as he dipped his voluptuous partner, feeling the heat feed off each other, feeling like a man. He remembered the feeling of being fully in control, his every muscle limber and engaged in the moment. Knowing that no one else could execute the tango like he could. It was like nothing in the world. Not that he would get to fully show off his skill. After all the tango was dependent on how well the partners moved together and since they were going in a circle, each guest taking the partner to their left, who knows what kind of person he’d get. The tricky intricate dance could be dangerous with the wrong partner. Not in the physical sense but to one’s ego, immensely. For an inexperienced partner’s awkward mistakes could make them both look like fools. King Lars rang the bell that signaled a partner change. He bowed to the dashing blonde who he shared the Marswickian waltz with. He rolled back his shoulders as he stood in the outer circle as the ladies tittered, swirling the skirts and moved to their right. And the gods must have thought, like so many times in Esteban's life, that he had too much of a good thing because they saw it fit to strike him with a migraine in the form of Avalor's magister of trade.

It was clear that she hadn't been expecting him to be her partner either by the way Doña's jaw unattractively dropped open and her nose started to scrunch up in disgust. He would almost have been insulted but he knew that he was probably making a similar face as the migraine began to assault him.

No, actually, Esteban thought to himself, he did feel insulted by how annoyed she looked. After all, she was the one who had been causing trouble all week. No matter the treaty, no matter the discussion. She contradicted each and every word he said. They were supposed to be a united front for Avalor's interests at these foreign meetings to ensure that Avalor, and more importantly Shuriki, would be satisfied and prosperous in the years to come. But instead she argued with him, that his strategies were unachievable. His ideas were too broad or too narrow. Everything he did was wrong or stupid or foolish in some way. He didn't know what it was. Most foreign trips, they'd sweep the other kingdoms aside and meet their goals efficiently. But this week, she seemed intent on refuting everything he said out of spite. He'd been hoping not to see her until the weekend. Their last argument had been particularly harrowing as it went from trade disagreements to more personal insults. He knew what she thought of him. Hell, she condescendingly held her chin up high and rolled her eyes at him as she went on about how little he knew of the real world because he was pompous, pampered, spoiled royal. That she was so much better than him, that she worked so much harder. It was infuriating to be with someone so arrogant and self-important. After two days he wanted to exile her to Nueva Vista to work as... as he didn't know what, but just far from him. But the worst thing was he couldn't do that. She was actually good at her job! This week aside, when they did work together, she had good ideas. Not as well thought out and great as Esteban's but they were effective. She had a silver tongue persuasiveness that sometimes left him speechless. She was dedicated, she knew how to get things done. Esteban was convinced that it was pure antagonism on her part that she thrived in her job. She was accomplished so he couldn't use the excuse of incompetence to put her out of office and out of his life! No, he was stuck with her. And he was stuck with her in this tango too apparently. His temple throb as he saw her lips part. A sure sign that she would add to his pounding headache. So he went for the first strike. “Let’s not talk that way, this will go faster for both of us,” Esteban cut her off, “Besides talking tends to make inexperienced dancers, like you, mess up.” Doña, blessedly, shut her mouth yet her eyes lit up with the competitive fire that was present at all their interactions. Then the music began. The guitars rumbled with feeling. The singer's voice rose from deep in his gut to mourn his lost love in the fires of the revolution. Esteban straightened up and held his arms out more stiff than what was expected for a dance but gods, this irritation always made him tense. She lightly took his hands, looking at him down her nose as if he should be so honored to be partnered with her. He couldn't stop his eye roll which she responded with a sardonic snort. Esteban thought to spare himself the further pain by training his eyes on some distant point. But her face caught his eyes first. Her green orbs weren't steadfastly ignoring him as he was planning to do with her, in fact she was seizing up his form. For a moment, Esteban thought she was watching him because she didn't know the moves. Unsurprising since she grew up during Shuriki's ban on music and dance. A fact amply demonstrated when he did see her dance. A scarecrow had more rhythm than her. However, she didn't have the look of a novice, nervously watching where to put her feet. No, she was watching him. Daring... no. Esteban could see the anticipatory look, she was waiting for him to slip. The nerve of her! He met her eye for eye, to partake in a staring contest that proved he had no need to watch his feet in a tango. He was the dance expert here. He lips curved into that taunting smirk and Esteban smirked as well, knowing for all her arrogance that he was the superior one on the floor tonight.

The tango is primarily a walking dance and so at the first 8 count, they curved and stepped. He stepped forward, keeping his weight on the balls of his feet, right foot passing over his left handily as she did the reverse, gliding across the room into the center of the circle. The spotlight that always suited Esteban best.

He swung her into a back corte, sliding his leg up hers for a gancho then she did the gancho and they repeated the arrastre. He began to move backwards so they could go to the right but she slid her leg up to his hips, forcing him to arch back into a lunge and then began to move backwards herself. Forcing Esteban to follow her to the left of the room.

Just like in a regular workday, Doña was always trying to counter him. Esteban gritted his teeth in an effort to keep his face stoic. He wasn't going to give her the satisfaction.

She'd pasada, "You're spoiled, egotistical, pretentious, pompous.." He'd agujas "You're disrespectful, self-centered, high and mighty.." He'd start a giro and she'd change it midway to a colgada. Insults going unspoken between them, but it was as if they were picking up the argument just from this afternoon. "Impossible, insufferable" "Deluded, ungrateful, repressed" Each doing what made the tango so difficult yet entrancing. Taking advantage of one move to add their personal flair, anticipating and following the other's moves in the push and pull that characterized the dance. And their personal rivalry for dominance. And just like their work life, they found each other underestimating the grace the other would pull off when faced with a surprise. The dedication and focus that was turned to this dance instead of their usual inventories. The fierce determination to do it right and not stop till it was done. He gently swung her right arm prompting a twirl so Esteban could get a break from their intense stare down and the feeling that he was going to go cross eyed. He took control and instead of returning to the regular forward facing position that the rest of the couples had taken, he turned her so her back was toward him. He pressed against her back, his cheek against her smooth hair, inhaling the flowery fragrance as they took a turn around the room. Esteban felt his body relax, his arms lost their stiffness and he let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

Yes, he was in his element now, and with some satisfaction he knew Doña wasn't. His hand held against hers on her stomach, and he could feel the all too purposeful in-out breathing that one used to hide nerves.

When he spun her around so they faced each other again, he didn't see a hint of uncertainty. Her eyes were narrowed in vexation at what he pulled but she still held her nose in the air like a goddamn queen. Gods, why was he cursed with her in his life? But if she wanted to act like she'd been tango-ing for years, well then he was certainly going to take this dance to the next level. Esteban cracked his neck and when the singer reached his chorus, he slid his hand to the small of her back, being careful that he was properly positioned and had a firm grip on her other hand, he lifted her up. She wobbled a bit at the surprise horizontal lift but he kept his grip on her, slowly turning around in a circle, drawing several gasps from onlookers.

Doña was too stiff and for the barest of moments her eyes widened in fear, probably suspecting that he was going to drop her on her head in revenge for many annoyances.

But he had a reputation on the dance floor to maintain and it wouldn't do if she made him look bad. He mouthed "Drop one leg down and relax." The fear vanished and was replaced with a haughty sniff as she dropped her head down for another turn around the room. He brought her back to the ground for a moment before lifting her up in a classic tango lift, settling her against his hip, arms outstretched. Another turn and she slowly, almost tantalizing if it had been any other person, slid down against his chest back to her feet. Back at first position, back in the stare down that started it all. The music sped up and they went into a triple arrastre, another corte and he spun her so they could take another promenade around the room. This time she was prepared for when he pressed against her back and she surprised him with a gancho between his legs. A gancho that was too sensually close for comfort that he decided it would be safer if they faced forward from then on. He could practically hear her self-satisfied drawl, "Repressed! I'll show you repressed!" Not that he didn't return the favor by pressing his lips against her neck for a moment, just long enough for her to gasp before he twirled her around, smoothing his face as if nothing had happened. The music hit another swell and their third back corte was when Esteban felt the moment he had been wanting. He felt free. His past, his mistakes, his flaws all meant nothing. His mind mumbling depressing days ahead we’re not in sight. He was happy. And he couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face. The facial muscles that had gone unused so long. But it was a relief as well. That he was capable of feeling it again. That he had something to smile about. He wanted the moment to last forever. This was the moment where everything clicked, all his senses came to life, melded together in clear focus. Everything was heightened but he didn't notice his surroundings. He was aware only of the dance, the movement of their bodies, their music and the running heat.

He was also acutely aware of the dryness in his throat, the slight perspiration that formed a sheen across his forehead. He felt the smooth silk of Doña's dress, the way it slid under his palm as his left hand held the small of her back.

It suddenly hit him how close they were to each other. How he could feel the warmth of her body radiating through the slippery fabric. The softness of her hands in his. The firm yet determined grip on his shoulder. The way her curves rested against his chest. A fact that made his chest tighten and a flush rise up his neck, reminding himself not to break their staring contest and look down. There was nothing but air that could get past their proximity. His head was swimming with her jasmine perfume that permeated the air, filling his mind with its heady scent. He inhaled deeply, before swinging her arm, signalling that he was going to spin her into an arch turn again, giving him some space to breathe. She spun back toward him, her dress slit sliding up her long leg, another item he was determined not to notice, as he brought her into a low dip.

Esteban was focused on not looking down at the curves arching under him, staring resolutely on her face, eyes landing on the red of her bow shaped lips curved in a rare unguarded smile.

He hadn't noticed before but she was wearing red. A departure from her usual cool tones but it fitted her. It matched the lipstick that brought out her tan skin that glowed under the ballroom chandeliers, the dark raven locks that were slipping from her bun. The dark eyeshadow dusting her eyes that were closed for a moment before pinning him in her sights when he brought her back to standard position. Esteban, feeling drawn to the body warmth, stepped closer than before so their foreheads touched, giving him something to press against, to literally butt heads as they had been metaphorically doing all week. But it wasn't the same stubbornness that drove their fights. It was something altogether different. There was still tension in the air but it wasn't boiling anger. It felt like an undercurrent in his blood waiting to spring.

Doña was no longer smirking. Her mouth was set in a determined line, no longer concerned with showing him up but totally in the moment that they were sharing. Her glowing emerald eyes never left his as if she couldn't look away. And if Esteban was being honest with himself, he wasn't sure he could look away either.

Esteban didn't think, he just felt, taken away by the muscle memory and music. The connection and touch of their bodies against each other. His chest pounded and a coil grew tighter in his stomach. He was the music, rising and falling with the guitar, his tension ebbing and flowing with the notes. Arising with fire when he met Doña's eyes.

The music began to reach a crescendo and Esteban knew how to finish this masterful performance. It was a move he had done dozens of times with some of the most renowned dancers at Avalor's academy. One for the most advanced, and well, he had a feeling Doña was capable enough. Or at least, her pride wouldn't let her back out now.

He picked her up spinning and spinning, instinctively knowing the music was coming to its peak and setting her down. It was a dizzying move and Esteban could see from the corner of his eye that Doña was going to fall backwards.

And just like he'd done it a thousand times before, he turned and he gripped her arm into his. Locking gazes once more at the final note. The music ceased and there was a dull roar in Esteban’s ears. Not from the crowd clapping and shouting praise at their performance, he didn’t notice that. Esteban's view was consumed with their locked eyes, the only sound he heard was their breathless panting. Her breath tickled his cheeks from exertion, and heat and released tension. He felt exhausted yet light like he was floating on air. The whole effect was disconcerting and he knew he needed to leave now to get his bearings because if he looked any longer at her..... He broke the stare down first to slowly let go, noting how the crook of her arm fitted perfectly in his and forcing himself to shake that irrant thought away. Esteban backed away, surprised by how he suddenly felt weak-kneed, but he straightened, turned his back on her and left the floor. There was no need for talk, they left it all in their dance.

“You make an excellent couple on the dance floor. Eh, I see you don’t save the fierceness just for the bedroom.” King Juan Ramon nudged him. “Wha-what!” Esteban staggered back, nearly falling on the banquet floor after his flawless performance. “I said, I see you don’t save the fierceness just for the boardroom. You know, negotiations for treaties... Have you had too much wine?” King Ramon put a guiding hand on Esteban's shoulder, expertly leading him away from the crowd, and the sommeliers. “Ah yes, that must be it. Too much wine-I mishear things.” Yes, it was the wine Esteban assured himself. The wine was having an effect on his brain even though he knew that made no sense. He wouldn’t have been able to execute such an excellent tango intoxicated. But it was the only explanation he had for when Esteban heard “bedroom,” his mind immediately went to the image of her lips, remembering how she felt in his arms just moments ago and the desire to take her into his arms, feel the silk slide underneath his fingertips and close the imperceptible distance between them.

He had too much wine. It was the only reason he was thinking that way. He needed to rest. The tango took a lot out of him. He would have to remember for the next time to sit out during tangos. Doing it with the wrong person was dangerous. It made him notice too much. Think too much. Yet his thoughts lingered back to the tango that was more memorable than any he had done before.

#estoma #elena of avalor #esteban flores #doña paloma #my fanfic #my fanfiction #two to tango

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chaoticpuff17 · 4 years

Text

Something Wicked

part 3

masterlist

Warning: Violence, swearing, angst

Hello my darlings! Please enjoy the next installment of something wicked! I’m working on planning out the ADG one shots for the other boys. Still trying to get Yoongi’s story out of my head. Might just have to write it! Remember that asks and messages are always welcome! love you all--- chaotic puff

“Min Seok?” She breathed out in shock dropping her bag to the floor before running into his arms relieved to see him alright. “What the hell is going on?” She demanded pulling back and smacking him repeatedly across the arm. “Do you know how worried I’ve been?”

“Can you get your dog?” He asked nervously as Jinnie barked at him bristling as he snarled.

“Oh.” She turned toward the dog kneeling down and grabbing his collar. “Shhhh, Jinnie. It’s just Seokie.” She shushed the animal petting his ears and quieting him down so that he was no longer barking. Yhough there was still a low growl emitted from his throat, and his ears wear pinned back.

“What happened?” She asked again turning her gaze back to Min Seok who was still eyeing the dog nervously. Jinnie was not a friendly animal by any means. Years on the street had made him wary, and he only really liked Y/N. “They’re saying you embezzled from the company. The police are looking for you. They came to the office today.”

“I don’t know what’s going on. But I…” He ran a frustrated hand through his already messy hair. It looked like he had been running his hand through it all day. “I didn’t do it, Y/N.”

“Why do they think you did?” She asked feeling conflicted about whether or not she should be calling the police or trying to help him. It had been such a strange day.

“I don’t know.” He groaned flopping down on to her sofa. “I’ve never… I would never…” She sighed eyes serious as she looked at him trying to see if he was telling the truth or not. She couldn’t see any lie in his eyes only subdued panic. He looked tired, so tired. His clothes were all mussed and wrinkled, and his eyes were bloodshot. The day had clearly taken its toll on him. “You know I would never.”

“I don’t know what to think.” She sighed again fingers knotting into Jinnie’s shaggy fur, mind racing as she tried to make sense of the day. “Why didn’t you call me? Why are you in my house?”

“I didn’t know if you would answer, and this seemed like the only safe place to go.” He admitted slumping over head in his hands. “This is all so messed up, Y/N.”

She frowned getting up from her position and moving to sit next to him. “Why did you run? If you’re innocent, why wouldn’t you just tell the police that?”

“I don’t know, Y/N. I panicked. There were police coming to arrest me.”

“Maybe, don’t run.” She huffed shooting him a frustrated look. “It makes you look really guilty. How are you going to explain that to the police?”

“Y/N.” He groaned again turning to look at her, eyes accusing. “You don’t think I did this do you?”

“No, of course not. How could you think that?” She gasped recoiling as though she had been burned.

“I don’t… everything’s been so wrong today. I don’t know what’s happening anymore.” He whimpered looking at her with wide frightened eyes. “I didn’t… you know I didn’t…”

“I know.” She whispered wrapping him in a hug, gently stroking his hair. “We’ll figure this out.” She promised trying not to let him see how worried she was. Her worry wouldn’t help anything.

“Y/N.” Jin’s voice rang through the room hard and stern. “Step away from him.”

Both of their heads shot up to see her boss standing in the door way jaw clenched in anger.

“Mr. Kim.” Min Seok Stuttered eyes wide in shock and fear. “Mr. Kim, please. I didn’t do anything.”

“The police are on their way.” He announced eyes fixed on the woman who looked two seconds away from breaking down. His poor darling. It had been a stressful day for her.

“Sajangnim.” She started, but Jin cut her off.

“Step away, Y/N. He’s a criminal.” He stalked over and pulled her up from the sofa before she even had a chance to comply with his demands. He dragged her behind him gritting his teeth trying to ignore both her protests and the barking of the detestable animal she kept in her home.

The dog would have to go. He thought darkly. It was a nuisance, a filthy creature. It was a shaggy mutt his sweet darling had picked up from the street. Who knew was kind of disease it carried, not to mention its foul temper. Yes, it would have to go. It had no place in the life he wanted for her.

“Kim Min Seok.” Jin growled staring down the other man as he reached for Y/N pleadingly. “You have done enough. The police will be here for you momentarily.”

“Mr. Kim, I didn’t do anything, please!” He begged. Even though his words were directed at his boss, his eyes were focused on Y/N pleading with her to understand.

“Sajangnim,” She pleaded placing a hand on his shoulder trying to divert his attention to her instead of the furious gaze he had kept fixated on Min Seok the entire time. “Maybe there was a mistake. Maybe he didn’t…”

He whirled around half overjoyed by her voluntarily touching him and half annoyed that she was defending that boy. “This man is a criminal.” He hushed drawing her into his arms keeping her tucked safely into his side and away from the other man.

“Perhaps there was a mistake though, and Min Seok isn’t the type of man to…”

Before she could finish the sentence police had entered her home swarming around Min Seok and placing him in cuffs.

“Y/N!” He cried frantically trying to find her in the chaos, but everything was moving so quickly. The dog wouldn’t stop barking lunging at all the strange people in the house forcing Y/N to hold him back so he wouldn’t attack the police officers. Along with that, Jin had placed himself between Y/N and Min Seok so that there was little chance of him finding her anyway.

“Y/N!”

“Min Seok?” She wanted to go to him, but she had to keep Jinnie calm and the human Jin was acting like a human wall keeping her from seeing where he was as the police left her home.

“Thank you for calling Mr. Kim.” One of the officers said bowing politely. “Would you be willing to come to the station to answer some questions for the case file?”

Jin nodded his agreement setting up the details for a visit to the police station in the morning before sending the officer on his way.

After Jin shooed the young man out of the house, he turned his attention back to Y/N. He had never seen her looking so pale and lost before. It was almost as if a gust of wind could knock her off her feet.

“Oh, darling.” He cooed sweeping in and leading her to sit on the coach trying to ignore the way that the dog growled lowly in protest to his proximity to the woman. The dog was quickly becoming the bane of this existence. He couldn’t wait to get rid of the creature. “What a day for you.” He fretted gently rubbing circles into her back. “Why don’t you stay with me tonight?” He offered taking the opportunity to bring her home.

“No. I’ll be fine.” She shook her head wrapping her arms around herself. “I think I’d like to be in my own home.”

“Are you sure that’s safe?” He pushed. He didn’t like the thought of her being here. While it wasn’t a bad neighborhood and the house was nicely put together, it wasn’t nearly nice enough for his darling. He would prefer her in his own lavish apartment like the princess she was. “You had a home invasion tonight, and you’ve been ill all day.”

“Really, I’ll be fine.” She assured him giving him a weak smile. “Jinnie will keep me safe.” She cooed in the direction of the mutt who perked up at the sound of his name.

“Why did you name him Jinnie?” He asked brows furrowed in confusion and dislike of how the dog bore his name. How could she name such a filthy creature after him?

She stared at him wide eyed trying to figure out how she was going to get herself out of this one. “Well he’s… it was…” He looked at her one brow raised waiting for an answer. “Well it started because he was just so handsome, and you always say that you’re world wide handsome.” She trailed off trying to figure out how she was going to admit this, and hoping he would let her off the hook. He didn’t. “He’s my world wide handsome boy. So I called him Jin as a joke while I was trying to coax him into letting me take care of him, and he took a liking to it. It’s the only thing he responds to now.” She finally admitted with an embarrassed cringe.

“You named it after me?”

“Not directly?” It was a flimsy defense, but it was all the defense she had. “He’s a good boy.” She murmured leaning down to rub his ears. “He takes care of me, and I take care of him, even if he is a little grumpy. I found him right after my dad died. He was always grumpy too.” There was a certain soft sadness about her that made Jin’s protective instinct flair. His darling should never be distressed. “You don’t have to worry about me. Jinnie’ll make sure I’m safe. He’s an excellent guard dog.” She told him looking up again to meet his eyes. She still looked drawn and sad, but she attempted to give him a smile.

He wasn’t totally convinced though. It might have been dislike for the dog, and it might have been the desire to have her more in his home where she belonged, but he wasn’t willing to give up just yet.

“I really would prefer if you would allow me to take care of you tonight.” He purred trying to be as charming as possible. How could she refuse him if he offered his help so sweetly?

She shook her head again. “I’ll really be fine. Jinnie scares almost everyone away.”

“Please, darling. For my peace of mind?”

“Really, I’ll be fine, but thank you.”

He sighed giving her a long once over to make sure she was truly alright. “At least take the day tomorrow. You don’t look well.” He gently caressed her hair, and she had to stifle a shudder of unease at the gesture.

“Thank you for the concern, sajangnim.”

She was quick after that point to shuffle him out the door. She had no energy left to deal with him after the day she’d had.

With Y/N refusing his invitation, there was nothing to keep him from attending to other business. It wasn’t enough simply to get this boy out of the way. No. Jin wanted to destroy him. Jin could have been content to let him rot in prison, but it was Y/N that sealed his fate. She had showed concern, real and deep concern for the other man even going so far as to comfort him after he had broken into her home, after she knew he was a criminal. Jin couldn’t stand for this. It was an insult to him, and Jin did not take insults lightly.

He drove to the far edges of the city to the warehouses where his prey was being held for him. After Min Seok had escaped him the first time, Jin was taking no more chances. The police were still looking for Min Seok, but Jin’s mercenaries had him first. They had come in the guise of the police to take Jin’s prey away to await his retribution.

His prey was sitting tied to a chair in the dingy room already roughed up by the men Jin had hired. The sight of him bloody and bruised brought a smile to Jin’s handsome face.

“So you’re the little rat that thought they could take my darling away from me.” He purred circling around the man at a leisurely pace. “That was quite stupid of you, you know?” He tutted pityingly coming to a stop in front of him and leaning in so that their faces were only inches apart. “Did you really think you could take her from me?”

The other man’s head lolled to the side as he glared through the one eye that wasn’t swollen shut. “You’re a sick fuck.” He spit his speech slurred, but there was still a certain amount of venom dripping from his tone.

Jin sighed almost disappointedly straightening up again before backhanding Min Seok across the face. “That’s not how you talk to your betters.” He hissed whipping out a handkerchief to wipe the blood from his knuckles. “Now, I have some questions for you before my colleagues stamp out your pathetic existence once and for all.”

“You see, I’ve been patient with my sweet darling, but she’s been…” He mused for a second searching for the right word before smiling condescendingly at the other man. “Distracted. Now, as you know my darling is a very sensitive soul. This incident with you is sure to be upsetting for her. I’d like the transition to be as easy as possible for her, and you are going to help me with that.” He sneered taking a seat in the chair provided across from his victim. “Now, tell me. What would make my darling more at ease as she grieves for your pathetic existence?”

“She’ll never fall for you or your tricks.” Min Seok sneered blood staining his teeth. “She’s too smart for that.”

Jin made a casual motion over his shoulder and one of his goons came forward to slam a fist into Min Seok’s stomach knocking the breath out of him.

“Let’s try that again. Tell me about Y/N.”

“Fuck off.” Another punch.

“If you cooperate I might be willing to let you live out the rest of your pathetic days in a Chinese prison instead of rotting at the bottom of the East China Sea.” He offered a cocky smirk lifting the corners of his mouth.

“She’d never go for a guy like you.” Min Seok snarled. “She’s an angel, and you’re nothing but a piece of shit.”

The blow was to his face this time. The force of it sent his head snapping to one side, and had him coughing out blood and what might have been a tooth. Jin wasn’t paying enough attention to tell.

“Care to reconsider that?” Jin leaned forward dark eyes glinting. “Do you think that you were worthy of her? You’re right. She is an angel, but you are merely the scum on the bottom of her shoe. Did you think that there was ever a chance for you with her? She was always going to be mine.”

Min Seok lifted his head weakly. “Then why was she dating me?”

That was the wrong thing to say. Jin’s fury was close to boiling over, and that was just the push he needed to send him over the edge. “Rough him up.”

Jin watched perfectly composed as the men he had hired beat his victim to a pulp. He was more of a bloody lump by the time he started begging for mercy than he was a man. Though it took him a pathetically short time to reach that point. And this was the man that his darling had chosen?

“Had enough?” Jin sneered reveling in the other man’s misery, his weakness.

“Please.” He whimpered his good eye now swollen up as well.

“Then tell me about Y/N.”

After that, Min Seok sang like a canary. He told him all about the little things that made Y/N tick. The ways that he had wooed her. He was a pathetic man, completely unworthy of Jin’s darling.

“Her father.” He wheezed struggling against the broken ribs that were pressing against his lungs. He was looking worse and worse by the second. “Her father said, she loves… sh-she loves the aqua-aquarium. He couldn’t take her as… as a kid. She go-goes every month now t-to remem-rember him.” Jin smiled watching as the other man struggled to so much as breath.

“Shhhhh.” Jin cooed standing up and straightening out his jacket. “Thank you for your help. I’ll be sure to take good care of her.” He turned his gaze to his men. “Finish him.”

part 4

#bts #bts fic #yandere bts #bts jin #bts seokjin #kim seokjin #yandere seokjin #ceo seokjin #seokjin x reader #ceo #ceo au #ceo jin #jin x reader #jin #yandere #dark romance #something wicked

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queeniewriteshockey · 4 years

Text

With Your Head or Your Heart || Matthew Tkachuk + Reader

A/N: This story was written with the song This Feeling by The Chainsmokers as inspo. It felt like a very matty song. Or, perhaps it’s more a reaction from people to a relationship with Matty. Please let me know what you think. I love hearing your thoughts. Requested: Y/N this is all my own mind refusing to let this rat go. It’s because of this that it was written in one day. Word Count: 8,194

A chill runs through your body, making you groan as you chase the warmth again. You bury yourself deeper in the cocoon you’ve made for yourself out of blankets and squeeze your eyes shut even tighter. Perhaps if you try really hard, you won’t have to wake up and face the day. You already know the day is going to suck. You can feel the slight pounding in your head growing. It sounds like a drum section of an orchestra. The rhythm is steady; each pump of blood through your heart makes your head pound. The pulsing needs to stop.

The blankets pull away from you without your say, and your response is nothing intelligible. A tiny whine escapes your lips as you reach to stop them from going anywhere. You don’t want to get up. You want to stay where you are warm and comfortable. You want to stay surrounded by the warm scent of vanilla and sandalwood. You want…

Your mind stops whining for a second as you turn your face into the pillow and inhale deeply. The scent is warm and woodsy, not feminine at all. It’s not yours, either, your pillows smell like lavender and chamomile. You know this because you spray them nightly to help you sleep. A large part of you loves the smell of these pillows, but the logical part of you is screaming at your stupidity.

“Babe, come on, we gotta get up,” Matt says from somewhere, you’re guessing the end of the bed because the blankets are still being tugged away from you. He’s not trying very hard, though. If Matt wanted to, the sheets could pull them from your grasp without effort. He was strong enough.

“I don’t wanna,” you mumble into the pillow. Your reasons for not wanting to get up are two parts comfort and one part an unwillingness to face Matt and then your friends.

“I was going to make breakfast.”

You snort. Matt, make breakfast? Funny.

“Okay, I was going to order breakfast. Maybe you could stay and we could-”

“No,” you say, suddenly rolling over to the edge of the bed and sitting up. The room is bright, far brighter than you would like it to be, and the pounding in your head grows with the sudden movement. The evening before comes back to you effortlessly.

You’d gone out with a few of your friends and met up with Matt and a few of his friends. It was supposed to be relaxed and carefree. It was supposed to be fun. It was all of those things. When it came to Matt, you had a hard time saying no to him when he was so sweet and affectionate, which was always.

They tell me think with my head, not that thing in my chest.

“I can’t.” You can, but you can’t. It’s always the same response, and Matt knows it. You don’t look back at him when you stand to collect your clothing for the simple fact that if you see that dumb pout on his dumb face, you may finally cave and actually stay. It wasn’t because you didn’t want to stay. It was the exact opposite, truthfully.

You’ve known Matt for over a year now, and he’s never been anything but the nicest guy. He’s always there when you need a hand, and he’s fun to talk with. He makes you laugh, but more than that, he makes you happy. If only things were that easy, though.

“Yeah,” he says from behind you. “I figured.”

You shut the door to the bathroom on his words and close your eyes. You didn’t have enough to drink to feel sick to your stomach, but you feel sick nonetheless.

They got their hands at my neck this time.

Everyone and you do mean everyone has warned you about Matthew Tkachuk. You couldn't count how often you had been told by your friends and even some of his teammates, that he’s not a good guy to date. They all said the same thing; don’t get attached. He won’t stick around. So you keep your guard up and do exactly what they say. You don’t let yourself get attached. If only it weren’t also breaking your heart, that would be awesome.

In the bathroom, you busy yourself with cleaning yourself up and getting dressed. There’s a toothbrush in the cup that’s reserved just for you, and you do your best not to consider what that means. It’s purple - your favorite color. He went out of his way to get it for you. Though, when he gave it to you, you to told yourself not to overthink it. It was just a toothbrush. You’d made mention of wishing you had one once, and he’d remembered. You didn’t think he’d keep it, though. It sat next to his as though it belonged there.

You throw yourself together as best you can. You wash your face with a bit of water, trying to clear the smudging of your eyeliner so that you don’t look like a raccoon. The water helps to wake you up and clear your head. You run your fingers through your hair, catching a few of the knots created by sleep and Matt’s fingers before you pull it up into a messy bun and call it good.

You could take a shower, but truthfully getting out of there was the better option. The farther away from Matt, you were, the better you were able to think with your head, which is what you need to keep doing when it comes to Matt.

“All good?” Matt asks when you step out of the bathroom.

You nod. “Bit of a headache, but,” you shrug. That was the least of your worries. You wander out of the bedroom and into the living room in an effort to distance yourself from Matt and also to find your purse. Your phone is in there, which is how you call for a ride.

“Do you want a cup of coffee before you go?” Matt asks. He’s standing in the kitchen holding a kcup in his hand. “I can make you one.”

It’s such a tempting offer but again you shake your head. You’ve located the purse and the phone, thankfully. “I’m just going to call a Lyft and head home. Emma is probably worried about me.”

“Okay, well, I guess I’ll see ya when I get back, maybe?” It’s a question more than a statement. You feel bad for making him question you, but at the same time, it’s for the best.

“Yeah, of course,” you tell him while you call for your ride. He was leaving for a road trip in a few days, which was the reason for the night out last night. The first road trip of the year, after all. “Good luck, Matt. I hope you guys kill it.”

You place a kiss to his cheek before you leave, you can’t help it. You need that little bit of contact with him. When you slip out the door, you sigh softly and shake your head. He makes it so hard to keep a logical mind.

I'll tell you a story before it tells itself. I'll lay out all my reasons; you'll say that I need help.

“This is a bad idea,” Emma says from your bedroom. “I’m telling you Y/N; you should have said no.”

You’re standing in your bathroom, putting in a pair of earrings while making sure your makeup looks okay for the evening ahead of you.

“You’ve made your opinion perfectly clear, Em,” you remind her.

She’d been telling you for days to back out of the invitation to a team party Matt bestowed upon you. He’d been very clear that it was just as friends, but he needed a date so… You’d agreed. He was a friend, after all. You did like spending time with him. Plus, you liked his teammates. They were fun and entertaining. His reasons for asking you and not someone else made sense to you. He didn’t have a date, and he couldn’t go alone, plus he didn’t want to go with just anyone. What if they were boring? What if he didn’t like them? At least he knew he’d have fun with you. He's a real smooth talker. But he sold you on the logic, and you shrugged off all the naysayers. Which, when it came to Matt, were many.

“It’s just a party, Em, a work party, no less. It’s fine. We’re friends, remember?” The statement seemed more like a place holder than actual information. It was something you’d uttered so many times, to yourself and your friends, that it didn’t even feel like a real statement. One of these days, you’d stop trying to explain yourself to everyone, but today was not that day.

She mutters something you can’t make out from a distance between you, but you hardly need to hear her descent. She’s been one of the biggest opponents of yours and Matt’s friendship from day one. You didn’t understand why and anytime you asked, she seemed to think “because” was a good enough reason. As far as you knew, there had never been an issue between Matt and Emma. He was always very kind to her, which was more than you could say for her. She made her dislike for him very clear.

She was part of the reason you held him at bay, truthfully. You valued your friends and their opinions. If they had a reason to dislike a guy, it was almost always valid. You held on to that knowledge every time you pulled away from him, but it was getting harder to remember.

“How do I look?” You ask, stepping out of the bathroom. Your dress is dark blue and silky; it sits off the shoulders with cuffed sleeves. It tapers to the waist and flairs at the hips to flow gently to the floor. You should pair it with heels, you know, but you decided to go with a pair of silver flats because you preferred to preserve your feet. You didn’t really like heels anyway.

“Too good for him,” she says as she hurries off the bed to inspect you. Your hair is pinned up in some complicated do that Emma had created. It's some sort of french twist with a sweep of your bangs across the forehead and wisps of hair curled around your hairline. It was an important party, so you had to look elegant.

“Well, thank you,” you tell her with a smile. You’re excited and nervous about the party, but you try not to let that show.

“I like these,” she says as she reaches for the earrings you’d been messing with. “Where did you get them?”

“Uh,” you hesitate, “Matt gave them to me.” The silver teardrop earrings had been a gift from him as had the delicate necklace that matched. He’d gifted them to you before you’d agreed to go to the party with him. It had been his way of asking, which was incredibly sweet of him and power move you told no one about. You may have picked the dress out specifically to go with the earrings, but you weren’t going to admit that to Emma. She’d likely die from her eye roll.

“Well, how about that,” she says softly, “he has a little bit of taste.”

“Rude,” you tell her. You know she doesn’t care about insulting Matt, but that statement wasn’t exactly friendly to you either. What did it say about you if she thought he had no taste? He seemed to like you well enough, at least.

There’s a knock on the door of your apartment, making the two of you turn in the direction of the sound. You both know who it is, but you don’t move to get the door. He’s annoyingly on time.

“I’ll get it,” Emma says. She grabs a silver shawl from the corner of your bed before she heads out, ��Here put this on. Give me a few minutes and then come out. He needs to wait.”

“Why?” You ask, but she waves the question off and heads out of the room. The shawl is beautiful and utterly impractical for Calgary in the wintertime, but beauty didn’t listen to the temperature, plus you were going to be indoors, so it hardly mattered.

You heard Emma answer the door, and Matt great her. She’s as civil as you’ve ever heard her, but it’s his voice that causes you to suck in a deep breath. He’s the kindest he can be to her, never anything but, despite the fact that she makes it hard for him.

“She’ll be out in a minute. Don’t get comfortable.” Again, rude. One of these days, you’ll need to find out just why she doesn’t like Matt.

From your spot in your room, you slide the shawl over your shoulders and retake a deep breath. You smooth down your dress to give yourself something to do before fixing your smile on your gently painted lips and walking out. Matt’s standing by the door in a beautiful grey tux and a white shirt; his bowtie matches your dress almost perfectly. The two of you are practically reversed in colors. He’s silver with blue accents, and you’re blue with silver.

The smile that spreads across his lips when he sees you is almost blinding, and it makes you blush. “You look beautiful,” he tells you. The honesty in his voice makes your heart skip.

You could curse him for the way he makes you feel. Little butterflies tickle your nerves, and all you can do is smile. “You don’t look so bad yourself,” you tell him, trying to play off the nerves. He looks better than not so bad. He’s the most handsome you’ve ever seen. Perhaps this was a bad idea.

He laughs at the backhanded compliment and shrugs, “I had help,” he admits. “Johnny’s girlfriend is responsible for this.”

“Of course, she is.” You should thank her next time you see her. Or maybe you should kill her. “You’d be a mess without the women in your life.”

“Don’t I know it.” The fact that he doesn’t even argue with the statement makes you laugh. One of the biggest reasons you liked Matt was because of how he treated the women in his life. Everyone was always cautioning you with him, but from what you’d seen, he was extremely loving and kind to the women he loved. It wasn’t just any man that would gush about his baby sister the way Matt did.

“Shall we go?” He holds out an elbow to you like a perfect gentleman, and you take it willingly.

“Yes, we shall.” You turn to Emma to say something, but she doesn’t let you.

“Have fun,” she says before you can say anything.

“We will. Don’t wait up.” Matt says with a big grin on his face. Okay, he’s doing that to annoy her now. That, he was very good at. It wasn’t just Emma he annoyed, either. All of your friends thought he was a pest.

You tut at him and push him out the door before Emma can respond. “You like seeing her get pissed, don’t you?” You ask as the two of you walk to his car. He wasn’t mean to her, never mean. But he did know how to poke a sleeping bear without getting bitten. It was a talent of his, both on and off the ice.

“It gives me great pleasure to see her eyes get wide and her nostrils flare.” He laughs. “I’ve never done anything to her; she hates me for no reason.”

“You’re hopeless.”

He opens the passenger side door for you, a grin on his face. “Yes, but you love me anyway.” He places a kiss on your cheek and stands back to let you take your seat.

“You think mighty highly of yourself, mister,” you say instead of debating his statement. You’re not sure what the truth is where your feelings for him are concerned, and you don’t want to figure it out. It’s best to leave that on the ground and kicked under something.

The drive to the party is filled with the two of you ‘discussing’ read arguing over the music in the car. Matt takes the very mature stance that the driver picks the music, but you maintain that as the passenger, you control the radio while he focuses on not killing the two of you. Neither of you wins the argument, though. The whole drive is spent skipping each other's choices of songs and stations. It always goes like that, though.

We all got expectations, and sometimes they go wrong. But no one listens to me, so I put it in this song.

As it turns out, the party is more of a charity event than a real party, but it’s interesting to see the big to-do the Flames turned it into. The event itself is as beautiful as you expected. It’s elegant and understated. The decore is blacks and whites and golds, and the music flows like the alcohol. Probably to loosen donors’ wallets. Neither of you is drinking, which means both of you get to remember the chaos the rest of the team causes during the party. That was, in your opinion, the best part of going.

Noah slides up to you about an hour into the party, after Matt’s wandered away for a second because he has to rub hands with some remarkable people. Such was the life of the future face of the Calgary Flames, you suppose.

“Enjoying yourself?” Noah asks. His smile is loose, and his eyes heavy-lidded. He has been drinking; that is clear.

“Yes, actually.” You’d already been out on the dance floor a few times with Matt. He’d shocked you the first time he’d asked you to dance. Honestly, you’d laughed at him and questioned his ability to dance, but he was decent, and it was easy to forget where you were when the two of you were pressed together, moving as one on a dance floor. It was easy to lose yourself in him anyway.

“Saw you on the dance floor. You looked like you were having fun. So did Chucky.” You hate that nickname, but it was one you’d gotten used to hearing. Chucky was a killer doll. Matt was not Chucky. Not to you.

“Well, I’m glad he’s not regretting bringing me.”

Noah scoffs. “Like that’s ever possible. He’s been talking about this for weeks.”

A blush creeps up your neck at Noah’s words. You wish you could blame it on alcohol, but you’re stonecold sober, so it wasn’t that. No, it pleased you that he was excited to take you to the party. He was excited to have you as his date.

“Hey,” Matt says beside you, suddenly making you jump. “You trying to steal my date?” He askes Noah as he puts an arm around your waist.

“Of course,” he says, “she’s too good for you, anyway.”

“He has a point,” Matt says, looking down at you. “You’re way too good for me. But, this chump has no room to talk.”

“Do I get a say in this?” You ask as the two ping pong chirps back and forth over you. “Because I think I’m going to go find Johnny. I like him better than both of you.”

Matt laughs and places a kiss on your cheek. “I think I saw him over by the bar.”

You slip from his hold, give him a mock salute, and head in the bar's direction. You weren’t joking when you said you wanted to find Johnny. Noah and Matt were joking around, of course, but it still felt weird to have both of them arguing over who you were too good for. Were you too good for Matt? Or was he just bad for you like Emma always said?

“Hey, you,” Johnny says when you finally find him. “I thought I saw you around.” Johnny hugs you as a greeting, and you return it warmly. “Where’s your menace?”

“He’s not mine,” you say quickly. “He’s over talking to Noah.” He wasn’t yours. You had to keep it that way. You don’t argue with the fact that he is a menace. You do know Matt, after all.

“Are you having fun?”

“Of course.” You’d be having more fun if you could drink, but you needed a clear head about you. It was a resolution you’d picked up before the holidays because when it came to Matt, a clear head was necessary. You often found yourself in trouble because of him if you didn’t keep a clear head. “Matt’s a perfect gentleman, and this place is gorgeous.”

“It’s a bit stuffy for my liking,” he says with a shrug, “but it seems to have the effect the organization is looking for. Are you going to the after-party?”

“After-party?” You ask because no one’s mentioned an after-party.

“Chucky, didn’t tell you?” Johnny asks, his brow furrowing. “Maybe he’s not going either.”

“Maybe,” you say. Or maybe he just didn’t want you to go with him.

The sick feeling you’ve learned comes with your feelings for Matt come back but this time it’s a little different. Disappointment, maybe? Or was it more? Was this what Emma was trying to warn you about? It doesn’t matter, you tell yourself. Both of you made it clear that this was just a friend’s date. Nothing more.

Matt finds you shortly after Johnny vanishes into the crowd, leaving you to your thoughts. “Hey,” he says with a smile. It faulters when he sees you, though. “Are you okay?” He asks. The concern in his voice does nothing to make you feel better.

“Uh,” you say with a shake of your head. “I don’t feel well.” It wasn’t a lie, but you didn’t know how to tell him why you didn’t feel well. “Maybe dinner didn’t agree with me.”

“Do you want me to take you home?” His hand rubs your back, comforting you.

“Yeah. I think I want to lay down.”

He doesn’t even bother to make his rounds to say goodbye. He waves to Noah and that’s it. Before you know it, the two of you are outside and headed toward the car.

“Do you want to go home or back to my place? I’ll let you have the bed. I’ll take the couch.”

If you went back to his house, it meant he couldn’t go to the after-party, but you didn’t really want to be around him at the moment, either, so you shook your head. “I want my bed,” you tell him. You just wanted to lay down and forget the evening happened at this point.

You can hear Emma’s I told you so, and it doesn’t help matters at all. You want to scream. This was why you kept him at arm’s length. This was why everyone warned you about him.

“Let me walk you up,” he says when he pulls up to your building.

“No, it’s okay. Go back to the party, Matt. I’ll be fine.” You open the door and step out of the car before leaning down. “Thanks for taking me,” you say politely because you aren’t rude, and you don’t want him to know that anything is wrong.

“Thanks for coming with me. We should do it again.”

“The party?” You ask, confused.

“No,” he says with a laugh. “The date. But like, maybe a real one.”

His statement throws you off-kilter. You can’t help but blink at him. Confusion must show on your face because suddenly, he’s backtracking.

“Or, not,” he offers. “Obviously, if you don’t want to…”

“I don’t feel well,” you tell him again. “Good night Matt.” You close the door without answering him about a real date. You’re more confused now than you were before.

When you get into your apartment, Emma is waiting for you. She’s shocked to see you home so early. You tell her the same thing you told Matt and escape into your room to wash the evening off.

When you finally settle into bed, you grab your phone to dig through the notifications you missed. You’re shocked to find a text from Matt.

[[Feel better, angel]] is all it says. It leaves you more confused than before and maybe feeling a little guilty.

I'll tell them a story; they'll sit and nod their heads. I tell you all my secrets, and you tell all your friends.

You thought things with Matt would be a little strained after the party, but as it turned out, he didn’t go back to the party. He didn’t go to the after-party, either. He went home and did exactly what you did. He watched TV and relaxed. You know this because he kept texting you during the night, making it difficult for you to rest, which you pointed out. Of course, that led to his “well if you’d just stayed here…” Comment. He really was hopeless.

You let Johnny’s comment about the after-party fade into nothingness. It took a minute to do so because the running commentary by Emma fueled the doubt that plagued your mind. She never failed to tell you just how much she didn’t think Matt was good enough for you.

“He’s going to break your heart,” she says one day while the two of you sit in a cafe. “He’s notorious for it, and you’re just gonna end up being another notch in his bedpost.” She doesn’t seem to care that it’s your feelings, not his, that she’s hurting.

“He doesn’t have my heart to break, Emma,” you remind her for the millionth time. If you say it enough, maybe it won’t be true. Lately, he’s done nothing to make you question him, but you’ve also made sure to keep your distance with him. No more fake dates or dubious evenings that end up in his bed.

“Yeah, okay,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “You’re not fooling anyone with these lies, Y/N. I know you. I can see it in your face.”

You don’t like it when she contradicts you or points out your lies. If you say them enough, maybe they won’t be lies. Possibly, you’ll believe that you aren’t at least getting attached to Matt. Maybe.

Your phone chimes beside you, and you glance down to see the message that just came in. It’s not exactly rare to get a message from Matt anymore. Since the party, he’s been a permanent fixture in your messages. The two of you seem to talk more now than you have in the year plus that you’ve known each other. He even facetimes you sometimes when he’s on the road.

Text messages and even facetime are safe. You don’t have to guard yourself against him or your feelings when you’re not physically face to face with him. It’s easier to keep the barriers up. Arm’s length can be a country or two long.

“Is that Matt?” Emma asks before you reach for the phone.

“Yeah,” you tell her. “We’re supposed to exchange holiday gifts today before he flys home for the all-star game.” You were over the moon happy for him and so proud when you’d heard he’d been picked for the games. It was a huge accomplishment and one he rightfully deserved.

“I hope you got him a lump of coal,” Emma says bitterly.

“Emma,” you scold. “I didn’t get him a lump of coal.” You’d spent the better part of two months racking your brain for a suitable gift for the idiot. His birthday and Christmas were in the same month. Annoying. But you’d had time because the two of you had decided to do gift-giving in January. Partially because of his schedule and partly because you’d gone home for the holidays to see your parents.

“What did you get him?” She asks, her eyes narrowing skeptically.

“I’m not telling you!” You’re defensive of the way she questions you. Matt was stupidly hard to shop for, honestly. What do you get a hockey player who can afford to buy whatever he wanted? It was unfair, really.

“Fine, whatever. I don’t see what the big deal is. It’s not like he’s anything special. I’m sure by this time next year; he won’t even be a part of the conversation.”

Hold on to your opinions, and stand by what you said.

You stand, suddenly, tired of this conversation. You’ve been tired of it for months. “Stop it.” Your anger boils beneath the surface, which makes keeping your tone level difficult. “I know you hate him; I know this. You’ve made that very clear, but he’s my friend. Why can’t you just respect that?”

It was your mistake to make; it was your life to mess up. He was your friend, not hers. She holds her hands up in surrender but doesn’t say anything. You were tired of everyone hating him. You just wanted to be able to make your own choices when it came to him. No one was willing to let you, though.

“Sorry,” she finally says, “I just don’t want to see you get hurt. I’m worried.”

“You’ve made that very clear, and I’ll keep it under advisement, but please, keep your opinions to yourself.”

She nods in agreement. It’s probably the best you’re going to get from her.

“I have to go. I’ll see you tonight.”

“I hope he likes the gift,” she says as her goodbye.

You do too, but you can’t focus on that. You’re too angry to be positive at the moment, and her comment just bugs you even more. He probably won’t, you think. That’s probably what she meant. It’s fine. If he doesn’t like it, he can return it or give it to goodwill. It’s his choice.

In the end, it's my decision, so it's my fault when it ends.

The two of you meet up at an outdoor ice rink to enjoy a little recreational skating and a bit of hot cocoa before exchanging the gifts. You had wanted to keep it informal because it was safer that way. Outside and around people was always safer when Matt was involved.

It was so easy to forget everything everyone warned you about when it was just the two of you. He was so loving and sweet with you. He never made you feel like you weren’t exactly who he wanted to be with when he was there. He never made you feel like you were an afterthought or a chore. He always made you feel special.

“Hey, Angel,” he says with a grin when he sees you. He’s got a toque over his curls, and his skates hanging from his shoulders.

“Hey Matty,” you say, matching his grin. Your little gift bag is swinging from your finger, and your skates mirror his.

“You okay?” He asks because somehow, he can always tell when you’re not in the best mood.

“I will be,” you tell him honestly, “Emma just irritated me today.”

“Of course, she did. I’m tellin’ ya. That girl has issues.”

You sigh. Between the two of them, you can’t handle it. Matt had become more vocal about his issues with Emma lately, and you just didn’t have the energy to battle either of them. “Please,” you ask softly, “can we not talk about her?”

“Sure. This is an Emma free zone starting. Now.” He sits down and pulls you with him so that you can put your skates on.

“Thank you,” you tell him before focusing on getting the skates on and out onto the ice.

The moment the two of you are out on the ice, all the annoyance with Emma fades away. You find yourself lost in the crowd of people doing the same thing you’re doing. There are a few kids that recognize Matt, which means you're dragged into being a photographer so they can have a picture with him, you don’t mind, though. It’s hard to care when the smile on his face is so genuine. He doesn’t turn a single kid down for a photo or an autograph.

A couple of the parents have to usher their kids away so that “he and his girlfriend can spend time together”. You correct a few of them, but your protest falls on deaf ears.

“Would it be so bad,” he asks, wrapping an arm around you as the two of you make a loop around the rink.

“Would what be so bad?” You ask because you’re not sure what he’s referring to.

“Being my girlfriend.”

You laugh at the question but stop when he doesn’t join in on the joke. “Matt, I can’t be your girlfriend.”

His brow furrows, and his lips press into a thin line, “why’s that?” He asks as though he doesn’t know. As though he actually thinks its a good idea.

“It wouldn’t work. You’re… And I’m…” You didn’t know how to finish either of those sentences, so you let the statements fall where they were.

“I’m what?” He asks, turning to look at you while he skates backward. “I’m what, Y/N?”

“You’re just…” Emma’s words run through your head. Player. Heart breaker. Womanizer. Anything and everything bad that she could think of to describe Matt ran through your head. She never listened when you told her he wasn’t like that.

“You can’t tell me there isn’t something between us,” he says more forcefully.

“Can we not do this here?” You ask. There are people around. It’s public, and he’s a public figure. “Matt, let’s talk about this somewhere else.” You slide into the wall of the rink, hoping to coax him off the ice, but he doesn’t exit.

“Naw,” he says suddenly. “I don’t think I want to. I don’t need a change of scenery for the “it’s not you, it’s me” conversation. It’s cool. Message received.” When he does exit the rink, it’s without you. No matter how much pleading you do, he doesn’t listen.

You don’t follow him off the ice. You don’t know how to make this better. You don’t know what to say or do. This isn’t how the day was supposed to go. You were supposed to exchange gifts and get cocoa and have fun with your… He was never just a friend. You both knew that.

By the time you drag yourself off the ice, Matt is long gone. You change out of the skates and pull your bag and shoes out of the little locker you’d bought to keep everything in. His gift is in there, mocking you, but worse than that is the little card that Matt must have put in there when you weren’t looking. It wasn’t torn up or anything, so he must have done it before you wrecked everything.

Do you open it? Or do you just throw it away?

You glance around the rink, wondering if Matt is still there, but you don’t see him. The card taps on your fingers as you walk out of the rink, your gift to him hangs from your wrist, and it burns you where it sits. Guilt wells up inside you, but you try not to let it eat you alive. You never expected this, honestly. Every time you considered the possibility of being Matt’s girlfriend, you were reminded of all the reasons you shouldn’t let yourself fall for him.

Maybe… Maybe those reasons didn’t exist.

In your car, you sit silently, debating a few things. You could text him and apologize. You could go home and forget all of this and let it end where it is. Wouldn’t it be better for both of you if you did? He was mad, obviously, and truthfully you felt like maybe he had a reason to be. The two of you were more than friends; you always had been. You wanted to be his girlfriend. You did. You had from almost the moment you met him.

Out of habit and curiosity more than anything, you slid the envelope to the card Matt had left open and pulled the card out. It was a simple card, solid of color with little gold filigree on it. Happy Holidays is scrawled on it. When you opened it, a ticket fell out which forced you to abandon the card and open the other envelope. A plane ticket to St. Louis sat nestled in the fold, your name on the boarding pass.

The card itself simply reads, “Come see me, Love Matt.” It is more than you can take. Tears fall from your eyes, and you scream in anger. You’d let everyone around you make your choices for you, and you’d ruined probably the best thing you’d ever had without even knowing it.

The drive home dries the tears, but it does nothing to change your mood. Heartbroken isn’t even the right word for how you feel. You feel like utter shit. They’d told you he’d break your heart. They didn’t tell you you’d break his; they didn’t prepare you for the fact that you were the one not good enough for him. Did any of them even know him?

Walking through the door of the apartment takes all the strength you can muster. You don’t want to see Emma right now. You don’t want to deal with her, but it doesn’t matter. The moment she sees you, she’s out of her seat and wrapping you in a comforting hug.

“What happened?” She asks. “What did he do?”

“Nothing,” you tell her. “He did nothing. He… Asked me to be his girlfriend, and then,” you handed her the ticket and walked away.

She looks at the card, and the ticket you’d just handed her in confusion before turning around to talk to you. You were already on your way to your room, hardly paying attention to anything.

“Wait… I’m confused. Are you going?” She follows you into your room where you face plant into the pillow.

“No,” you tell her. Your words are muffled, and you make no effort to change that. If you look at her, you’ll cry. Or yell at her. She’s one of the voices in your head, cautioning you where Matt is concerned.

“What happened?” She asks again, this time more gently. Her hand rubs your back. It’s meant to comfort, but all it does is make you cry.

“He wanted me to go to St. Louis with him, but he never got to tell me. I ruined everything, Emma. Everyone kept telling me he was going to hurt me, but” You turn your head to look at her, “you didn’t see his face, Emma. I’m the one that hurt him.”

She sucks in a deep breath through her teeth and falls silent. Her hands rub circles into your back while you lay there and cry. You’re thankful that she doesn’t have anything to say this time. You don’t need her condescension or her help. You just want to lay there and hate yourself in peace. The migraine you’ll end up with will be well deserved after all of this.

At some point, sleep takes you, but it’s fitful. It’s been a long time since you’ve cried yourself to sleep, but you can’t help it. You loved him, even if you didn’t allow yourself to say it out loud, or in thought for that matter. You never considered your life without him. You never thought that was an actual possibility. He was always there for you, and you thought he always would be. You wanted him to be there for you.

“Okay,” Emma says loudly, pulling you from your sleep if that’s what it was. “I know how to fix this.”

“Fix what?” You ask. Your voice is raw from all the crying and the screaming you’d done in the car. It hadn’t been very mature, but it had made you feel better in the moment.

“This thing with Matt.” She lovingly flicks you. Almost as if to say get with the program.

“There’s no fixing this,” you tell her sadly. You didn’t see any way of making this right. He was gone, and he wasn’t going to come back. Not to you, anyway.

“No, you’re wrong. You still have the ticket, so…”

You sit up slowly, needing to be upright for this conversation because you were having a hard time following her at the moment. It wasn’t just because you had a headache, either. Was Emma trying to help fix things? She hates Matt. Why would she try to help?

“Guilt,” she says. “This is my fault.”

You didn’t even realize you’d spoken, let alone asked her a question.

“Look, I’m not a big fan of his, but you clearly like him, and I can’t really deny that he liked you, either. So… We fix this. Maybe…”

“Are you suggesting I fly to St. Louis?” You ask.

“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m suggesting. You have the ticket. Unless he’s canceled it, the flight leaves tomorrow afternoon. You could…”

“What if he’s canceled it?”

“He hasn’t.” She’s so damn sure of it it’s hard to argue with her.

“What do you say? Should we get you packed?”

“What if he doesn’t want to see me? What if I get there and he won’t see me and I’m just… there?” The idea of him rejecting you in a completely different city is worse than any nightmare you’ve ever been subjected to. You’ve already broken your own heart, did you want to let him do it too? Perhaps you deserved it.

“Y/N,” Emma says with a sigh, “stop it. You listened to me before, listen to me now.”

“But, you were WRONG before!” You remind her.

She waves her hand at you as though your argument means nothing. “But I’m not now. Go to St. Louis. Find him. I’ll text Noah and ask what Matt’s room number is and everything. It’ll be okay. We’ll fix this.”

You’re skeptical about this plan, but you have nothing to lose, so… why the hell not. “Okay. Okay, sure. Yeah. I’ll go to St. Louis.”

-- They tell me think with my head, not that thing in my chest. They got their hands at my neck this time.

He didn’t cancel the ticket, though why you have no idea. If it had been you, you would have canceled it right away. You would have tried to get some of your money back. Perhaps Matt didn’t care about the money. He was rich, after all. A plane ticket probably didn’t even register to him. For whatever the reason, you’re grateful to him for not canceling it. It would have made getting to St. Louis a lot more complicated.

While you nursed your lovely headache, Emma had packed your bag, but you’d given her a few instructions on what to pack. Once you are packed, the rest of the evening is spent listening to Emma apologize for being so awful about Matt. You want so badly to be mad at her, to hold onto that anger and blame her for all of this. She was trying so hard to fix it, though. You could see that.

She’d even taken you to the airport and made sure your boarding pass was still working. At the security gate, she hugged you and apologized one last time before sending you on your way through.

Once you’re seated on the plane, it sets in that there is no going back. You’re actually going to St. Louis to what? Confess your love for Matt? This sounds so ridiculous, but it’s precisely what you’re going to do. Music keeps your mind occupied on the flight and through the connection. It’s a playlist that Matt put together for times when the two of you couldn’t agree on the station in the car. It had a bit of both your favorites. The thoughtfulness tugged at heartstrings you didn’t know existed. A few times you felt the tears prickle at the corners of your eyes, but you’d cried enough already. You didn’t want to do it again.

Landing in St. Louis was both exciting and terrifying. You had no idea where you were going, but you made it work by asking for directions and finding the little maps all over the airport. Finding a cab was an adventure. The place was a madhouse; it was the all-star weekend, though, so that explained everything. Your taxi driver was a very nice man, friendly and communicative. You told him where you needed to go, and he got you there without any trouble. You tipped him very well and hoped against hope that you wouldn’t need another one in a few hours.

Noah had come through for you with the name of Matt’s hotel and his room number. He was a good friend. You should set him up with Emma. Maybe it would soften her heart to Matt a little… if this whole thing turns out alright, that is. Which, it very well might blow up in your face more spectacularly than the skate rink incident. Yes, that’s what you’re calling it now.

You bypass the check-in counters and go right for the elevators to get to the floor you need. The hotel is chaotic, and it’s easy for you to slip through everything. You knew from Noah that a bunch of the hockey players were staying in the same place. You’d thought, maybe, that Matt would stay with his family, but Noah had assured you that he would be at the hotel.

The hall that led to Matt’s room was deserted when you arrived, which was a blessing, honestly. If it had been swimming with players, you might have lost your nerve. As it was, your hands shook when you stopped in front of his door. You didn’t know if he was in there or out with the guys or doing something with his family. Honestly, you could be standing there for hours and never see him, but you needed to knock, or you’d never know.

The sound of the knock echoed through the empty hall, and you held your breath, waiting for the door to open. Or not. It felt like you stood there for an eternity before the lock on the other side clicked, and the door pulled open. Matt stood there in a pair of shorts and hoodie, his eyebrow raised in your direction.

But you're the one that I want if that's so wrong Then they don't know what this feeling is like

Confusion glosses over his features before his face turns to stone. “Y/N?”

“I’m so sorry, Matt.” You say instantly. “For everything. I didn’t. I’m so sorry.” You were going to cry again, which you told yourself you wouldn’t do, but it’s so hard when he’s standing there looking at you.

He reaches for you, and you let yourself be pulled into his room. His arms wrap around you, and he holds onto you while you cry. It doesn’t seem fair that he’s comforting you after how you’d treated him. He shushes you and presses his cheek to the top of your head. “It’s okay,” he says softly. “I’m sorry I got mad and stormed out. I shouldn’t have… You’re allowed to say no to being my girlfriend.”

You pull back from him and shake your head. “I don’t want to say no, Matt. Really. I never wanted to say no. I just. I was scared because people keep telling me that you’re no good for me.”

“Emma people?” He asks.

You can’t lie to him, so you just nod. “But she’s the reason I’m here. She told me to fix it, so I’m trying. That’s why I’m here. Matt, I love you, and that scares me bc I don’t want to get hurt.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says softly. “I’ll try my best not to. It’s as good as I can give you.” Very few people set out to hurt the other in a relationship. His offer is as good as it gets. “If, that’s what you’re saying.”

You laugh through the tears and nod. “Yeah, that’s what I’m saying. I want to be your girlfriend, okay? I love you.”

He pulls you close and pressed his lips to yours. It’s forceful and firm, but it softens as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Thank fuck,” he says against your lips. “It’s about time we made this official.”

You laugh at his words before pulling him back into a kiss. You choose to focus on that rather than the rest of the relationship. That will come in time. The two of you need to discuss things, you’re sure, but the time for talk is later. Right now, you want to get lost in him. You want to put the hotel bed to use, and you want him to show you around the city he grew up in.

All in good time, though. You have plenty of it, after all.

#matthew tkachuck #matthew tkachuk imagine #calgary flames imagine #NHL Imagine #hockey imagines

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recurring-polynya · 3 years

Text

Today’s AU suggestion comes from Tumblr user @missdramaqueensworld We had a bit of a back-n-forth, and I hope you don’t mind that I mushed a couple of your suggestions together into a Lighthearted Superheroes AU! Byakuya has always given me Big Bruce Wayne vibes, what with his extensive wealth and his flair for the overdramatic and his propensity for collecting orphans. I think I got the spirit of the thing (and, of course, the opening line!) I hope you like it!! (Note: I didn’t include the original prompt because it was very detailed and I didn’t want to give everything away, but please give credit to @missdramaqueensworld for all the good ideas and me for all the terrible superhero names)

Read on ao3 or ff.net

🦸 🌸 💥

“Hisana,” Byakuya called, as he contemplated the secret niche that was hidden behind the rear panel of his ancillary special occasion shoe closet. “Where is Senbonzakura?”

“Where’s what?” his beloved wife’s voice rang back.

Byakuya gritted his back teeth. “The mystical sword that has been passed down through twenty-eight generations of my family that allows me to fight crime as the mysterious hero Captain Sakura?”

Hisana leaned up against the doorframe of his closet. “Haven’t seen it. Where’s the non-mystical, yet very expensive tuxedo that allows you to escort me to the charity benefit that I’ve been planning for three months?”

“I am not joking, Hisana, I have a responsibility to the city!”

“That’s right, you do! You’re a charming and handsome philanthropist who is helping his beautiful wife raise piles of money for underprivileged children!”

Byakuya tried to rack his brain. Where could he have left the thing? “You know very well what I mean. The city is under attack by dark forces. Dark forces, Hisana!”

Hisana put her hands on her hips. “Don’t you have sidekicks for this?”

“They do not like being called sidekicks, they are allegedly adults now. Besides, you are the one who told me to stop bothering them so much. They have their own lives now, you said.” Which vehicle had he used last? The Sakura Bike? The Sakura Jet? He didn’t think it was the Sakura Jet-Ski, but honestly, all of last week was just blurring together.

“They can have their own lives on nights when I don’t have a charity benefit,” Hisana hissed.

Wait. He’d had that unfortunately team-up with the Great Desert Brothers (or were they calling themselves Phantom Thief NelDoPe again?) and he’d had to spend a great deal of time cleaning “Infinite Slick” off of Senbonzakura afterwards. The sword was probably on his workbench down in the Sakura Cave. Byakuya turned and attempted to exit his own closet, only to find his way blocked by the one opponent he had never truly bested: his 4’11”, stunningly beautiful and amazingly brilliant wife. “Excuse me,” he said.

“Excuse you?” Hisana asked, her eyes wide with false innocence. “You are not going down to the Sakura Cave.”

“I am going to the Sakura Cave.”

“You’re going down to the Sakura Cave because you’re going to drive us to the charity benefit in the pink Lambo, right?”

Byakuya regarded her. “The Sakuramobile is for official Captain Sakura business only. You are welcome to take the Aventador or the Huracan if you like.”

Hisana threw her hands out at her sides. “Byakuya. Look at me.”

Byakuya looked. Respectfully, of course. His wife was clad in a form-fitting navy blue sheath that flared just below her knees. From the front, the neckline was high and modest, but he knew for a fact that it swept low, exposing nearly the whole of her back. Her hair was swept up into an intricate knot at the nape of her neck. An array of tiny diamond hairpins shone like stars among the night sky of her tresses. Her makeup, as always, was impeccable, from her silvery smokey eye to the kissable red of her lips.

“Imagine!” she wailed. “Me! Walking through those huge doors at the Museum of Contemporary Art. By myself! To my own fundraiser!”

“I can imagine it,” Byakuya agreed. “You will turn every head in the room. That cad, Kuchiki, they will say. The fool. He knows not what he has.”

Hisana narrowed her eyes at him.

“The most beautiful woman in Seireitei City, for once, away from the overprotective glare of her impossibly handsome husband.”

Hisana rolled her eyes.

“You will have the undivided attention of every man in the room and more than a few of the women. They will be elbowing each other out of the way for the merest crumbs of your regard. And you, being you, should no doubt be able to spin these tragic circumstances into a positively dizzying pile of donation checks. That should make the orphans very happy, yes?”

Hisana’s face was screwed up into a lovely scowl, as her desire for his company warred with her love for parting cretinous billionaires from their walking-around money. Byakuya didn’t blame her, of course. She was a very patient and understanding woman to so frequently part from her charming and debonair husband in the best interests of Justice. Nevertheless, the city needed him at this desperate hour.

“And I promise,” Byakuya continued, lowering his eyelids seductively, “that I shall sweep in before the night concludes, to rebuke those fools who would ever doubt my devotion to you.”

The tip of Hisana’s nose twitched. He had her.

“You have to show up at the dedication of the new community center.”

“Of course I would show up--”

“In the costume.”

Byakuya’s jaw tightened. “Hisana.”

“Captain Sakura is the third most popular superhero among children aged 7 to 12.”

“Third! I used to be second!” Byakuya had an angry suspicion whom he had been overtaken by.

“Used to be,” Hisana replied. “Maybe you should think about making more personal appearances. And flex more. I hear that children love flexing.” Dammit, this further confirmed his suspicions.

Byakuya heaved a sigh. “Fine. I will show up and charm the little rapscallions. I will not ‘flex.’ Please, may I go now?”

Hisana gracefully stepped to one side. “Good luck. Stay safe.” She touched his arm gently as he swished past, and went up on her tiptoes to bring her face closer to his. “And check the umbrella stand in the front hall. That’s where your magic sword was last time.”

Captain Sakura alighted on the rooftop of Metropolitan Bank with the grace of a drifting flower petal. A large hole cratered the bitumen and the smell of C-4 hung unpleasantly in the air. Below, police sirens wailed and sirens cast blue and red reflections. Also, there was bickering.

“Are you sure he can breath in there?”

“I am a professional, of course he can breathe! You don’t believe me? I’ll trap you in a block of ice!”

“I never said I didn’t believe you, I just-- hey, look who’s here! Good to see you, Captain!”

Byakuya crossed his arms over his chest. “Yuki-onna. Sakura Boy.”

Yuki-onna, Mistress of the Ice and Snow, groaned. “You know very well he goes by Red Ronin now.”

Sakura Boy looked very much like he was biting his tongue as he tapped his massive whip-sword on his shoulder.

“Who was the perpetrator?” Byakuya asked, squinting inside the block of ice.

“That toothy bastard, Preying Mantis,” Sakura Boy supplied.

“He is one of the Ten Espada, you know, they often travel in--”

“We caught his dweeby sidekick downstairs, the police already have him,” Rukia replied. “We already swept the premises. You really didn’t need to come out.”

“It is bad enough,” Byakuya bit off, “that you two refused to take a honeymoon. You are supposed to be on a… a whatsit…” he waved one hand vaguely. “A stay-cation?”

“Eh, it’s not like we have hobbies,” Renji added, poking the block of ice with his sword.

“And aren’t you supposed to be raising money? For underprivileged children?” Rukia accused.

“I will be making a dramatically late entrance,” Byakuya snapped.

“Well,” Renji frowned philosophically, “as long as you’re here, can you help us figure out how to get this guy down to the ground?”

Children. You could raise them, give them their own utility belt, teach them to drive a jet ski, but they would still ask for your help in moving a seven-foot-tall mantis man trapped in a block of ice.

“Of course,” Byakuya agreed.

#my writing #wacky au requests #can you tell i used to write batfam fanfic?#i used to write batfam fanfic #i had to sit thru a 15-minute rant on how much Mr P hates Lambos for this #this man tried to spell 'murcielago' to me #'it means bat' he said #u will notice that no murcielagos appear in this fic #the huracan is the lambo that tried to kill dr strange

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shutupandshipit · 3 years

Text

Sharpen your blades - Ch.1

Summary: “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

The thinning of Aizawa’s patience was evident in the twitching of his brow. “If you stop asking questions, maybe I could finish explaining.

”With a huff and roll of his eyes, Katsuki glanced away from their coach.

“City Hall and the SC want us to give them more variety. We are a team solely made up of single skaters. Every year, we dominate the rankings for single skate while Shinketsu dominates the pairs, so this year both cities are being required to split their skaters evenly between singles and pairs with at least one pair coming from out top five.” There was a collective intake of breath, but no one commented, choosing instead to remain silent. “Unfortunately, for us, it’s a lot easier to switch from pairs to singles. With our male to female ratio, alpha/beta/omega ratio, and those of you actually experienced with pair skating, we’re at a disadvantage. So, I’ve decided to choose your partners for you.”

.....

Or where Katsuki and Izuku are forced to be partners so they can continue to compete, but the blood in the water may be thicker than anyone realized.

Pairing: Bakudeku

Rating: T

Chapter: 1/20

Chapter 2: Refusal -> Next

Author’s Note: This is the first chapter fic I’ve done in awhile. It’s my very self-indulgent figure skater au (even though I’m not a skater). Hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 1: Pairs

“Kacchan, look what I learned!” Izuku dashed away from Katsuki across the ice, feet just a little unsteady in his excitement. Though he wobbled, he managed to get off the ice, into the air, and back onto the ice without falling. He was beaming as he came back around, sliding between the other kids in on the ice.

Katsuki’s mouth had popped open, eyes wide. “What was that? You can’t know something before I do!”

“A toe loop! We learned when you were sick last week.”

“Teach me!” Katsuki demanded, pushing off the wall and pulling Izuku out onto center ice.

…..

October

Izuku had just finished stretching off ice when Aizawa raised his voice from the entrance to the rink. Practice hadn’t officially started, but some of the other skaters had already begun warming-up.

“Alright, everyone, over here! I’ve got some things to put out before we begin.”

Checking his laces one last time, Izuku slid down to the other end of the bench where Aizawa stood, turning to face him.

His coach didn’t acknowledge him, choosing instead to pass his tired eyes from one skater to the next as they began to crowd around. They continued to chatter even as everyone came to a halt, and after a moment, he shouted, “Shut it!” His voice echoed through the rink, and only when it had faded did he speak again. “Right, so, how many of you know about the Charity Christmas Party that City Hall puts on every year? I should see every hand go up because I know for a fact all of you have lived here for at least five years.” There was a pause that gave Izuku enough time to sweep the assembled group of twenty-year-olds. Only Shinsou’s arms remained crossed over his chest. “Good. Each year City Hall chooses some part of the city to highlight. Well, we go the luck of the draw-”

Outraged cries flew up. Even Izuku’s mouth dropped open. The last three months of the year were an important time for the figure skaters of Yuuei. From October through December, they chose music and choreography to compete in the Prefecture Preliminaries that were held right before Christmas. Winning preliminaries sent them up to Regionals, but only a small percentage was chosen to advance. Very rarely did even a fourth of their team make it each year. The rest went on to be hired for the showcases and performances the city put on throughout the year. Figure skating, among a few other activities, was one of the main tourist attractions for Yuuei. Their city alone held more national champions than any other prefecture let alone city in the entirety of Japan.

Even with every other tourist attraction the city boasted, figure skating still grossed twice as much revenue as anything else. A lot of that publicity came from the Prefecture Preliminaries, held in their city every year as the capital of the prefecture, and the other competitions they won and competed in. Without those competitions, Yuuei was just another mountain city that got more snow than they knew what to do with.

“Would all of you let me finish before complaining?” Aizawa shouted over them again, and again, waited until the echo had died away. “City Hall already knew that the party was going to interfere with our training schedule, and got in touch with the Skating Commission. As it stands, they’ve agreed to use the Expo we will be performing at as the Prefecture Preliminaries. A secondary competition will be held for any competitors coming from other cities in the prefecture the day after. That puts us at a disadvantage as they’ll know who they have to beat by the end of the party. Both will be scored as normal, but unlike a normal competition, no one will receive their scores until the Expo has been completed to keep from disturbing the patrons. Mayor Nezu was very insistent on reminding me that it is a funding year. Unfortunately, the Skating Commission had stipulations, and City Hall seems to be siding with them.”

“What?” Katsuki sneered from just behind Asui, red eyes sharp and irate, “They want us to be extra flashy and get more dolled up than normal or something?”

“Not exactly.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

The thinning of Aizawa’s patience was evident in the twitching of his brow. “If you stop asking questions, maybe I could finish explaining.”

With a huff and roll of his eyes, Katsuki glanced away from their coach.

Izuku’s hand shot into their air, and Aizawa sighed heavily. He turned to Izuku anyway. “Is that legal, what they’re doing? And do you think that having pre-chosen partners is best? What if the chemistry is off?”

“I’ve known the majority of you since you were thirteen, Midoriya, I am well aware of the chemistry between you all. Or lack thereof. As for the SC, they are the ones who make the rules. There’s no one higher to complain to. So, if we want to compete, we’ve got to agree. Does that answer your question?”

“Yes, sir,” Izuku said, repressing his own sigh. Anxiety scratched incessantly at the cavity of his chest, thankful for the blockers he’d put on that morning. Anxiety always made his scent more pungent, and it always attracted more attention than he cared for.

Aizawa retrieved a clipboard from the bench behind him. “Listen up. I’m not going to be repeating myself. Omega/Beta, mid ranks: Uraraka and Iida.”

Izuku pursed his lips, considering the pairing. Iida had a very utilitarian by-the-book style that won him points for technicality, but always lacked in flair and lost him points for presentation. Uraraka on the other hand seemed to simply float across the ice, but while she always excelled in creativity, she lost points for little mistakes in technique. As a pair, they would balance each other well. Being friends, they already had a good understanding of each other and strong bond of trust. Their chemistry worked well together. They were both vaguely familiar with pair work, but only as a pastime. They’d never seriously practiced before, but Izuku thought they could be a solid competitor given enough time.

It was good that Aizawa was telling them in October, but he wasn’t sure three months would be enough time.

“Beta/Beta, low ranks: Hagakure and Ojirou.”

Again, a good pairing. They’d known each other longer than they’d all been a skating team together, all the way back to elementary school, and they’d been dating the entire time Izuku had known them. Neither had prior experience in pair work that he knew of, and neither had ever seemed interested in competition. Mostly, he thought they competed so they could continue to learn and skate in showcases and coach the younger kids. They enjoyed skating as an expressive art form rather than a sport.

“Alpha/Beta, low ranks: Asui and Tokoyami.”

They were in the same boat as Hagakure and Ojirou, but Asui and Tokoyami both possessed a higher competitive drive than the other two. They’d be formidable once they got their bearings about them.

Izuku was surprised though. Coaches tended to set up pairs as exclusively alpha/omega and male/female pairings if they could swing it. The rules stated quite clearly that a pair was made up of one man and one woman which disqualified any same-sex pairs. Allowances were made for that rule when it came to dynamics though. If a pair were same-sex, but were alpha/omega, then they could still compete. Coaches liked to stick to alpha/omegas because they could bend the rules just a bit and often present a flashier or unexpected pair.

What surprised Izuku was that their group had the means to pair together several alpha/omega teams, but Aizawa had yet to exploit that fact.

“Alpha/Omega, mid rank: Shinsou and Kaminari.”

This time, Izuku’s mouth popped open because he’d never considered them as a viable partnership. It made sense though. Both had pair skated from a young age like Izuku himself, but only transitioned to single when they joined Aizawa’s merry band of miscreants. Shinsou had never been able to keep a partner, and Kaminari’s partners just couldn’t keep up with his boundless energy. Similar to Uraraka and Iida, he thought they would balance each other out.

Which left the top rank. In the top five, it was Aoyama, Yaoyorozu, Todoroki, Katsuki and Izuku in that order. Aizawa was smart, Izuku knew that. He knew their histories, and he knew how well they could all work together. Aoyama was a beta and much smaller than Yaoyorozu. Not only that, but he held the top spot which meant Aizawa wouldn’t touch him. Yaoyorozu was an alpha, but she had no pair experience meaning she would be better left as a single. Todoroki was an omega with a lot of pair experience, but he was still third making him less desirable to take from the single skaters.

Izuku’s stomach dropped out from under him, and he swallowed noisily. He became uncomfortably aware that his blockers were no longer doing their job as his own soured scent reached his nose.

“Alpha/Omega, top rank: Bakugou and Midoriya.”

#my hero academia #mha #bakudeku #dekubaku #decchan #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #omegaverse #a/b/o dynamics #alpha!katsuki #omega!izuku #figure skater au #no quirks au #my writing #sharpen your blades

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otterintheflightdeck · 4 years

Note

i am drunk on power: 3. Canon Divergence + q. Meet Messy + 53. “Kiss me while everyone’s looking.” or 51. “Play along.”

Uhhh I don’t know what happened here, because this started out kinda funny and then got kinda sad and then kinda funny again. Soooo yes, please enjoy this take on Geralt speedrunning through Chapter 1 of The Witcher 2 by way of sucking dick.

***

Geralt crept forward toward the sound of the flute, Vernon and Triss following behind him, and blinked when he saw the elf perched atop the tree branch as if waiting for them. Iorveth certainly had a flair for the dramatic. He stood when he saw them and gestured toward Vernon with his flute.

"Vernon Roche! Special Forces Commander for the last four years. Servant of the Temerian king. Responsible for the pacification of the Mahakaman foot--" Another sweeping arm gesture had made him lose his balance, it seemed, and he teetered precariously at the edge of the branch, flailing, before slipping off it.

He hit the ground with a loud thump, and Vernon barked out a laugh beside him. "Serves you right, you grandiose son of a whore."

Iorveth wasn't moving. Geralt heard faint rustling up in the bushes on the cliffside, above them -- Iorveth's men, no doubt.

"This could be a trap," Triss said, looking around.

Iorveth was very, very still. "Don't think so."

"Then let's take him in. We can interrogate him in Flotsam." Vernon stepped forward, and Geralt threw an arm out at chest level, stopping him.

"His archers are up on the cliff. They'll shoot us if we try to take him." He watched Iorveth for a few more seconds, wondering how to break the ridiculous impasse. The archers would have to take the long way around in order to come down and help him, but they wouldn't leave their position with Vernon Roche, a sorceress and a witcher still standing over him. He sighed, then simply put both of his hands up and raised his head to shout up to Iorveth's men. "Don't shoot. I'll help him."

"Help him?" Vernon repeated, sneering.

Geralt took a couple of steps forward, experimentally, and heard no sound from above. He approached Iorveth and crouched next to him. "Hey. You conscious?"

Iorveth groaned and curled in on himself, clutching the side of his head with one hand.

"He's faking," Vernon called out. "Be careful."

"Look at me," Geralt said, ignoring him. Iorveth raised his head and squinted up at him, then closed his eye tightly and covered it with his free hand, cursing in the Elder Speech. "Great. Went and gave yourself a concussion, didn't you?"

No answer came. Geralt stood and walked back to Vernon and Triss. "I'll escort him to safety. You go on to Flotsam and see what you can find out."

"What?!" Vernon wasn't happy -- no surprise there. "I'm not letting you leave with Iorveth. Do you have any idea how many of my men he's killed?"

"We'll never find the kingslayer if we take him in. His Scoia'tael will warn him and he'll slip away. Let me do this. I'll meet you in Flotsam." He turned and went to Iorveth again. He'd sat up, eye still squeezed shut, and was rubbing at his head through his scarf.

"Be careful," Triss told him. He gave her a nod over his shoulder and she and Vernon left toward Flotsam, muttering to each other.

"My men will... will shoot you if you hurt me," Iorveth ground out through his teeth, looking rather unsteady even sitting down.

"Uh huh. Can you stand?"

He gave it a valiant try, pushing himself to his feet and managing to straighten up most of the way before swaying sideways and falling down again. "One-- one moment."

"No. We're too close to Flotsam. Gotta get you outta here before somebody spots you." He reached for Iorveth, then paused. "Call your men off. I'm picking you up."

Geralt suspected Iorveth wasn't the kind of man who liked to be carried, but he must have been in too much pain to protest. He gave a half-hearted scowl but waved his archers away. Geralt waited until he heard their retreating footsteps, then picked Iorveth up and tossed him over his shoulder. "Just had to bloviate at us from a tree branch, huh?"

"Shut up," Iorveth's voice floated up from behind him, sounding more unsteady than angry. Geralt shook his head to himself and headed away from Flotsam, back toward the beach and then up into the forest. It wasn't long before Iorveth spoke up again. "Put me down." His fingers scrabbled clumsily at Geralt's back. "Vatt'ghern. Put me down."

Something about the tone of his voice made Geralt stop, and as soon as he put Iorveth down he crawled away on all fours and retched into the underbrush. All that came up was bile, and Geralt thought about how light the elf had been, even wrapped up as he was in chainmail and leather.

"Why are you helping me?" Iorveth ground out once he was done, sitting back and wiping his mouth on the back of his gloved hand. "You're with Roche."

"Came here with him. Doesn't mean I like him." He crouched down and this time Iorveth was able to meet his eyes, though he was still squinting against the sunlight. "I'm looking for the kingslayer. I've been accused of Foltest's murder."

"Pity. He's under my protection."

"Why? You think he's killing kings because he cares about elf rights? He's using you."

Iorveth shook his head, then winced and raised a hand to his temple. "I... I care little what you think, vatt'ghern. We're working toward a greater purpose."

He still looked rather green. Geralt sighed. "You have a camp nearby?"

"Yes."

"I'll take you there." He made to grab Iorveth again, but the elf held up a hand, stopping him.

"No. I'll be sick again."

"Then walk." Geralt stood and held out a hand, and Iorveth managed to pull himself up after taking a deep, steadying breath. He spat onto the ground, then started walking unsteadily, holding on to Geralt for balance.

Iorveth's men caught up to them before long -- four of them, bows out, winded from running through the forest. "Iorveth," one of them said, eyeing Geralt as if waiting to see whether they'd receive orders to shoot him.

Iorveth waved a hand at them dismissively. "We're headed to camp," he started, and it looked like he'd wanted to say something more, but he hissed in pain and closed his eye, relying on Geralt's guidance to keep walking.

"One of you run ahead and get a bedroll ready," Geralt said in his stead. "And a fire. I'll need boiling water."

"Do as he says," Iorveth added much more quietly.

It took some time to reach the camp. It wasn't much -- a narrow gap in a rock wall that opened up into a small, low-ceilinged cave, with a few bedrolls spread around a small fire and a set of old crates serving as rudimentary stools. There were three more elves waiting there -- one led Iorveth away from him he collapsed onto a bedroll, breathing heavily. He was pale and sweating from the short walk.

"What's wrong with him?" a woman asked, shooting Geralt an accusatory glare.

"He hit his head," one of the archers responded, and it seemed he respected Iorveth too much to offer any further detail. Vernon would have no such scruples; Geralt suspected that most of Flotsam would have heard the story by the time he got there.

He sat by the fire and set about making a potion, similar to one he'd use on himself but diluted enough that it wouldn't harm an elf -- something to help with the pain in his head and settle his stomach. The elf woman stood staring at him suspiciously, and he showed her the dried herbs and ingredients as he pulled them from his satchel. Once he'd gotten the lot of them brewing, she gave him a grudging nod and went to sit by Iorveth's side.

"You his lover?" Geralt asked to fill the silence, stirring the contents of the small pot over the flames.

"He'd have to hit his head a lot harder than this to lie with a woman," one of the elves muttered in the Elder Speech somewhere behind him, and a few of them snorted in response. Geralt filed the information away into a corner of his mind. The woman pressed her lips together and glared at him, apparently unamused by her friend's jest.

"Fine, don't talk to me. Still with us, Iorveth?"

Iorveth's jaw was clenched tight and his eye still closed, but he gave a small nod.

"Try to stay awake. I'm making something for the pain."

Someone gave Iorveth water, which he promptly threw up. Geralt snatched the empty mug and filled it with his concoction while the woman mopped up the mess with a rag. He watched the small group for a few moments as he blew on the hot liquid. They looked pale and drawn, all of them, and stank of hunger and exhaustion. He sighed and set the mug down. "Make him drink this once it's cooled down. All of it, slowly. There's more in the pot if he can't keep it down."

He stood. They eyed each other but let him go without a word, and he headed deeper into the forest.

He came back to the cave later, carrying two rabbits, a handful of wild carrots and some mushrooms. There were only two elves left with Iorveth -- the woman and one of the archers. The rest of them had been up in the trees when he'd approached, standing guard, but they'd let him pass without comment again. He set the food down near the fire, then added a few potatoes and some plums from his satchel.

Both elves stared at the food silently, their stomachs growling, audible even over the crackling flames. Geralt sighed impatiently. He hated seeing elves reduced to this -- their stubborn pride only made it worse. "Take it. He'll feel better if you get some food into him."

He turned to Iorveth, who was still lying on his bedroll, curled under a blanket with most of his armor discarded around him. When Geralt sat down, he opened his eye and seemed to have an easier time focusing on him than he'd had before. "Gwynbleidd."

"Geralt," Geralt corrected.

"Gwynbleidd is a much better name."

"Fine. How do you feel?"

Iorveth's eye fluttered shut. "Strange. Dizzy, if I try to sit up."

"It'll pass in a few days if you get enough rest." The elves were rustling around behind him, chopping the food and skinning the rabbits. He left them to it, keeping his focus on their leader. "Gonna tell me where the kingslayer is, now? Just want to talk to him."

"Lies aren’t a good look on you, Gwynbleidd." His eye opened again. "You've got much kinder eyes than the other vatt'ghern does."

Kind eyes weren't something Geralt had ever been accused of having before. He blinked. "Yeah, well. If you're just going to compliment me in exchange for saving your life, might as well get out of here and look for him myself. Hope Roche doesn't find you like this in the meantime."

He didn't even make it to his feet before Iorveth wormed one hand out of his blanket, touching his leg to stop him. "Wait. They have Ciaran, my second in command. He's being held in Flotsam on a prison barge. Find a way to free him and I might set up a meeting with the kingslayer."

Well, that was much more of a lead than what they'd arrived to Flotsam with. He gave a short nod. "I'll see what I can do."

***

The next two days passed in a mad blur -- he'd met Dandelion and Zoltan (who'd narrowly escaped the gallows thanks to Triss and Vernon's intervention), hunted for ostmurk, killed the kayran, and finally broken Ciaran out of the prison barge in the dead of the night with the help of Triss, who'd had to mend what had looked like half of the poor bastard's bones before he'd even been able to walk.

He collapsed into one of the inn's dirty beds, slept like the dead for a few hours, then dragged himself back out and into the forest to seek out Iorveth again.

He checked the cave first, and this time one of the sentries up in the trees greeted him with a nearly cheerful "ceádmil" as he walked by. He figured that probably meant Ciaran had found his way back to the group and put him firmly into the Scoia'tael's good graces. "Good afternoon," he replied in the Elder Speech, and the elf frowned at him from between the leaves of his tree. Geralt recognized him as the one who'd mumbled about Iorveth in front of him; maybe that'd teach him not to run his mouth around strangers.

Iorveth was alone in the cave and seemed to have heeded Geralt's recommendation to rest; he was still on his bedroll despite the late hour, propped up on one elbow and working on a piece of waybread. "Gwynbleidd," he said warmly in greeting. "Ciaran came back to us this morning. I'm in your debt."

"Twice, now," Geralt replied, but couldn't bring himself to mind much. There was one fewer elf in prison, and Loredo was probably pissed off. Win-win. "Feeling better?"

"Mostly. My head still hurts at times, and I tire easily."

"Like I said, give it a few days." He sat down and Iorveth held out his waybread silently. Geralt blinked at the offering, then broke off a piece. "Thanks. What about Ciaran?"

"He's doing better than he ought to be. He said they beat him to within an inch of his life and left him to die in his cell." Iorveth's expression had darkened, and he dropped the rest of his waybread as if his appetite had suddenly left him. "I'll make sure his captors suffer just as long."

"Mm." Geralt tried his piece. It was bland, but better than a lot of the things he ate on the road. "He isn't just your second in command, then."

Iorveth's eye narrowed. "What are you asking, vatt'ghern?"

He shrugged. "Heard one of your men talk about you the other day. Don't think he realized I could understand him."

"I don't know what you heard, but you must have misunderstood. Ciaran isn't my type."

"So what is your type? Witchers?" Geralt asked, then had time to ask himself what the hell he was doing during the short silence that followed. The opening had been too perfect, and he'd reacted the way he would have had any beautiful woman been in Iorveth's place. A stupid reflex.

The corners of Iorveth's mouth quirked up into a small smile. "Certainly not Letho."

Letho -- now Geralt had a name, and perhaps that had been worth a moment's awkward silence. He popped the rest of the waybread into his mouth, chewing slowly as he thought. He couldn't recall hearing the name anywhere, but that didn't mean much; there were a lot of things he couldn't recall.

"Ciaran filled me in on how he was captured. It seems you were right to distrust Letho. He tried to convince Ciaran to betray me and take over the unit. A fight broke out when he refused. Some of my men died."

"Where is he now?"

Iorveth hesitated only briefly before speaking. "He usually stays near the ruins of Cáelmewedd."

"The baths?" Geralt asked. Iorveth nodded. The ruins weren't far, but Geralt could hardly go on his own -- he didn't know what kind of mutation his School was into, but Letho was built like a brick shithouse. And Iorveth was in no state to help, so he'd have to go back to Flotsam and--

"Iorveth." One of the sentries poked his head into the cave. "Letho's coming."

"Shit," Geralt hissed. Letho couldn't see him here. He'd smell him, though, even if he managed to leave without being spotted. He heard the sound of Letho's heavy footsteps outside and tried to think of a plan.

Iorveth had been thrown off-balance, too. He stared at Geralt, green eye searching his, then grabbed at the edge of his jerkin and pulled. "Come here," he said quietly in the Elder Speech. "Play along."

They'd been through too much over the span of a couple of days for Geralt not to trust him. He let himself be maneuvered around by the elf, unsure what was happening until he found himself lying between his legs. Iorveth flipped his blanket over him, covering his upper body, and Geralt groaned when he realized what the plan was.

"Iorveth," Letho called out, and Geralt heard his armor scraping against the edges of the cave opening as he made his way inside.

"I don't want to be bothered. Come back later."

He'd slowed his breathing down and was doing a decent job at sounding distracted, his voice low and his fingers creeping into Geralt's hair. Still a stupid plan, though, because Letho would be able to smell Geralt, and then smell that Iorveth wasn't even aroused. Unless...

"What are you playing at? We both know who that is."

Unless he was aroused. Geralt palmed at Iorveth's cock through his trousers, resisting the urge to shake his head at how his stay in Flotsam was going, and Iorveth's breath hitched above him. "And?" he asked Letho.

"He's here with Roche. Am I supposed to think this is a coincidence?"

Geralt squeezed Iorveth's cock. It was stirring in his hand -- wasn't just his kind eyes Iorveth had been admiring, that much was clear. He started working on the fastenings of Iorveth's trousers. "I don't care what you think, Letho. He helped one of us break out of the prison barge."

"And-- and his reward is to suck your cock?" Letho retorted with a disbelieving snort.

Geralt rolled his eyes as he pulled Iorveth out of his trousers. He'd sucked a cock or two before, decades ago during a particularly cold, lonely winter at Kaer Morhen, but hadn't felt the urge since and hadn't exactly shouted it from the rooftops, either. His reputation would never recover from this -- kingslayer and cocksucker. "It seems some of your kind can appreciate the finer things," Iorveth said, then moaned softly as Geralt put his tongue on him. He was playing up his reactions, Geralt knew, but he still felt his own treacherous cock twitch in response to the low, breathless sound.

Well, at least there'd be no mistaking the smell that was coming off of him now. Off of them both. There was a long pause, which Geralt filled by pressing open-mouthed kisses to the head of Iorveth's swelling cock and flicking his tongue over it, knowing Letho could hear him.

Finally there was the scrape of Letho's boots against the ground as he took a step back. "We'll talk later," he muttered, sounding a little lost. He left, adding "fucking elves" under his breath as he went, and Geralt rumbled out a laugh around Iorveth's cock, now hot and heavy in his mouth.

Iorveth pulled the blanket off. He'd acquired a pretty flush across his sharp face, and his eye was hooded as he watched him. "You can stop," he said in the Elder Speech even as he tilted his hips, pushing himself deeper in.

Geralt paused, considering. He was hard, too, and he shifted uncomfortably against the cold ground, reaching down to adjust himself. Iorveth groaned at the sight and let his head thump back to his bedroll. And then he groaned in pain, having apparently landed on the bruised spot on his head. Geralt snorted, slid one hand up under his shirt and onto his stomach to hold him still, and kept sucking.

#gerveth #geralt x iorveth #geralt/iorveth #iorveth #oops this got way longer than i wanted it to be #but it was fun rewatching some of the cut scenes #iorveth is so hilariously dramatic #'four hundred years of killing over the mold of the auricle' WHO SPEAKS LIKE THIS

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