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hugsandchaos · 8 months ago

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Proper Introductions

Summary: Proper introductions to the group leads to Danny getting a new wardrobe and a sword.

Credit for the armor design goes to @nerdypear4!! Thank you so, so much for allowing me to use your design in the story!!

Word count: 3,258

First<<<

“So what’s your name?” Wind asked. He and Wolfie walked on both sides of the new member. The early afternoon sun shone through the branches and made the stranger’s dark hair and Wolfie’s dark fur look a little funny when they passed under those spots. The stranger looked at him with eyes a shade of light blue that reminded Wind of ice. He couldn’t be much younger than some of the others, but he was definitely a little bit older than Wind.

The three heroes, four if you count Wolfie, were heading back towards the rest of the group with their newest temporary member in tow. The stranger seemed to snap out of some sort of trance and glanced at him.”My name’s Daniel, but pretty much everyone just calls me Danny. What about you?” He asked. His odd bag on his back made a slightly funny noise as he walked, probably just the contents inside, like that weird red bag from earlier. He’d tightened the straps earlier to prevent it from moving around, so it was practically hugging him. Wind had seen big bags before, but that one was odd.

Wind almost said “Link”, but managed to stop and correct himself.“Well, we all have the same name, so we go by nicknames based off our adventures. I’m Wind, and I have a lot of questions.” He said.

“Me too. You go first.” Danny said. For a split second, the corners of his mouth moved upwards in a smile.

“First, why are your ears round?” Wind asked. Up ahead, Sky and Hyrule both froze and were going to turn around to silently scold Wind. They didn’t know why, either, but for all they know, it could’ve been something he’s had since birth and didn’t like talking about. Yet Danny only looked surprised for a split second before answering.

“Uh, I think the only explanation I can give is the fact that I’m a human.” He replied. Human. The three of them remembered that word. Sky was constantly mistook for one on his adventure, and Twilight mentioned that he grew up in a village full of them. It was also him to explain that probably the only physical difference between them was the fact that humans had round ears while hylians had pointed ears. Not everyone paid attention to that detail, so it wasn’t a surprise that Sky was mistook for one.

The two older heroes continued ahead, with Sky leading them. Wind briefly eyed that part of Danny, not really paying attention to the path ahead.“So you’re not a hylian? Huh.” He said, taking on a more suspicious tone than he meant to. He fixed his expression and smiled.”Your turn.” He said, turning back to look ahead.

“Cool. Where are we?” Danny asked. They all took a step over a fallen log, and both Danny and Wind paused to make sure Wolfie hopped over okay.

“Faron Woods, my world.” Sky replied.

“Never heard of that place, but okay.” Danny said, turning to Wind.”What’s your next question?” He asked.

The young hero had lots of questions, and it was a little hard to pick the next one. He ultimately decided on one Hyrule would probably ask him soon as well.“You were stitching up your wound earlier. Are you a doctor?” He asked.

Danny shook his head.“No, I’m far from the real thing. It’s just that... It’s just something I picked up, I guess?” He said with a shrug.”One of my friends is a doctor, and I was curious about a few things, so I asked a couple questions. Next thing I know, he’s teaching me how to treat my own wounds incase he’s not around.” He explained.

“There you guys are!”

Wind and Danny looked up towards the front of the group. Legend was walking towards them looking a little relieved and annoyed at the same time. When he noticed Danny, however, his expression hardened into a glare.”Who is that?” He asked. Danny stopped mid-step for a second, but then continued as if he never stopped. It lasted barely long enough for Wind to notice. Danny opened his mouth to respond, but Sky spoke first.

“Let’s meet up with the rest of the group first. This is important.” He said. Legend gave Danny another glare, but didn’t argue and turned around to walk with them the rest of the way. After ending up in Sky’s world, but on the ground instead of the sky, he led them to some ruins that would provide some cover if they decided to camp there since some of them were nervous about making repeated journeys up and down.

After getting back to the rest of the group, Sky immediately went to explaining why the kid they brought back with them was now a member of the group. Danny glanced nervously between all of them and tensed up a little with the several pairs of eyes on him as Sky spoke.”The sword said that he’s from another world,” was how he started the conversation. No one even got a chance to ask who Danny was or what he was doing following them.

“What?” Time asked, taking on a more serious tone than normal. He glanced over at Danny, who briefly froze before shrugging his shoulders.

“I hardly know what happened myself. I was just walking through the woods and it opened up from underneath me! Then it just spat me back out somewhere over there.” He explained, pointing back the way they came with his thumb. Either he was acting less upset than he was or talking calmed him down somehow, because he grew less tense when he told his brief story. Wolfie stood next to him, occasionally glancing at his side. Probably eyeing the bandages underneath his shirt.

It was confusing how the boy had gotten comfortable with Wolfie so quickly seeing as he wasn’t freaking out over him being so close, but they weren’t going to ask that. Not yet, at least.

After a moment of silence and shared glances, Four approached him.”I’m Four. Do you remember anything besides the portal? A black lizalfos, maybe?” He asked.

“Danny, and no. I don’t even know what a lizalfos is, but I think I hit something on my way down, before I hit the ground in front of whatever that red, ugly thing was.” Danny said, briefly introducing himself before getting to the point. That response was... worrying.

The fact that he didn’t know what a lizalfos was, and apparently hadn’t seen a bokoblin before a few minutes ago, didn’t sound good if he was going to be traveling with them. Unless his world just didn’t have those, but still had monsters. That thought brought a bit of relief to the group. While it would be a neat thing to have a world with no monsters at all, as surprising as that sounds, that could mean that Danny had no experience fighting them. That would be pretty bad.

He didn’t appear to have any weapons or shields on him, unless they were in his backpack. He didn’t seem to have any armor on, either. Unless he knew a thing or two about using weapons, but just didn’t have them. Sky opened his mouth to speak his thoughts of lending him a sword and teach him if need be, but Danny interrupted.”Thanks again for the save, by the way.” He said, glancing at the group��s furry companion. Wolfie huffed and nodded, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards slightly.

“Wolfie helped you?” Four asked. Sky’s face fell a little. He would wait until Danny explained, but he hoped it’d be quick. Danny looked back up at Four.

“Yeah. Not gonna lie, I thought he was a husky because of his fur color.” He replied. Before anyone asked anything else, Sky took the chance to get their attention again and cleared his throat. Four and Danny both turned to him, along with everyone else.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I think we have a more important issue here. Daniel, have you ever faced a monster before?” Sky asked. Danny hesitated before answering, looking thoughtful before shaking his head.

“No, not really. I don’t think I’ve even seen one until now.” He said. The atmosphere changed drastically, and the silence that followed his answer was a little heavier with the realization that he was basically defenseless. No armor, no weapons, and no knowledge of monsters?! The decision seemed obvious, especially as they glanced between each other. Danny seemed to come to a similar realization as his expression shifted to worry.”How many are there?” He asked.

“A lot.” Legend said, reaching into his bag. He rummaged around before pulling out a tunic and undershirt. He walked over to Danny and handed them to him.”Here, these will give you better protection than that shirt and coat.“ He said. Danny seemed a little surprised and very quickly glanced up at his face, then back at the clothes, before reaching out and accepting the not-so-negotiable offer.”Do you have any knowledge or experience with bows, swords, or other weapons?” Legend asked.

“Thank you. And as much as I don’t want to admit this because of how you’ve all reacted so far, no. In fact, swords and bows are hardly used in my world. Not a lot of people to learn from.” Danny said. Everyone else pretty much guessed the first part would be the answer, but the bit about swords and bows not being used much in his world was a surprise. As much as it caught them off guard, the logic behind why he didn’t know how to use those weapons made sense.

“What about your bag?” Warriors asked.

“I don’t really recall packing a weapon, but I’ve forgotten when I have or haven’t packed something, so maybe I did.” Danny replied. He held the tunic and undershirt close to himself while he slid one of his arms out of the straps, then allowed it to slip down his other arm and caught it with his hand before it would fall off completely. Danny knelt down and placed the bag on the ground, supported by his leg.

He grabbed the dangling piece of metal and pulled it up the side, then over it. The bag opened up and he looked inside. After rummaging around, Danny looked at Warriors.”Yeah, no. I don’t have any weapons.” He said, closing his bag back up and standing up with one of his hand lifting it up by one of the straps.

Wild reached into his own bag and walked over to Danny as he searched the seemingly infinite space. He soon pulled out some chainmail and a piece of armor. He wordlessly placed it of top of the tunic and undershirt given to Danny by Legend.“Oh, thank you. Are you really sure this is necessary, though? Is it that bad that I shouldn’t walk around in my normal clothes?” Danny asked. Wild nodded and pulled out a sword from his bag. It was probably one of the swords he’s taken from dead monsters and gave to Four to fix up.

Danny was careful when he took the sword from his hand.“Okay. Again, thanks.” He said. He turned his head towards Time when he noticed him coming towards him.

“We’ll teach you how to use a sword. Here, these will give you better protection against rough terrain than those.” He said, handing him a pair of boots and pants he forgot to drop off at the ranch.

“Uh- Thanks. I appreciate it.“ Danny said.

If his world was really as harmless as it sounds, then he had done a fairly good job staying calm, but he was starting to freak out. Wolfie nudged his hand seeing his uneasiness starting to creep onto his face and Time backed away.

“Teaching you should be easy! There’s nine of us.” Wind said, hoping it would help. Danny opened his mouth, probably to thank them again, but then he paused with an odd look on his face.

“Wait...” Danny looked from one member to the other. Time realized Wind’s mistake as the human’s eyes finally fell on Wolfie. There were currently eight hylians, not nine. He was worried about Twilight’s secret being blown for a second.”A wolf using sword? I shouldn’t find that funny, but it kind of is.” Danny said. Some of the other members looked at Wolfie.

Sky was the one to change the subject again.”You can go into the ruins to change, but the rest of us should probably introduce ourselves first.” He said.

“Oh, right. I guess I’ll go first.” Legend said.

~~~~~(Small Time Skip + POV Switch)~~~~~

After everyone introduced themselves, Danny was brought into the ruins and left in a small room with no windows. After he had gotten changed, he folded his clothes and put them into his bag, then took a moment to just sit down and think for a moment. One minute, he’s walking through a forest hanging out with some Shades that approached him, the next, a dark portal with purple rims opened from underneath him and he fell through without enough time to react.

Then, he lands next to a weird red monster, gets cut by it, saved by a husky who’s apparently a wolf named Wolfie — and Danny himself isn’t good at naming, but seriously? Wolfie?? —, and now he’s apparently going with a group of people who have the same name so they use nicknames like Legend and Four because they’ve gone through a dark and purple portal before and they think they can get him home?

And they’re giving him armor and sword lessons?! It’s amazing how much can happen in just a few hours.

‘This is bad.’

Danny dug into his backpack for his phone. He had to contact someone back home quickly if he couldn’t get there himself. Who’s going to protect the town? What if his parents called the cops? What will he say when he returns? He went to his contact list and immediately tried calling both Tucker and Sam without thinking. It didn’t even ring. The young halfa noticed the service bars. They were gone. He internally scolded himself for not coming to that conclusion sooner. If he was in another world, he should’ve guessed that he wouldn’t be able to call anyone.

Danny took a deep breath and checked his text notifications. He hadn’t received any. Again, it was probably the clear lack of cellphone reception. He put it back into his backpack, but quickly pulled his hand out when he felt something cool and squishy brush up against his fingers. He grabbed onto both sides of his backpack and held them open so he could see inside.

Two black eyes blinked at him from their spot nestled between his notebooks and clothes. Danny’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to say something, probably shout, but he was luckily cut off by a knock.

”Hey, are you okay in there? You’ve worn armor before, right?” Wind called out.

“Yeah, just a second!” Danny shouted back. He glanced between the door and the little shade in his backpack, then the door again.”No, I haven’t worn armor before!” He corrected himself. He looked down at the shade, who tilted half of its body in a way akin to a confused head tilt. Its core vibrated and sent a message to his own.

Confusion. Fear. “What’s happening?”

Danny wasn’t in ghost form, but he could still understand them. He lowered his voice to a whisper.“I’m still figuring it out. Look, you have to stay in here, okay? We don’t know if they like ghosts or not.” He said. The shade tilted back to its normal position and sent him another message.

Understanding. Worry. Patience. “Okay. I will wait.”

Danny smiled a little and zipped his backpack up with the shade inside. He went to put it on his back, but it felt a little funny with the armor on. The armor was a little snug and didn’t screw up with his binder, nor was it exactly itchy. It was breathable and surprisingly okay to move around in. It was new, but not bad. He picked up the sword Wild lent to him on his way out of the room and back to the main room of the ruins. Why they thought ruins were a good place to change, Danny will never really know. Sure, they provided walls, but still.

He immediately took notice of someone standing next to Time and Sky. Danny was pretty sure he wasn’t there before. He was probably the second or third tallest out of them and looked like he was wearing a dark pelt or something. Wind was right next to the door and raised a hand, which got the guy’s attention.”Twilight, come meet Danny.” He called. The one Danny hadn’t properly met glanced between Time and Sky before walking over to them. He seemed friendly, but appearances can be deceiving. That was a card Danny also had to play until he had a full grasp of the situation.

As he came closer, Danny took notice of something. Two somethings, actually. One of them was that the guy had the same marking on his forehead as the wolf, except in black instead of white. The second thing was that the pendant in his necklace looked almost the same as the rock Danny had noticed when he was petting the wolf’s head.

Was he... No, he was probably just looking too deep in a shallow lake. He just got here, he shouldn’t jump to those kinds of conclusions. Where was the wolf, anyways?

“Oh, hey, you and the wolf have the same markings. Are you two friends or something?” Danny asked. He wasn’t sure why he went with that instead of introducing himself, but that’s what happened. Twilight, the name Wind had called him, nodded and kept his smile.

What was that brief look for, though?

“Yeah, he helped me out on my adventure. Saved me from a fate worse than death. The mark just appeared after a while. Speaking of the wolf, I heard about how you were calm when he approached you and was a little surprised. Most people would attack a wolf approaching.” Twilight said. Danny felt the need to explain himself and shrugged.

“I don’t know if this part was mentioned to you yet, but I thought he was a dog. Besides, he was nice and helped me find my bag after taking down a red, ugly thing that was going to kill me, so I figured it was safe to trust him after I was told he was actually a wolf.” He said. Wind moved next to both of them and caught both of their attention.

“Twilight’s probably the nicest in the group, but he’s a great fighter, so he’s going to be sparring you.” Wind said. Danny’s eyes widened and he almost took a step back. He glanced back at Twilight, who was obviously a bit bigger than him.

He must’ve looked as anxious as he suddenly felt because Twilight spoke up.”Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll be fine. We’re going to switch between defense, offense, and then we do both at the same time. It’ll just be to see how strong and fast you already are, and we’re going to wait until your injury’s much better.” He explained. Danny nodded. He noticed Wild practically appear next to him and offer him a wooden shield. As much as he didn’t want to, Danny accepted the shield with a “thank you”.

(I worry that it might be rushed or not very good, so if you have anything you think needs pointing out or constructive criticism, or any kind of feedback really, that would be really, really appreciated!)

#danny phantom #danny fenton #linked universe #linked universe x Danny phantom #Danny phantom x linked universe #linked universe time #linked universe wolf #linked universe warriors #linked universe wolfie #linked universe wild #linked universe wind #linked universe legend #linked universe hyrule #linked universe four #linked universe twilight #lu x dp #dp x lu

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thylacines-toybox · 1 year ago

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Can you believe that the standing/sprawling Rattata (who still hasn’t really acquired a name aside from maybe Rad Rat) used to be in a pose like the two sitting Rattata? I wish I’d taken pictures during the modification process back in 2020 since it was pretty extreme lol, but I thought it’d be interesting to look at how I changed her anyway!

Rad Rat was a bootleg copy of the official Pokemon Fit/Sitting Cuties Rattata, who I just had to get anyway because Rattata plushies are so few.

Originally she looked like this… she’s uh, the wonky looking one.

As you can see she’s a bit funny shaped and has some trouble sitting up unassisted. One day I thought I’d help her by opening her up and replacing some stuffing with beans. I’m not sure how it happened, but I got pretty into reconstructing her whole pose!

Here’s the seam where I reattached the foreleg at a different angle. Originally it was attached basically right in front of the hind leg, where the purple meets the cream underbelly, pointing downwards.

Here’s where I added a graft of purple from the back of the head (there was excess fabric there, it was a big head) to the inner leg, freeing it from the underbelly for a ‘looser’ pose.

The underbelly fabric is the only new piece of fabric on the entire rat, since that piece needed to be made significantly bigger to change the pose. You can see on the original Rattata where the close-together forelegs ‘cut into’ the belly piece.

Then there was also reattaching the head in a new position, and plenty of thread sculpting and ladder stitching to fix the head’s shape! As well as teeth correcting and tail curling… it was a lot of small work! But Rad Rat smiled happily through it all.

And yes, I remembered to add the beans.

#Rattata #pokemon #bootleg #modded toy #plushie modification #plushie #toys

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six-white-venus · 10 months ago

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hey stranger, would you listen to my sorrows for a little while? would you indulge this poor son of a gun sobbing on the side of the road about the same ol’ things, the same ol’ sitch would you listen to me, just this once?

can i tell you how it feels to sell a home? for money, of all things? well, firstly you close your eyes, count to 10, hoping to wake up to your god-awful britney spears’ alarm but spoiler alert: you don’t. you never do. you open your eyes to see the very same tragedy unfold only now in monochrome

it feels like this: you see the garden you waddled in through when you were 8 and there’s a pause, an ache in your chest. the voice in your head says rewind and who are you to deny its wish?

grandpa is walking around watering the plants, admiring the palm-sized sunsets and lovely nights that bloom under his watch. i’ve known god for quite a while, my friend and let me tell you how he looks- he is 70, 76, 80 and 82 i’ve held god in my own arms and he has held me in his he smells like baby powder and brushes his lips against my hair oh so gently. i’ve seen god, looking over with such fondness at a line of ants I am safe. I am safe. I am safe

it feels like walking inside the living room and being robbed of all your breath by some lousy scoundrel because this can’t be happening, right? (but it is. it is happening) this is not fair (is it ever?)

this is where my uncle ran and ran to reach me, eyes wild and petrified, when i once forgot how to breathe underwater (i was taking a head bath then. i’m not taking one now but mama, i think i need you here. i think i forgot how not to drown again)

oh, you’re still here? listening to silly old me and my silly old wounds wrapped in pretty words and poetry to hide the scabs and rot from your prying eyes? funny, because everyone and everything always seems to have somewhere to run off to. i remember it all, as i stand there

i am twelve and nothing feels real when i see my grandpa’s sharp eyes submerged in fog god used to sit next to me and read out english channel names and laugh quietly. he used to correct me on the pronunciation of the word ‘thalai-anai’ and make sure grandma never skipped a meal. i’m twelve and he looks at me and doesn’t see me he looks at me and tries to remember my name

reality fades into white noise.

pockets empty and wallets filled with holes larger than the ones in my heart, i watch them pack up all our things i see cardboard boxes standing tall in the kitchen and the dining table is masked with a dusty white cloth and it is wrong, so wrong and I try not to look like my world is spinning a little too fast for my liking.

will there ever be someone else who will utter the words ‘goodbye’ and ‘i love you’ to these walls like i have?

(i wonder: what is the price tag this world will slap on love?)

this house, it has seen me stitch my wounds with trembling hands and wipe my tears of happiness with my shirt sleeve. these gardens still wait for my grandpa and say hello to him through the whispering wind this house is not just a house it is home, it is love.

but my dear stranger, there’s also else something i forgot to tell you: just like how we claimed every inch of this place to be ours, this place has left its traces all over me i may have to say goodbye to this house now, but it will always live within me so with all my awkward grief and salt-stained smiles and open arms i say,

goodbye and welcome home, old friend

#my writing #prose poetry #poetry #love #words #writeblr #letting go #home

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lajulie24 · 9 months ago

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For the fic writer questions, 38 or 49?

Ty!

38. Did any of your fics get surprisingly popular (whatever that means to you)? Which ones? Why do you think they were so successful?

A few earlier ones that seemed to get pretty popular included:

Corellian Lilies - I think this is probably because some people really love themselves a Bespin baby AU, and that’s what this one is. It’s the first fic I posted on AO3 and it still gets new readers from time to time.

Epic Love - I don’t know if I was surprised that this got popular so much as pleased. I think the appeal here was more a different version of how things went down in the TFA-era universe, and fixing the things that so many of us didn’t like about how Han and Leia (and Luke!) were treated by the Disney canon narrative. With bonus Jaina Solo!

Sampler - This one I didn’t expect to get so popular, but it features Leia doing some subversive cross stitch and ended up in a collection of fics where Crafts in SPACE! are featured, so I think that attracted some folks who might not have otherwise read it.

Our stained glass means nothing without light - I was REALLY surprised when this one jumped up to become my second-most-kudosed fic ever. I think we can credit the Obi-Wan Kenobi show both for this fic happening at all (Leia meeting up with Obi-Wan’s Force Ghost shortly after the Battle of Endor) and for people responding so strongly to it. They love Leia, they love Obi-Wan, I totally get it.

One Half Won’t Do - When I started this one, I was at first worried that it was too similar to some of my previous pre-ESB era fics, but people LOVE themselves a bunch of tropes, particularly a “Han and Leia pretend to be married except they are having real feelings for each other” trope, so this one took off. And I thought it was going to be a one-off, but folks have followed me though several chapters, which was also a pleasant surprise.

A Girl in Trouble (Is a Temporary Thing) - Another fic that was supposed to be a one-off and grew lots of chapters and feelings along the way. I was pretty surprised about this one being so popular, too. It’s crack taken seriously (and it’s pretty wild crack, too…I was not expecting things to end up where we are). Another one where my readers have been very very patient (and I promise there will be more soon, and hopefully the wait will have been worth it). I’m not exactly sure how to explain the popularity except that 1) some people really love pregnancy fics and 2) I guess enough people trusted me to look past the extreme crackiness (ed: CRACK-iness, not crankiness) of the premise, and maybe folks were interested in something different?

49. What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it!

Working on a few different things — I think I recently shared things from the next chapter of One Half Won’t Do and A Girl in Trouble on my WIP asks, but I also recently started the very beginnings of another fic continuing the series of moments that started with See if you can work me the way you say and Another time, so I’ll share a bit of that.

“You don’t know everything about women.”

Han laughed softly. “Anyone thinks they know about ‘women’ doesn’t know shit.” His thumb resumed its gentle caress. “I know you, Leia.”

The way her name came out of his mouth was gentle, yet almost obscene.

“You like to be out of control, but you decide when.” His thumb was making wide circles on her palm. “How.” His lips curled up in a grin. “Who.”

“Whom,” she corrected, her eyes maintaining their gaze. His fingers paused.

“Whom,” he agreed. “Can’t say I’m complaining about that.”

His fingers resumed.

Thank you kindly for the ask!

Fanfic writer asks!

#ask lajulie #fanfic writer asks #fanfiction #surprisingly popular fics #corellian lilies #epic love #sampler #our stained glass means nothing without light #One Half Won’t Do #A Girl in Trouble (Is a Temporary Thing)#Xmas-pterodactyl #thank you for the ask!

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rn-zane · 2 years ago

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LOCATION: The Emergency Room TIMING: Current SUMMARY: Chance has to go to the ER. Again. Zane is not a huge fan of reckless behavior.

It was always a strange sort of solace, clocking in at the ER. It was hectic and definitely heartbreaking at times but here, the pace of his thoughts finally seemed to match the outside world. Zane functioned here whereas back home, with Alma, he felt more like a child. It wasn’t a bad feeling, being protected and cared for but there was purpose to be found at the ER. And tonight was an easy one, assigned to the smaller cuts, bruises and dislocations. No fear of needing to call the crash cart or gnarly wounds that stayed glued to his retinas hours after he saw them.

The last patient had made his heart swell, a young girl with a greenstick fracture in her forearm from being pushed at the playground. He’d taken a bit too long with her, Zane knew that, but placing a ridiculous amount of stickers on her cast after he’d put it on had seemed necessary. She’d had a predisposition for dinosaurs and had insisted on sticking one to his name badge before leaving.

His next patient was older, 21 year old male with a sprained elbow. X-ray had come out fine so Zane just had to fix him up and send him on his way. There wasn’t much in the doctor’s note about the injury, not that it mattered, but an elbow sprain wasn’t too common in patients this age.

“Hi, there. I’m Zane, gonna be fixing up that arm so it doesn’t get messed up further,” he said cheerily, still on a high from his new young friend from before, as he walked into the room.

—--

Chance’s arm hurt like hell, but he was trying to stay positive. He also wasn’t particularly thrilled to be reminded how unfond of hospitals he was. He hadn’t been in an emergency room since he was a little kid, and for obvious reasons had avoided them like the plague ever since. The last few months had ruined that philosophy a bit. Between stitches and more than a few sprained limbs, Chance had spent more than a couple late nights lounging in the chairs of the lobby and waiting to be seen. It never stopped him from rushing from the place as soon as he possibly could.

He wasn’t convinced that his arm wasn’t broken. At least that was how it felt right about now. Chance had never had a particularly high pain tolerance, mostly because he had always avoided anything that could lead to injuries as much as he possibly could. His new lease on life had come with a questionable sense of self preservation. But what did it matter anyways? Once he was a zombie an injury like this would heal in no time. If anything, he should be annoyed that he wasn’t already dead. At least then the pain would be over quickly.

Chance wiped any doubt or emotion from his face as soon as he heard the nurse come in - replacing it with a bright and easy smile. At the beginning, the smiles seemed impossible to fake. Now, Chance had faked it so much that he was pretty sure he had made it. “Howdy Zane. My chart should tell you that I’m Chance. And should hopefully tell you that I’m good to go yeah? It’s not broken right?” He was going to tell himself that until it was true.

—

This guy was peppy and, thankfully, not drunk. Zane didn’t really have a fondness for dealing with drunk people since they made everything twice as hard. “Well, Chance, you are actually correct. Badly sprained though, so you’re going to sporting one of these bad boys for a while.” Zane turned to the man, holding a roll of elastic bandage he’d need to wrap the arm up in. “Got a choice of plain blue or red with hearts. Also, got some painkillers if you want them.”

He brought both rolls and the plastic cup of pain meds over to the metal table situated next to Chance, dragging up a rolling chair to plop down onto. “It’s better than a cast but you’re still going to need to be careful for the next few weeks.” Glancing up at the guy, Zane wondered how he’d gotten the injury. He didn’t look like he’d been in a fight and tripping was uncommon without alcohol or icy sidewalks.

“Doing alright? I’ve heard these can really hurt.” He paused for a second, making a motion for the man to uncover his arm. “How’d you sprain it?”

—--

Hell yeah, not broken! Wearing a sling wasn’t too bad, at least when compared to how bad the injury could have been. Once again, Chance scrapes by without major injury. Must be this positive attitude he keeps. “No contest. Red with hearts, obviously. I have a reputation to uphold.” He wasn’t quite sure what that reputation actually was, but it seemed like the right thing to say in the moment. “I may be an idiot, but I’m not a masochist. I’ll take the pain meds.”

Careful wasn’t exactly Chance’s forte, at least not anymore, but maybe he could manage to minimize his risks of injury at least long enough to get out of the sling. It would certainly keep Ariadne’s blood pressure lower for a few weeks.

“Oh, it hurts like hell. But I’m powering through.” Chance grinned at the man, hoping that was an indicator of his attempt to ignore the pain. “Oh, it was no big deal. I was with a couple of friends at Champlain Falls and one of those dudes dared me that I wouldn’t jump off the falls” Chance said this as incredulously as he felt when the guy had first baited him, “Obviously I had to prove him wrong. And I did obviously. But I missed have hit something on my way down.”

—

Zane snorted out a quiet laugh at the young man’s choice of wrapping, having somehow suspected what the answer would be all along. It was nice to feel almost giddy at work for a change, all warm from the last encounter and the easy joking this one brought. Just as he grabbed the arm to make sure it was ready for wrapping, the cause of the injury made itself clear.

“You what?” His eyes widened, staring incredulously at the younger man. A dare. A sprained elbow that could have ended broken or with him lying comatose somewhere, all for a dare? Like an unexpected slap, it hit Zane where he recognized the name Chance for. “You’re the humblebrag guy from online, aren’t you?” he blurted out, shaking his head at the realization. “No wonder you’re always in the ER if someone can literally tell you to jump off a cliff and you do it.”

A resigned sigh left him, good mood slightly spoiled now because people could be dumb. And what kind of friends would dare someone to jump off a cliff? Bad friends, at least in Zane’s books. He turned the arm in his grasp, gently despite the mild annoyance building up. This guy was reckless but a patient nonetheless. “What, someone else dared a friend to bite you, then?”

The teeth marks on Chance’s arm looked pretty well healed but still visible, clearly just one of the many marks this guy had managed to litter his body with despite only being 21.

—

The mood noticeably shifted once Chance explained the reason that he was there. He wasn’t exactly surprised. The emergency room staff never seemed particularly impressed with any of Chance’s injuries and even less so with the cause of them. Especially the nurses that had dealt with him on more than one occasion. That may have been how he had finally ended up with Zane. All the usual people passed him off.

“Okay, well technically no. They didn’t tell me to jump off a cliff. They told me I wouldn’t jump off a cliff. And I have a thing about proving people wrong.” As if that was any sort of defense. Chance surprised himself with the small twinge of embarrassment he felt in that moment.. Something about being scolded by someone similar in age to him hit harder than when the nurses decades older did it. That feeling was doubled when the man spotted the bite. It wasn’t a big secret or anything, but it wasn’t something that Chance was readily prepared to explain. He could feel his cheeks blushing, but he persevered through them and maintained the same, easygoing composure that he always held, “Couldn’t tell you. I’d like to say it was a night to remember but… well, I don’t remember it.”

Chance sat helplessly while Zane inspected his arm, “Do you make it a habit of judging everyone that comes into the ER?”

—

Shit. Zane had felt the steady pulse heighten slightly as he… well, as he scolded the younger man. It was a bad habit, and unprofessional to boot, but worry tended to come out as annoyance. Chance’s cheeks were turning red and yeah, wasn’t that just a punch to the gut. Way to make sure he never gets any wound checked out ever again, Zane.

Meeting the man’s gaze with earnest regret, he turned it so that the offending bite mark was no longer in view. “Honestly? Sometimes, and I shouldn’t. I scolded an old lady once for mixing up her medication and basically giving herself arrhythmia because she was too stubborn to get a prescription delivery.” She hadn’t deserved it and obviously, this guy didn’t either. People did stupid stuff and at least Chance had the good sense to get his arm checked out. “I’m sorry. Really. You wanna do a dare, that’s literally none of my business.” He offered what he hoped was a comforting smile, finally starting the task of wrapping up the guy’s arm so he could get out of here like he clearly wanted to. Instead, he’d gotten berated for his, admittedly stupid, choices.

“Not like everyone doesn’t do stupid things from time to time,” Zane spoke up after a moment, eyes on the task at hand. “I think I was six or seven when I got dared to swallow a rock. Don’t think I’ve ever seen my mom that mad.” She’d eventually had to take him to the hospital, something their people really didn’t fancy doing (what’s the use for medication when the world will end soon, anyway), when his stomach pains had gotten too severe. “Probably would have cried if some nurse had basically hinted at me being an idiot.” The nurse had been nice, kind, and it was a nice interaction to remember instead of getting focused on his mother at this moment.

“There.” Zane tucked away the end of the bandage, making sure it was all set in place. “No heavy lifting and maybe no cliff jumping for the next few weeks, at least?” A smile, hopefully conveying the message of a joke and not another jab at him. “Oh, and…” As an afterthought, Zane peeled the dinosaur sticker from his name badge, tapping it gently onto the already colorful bandage. “For me being a total dick. And you hopefully not complaining to my supervisor”

—--

Well, shit. Chance had thought the two were just building some rapport here, but apparently the only thing Chance had accomplished was making the man feel like a bad person and worse nurse. All Chance had really wanted to do was deflect from receiving any valid criticisms of his own poor decisions. Chance hated taking anything too seriously, but he also hated the idea of anyone hating him more. So some back peddling would need to be done.

“Hey, dude. Just to be clear I was like one hundred percent joking.” Chance tried, attempting to keep the mood light while also becoming as somber as possible. “I am fully aware that jumping off a cliff wasn’t my brightest moment. I don’t actually care that you think I shouldn’t go cliff diving on a regular basis. We both know who is actually right here. Just like it was totally that lady’s fault for mixing up her medication.”

At least Zane’s anecdote gave Chance a good reason to smile again, “Hell yeah. So what you’re saying is that you’re a daredevil too? Or six year old you was, at least. I dig it.”

As Zane finished up wrapping the bandage, Chance realized that he’d be escorted out. He didn’t love the idea that he may leave with the nurse thinking he was actually offended by anything said. “I’ll try to refrain from cliffs. I’ll stick with steep hills or flights of stairs instead.” Chance studied the dinosaur sticker on his bandages and laughed, “This is adorable and I will cherish it until it inevitably falls off.” He used his unbandaged hand to pat the sticker down for good measure. “How about I consider not sending in a formal complaint if you consider hanging out sometime? Seriously, my cousin would be thrilled if I made a friend that didn’t dare me to dive off cliffs regularly.”

–

It was huge weight lifted, seeing the conversation and mood move back to solid ground. With relief that he’d neither jeopardized his job nor the odds of Chance returning with his inevitable next injury, Zane felt like he could (metaphorically) breathe again. “Oh yeah, totally wild,” he said sarcastically, a small smile playing on his lips again now. It was funny to think that under any other circumstances, this back and forth banter would have felt pretty much impossible. Something about being in the hospital, scrubs on and persona solidified, made it so much easier to talk to people. A confident guy like Chance would have had Zane either fumbling for words or keeping his distance if they’d met anywhere else.

Eyes rolling at the joke, Zane made a decision not to comment on it, part of him feeling like there was maybe a little bit of truth to the words. Best keep away to spare the guy from another one of Zane’s worry scoldings. As he was wondering how many guys he’d met around his own age who would have, A, chosen a heart spattered bandage and B, been this happy with a dinosaur sticker, Chance caught him off guard.

Hang out sometime. Was that something people were able to just casually ask each other without freaking out about the response? Also, he wanted to hang out with Zane minutes after proving just how uncool he was about literally anything exciting? A bit flustered, it took him probably a bit too long to respond, at least longer than anyone sane would have. “Uh… yeah. Sure.” Sounding much less enthusiastic than he actually was, he added, “I mean, if only for your cousin. Obviously.” Tearing a small corner off a nearby paper, he scribbled his details onto it, feeling much too self conscious as he passed it on. “Just… you know, hit me up or whatever. If that’s what people say. I should probably leave the hospital more.” One bandaged arm, one possibility of a new friend.

#justtakingchances #just a sprain #p:chance #writing #chance.001

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karometeenk · 2 years ago

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13, 18, 31, 52, and 60: how was your day?

Sorry if you've already been asked some of these i have not been keeping up with anything today 😊

13. how do you feel right now?

not great, i have had the worst cold for 3 days now and it's just not getting any better

18. do you miss how thing were a year ago?

i think no. my life is honestly mostly the same ad last year, maybe i'm a bit more stressed now since i'm supposed to be getting my bachelor's degree this year and in my eyes it's doomed already. but my social life is much more fulfilling now so i'm still saying no.

31. 3 random facts

i turned 13 on friday the 13th in 2013 (worst year of my life)

(i think) my earliest memory is of me tripping so i hit my chin on the coffee table at grandma's house, my tooth going straight through my lip and going to the hospital to get stitches. i think it's pretty funny that my earliest memory literally left a scar. on my face. (literally not sure of the chronology of my early memories but my mom swears i wasn't even 3 when this happened so it must be right?)

i don't believe in god, i have never really believed in god i think? but reciting a prayer is still kind of satisfying? idk i still know ave maria and pater noster in dutch and in latin. just reciting words helps me when i'm stressed probably?

52. something i’m talented at

some people have described me as talented after they heard me sing and then i would correct them by saying that i am not a natural and that i worked extremely hard to get where i am now. but if we define talent as something you are born with then i can't name any talent of mine

60. how was your day?

not so good really. didn't do anything fun or usefull and my dog is not doing so well health wise

#thank you <3<3<3

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yukichouji · 2 years ago

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15 Questions

Thank you so much for the tag @fade-and-loathing-in-thedas! ❤️❤️ These little tag games are so much fun!

Tagging: @heniareth @gaffsie @books-apples-socks and anyone else, who would like to! Though no pressure, as always :)

1. Are you named after anyone?

Nah, my mom was just really into this name because of the scandinavian spelling. It is also a name that is fairly common in Germany but spelled differently, so I get to do a lot of correcting, for fun lol

2. When was the last time you cried?

5 minutes ago... I’m an emotional wreck, OK? I stress cry, I cry when something mildly sad or upsetting happens in something I’m watching/playing/reading, I cry when I’m angry, I cry when there’s a sad bit on the darn news. I’ve made my peace with it and know that me crying just isn’t a big deal usually xD It’s just a thing that happens.

3. Do you have kids?

No. Never wanted to and so likely never will, either. Some of my friends/family around my age are starting to have kids and I adore all of them to absolute bits, but it’s just not for me personally.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Yep. Whenever I can get away with it. A lot of the time it just slips out. It’s a defense mechanism, OK? Though it’s mostly directed at myself.

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

People’s moods/general vibes.

6. What’s your eye color?

Blue-green.

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

Both. Depends on the mood.

8. Any special talents?

I am weirdly bendy. Pretty sure it’s a genetic thing. When I was younger I used to be so wobbly, I’d just fall over if I didn’t actively concentrate on standing or if there was even the tiniest uneven spot in the ground when walking. I’d just drop. Now I have some muscles to stablelize this precarious construct of a body and it got a bit better. Still clumsy as hell, though. And I can twist up into really interesting knots. It’s fun.

9. Where were you born?

Hospital.

10. What are your hobbies?

Too many haha I’m a hobby hopper. I do a ton of different things at once and have a really hard time of sticking with one thing in particular. I really like gaming, reading, writing, drawing, painting, cross stitching, embroidery in general, playing the guitar, baking, yoga, any sort of martial arts thing, hiking, visiting museums, table top RPGs, etc., etc. ...

11. Have you any pets?

Not currently. I used to have some here and there. A mouse and then a budgy as a kid, later I had bunnies for a while. But my current appartment doesn’t allow pets and right now I don’t really mind. I have neither the time nor the money to take care of them properly. But I would like a cat someday maybe.

12. What sports do you play/have played?

I did a couple different types of martial arts. Karate the longest, but I also tried, Hapkido, Judo, Tai Chi (yes, that counts as a martial art), and, uh, archery? Yeah...

13. How tall are you?

I don’t know feet, cause I’m european so yeah. 1,71m <3

14. Favorite subject in school?

Literature and Biology.

15. Dream job?

I had a couple growing up. Running my own bookshop. Writer. Comic artist. Musician. After a bunch of collisions with reality, I’m actually pretty happy with where I’m headed right now, working in science. It’s a lot of fun, the right kind of challenging and I have this amazing opportunity to keep learning and expanding my horizon while being able to contribute a tiny little bit to gaining new knowledge all together (some of which might actually end up being useful one day). It’s cool. (Also, please don’t mistake my younger self wanting to be those things with me actually being good at any of those things. Took a bit to figure out that you actually need both the passion and the skill to make it work...)

#tag game #me things #fun fun

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blaebeast · 3 months ago

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Character Bio: the Homunculus

Name: Hugo, the Homunculus, Monster

Age: it’s complicated, but socially and physically “adult”

Sex: it’s complicated. Presume both agender and pangender to be equally applicable and correct. Interchangeable genitalia. (It/They/He/She; any pronouns)

Weapon: None, but skilled at hand-to-hand

Faction: Cruelty, Sirit

Occupation: Servant and Speaker for Sirit

Relationship Status: Single(?)

Close Friends: Sirit, Hadet, Grows-Bones, Kanne

Friends: Farris

Knows of:

Family: Sirit (creator), Kanne (parts provider)

Goals and Motivations:

- I am a Beast, BEAST, NOT a Monster, that is created from the discarded parts of slain warriors who died honorably in battle. All of those parts have been magically stitched together by the fantastic Sirit and reanimated using a fraction of her magic that she cleft from herself. I have a real Beast soul, and although it may be made up of fragments glued together, I am a real, living being! I am Hugo!

- I don’t get why people are so disturbed by me! Sure, I am essentially a walking, recolored corpse, but that doesn’t mean than I am not kind and friendly and easygoing!

- My feelings towards Sirit are reaaaal complicated. She’s my mother, my master, my best friend, my lover (when she requests), my power source, and so much more! My big stitched-together heart has room for all these feelings, if we don’t get too specific about it!

- Sirit first. Nothing else comes before her. Not me, not Hadet, not the Bulwark, not Cruelty. Sirit first.

Personality and Interests:

- I’m a pretty happy guy! Grateful to be alive! Life is good!

- There’s not much better in life than hanging out with Sirit! She’s so easy to be with, and I can talk if I want or be totally silent for days on end! Sometimes she makes me carry obscene amounts of books, or go run errands for her all across town. I don’t mind, just being by her side is good enough!

- By body is so colorful because Sirit changed the colors and patterns on the body parts so that I wouldn’t be recognized by any living relatives! How considerate! I would, maybe one day, like to have a body that looks just like a normal, regular Beast. I try not to let the staring and jeering get to me.

- I know Beasts don’t really get big, tall and fat like me, but that’s actually because I get stronger with the more mass I’m fed/given, so Sirit keeps me nice and bulked up so that I can be the most strong and useful for her!

- So I’m made up of dead people, and their collective is my voice and conscious. For the most part we’re happy and harmonious, but sometimes if I become too upset, we begin to start to disfunction. This usually translates to rage. I’m pretty good at calming down before this happens, though! But you may catch me spacing out. Can’t help it.

- I wear a cowl that covers my eyes because I’m a little photosensitive. I’ve also been told that my eyes are kinda scary for the average Beast, and I don’t want that, so a mask it is!

- I wonder if I could find someone to love me. Don’t misunderstand me, I love Sirit above all else, but I’m also programmed to? Who out there in the world cares about poor ol’ Hugo’s feelings?

Artwork:

#open species #blaebeast #add links #character bio #cruelty #Sirit #Hugo

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soramei · 3 years ago

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From Resentment (hhj)

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader (she/her)

Summary: After a fated meeting involving a cute and fluffy puppy, you found yourself drawn to Hwang Hyunjin: the school prince. Everybody in high school loved him. It was hard not to. Not only was he rich, smart, and athletic, but he was also incredibly kind-hearted.

However, one day seemingly out of the blue, everything that you thought Hyunjin was came crashing down.

Now a freshman in university, you were excited to live out your dreams. That was, until Hyunjin came hurtling back into your life like an uncontrolled meteor. His presence threw a curveball on all your plans, and would eventually change your perspective on everything that you thought you knew.

Genre: studentl!hyunjin au, angst, enemies to lovers

Warnings: cursing, tw puking

Word Count: 8.8k

Masterlist

A/N: Not an Intentional update but a hyunjin oneshot!! disclaimer: no aspect of hyunjins personality here was drawn from real life — irl hyunjin is a ray of sunshine <3

You looked at your math homework, proud that you got all the answers correct. Since it was a slow afternoon at your job today, you had extra time to focus on your homework. The boss at the convenience store you worked at allowed you to have your homework out, as long as it was hidden behind the cash register.

As you stared at the rest of your homework, you started to feel the weight of tenth grade pile up on you. Because it was your first year of high school, you were still trying to adjust to everything; your grades, your teachers, and all the new students walking around the halls.

You stuffed the rest of your homework in your backpack. It was the end of your shift, and you wanted to go home as soon as possible to start with the rest of your studying. Crap. No matter how hard you tried to zip up your backpack, it wouldn’t close. After trying one more time, the zipper tore from your backpack.

You cursed under your breath. You couldn’t afford to buy a new backpack right now.

You had just been able to afford your new school uniform by taking up extra shifts at the convenience store, and you still needed money for your grandmother’s prescriptions. You sighed, annoyed to have another monetary stressor weighing on your shoulders.

Walking outside with your now torn backpack, your eyes widened at the group of boys in front of you. You immediately recognized them from behind.

The school princes. These three seniors were all known for three things: being extremely smart, handsome, and talented.

On the left was Seungmin, and from what you’ve heard, he was the smart and quiet one. He was always helping the teachers, being the class president and all. Any time a girl or a boy needed academic help, Seungmin was there and happy to assist.

The person on the right was Jisung. With his charming and charismatic personality, he had dated tens upon tens of girls in his grade. Just in the last year. It helped that he was really good looking — and also stinkin’ rich. His father was a notorious restaurateur, and with him being the first son, he was basically given unlimited spending rights.

The only person richer than Jisung was the boy in the center of them both: Hwang Hyunjin. This boy was the school prince. The prince of princes. He somehow managed to participate in music clubs, engage in study groups, and captain the soccer team all the while keeping up excellent grades. Every girl that Jisung had dated was said to have been rejected by Hyunjin first. That was his only flaw: he was notoriously cold to any and all romantic confessions.

You followed behind the three princes, staring at your torn up sneakers. You knew you didn’t exist in their world, but even being near three handsome and rich teenage boys made you nervous.

Suddenly, you heard a whimper coming from behind a bush to the left of you. It sounded like a hurt animal.

Worried and curious, you walked over to the bush to see what it was.

It was a puppy. Small and fluffy, it looked up at you with it’s beady black eyes and cried out. His paw was bleeding.

You panicked. Having never seen a hurt puppy before, you had no idea what to do. You called out for help.

“Help!” you cried, hoping that somebody had heard your call for help. You desperately wanted to help this hurt puppy, but you hesitated to touch it, afraid that you would hurt the animal even more.

The puppy howled in pain, making your panic rise. You were about to call out for help again, when you heard somebody running up behind you.

“What is it?” The voice asked.

“I-I don’t know. I just saw this dog here, and-and his paw is bleeding,” you anxiously stuttered.

“Here, let me take a look.”

You heard the voice behind you, so you shuffled over to make room.

It was Hwang Hyunjin. The person that responded to your cry for help was the most popular and well-liked person in the school. You were shocked, a bit intimidated actually, so you silently moved to the side for him. His black hair shone in the sunlight as he bent down to examine the dog.

“Come here, boy,” he chirped. The puppy listened, and started limping to him. “Something hurt you, didn’t it.”

He stood up, picking the puppy up along with him.

“C’mon,” he gestured with his head, “my vet isn’t too far from here actually. We can make it by walking.”

You silently nodded and followed him.

He was right. The walk to the veterinarian clinic, though very awkward, wasn’t too far. The clinic was empty at this time of day, with the receptionist being the only person in the room.

“Hyunjin! Always a pleasure,” the receptionist beamed. It seemed like Hyunjin’s likeability wasn’t only confined to your school. “My, what do we have here?”

“There’s something wrong with his paw,” Hyunjin tried to show the receptionist where the blood was coming from, “is the doctor free right now?”

“As a matter of fact, he is,” the receptionist said whilst checking the schedule. “I’ll take this little boy to the back where he can get prepped for the veterinarian.”

Hyunjin handed the puppy carefully to the receptionist. The receptionist took out a crate for the dog, put him in, and then disappeared through the back door. The two of you were now left alone in the waiting room.

“Uhm,” you coughed, “thank you. I know you probably want to get back to your friends, so you can leave now.”

“No, I’ll stay,” he looked at you and smiled, “those idiots are just playing LOL at the PC room anyways. Plus, I want to see how this little boy turns out.”

You smiled back at him, nodding your head. A few moments of awkward silence passed.

“I’m Hyunjin by the way,” he said.

“I know. I’m Y/n.”

“You’re in your first year, right?” he said, looking at the colour of your uniform.

“Yeah, it’s so hard to get used to though. I’m trying my best with my homework, but I think this school stuff just doesn’t click with me,” you rambled.

“Oh?”

“I want to go into dance. I’ve never been able to afford professional lessons, but I’ve always wanted to go to university for dance. My grandparents said they would let me if my school grades were high.” You didn’t know why you were giving your life story to Hyunjin. He just had this natural charisma that made you want to spill everything to him. It was the way he looked at you with those cat-like eyes.

“I know what you mean. It took me forever to convince my parents for me to major in dance. I got in by early admittance, but I’m sure they still have their reservations about my major.”

“You’re majoring in dance?” you asked, eyes wide.

He smiled. “I’ve loved dancing ever since I could remember. It’s my passion, and truthfully, the only thing I’ve got going for me.”

You were shocked. At school, Hyunjin was known for so many things other than dancing. Hell, you didn’t even know he enjoyed dancing and you thought you’d heard everything about him already.

The two of you chatted for a while longer before the vet came out with the now happy looking dog.

“It seemed like this little guy got into a fight with something, and he got a pretty large gash on his paw. Luckily, it wasn’t bleeding too much so I just gave him some anaesthetic and stitched it right up.”

You sighed in relief. “Thank god he isn’t too hurt.”

“Yes, it’s good that it wasn’t too bad,” the veterinarian agreed. “I’m assuming this is your dog? As soon as you finish with the bill, I can release this little guy and the both of you are ready to go.”

Oh yeah. The bill.

Although you knew you couldn’t afford to pay the vet bill, you didn’t know where this little dog would go if you couldn’t take him home. You did the mental calculations, and if you worked some extra shifts, you could probably be able to pick up the bill today. Buying a new backpack could be saved for another day.

“Sure, where can I pay?” you asked.

“Just over by the receptionist.” The veterinarian pointed.

You walked over to the receptionist, and she handed the bill over to you.

You almost fainted.

Just the anaesthetic and the stitches alone cost over two hundred dollars. This was extremely over your budget, and probably even more than the amount in your savings. You felt uneasy.

“Uhm, actually, I don’t think I can-”

“Do you take cash?”

Hyunjin had interrupted you, walked up to the receptionist, and pulled out his wallet. He peaked over your shoulder and took out a huge wad of cash to hand to the receptionist.

“Hyunjin, you don’t have to,” you begged. You felt bad that this guy you didn’t even know had just offered to cover you for over two hundred dollars.

“Think of it as a good luck gift from a fellow dancer.” He smiled.

That was when it clicked. You didn’t know what clicked, but it just did. It was his smile. It was the way the corners of his eyes crinkled up and how the corners of his lips pinched at the end. You now understood why all the girls at school were in love with him. He was quite literally perfect.

You thanked him profusely, even after the two of you had left the clinic. With the dog in your hand, you walked side by side with Hyunjin.

“So,” he started, “have you thought of a name for this guy yet?”

Oh yeah — he was your dog now. “Hmm, I don’t know yet.”

“What about Coco?”

“Coco?”

“Yeah, let’s see if he likes it.” Hyunjin leaned in and cooed at the little puppy. “Hi, little Coco!”

The puppy’s eyes lit up, and with his tongue stretched out, he started panting.

“I guess he likes it,” Hyunjin smiled. God, his smile could melt all of Antarctica.

“Coco it is.” You poked at Coco’s nose.

Hyunjin was about to say something back to you when his phone buzzed. He took a peak, rolled his eyes, then smiled. “My friends are god awful at games. I swear, they can’t even win one round without me. You’re okay with going home alone?”

He was going to walk you home? Could he be any more perfect?

You nodded your head. “Thank you, Hyunjin. I’ll pay you back for the bill one day.”

“No need,” he winked. “Like I said, it’s a good luck gift. Oh, and you can ask me if you need help with any school work. Anything to help a fellow dancer.”

He waved goodbye, then went running off in the other direction. You held Coco close to you, heart pounding. Although you didn’t want to be like all the other girls who fell for him, you felt like you were already falling for Hyunjin.

The next day, you had planned to go shopping for dog supplies after school. After a really long and arduous debate with yourself, you decided to sacrifice all of your savings in order to buy everything that Coco needed. You knew Hyunjin owned a dog himself, so throughout the whole day, you worked up the nerve to ask Hyunjin to come with you.

At the end of last period, you gathered all your stuff from your desk and headed to the soccer field where you knew Hyunjin and his friends would be. Whilst you crossed the field, you noticed Jisung staring at you. You found his stare intimidating, but you tried to brush it off. He then whispered something in Hyunjin’s ear.

“Hi, Hyunjin,” you said anxiously, biting your lip. “Umm, do you want to come with me to shop for Coco?”

He stared at you for a couple seconds, then, a look of disgust appeared on his face. “Why? So you can use my wallet again?”

You stared back at him, wide eyed. Who was this person? It wasn’t the Hyunjin that so graciously helped you out yesterday.

“W-what? No!” you exclaimed. “I-I just wanted your opinion…”

“Sure,” Hyunjin smirked coldly, “opinion my ass.”

“Hyunjin,” tears were pooling in your eyes, “I don’t understand.”

“If you need money so much, here.” He reached in his pocket and turned up a wad of cash, throwing it at your feet. “Just don’t come to me next time. And buy yourself a new pair of shoes while you’re at it.”

You looked down at the money, trying to hold back your tears. Why was Hyunjin being like this? You didn’t understand. His two jockeys beside him didn’t even bother to stop him. As you tried to stop yourself from crying, you felt your sadness turn into rage.

“I don’t need your stupid money,” you said, kicking the cash back to him. “Maybe you can use your daddy’s money to buy yourself a new personality.”

Hyunjin’s two friends tried to hold back their snickers at your words. Hyunjin heard, turned around, and gave them both death stares.

You didn’t bother to listen to whatever he was going to say next and simply stomped away, rage burning inside you. Everything about him was a lie. His charming and charismatic personality, his generosity, his kindness. They were all lies. He really was nothing but a rich, spoiled boy living with his father’s money.

There was rage behind every step you took. Wiping away your tears, you headed to your locker. You didn’t need him anyways; it was better to realize his true personality earlier rather than later. Hands shaking from anger, you dialed the combination to your locker.

“Hey, sorry about what happened earlier.” A voice came from behind you. “He can be a real jerk sometimes.”

It was Jisung. You rolled your eyes. You didn’t want to see him either.

“Why didn’t you do anything about it then?” Your voice came out shaky. It was obvious that you had cried.

“Once he starts, there’s no stopping him. It’s usually better to let him finish uninterrupted, or else he will get more mad.”

“Oh,” you said. Your hatred for Hyunjin grew even more.

“I could come with you, though. I don’t know much about dogs, but I can help you carry your bags.”

“I don’t know…”

“C’mon, no way you can carry everything by yourself.”

You hesitated. “Okay, I guess.”

And so, you left for the pet store with Jisung, still confused about everything that had happened. It was strange with him. He was nice and cracked a joke every now and then, but it was just different from being with Hyunjin. At least he was nice, you thought.

Your trip went well. You managed to buy everything you needed for Coco. In a turn of events, Jisung had actually come in handy as he offered to carry the huge bag of dog food you bought. He even offered to buy you a coffee.

“Thanks for all your help, Jisung.” You stood outside the door of your apartment, smiling at him.

“No problem, gives me an excuse to work out my guns.” He pretended to flex his arms.

You choked back a laugh.

“You should get going now. It’s late,” you said.

“Alright,” he started to leave. “Hey, if you see me in the halls, feel free to say hi.”

You nodded and waved to him as he turned and walked away, remembering his words. Every time you saw Jisung in the school hallways, you gave him a small wave in which he happily returned. However, whenever you saw him walking with Hyunjin, you made sure to purposely avoid them. You didn’t want any negativity in your life.

You kept up the waves, and soon, waves turned to small conversations which soon turned to flirting. By the end of the semester, you and Jisung somehow ended up as a couple. Jisung was polite and sweet, unlike a certain person. With every free moment you had, you hung out with Jisung — all the while avoiding Hyunjin.

The two of you stayed a couple for the rest of Jisung’s senior year. Somehow, the two of you had even kept up your relationship throughout your whole high school experience. It was hard at times as he went to university, but with a lot of effort, you had made your relationship work out. You barely had time to talk with him, but you enjoyed the little time that you did have. Jisung had never even once mentioned Hyunjin when you were together, and with time, you had totally forgotten about that jerk. You weren’t even sure if they were still friends.

You worked hard in school and reaped all the benefits. Your rank had consistently been in the top twenties amongst all the other students, and you even had time to practice your dancing. You remembered the day that you received your acceptance letter from university. Hands shaking, you had barely managed to open the letter all the way before you screamed. You had gotten into university with your dream major: dance.

Because of your excellent grades, you were able to pay a lot of your tuition with scholarship money alone. You hesitantly decided to quit your job at the convenience store to focus on university. Although quitting meant that your bank account would take a big hit, you decided that it would be best in the long run. There was a lot in your savings, and you even had a little extra to buy a new outfit for your first day of school.

Jisung had been busy on the first day of university. He had previously promised to show you around campus, but with him being a no-show, you wandered around by yourself to try to find your classes. You had trouble with the campus map at first, but after walking around for a bit, you were able to find all your classes with ease.

Your first few classes were a snore. Because they were all theory, you had to down two cups of coffee in order to stay awake. Somehow, you managed to take coherent notes despite being bored out of your mind. You just wanted to dance.

The good thing was, after sitting through many classes, your time to dance finally came. Your last class of the day was an introduction to dance course, and you couldn’t wait to go. You wanted to know your teacher, your peers, and most importantly, express yourself.

The dance class was in a studio in the university’s fitness center. It was huge, way bigger than the tiny gym in your high school. Upon entering the studio, you were immediately met with the sight of students, exactly like you, already stretching. You chose a spot in the room and started stretching as well, making good use of your time before the instructor comes in.

After some time, most of the students — including you — had finished stretching and were sitting in silence waiting for the instructor. The door swung open, breaking the silence. The instructor had come in.

“Hello new students,” he said, “welcome to Dance 100. Today, I will go through the curriculum with you as well as introduce your final project.”

The instructor whipped out a projection of the curriculum and started explaining the purpose of the course, what you would be graded on, and how you would be graded. He then read through his class expectations before moving to your final project.

“This final project will act in place of a final exam,” he explained. “You will be required to create a dance that includes everything we’ve learned in class and write an essay explaining all the elements in your dance. It will be worth half your grade.”

The class gasped in surprise. Not only did this project sound extremely difficult for a first year course, but the fact that it was worth half your grade made it borderline unfair.

“I know it might seem difficult, but worry not, you won’t be doing this alone. Every year, the first year dance students get mentored by the third year dance students for the final project. Each student has already been assigned a random mentor which will be introduced this class.”

The whole class murmured, talking amongst themselves and expressing their opinions on this project. It was definitely an interesting project. You hoped that you would be paired with a good mentor that would actually care about how well you did.

There was a knock on the door.

“Ah, this must be them.” Your instructor opened the door and a wave of third years came flooding in. Each one of them had a name tag pinned on their shirts. “Class, these are the third year students.”

You all politely greeted them.

“Now,” the instructor continued, “I will put the class list on the projector, and each of your names will correspond to a third year mentor.”

The instructor put out the list for display. You scanned down the list of names, eventually finding yours. Following the dots to your corresponding mentor, you almost choked on air when you saw yours.

It was Hwang Hyunjin.

You were at a loss for words. Just when you thought he was out of your life forever, the man that was so incredibly mean to you — the man you hated with your whole soul — was now your mentor. Just the thought of being in the same room as him filled you with disgust.

You scanned the sea of third year students, and your eyes immediately found him. He was staring back at you with the same shocked expression that you had on.

He looked different. Not only had he grown taller, but he had lost all his baby fat as well. His hair was different too. It was bleached blond and it almost hit his shoulders. What was the same, however, was his intense stare and his plump lips.

You walked over to him.

“You look different.” His eyes scanned up and down.

“So do you.” You clenched your jaw and sighed. “I guess we have to work together.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he said flatly.

“Listen,” you copied his tone, “I’m not excited about this either, but I want to get a good grade for this class. If you don’t wanna help me, just say so and I’ll just work alone on this.”

“Don’t be stupid,” he rolled his eyes, “this is part of my grade too. I can’t let you fuck this up for the both of us.”

You rolled your eyes back at him and pressed your lips in a thin line. Ignoring what he said, you asked, “where do we start?”

“Let’s find a time to meet every week.” He pulled out the newest iPad model from his bag. Of course he would have the newest iPad. “I’m busy every day except Saturday, so let’s meet then.”

Way to consider your opinion. He was lucky that you weren’t busy on the weekends.

As Hyunjin worked on sorting his schedule, you took your time to look at how he had changed. With his hair blonde, he looked like a completely different person. You didn’t understand why he kept his hair long though. It kept falling in his eyes.

“Stop staring at me. It’s freaking me out.” He narrowed his eyes at you.

“I wasn’t.” You crossed your arms, defending yourself.

“Whatever.” He tucked his hair behind his ear and put his iPad back in his bag. “Don’t be late on Saturday.”

And with that, he left. You looked around the class. Most of the other students were still with their mentors, presumably getting to know each other and discussing the project. You almost wanted to ask your instructor to switch with somebody else, but that would mean passing on the nightmare known as Hwang Hyunjin onto a perfectly innocent person. You had your moments, but you weren’t evil.

The interaction with Hyunjin had left you in a sour mood for the rest of the day. You tried to study, but you were too distracted by the thought of having to work with that monstrosity for a whole semester. It was worth so much of your grade, too. You had just hoped that Hyunjin was as good at dance as he previously told you. You remembered him saying how dance was his passion in life. That was when you still liked him. Who knows, maybe he only said that so he could play you like every other girl he played with.

For the rest of the week, whenever you thought of the dance project, you were filled with dread. You tried to ignore it, and sometimes it worked, but most of the time it kept reappearing in your mind like a virus. The way Hyunjin had infected your mind bothered you to no end.

Time passed fast though, and before you knew it, Saturday had already come. Searching through your closet, you picked out a simple outfit for practice today. You slid on your tattered old sneakers and headed off to the studio that Hyunjin had told you to go to.

Entering the dance studio, you noticed that you were right on time. However, Hyunjin was not. Great… He made such a big deal over you being on time that he himself forgot to be punctual. You sat on the wood floors and started to do some stretches to warm up.

Eventually, after you finished your stretching, he entered the studio. With a girl. Holding a textbook, Hyunjin handed it to the girl and put on his signature deceitful smile. His ugly, perfect smile. The girl batted her eyes and waved her fingers goodbye before strolling out the door. You rolled your eyes at this, feeling bad for the girl. Hyunjin was playing her right in front of her own eyes and she didn’t even realize it.

“Were you really late because of a girl?” you sneered.

“Why do you care?” he retorted, flinging his bag to the corner of the room.

“I don’t.”

“Sure you don’t.”

Not wanting to waste time with that childish banter, you decided to end the conversation then and there. “Okay, well anyways, I’ll show you what I learned in class this week.”

Hooking up your phone to the speaker, you chose the song that you’ve been practicing with for the whole week. As the song progressed, you found it hard to not get lost in the music. Just dancing was the easy part; incorporating everything learned in class was another story. Although it was fairly difficult, you thought you executed everything very well as the song came to an end. Finishing up, you panted from exhaustion and looked at Hyunjin for his comments.

He stood, with his arms crossed across his torso, leaning against the speaker. There was a blank expression on his face.

“Not bad.” He started to walk up to you.

“But?”

“But you’re too stiff. You’re too focused on perfectly executing the technical moves that you forget to just move your body. Do what you did half-way through the song again.”

You turned the music on, trying to do the dance with Hyunjin’s criticisms in mind. Looking in the mirror, you did your best to show as much emotion as possible, all the while moving more fluidly. The room was filled with heavy bass and the squeaks from your sneakers.

Suddenly, the music was abruptly cut off.

Hyunjin had stopped the music and was making his way over, face still unreadable.

“You’re still trying too hard and it shows.” Hyunjin shook his head.

Clenching your jaw, you did your best to hold back your anger. Were you just not supposed to try? This annoyed you. Just because he didn’t need to try to be good at anything didn’t mean you couldn’t.

“Well,” you tried to say calmly, “how can I do this then?”

“You have to relax.” He put one hand on your hip and started to guide you. “Don’t focus on each individual aspect, but try to imagine everything as a whole. Then, things will come naturally.”

You followed his hand, allowing Hyunjin to guide you to his own rhythm. After a while, every movement felt so fluid and you didn’t even notice that your face started to match your movements. Glancing at your reflection, you gasped, noticing how different your dancing looked. You whipped your head to face Hyunjin, the two of your inches apart and breathing heavily.

“See,” he mumbled, looking down at you. “Once you stop thinking, everything just comes naturally.”

You looked back at the person inches away from you. It almost felt as if he was being kind. But you knew the type of person he was. You weren’t going to let this happen again. Snapping out of what weird trance you were in, you pushed him away in an act of self perseverance.

He didn’t say anything.

“I’ll try again,” you said.

Hyunjin strolled over to the speaker and turned on the music. This time, you didn’t think about anything you learned in class or Hyunjin’s criticisms. You just trusted in your body. Everything else was blank.

Taking a step forward while still in your trance, your shoe lost its grip on the floor, causing you to fall right on your knee. You cried in pain, holding on to your knee.

“Fuck,” Hyunjin hissed. He ran over and bent down to your level. “Can you move it?”

“I think so.” You tried to straighten your knee. It hurt, but you were still able to do it. There would most likely be a nasty bruise there the next morning.

“You’re still wearing those scraps that you call shoes? They’re literally coming apart at the seams. This is going to happen again if you don’t get new ones.”

You blushed in embarrassment from his remarks. “I’m not going to spend money on things that I don’t need.”

“Well, you need shoes. Just go buy a new pair later.”

Was he being serious? Or was he just spoiled?

“Hyunjin, not everybody can just go spend money whenever they want,” you loudly sighed. “Unlike you, I need to consider my budget for most things.”

“Well, why can’t you ask your boyfriend to buy it?” he sneered. “Seems like you’re good at doing that.”

How did he know you were still dating Jisung? What did he mean by ‘good at doing that’?

“What?” You crossed your eyebrows. “Do you think I’m with him just for his money? Do I really look like that kind of person to you?”

“You used me for my money,” he mumbled under his breath.

“What?” You couldn’t hear him right.

“Nevermind, rehearsal's over.” He stomped off, leaving you alone in the practice room holding on to your injured knee.

You busied yourself with everything and anything you could do over the weekend in order to forget what happened during rehearsal. However, no matter how hard you tried to forget, Hyunjin’s comments on your shoes stuck in your mind like glue.

During your shift at your job, you couldn’t help but keep staring at your worn sneakers. You never paid attention to your shoes before until now. They did the job, so why would you need to buy a new pair? Still, you unconsciously paid attention to every step you took.

On Monday’s dance class, you decided to go early. It was always nice to warm up in a room with other try-hards. They felt less judgemental than the others.

The studio barely had anybody in it this early before class. Everybody was either stretching or had already started going over what was taught last week. Shuffling your way over to your locker, you couldn’t help but compare everybody else’s shoes to your own. You’ve never cared about trivial matters such as shoes, but you couldn’t help but feel a little self conscious as your worn-in sneakers squeaked its way over to the lockers.

Opening your locker, your eyes widened, shocked at what you saw. Inside was a box containing a brand new pair of sneakers. It was an expensive brand as well, a brand that you never thought you would be touching in your life. You turned your head around, scanning the room. Everybody seemed to have been busy with their own thing.

Did somebody put these in your locker by mistake?

Taking the shoes out, you noticed a small slip of paper fly out. You picked up the note.

Keep these. I was a jerk.

You knew who had sent this. It was Hyunjin. You didn’t know what game he was trying to play at, but you weren’t going to fall for it like you did that day in high school. Gingerly putting the shoes back in your locker, you decided to return these back to Hyunjin at your next practice.

“No, I gave them to you as a gift.” Hyunjin turned his nose up at you, refusing to take back the shoes.

“Why would you give these to me if you think that I only use people for their money?”

“Because,” he rolled his eyes, “if you’re unable to dance then my grade is screwed as well.”

He made a good point, but you were stubborn. “Still…”

“You know what? Keep it, give it away, sell it, I don’t care. Let’s just start practice.”

After that dance practice, you threw your old shoes in the trash.

It was midterm season a month into school. You thought you had gone to hell and back with high school, but this was even worse. Each day consisted of waking up, studying, and going back to sleep. You lived on coffee and toast. It wasn’t much, but it gave you the energy to sit at the library for hours to study.

You didn’t see anybody during the midterm season, Instead, you chose to hermit yourself up at the library for days on end. This meant that, at least for a couple of weeks, your dance practice with Hyunjin was put on hiatus. Not that he minded, of course. He happily deleted the practices from his schedule.

You also didn’t see much of your boyfriend, Jisung. Ever since school started, he seemed to always be missing in action. He would almost never have time to be with you, and with the few moments that he was, it seemed like he was always so apathetic towards you. You brushed this off as stress though, as you finally knew what it was like to experience university exams.

It was a clear and sunny day on the morning you finished your last midterm. Leaving the exam room, you looked up to the sky, basking in the sun. Today was going to be a good day. Not only were you now stress free, but you were also invited to an end-of-midterm party for your dance class tonight. You had never gone to a university party before, so when a classmate asked if you wanted to go, you eagerly accepted.

Wrapping up your dance class, you stood at your locker, gathering the rest of your stuff.

“Hey.” An arm wrapped around you.

“Hey, Jisung.” You smiled, turning around to face him.

“You’re done all your midterms?”

“Yup.” You nodded happily.

He took a look at your shoes.

“New shoes?”

You hesitated in answering his question, not knowing where Jisung was with Hyunjin in terms of friendship. It was better to be truthful now rather than apologizing later.

“Hyunjin gave it to me.” You looked down, fiddling with your fingers. Why were you afraid of Jisung’s response?

“Wait, what? Hwang Hyunjin? Like from high school? Y/n, I thought you hated him.”

“I did! And I do,” you tried to explain, “but he had a reason to give me this.”

“Bullshit, Y/n. You’re really gonna believe any reason he pulls out of his ass? I thought you actually matured from high school.”

“Well, you would understand if you were around more often!” you yelled. You knew it was wrong to address other problems and blow this out of proportion, but you couldn’t think straight. Your mind was clouded with anger.

“What does this have to do with anything?” Jisung barked back. “What we’re talking about is how you, no matter how shitty of a person Hyunjin is, keep going back to him! Y/n, all that man does is take. He takes from you and he sure as hell takes everything from me. I won’t let that happen this time.”

When had he taken anything from you? All he had done was give.

“Jisung, let’s end this.”

“You’re right. Let’s cool down and talk later tonight.”

“No,” you shook your head, “I mean, let's end us.”

Jisung looked at you in disgust. “It’s Hyunjin, isn’t it?”

“No,” you vehemently denied, “Jisung, you never have time for me, and the little time we do have together you act like a different person. And now you’re being all possessive just because Hyunjin gave me a gift? I’m sorry, I just don’t see us recovering from this.”

“Fine, whatever.” Jisung turned around. “We’re done. But Y/n, don’t come running back to me when Hyunjin screws you over like he does with everybody.”

After Jisung left, you stomped your foot on the ground, tears pooling in your eyes. It was for the best — breaking up with him. For the past month, you hadn’t been happy with where your relationship was going, but this wasn’t the way you wanted to end an almost three year relationship.

Wiping away your tears, you tried to compose yourself before heading over to the pub. Jisung wasn’t worth the tears.

The walk to the pub wasn’t far as every establishment catered to students was a short walking distance from campus. For your entire walk over, you kept your head down so as to not receive looks from others. The headache from your cries and a blush of anger still lingered with you. Hopefully you’ll look somewhat normal by the time you reach the bar.

Checking your reflection once more in your phone camera, you fixed your hair a bit before going inside.

The bar was filled.

With students from both your dance class and the third year class, there was not an empty corner in sight. The music was loud, but the sounds of chatter coming from the students were louder. The place was dark, with the only source of light coming from very dim, bright blue LEDs.

It was surprising to see everybody in a different setting. You were used to the sight of your classmates being only in sweats and workout clothes, but now that they actually had time to get ready, everybody seemed like a completely different person.

You saw a few of your classmates wave at you, beckoning you over to where they were sitting. As soon as your butt landed on the chair, they spared no time to push a shot glass filled with clear liquor in front of you. You gladly took the drink, wanting to just let go and forget about everything that happened today. Holding back a cough, you scrunched your face as you felt the alcohol burn in your throat. It had been so long since the last time you drank.

After five you stopped counting. Partly because you knew you were going to drink more, but mostly because your head couldn’t even count to five anymore. Scrunching your eyes, you tried to focus on the blurry figure of your classmate complaining about her professor. Bored out of your mind as her mindless babble went on forever, your eyes started roaming around the bar. As your eyes wandered, you noticed somebody behind your classmate staring at you.

Hwang Hyunjin.

Even in your inebriated state of mind, you knew that it was Hyunjin. What other university student had the balls to bleach their whole head blonde? Your eyes met, and he ran a hand through his golden locks. Why do the most beautiful people harbour the most wretched personalities?

You tried to ignore his staring by focusing your attention back on your classmate, but eventually, you couldn’t help but glance back at him. He was still looking at you.

You saw a girl come up to him. She was the same girl that showed up with him on your first ever practice session. Because of the dimly lit bar and your drunken vision impairment, you had to really squint to make out what was going on. The girl, all smiley and giggly, put her hand on his shoulder, making Hyunjin break his eye contact with you. He smiled at the girl, mouthing words that were drowned out by the music. For some reason, this made you furious. Why was he so nice to everybody else but you? What had you ever done to him to make him hate you so much?

You kept your eyes on the girl, knowing full well that you shouldn’t have. You hated that — even on your night off, even when you had just broken up with your boyfriend — Hyunjin was still in your mind like an unkillable parasite. You hated the way he tucked his hair behind his ears. You hated how the corners of his eyes crinkled up when he smiled at her. You hated him.

You watched as she leaned in and whispered something in his ear, causing him to laugh. That was the last straw. In a drunken haze, you took your phone and bolted out the door, ignoring the concerns of all your classmates. Maybe it had been a mistake breaking up with Jisung. Maybe he really did know what was best for you.

Stumbling out onto the street, you tried to dial Jisung’s phone number. It proved to be too difficult of a task, however, as your drunken fingers could only tap on random numbers on the screen. You cried out of frustration.

“Y/n.”

The voice coming from behind you startled you, causing you to lose your grip on the phone. It dropped on the cement with a loud crack. Tears welled up in your eyes as you bent down to pick up your phone. There was a huge crack right down the middle of the screen.

“You cracked my phone,” you said, trying to keep your composure.

“So? It’s not like it’s worth much anyways. Just ask your boyfriend to buy you one.” Hyunjin’s evil eyes squinted down at you.

“Why are you still on about this? Hyunjin, I’ve never used anybody for money and I never will!” You couldn’t control the tears flowing down your face. “Plus, I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I broke up with Jisung today.”

You didn’t know why you were spilling your guts to the last man in the world you would trust. Surely, it was the alcohol.

“Y/n.” His tone had completely changed. He almost looked — concerned?

“Whatever, Hyunjin,” you slurred. “Just leave me alone. You can go back to that girl and have your fun with her.”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t care.”

“Y/n, why do you care?” His tone got louder.

“I don’t!” you yelled at him. Your tears made everything even more blurry.

“Y/n! Tell me, why do you care?!” He spat back at you with just as much fury.

“Fuck you, Hyunjin. News flash, not everything in the world revolves around you and your rich and prestigious life. Maybe you wouldn’t be so toxic if you would just understand that.” You screamed at him through your sobs. “Also, I don’t know where you got this stupid story of my being a cash whore from, but I will say this one last time: I have worked for everything in my life and I have never and will never use anybody for their money.”

Hyunjin looked back at you, shocked. You stared back at him in disgust. Not wanting to waste anymore time on him, you stumbled down the street to look for a taxi. However, as you wobbled down the pavement, everything became even blurrier than before. You felt nauseous. You couldn’t control it anymore.

You threw up. All over the sidewalk. You couldn’t stop. Every time you thought that it was over, more and more came out. Your throat burned, and it wasn’t just the alcohol.

As you hurled out all the remains of today’s lunch, your hair was held back.

“Get away from me, Hyunjin,” you groaned. You didn’t want him to see you this weak.

“Who else is gonna take care of your drunk ass, idiot,” he mumbled.

That was the last thing you heard before everything went black.

It was a blinding white light that woke you up. You groaned, trying to block the light with your forearm. Cracking your neck, you tried to holster yourself up.

You were on a leather couch. Squinting, you surveyed the room you were in. It was clean, spacious. The floor was a white marble — there wasn’t a single speck of dust to be seen. Across from you was an incredibly wide TV with many game consoles scattered around it. You looked behind you. There was a large kitchen island illuminated by warm pendant lights. Sitting at the island, on his laptop, was Hyunjin.

“Wh-what happened to me?”

“You’re the worst fucking drinker I’ve ever seen, that’s what happened.”

You rolled your eyes.

Hyunjin ignored you, standing up and leaving for another room. Less than a minute later, he reappeared with a toothbrush and a roll of toothpaste.

“Go clean up. You look disgusting.”

You snatched the toothbrush from his hands. He pointed over to the bathroom and you trudged your way over. His bathroom was huge, almost bigger than your bedroom at home. You felt as if you were in a hotel.

“Your bathroom is huge.” After washing up, you felt not only cleaner, but more awake. “You’re really living the life with your family’s money, huh.”

Hyunjin sighed, slamming his laptop shut causing you to flinch. “Why, after everything, do you think I’m this rich, pretentious fuck?”

You rolled your eyes. Not this again. “Well, why do you still think I’m this money hungry monster?”

“You really wanna know why, Y/n? It’s because Jisung told me so. He was the one who told me that all those years ago.”

You were shocked. Jisung was the one who told him that? Your ex-boyfriend that you had loved and dated for almost three years? You didn’t want to believe it, you really didn’t, but there was this tiny whisper in the back of your mind telling you that it was true. He had a reason to — Jisung was always going on about how Hyunjin always took from him.

“But Y/n, I-” He stopped mid-sentence.

“You what, Hyunjin?”

He pressed his lips to yours, caressing the back of your head. You were shocked, but almost autonomously, your lips parted feeling the heat of his breath against yours. He pressed his body to yours, running his hand down your waist. His lips, the same lips responsible for his perfect smile, felt so soft against your own. You heard the thuds of his heartbeat as he held you closer.

You broke apart, gasping for breath. The realization of what you had done just hit you.

In a panic, you used your whole strength to push his body away from you. “I-I have to go.”

“Y/n, wait!” Hyunjin called.

You paid him no attention. Instead, you ran across the marble floors, hoisted the front door open, and sprinted out. Hoping that Hyunjin wasn’t following you, found your way outside and took a taxi home.

You sat in silence, trying to process what had just happened. You had just kissed Hyunjin. You had just kissed Hyunjin. Hands shaking, you grasped at the ends of your hair, trying to calm yourself down. Did that just happen?

You were more mad at yourself than at him. How could you have just kissed Hyunjin? You hated him. He was nothing but rude to you, never smiling and always accusing you of things that were clearly lies. He made you feel self conscious, nervous, and everything in between. You hated him.

But he was so sweet on that fateful day in high school. He gave you a new pair of shoes when you had slipped during practice, and he held your hair for you when you were drunk. His hair glistened in the sunlight, his smile made your heart race, and his lips ignited sparks of every colour in the rainbow in your chest.

You hated Hwang Hyunjin. You hated how fast you became infatuated with him on that day in high school, and no matter how much you tried to deny it, you hated that your feelings haven’t changed ever since. You hated Hwang Hyunjin. You hated that you loved him.

Curling up in your bed, there was no stopping the tears flowing down your face. You cried and cried upon this realization, and you remained this way for the rest of the day. The effect Hyunjin had on you was bigger than you ever expected, and you hated it.

At school, you tried to avoid as many people as possible. The kiss you had shared with Hyunjin was plaguing your mind, distracting you and igniting the fire that was your inner turmoil. Even the thought of Hyunjin put a strain in your heart. It was the way his breath fanned over your nose, gently tickling it like a bird’s feather and the soft silk of his blonde locks brushing up against your cheeks.

You shook your head, trying to erase any and every thought of that man. Walking to your locker, you were stopped in your tracks, the dam in your eyes starting to crack. You couldn’t do this today. You turned around to go somewhere else — anywhere else.

“Y/n, wait.”

You sniffed, wiped stray tears from your eyes, and picked up your pace.

“Y/n.” He grabbed your shoulder, turning you around to face him.

“Hyunjin, please, I can’t do this today.”

“Are you… Are you crying?” He touched your face, wiping your tears with his thumb. “Y/n, why are you crying?”

You shook your head. You were scared of what would happen if you opened your stupid mouth.

“Y/n, please.” Hyunjin begged. His voice was shaking. “Tell me why.”

You shook your head again.

“Y/n, please.” His voice cracked.

“Hyunjin,” you paused, taking a shaky breath, “it’s because I love you. I’ve loved you ever since the first moment you smiled at my pathetic ass. Even when you hurt me more than anyone has hurt me before… I never had a choice, Hyunjin. It’s always been you.”

You tore yourself away from Hyunjin, embarrassed to your core. That was the most humiliating thing you’ve ever done, but at least you had closure now.

“Y/n…”

“No, Hyunjin. You’ve torn me down and humiliated me enough already. What more could you possibly want?” You demanded, aware that everybody around you was staring.

“Y/n,” Hyunjin rasped, “It’s only ever been you. I’ve spent the last three years miserable knowing that you were with someone else. I’ve-I’ve never even been with another girl in the past three years. I know you have no reason to believe me because I was such an ass. I am such an ass. Y/n, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for projecting my insecurities on you, I’m sorry for accusing you of things I know you’ve never done, and I’m sorry for anything else I might have fucking done. Y/n, I love you. Please, I don’t fucking deserve it, but is there any way you could forgive me?”

You stared at Hyunjin’s bloodshot eyes, tears freely flowing down your cheeks, and before you could even think, you found yourself pressed against his lips. Your eyes closed, savouring the feeling of his soft lips touching your own. His wet cheek pressed against your own, and with a nudge of the nose, Hyunjin deepend the kiss with a raw passion in which you’ve never felt before.

You cradled his head, relishing in his silken blonde hair as you brushed your fingers through his locks. He sighed in response, his breath tickling against your cheek. You were fully aware that everyone on campus had seen both your messy confessions of love, but you didn’t care. All you could do was replay the moment that Hyunjin had said those words — those three tiny words — over and over in your head as you ran your fingers through his hair and kissed his soft, honey lips.

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thighs-of-betrayal-blog · 4 years ago

Text

Louisiana Confessions

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger! reader (based on TFAWS)

Summary: You and Bucky have always had feelings for each other, but neither of you have admitted to them. After everything that went down in NY with the Flag Smashers, Bucky decides to come clean about how he feels.

Warnings: None that I know of. Pure fluff

A/N: Hi! This is my first ever fic that I’m posting on here. I’ve always been super nervous to post my writing, but I decided to just go for it (I plan on posting more fics soon)! I hope you enjoy it! Please let me know what you think, thank you!! :)

You stare over at Bucky and Sam. They’re both fixing the boat, while you lounge on the dock. You wanted to help, even offered, but Bucky insisted you relax, since you had gotten hurt during the fight against the Flag Smashers.

“Hey, Y/N. How’re you feeling?” Sarah asks, as she comes over to sit down next to you.

“I’m alright, thanks. I just wish I was helping out in some way. Bucky insisted I sit out because of my shoulder. I know he means well, but I just feel useless sitting here.”

“He’s very protective over you, don’t you think?” Sarah looks at you with a grin on her face.

“What do you mean?”

“I can see he really cares about Sam, but with you, it’s something more.”

“You suggesting Bucky likes me?” you ask.

“Likes you back.” Sarah corrects.

“How.. how did you know I have feelings for Bucky?”

“It’s not too hard to figure out. It’s pretty obvious actually, but I guess you both are oblivious.”

“Gee thanks.” You stare at Bucky as he turns to look over at you and smiles. “He doesn’t like me back though.”

Sarah looks between you and Bucky. “Just keep it in mind. But, since you said you are feeling useless… want to help me with the kids?”

You turn to look at Sarah and smile. “I’d love to.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bucky turns to see you playing with the kids in the backyard. His heart instantly softens.

“What’s going on in that cyborg brain of yours?” Sam asks. “Thinking about Miss Y/N over there?”

Bucky looks at Sam with an incredulous look on his face. “What? No. But, if you must know, I was checking out the grass. Really looks like it could use a trim.”

“Yeah, sure. And, I’m a super soldier.”

“No, you’re not.”

Sam starts to sigh. “Yeah, no shit I’m not. It’s a lie, just like the lie you just told me.”

Bucky turns to focus on the pipe he was tightening. “I didn’t lie.”

Sam put his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Just go talk to her. Tell her how you feel. I’m sure she feels the same way.”

Bucky stands up to go walk towards Y/N and looks back at Sam. “Now you’re the one who’s lying.”

Sam spreads his arms out wide. “Uncle Sam don’t lie, man. Now, go get your girl!”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Alright, alright, you win!” you yell while laughing, as Sarah’s kids tickle you after tackling you to the ground. “Somebody help me” you laugh out.

“Hey now, let’s leave Y/N alone. She’s gotta bad shoulder” Bucky says while getting the kids off you and helping you up off the ground.

You laugh. “Hey, Buck. Thanks for the rescue. My shoulder is fine though.”

“Just looking out for you, doll.” Bucky turns towards Sarah’s kids. “I heard Sam needs some help over on the boat and if you go, there will be chocolate cake with both of your names on it after dinner.”

“Sweet” Sarah's kids yell as they run towards the docks.

You watch as they run away and then turn towards Bucky. “Wanted them out of here that bad? I thought you liked them. I saw you playing with them earlier.”

Bucky looks at you and laughs. “I do like them, but I needed to talk to you alone.”

You instantly start to worry. “Is everything okay?”

Bucky notices you tensing up and reaches out to grab your hand. “No, no, doll, nothing bad.”

You stare down at his hand holding yours. “Then, what is it?”

Bucky looks past you, at the bench sitting a few feet away. “Why don’t we sit down?”

You nod your head. “Yeah, yeah okay, let’s sit. You’re starting to make me nervous, Buck.”

You follow him over to the bench. “Don’t be nervous. I’m a little nervous, but you have nothing to be nervous about. Unless what I tell you scares you, then maybe you should be nervous, but…”

“Hey.” You grab Bucky’s chin with your hand and force him to look at you. “It’s just me.” You start to run your hand up his jaw and caress his skin.

Bucky closes his eyes and lets out a long breath. He reopens his eyes and you see nothing but love in them. “My ma always told me to do sweet gestures for a woman. I was going to do more than this, once we left here, but Sam convinced me to just do it now. I know this is random, but…”

“Buck, your rambling again. Just tell me what’s on your mind.”

Bucky puts his hand on top of the one you have on his face. “You, Y/N. You’re on my mind. Been on my mind for forever. And, seeing you get hurt against the Flag Smashers, I..I just lost it. I can’t lose you, doll. You’re my everything and I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you. I love you, Y/N. Been in love with you, since you persisted on stitching up my wound when we first met, all those years ago.”

You let out a small laugh. “You were bleeding out on your side, Buck. You would have died. I had to stitch you up.”

Bucky lets out a laugh too. “I know, doll, I know. But, I didn’t know you and I didn’t trust anyone but Steve at the time. You were so careful stitching me up though. And, you were so sweet to me and didn’t judge me.”

“There was nothing to judge you for. That wasn’t your fault. It was never your fault. The man I saw sitting there quietly as I stitched him up was a good man. Still is a good man. He’s the man I fell in love with. The man I still love and will always love.”

Bucky smiles hard and you smile back at him.

“Love, huh? Well, in that case, this man would love a kiss from you, doll. Is that okay?”

“I’m surprised you haven’t just kissed me already.”

Bucky places his hand on your cheek and starts to lean in. “What can I say? My ma raised me right.”

You start to lean in, so your faces are only inches apart. “Always a gentleman. Now, shut up and kiss me.”

“With pleasure.” Bucky finally closes the gap between you and kisses you.

Deep in the back of your mind, you’re thinking that you’re going to have to thank the Wilson siblings later.

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mxtantrights · 3 years ago

Text

The magic-spy and the bird

the best friends brother trope is in my top 5 tropes. but I've also got a thing for angst. So here we areeeee. enjoy! <3

dick Grayson x f!reader

Jason Todd had asked you specifically to ask his brother out. And he did use the word brother, which you made a point to bring up. He shot it down but still decided to push his message towards you. You should ask Dick out. It wasn’t that simple.

“Jay I don’t think you’ve thought this through.” you said.

He chuckled, “Of course I did. I wouldn’t say it out loud if it wasn’t a well-cooked plan.”

You made a face at him.

“Okay look, all I'm saying is you’ve got nothing to lose. If anything you're way out of his league.” he said and then gulped down the rest of his beer.

You didn’t like beer and so you worked on a Pina colada. You had done the whole beer thing for years now. As a trained spy it was your go-to for missions at bars. Safe to say you were sick of ales, craft beers and everything in between.

“Ah yes, the magic using spy.” you nodded your head.

Jason nodded along with you.

“Exactly. Bird brains would eat that up.” he said.

“And when would I tell him that I knew about his secret identity? Before I tell him about mine or after?” you asked.

Jason sighed and raised his hand for another beer. You rolled your eyes at this. Once he had a thought it was very hard for him to let it go. Especially when it included a thought about people he cared for- no matter how much he claimed the opposite.

“All Im saying is, you never know until you try.”

“What are you a fortune cookie?”

“Fuck off. I’m being serious and I do give great advice you can ask Duke.”

2 DAYS LATER

You look at Caliban with bated breath. He had just gotten info on a magic-based rebellion. Work was tight when you rolled with the good guys for too long of a time. You blame that on two men on your life, Jason and Constantine.

“I’ll put in a good word for you.” he says.

“Thank you, I really appreciate it. And any-”

Before you can finish telling Caliban that he can call in a favor from you at anytime your surroundings change. In a flash you go from one of the underworld crime bars to a room you’ve never been in before.

You look around and sure enough you see the culprit. Constantine.

“There she is!” he smiles.

Not only did he summon you, he did so in front of an audience. Circled around him is Gotham’s crime fighting family. All of them except Jason, Cass and Duke. All of which know about your secret identity and would’ve stopped Constantine from summoning you. The rest of the family are all looking at you liked you’ve grown a second head.

You look down at what you’re wearing. The long sleeve off the shoulder skin tight black dress was the perfect choice for the club you were supposed to be in. Maybe not so much for a meeting with the Bats and his birds.

You look right ahead at Constantine, “I don’t like being summoned.”

“Ah, but you’re the best person I know for this job. I had to get you over here.” he says.

You take a quick look at all the other people in the room. Then at the screen behind them. Your information is plastered on it. Well, the information that you’ve decided to let the government think was yours. Your codename was at the top of the screen.

“Constantine says that you’re the best way into the underworld.” Batman says.

You’re confused to say the least. Constantine was Constantine, why would he call you in order to get them into the underworld when he can do it himself? It defeats the purpose of having to call him.

“I’m sorry,” you direct to Batman and then look at your friend, “I need you to state specifically what I’m needed for.”

Constantine moved from the family over to you. As he did you watched as Nightwing followed him with his own eyes. Now Dick knows you’re not just Jason’s friend from around Gotham. Great.

“Bats got intel that something it going down with this magic group, the-” he starts. “hex mutiny.” you finish.

“You already know about them?” Nightwing says.

“I was just getting someone to put in a good word for me with them before you summoned me here. You’ve got great timing you know that?” you say to Constantine.

He smiles, “Well then it seems like you can be of great service, spygames.”

“And what exactly would I be doing, if I can even get a spot with them?” you throw out the question to the family.

Red Robin crosses his arms, “We need someone on the inside to tell us what they are planning for Gotham.”

“I doubt they’d let a newbie in on their plans.”

“Good thing you won’t be a newbie.” Batman says.

Constantine conjures an amulet in his hand. You want to hit him over the head. He could really be a pain in the ass. You grab it from him.

“With this, you’ll be in the perfect position to get in and get out. Easy.” he says.

You shake your head, “Every time you say that I get a new scar.”

“I promise sweetheart. No scars this time.”

“Yeah yeah, you owe me for this.”

EXACTLY ONE WEEK LATER

You knew you would end up wounded. Typically with Constantine it was nothing deadly, or nothing your own magic couldn’t fix. But you knew that your luck had to run out some day. And it wasn't his fault.

After finding out what the group was really up to you couldn’t just let them operate. They weren’t really rebels. No they used that name to paint a narrative. They were fascists.

You held the wound to your waist to stop the bleeding. This would have to be the farthest you could go. There was no way you could run out of this. Not with the blood seeping through the cracks of your fingers.

At least you brunt the members down to the ash. It took a lot out of you. And that’s why you weren’t prepared for a hit that tore right through you.

“Why aren’t you moving?” Jason, or Redhood, said through the comms.

You leaned against the hallway wall.

At least you’d die someplace pretty. When you first came in you didn't notice how clean and meticulous everything was. There were painting of famous magicians on the walls. Along with some stolen art, a Van Gogh or two.

You ripped the amulet off your neck and felt the illusion fade. The necklace fell to the floor and you let out a pained breath.

“I think,” you coughed and on the clean wall was not splatters of blood, “this is it.”

You could hear Jason shouting on the other end. He was calling out your name, calling out for Constantine to come and help you. Duke was calling for you too. And you could’ve sworn you heard Cass say your name once.

With your only free hand you tried to open a portal out of the base. You knew it would be useless as you had a mortal wound and portal magic works best under no stress and panic, or blood loss. The usual light from your hands glowed faintly until it didn’t.

“Constantine can’t summon you?” Dick asked.

At that you let your body drag down the wall until you reached the floor. When you did sit down more blood came out. So you decided to lay down horizontally.

“Hey hey- I told you I wasn’t gonna let anything happen to you.” you hear Constantine through the comms.

You want to laugh, but it ends out more of a chocked gargle.

“I screwed up the mission. I deserve it.” you said.

“You did good. Better than any of us.” Batman said.

“Constantine you need to call in whatever favors you have to get her out of there. Now!” Jason shouted.

“Dont,” you started.

“No. We’re getting you out of there-”

“Jason, I’m not a saint. I never would’ve imagined going out like this.” you said.

Once you were born you were thrusted in this world. All you knew was to use magic as a weapon. To get ahead, to get power, to get the glory. And that lasted you until you turned 19.

Then Constantine crossed paths with you. He was the one to show you that magic has other uses. Such as helping and healing. You learned the best stuff from him. And you took what you learned and began to help in ways you could.

You didn’t go on the straight and narrow. Never did you consider yourself a morally correct person. Sometimes the lines were blurred, or they need to be blurred. And so you took down seedy organizations, went on recon missions all over the world.

It wasn’t justice. But it was close enough that you could sleep at night or the odd hours of the morning for more than four hours.

“Sweetheart I don’t break my promises.” Constantine said finally.

You were just beginning to feel your eyes grow heavy. The pain was starting to be comfortably numb. Then above you appeared someone you weren’t expecting in the slightest.

“Caliban?” you asked.

“You owe me double.”

4 DAYS LATER

When you woke up you felt battered and weak You weren’t used to these feelings and you weren’t used to being so close to death. Everyday was a new experience when you’re the Priestess of Espionage.

You cracked open one eye to find a couple of deviants at your side. Jason, Duke and Cass. The youngest took the chair next to you while Duke and Jason seemed to take the floor. Since they weren’t in their gear you guessed that you were out for longer than a couple of hours.

“Not my version of hell but I’ll allow it.” you say in a raspy voice.

It wakes everyone up.

Jason and Duke bolt to your bedside.

“Why’d you almost die on me?” and “Are you feeling okay?” come from them both, respectively. It makes you want to laugh but when you feel the ache in your waist you stop yourself.

“I’m alive, so there’s that. Positives.” you answer.

Jason shoots his younger siblings a look and they scurry out the room. You try to sit up to ask what it was for but he puts his hands up for you to stop any movement. So you lay back down.

“He would kill me if you tore your stitches.”

You shut your eyes, “Jason I don’t think Constantine would kill you per say.”

You hear the door opening so you decide to open your eyes. And sure enough you see Jason leaving the room and someone coming in. Dick Grayson, out of his suit as well.

As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t read his face. Besides the clear betrayal that was there. He definitely knew that you knew he’s Nightwing.

“Hi.” you say.

His face softens, “Hi.”

“I just want to say that I would’ve told you about who I am. Sooner that you think actually but this mission kinda derailed all of that.” you say.

With his arm crossed over his chest he nods, “How long did you know I was Nightwing?”

You wince.

“For about two years now. Once Jason told me he was Red it was hard to not notice the similarities of the Wayne family and the Bat one.”

He laughs at that and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. It must be going good if he wants to laugh.

“And when did he tell you that I like you?” he asks.

“He didn’t explicitly say that.”

There’s a beat of silence. You’re looking at him and he’s looking at you. But he’s the one who seems to be holding his breath this time. You try to hide the smirk you feel forming on your lips.

“What?” he asks.

“Jason had told me that I should ask you out. He didn’t say anything about you liking me.” you answer him.

The red tint that covered Dick Grayson was absolutely adorable.

He nods his head to himself. Twice.

“I- I’m gonna get Jason for you.” he moved to the door. And you don’t really know what to say. All your words get jumbled in your brain and you can’t put them together in a way that is smooth enough so you deicide to just try your best.

“If you were to ask me out, I would say yes.” you say.

He looks directly at you. Then his signature smirk appears.

“I’ll bring back some food for later.” he says.

“it’s a date.” you answer.

#dc x reader #Dick Grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #Dick Grayson imagine #nightwing imagine #dc imagine #dc #nightwing #Dick Grayson #Jason Todd x reader #Jason todd imagine

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inkykeiji · 4 years ago

Text

bright light city gonna set my soul on fire

ace anon said: wanna suggest dabi taking you to a poker game as a good luck charm then betting you on a game and losing...or winning and bragging about it by fucking you on the table

genre: smut + implied crooked secret agent/spy AU set in the late 1950s???

notes: AH ace i loved this idea SO MUCH it ended up sparking an entire fic!! heavily inspired by ian fleming’s 1953 novel casino royale + martin campbell’s 2006 film casino royale. it is set in clari’s version of the 1950s and in no way historically accurate!! think of it as an AU of the 1950s, if that makes sense ehehe | title credit: viva las vegas by elvis | songs mentioned in the fic itself: don’t and i beg of you by elvis, rockin’ robin by bobby day

warnings: 18+, period typical use of the word Daddy (not with dabi), inappropriate use of the word Mister, slight degradation, mentioned somnophilia, slight dacryphilia, minimal prep, night terrors, blood, murder, generally toxic codependant relationship, one implied mention of drug use (morphine), mentions of tense family dynamics

words: 8.5k

synopsis:

Yes, as much as he’d like to deny it, it’s true; Dabi fell in love with you the moment he laid eyes on you.

Because Dabi saw more than just a pretty little thing when your gazes first met.

He saw the perfect weapon, a diamond in the rough just waiting—begging—to be cleaned and cut and formed into the most brilliant gem, into the most ideal accomplice for him—because, really, what’s more dangerous than a beautiful woman? Especially when she looks like innocence personified?

Sticky pink candy, translucent and gleaming with saliva, clacks against teeth as you roll the heart-shaped lollipop around in your mouth, twirling the stick between your index finger and your thumb.

Legs kick idly as you lean back on your other hand, seated on the edge of Tomura’s massive, pristine mahogany desk, watching as his personal tailor helps Dabi shrug on a navy tuxedo jacket, stitched and sown perfectly to his measurements.

“I dunno,” he’s saying as he pivots his body a little, making a face at himself in the mirror. “I still think the black looks better,”

Ruby eyes roll up towards the ceiling, a frustrated groan spilling from between Tomura’s lips.

“You always think the black looks better. We’re going with the navy, it brings out your eyes,” he gives the back of Dabi’s head a sharp look before strolling towards you, features softening as he observes—the perfect picture of innocence, legs swinging slowly in cute little motions, strawberry lollipop sucked against the roof of your mouth, sparkling eyes floating from your boyfriend’s broad shoulders to his—your—boss’s face as he advances.

“Gimme some,” he demands, large hands finding your knees and halting your movement, using his hipbones to push them wider, making a space for himself between them and sticking his tongue out. With a giggle, you place the now misshapen candy on his tongue, gasping loudly as he snatches the candy from you, movements too quick for you to catch, and jumps away with the grace of a cat.

“Daddy!”

Tomura snickers around the lollipop in his mouth, sucking it into his cheek as he speaks around it. “Aw, come now, don’t pout,” his bottom lip pushes out to mimic your expression, tilting his head in false sympathy. “I’m sure your Mister will buy you another,”

“He better,” you mumble through your pout, eyebrows knitting together as arms cross tightly over your chest, eyes flitting to Dabi.

“I will, dollface, I will,” he vows distractedly, gaze not straying from his fingers reflected in the mirror as they fiddle with his bowtie.

“Promise, Mister?”

“Promise, baby, promise,”

Dabi’s already been briefed on the specifics of this mission—something to do with playing a poker game with a bunch of other crooked hotshots at the Sahara hotel in Las Vegas, but that’s all you know. That’s all you’re authorized to know.

Despite being Dabi’s accomplice and working for Tomura’s underground organization, you’re rarely allowed to be in Tomura’s office while the briefing happens. It’s sensitive information, dollface, and the less you know the better, and don’t misbehave now, sit pretty and quiet like a good little girl until the big boys are finished, and then Daddy and Mister will give you a pretty reward.

But! you had protested with a bottom lip involuntarily jutted out. But maybe, if I know more, I can be of better help—

But Tomura had shut that idea down before it had even finished leaving your lips.

No. Absolutely not. It’s for your own good—your own safety, you little brat—why can’t you understand that?

You do understand that, you’ve been told a thousand times—your specialty is distractions, used to keep enemies occupied before Dabi splatters their brains on marble floors, or to pry information out of men weak to the smile of a pretty girl.

And, to be fair, Tomura does reward you pretty generously, with glittering evening gowns and designer pumps and all the handbags a gal could ever want.

You turn back to face him, red lips spread into a cunning, mischievous smile, a smile he knows all too well, a smile Dabi loves—because he taught it to you—and Tomura hates—because it means you’re about to get what you want. “So. How much money are you giving me to play with this time, Daddy?”

Tomura’s face screws up, nose scrunching. “None,” he spits, removing the lollipop from his mouth. Tiny hands grab at the air, reaching for it like a child, Tomura swiping it just out of grasp as he continues his scolding. “Last time, you nearly bought the entire shopping complex,”

“Ah, c’mon, boss,” Dabi says around a cigar, still standing in front of the full-length mirror and smoothing down his clothing. “Give the lil lady a lil somethin’, will ya?”

“Yeah, boss, c’mon,” you plead, mimicking your boyfriend, adorning your face with your signature pout and award-winning puppy-dog eyes.

“Absolutely not.” His voice is stern as he speaks, facial features hard in finality and resolution, but his eyes—irises a crimson so brilliant, so beautiful it’s terrifying, almost looks as if it’s glowing—are beginning to waver.

“You know, if you don’t, then I’m sure I’ll get bored in that big city all by myself while Dabi’s working,” you begin in a singsong voice, eyebrows raising. “And you know what happens when I get bored, Daddy,”

“She gets int’a trouble,” Dabi grumbles, eyes catching yours through the mirror, though there’s a smirk forming around the cigar, held between sharp gleaming ivory teeth.

“S’true,” you nod simply, eyelashes fluttering as you gaze at Tomura. “Please, Daddy? Pretty please? I swear I won’t spend too much this time,”

“Jus’ give ‘er your credit card r’somethin’,” Dabi waves a hand in nonchalance before patting down his pockets. “I’ll keep a’eye on ‘er, promise,”

“Take that damn cigar out of your mouth and speak properly,” Tomura spits, and you and Dabi share another look, another smirk, through the mirror. “Fine, alright? Fine,” nimble fingers pull out a sleek leather wallet, flipping it open and searching through the card slots, grumbling to himself. “Christ, the two of you are insufferable, I swear to God,”

“Thank you, Daddy,” you giggle, soft and gentle and innocent, all of the things you weren’t mere moments ago. Platinum plastic gleams in your fingers as you tilt the card in the light, gaze captivated by the way it sparkles and glitters as you speak again. “Promise I’ll bring you back something neat,”

✰ �� ✰

It’s been a few years now since the two of you met, since the two of you became partners, and Dabi swears to high heaven and back that he had tried his hardest not to fall in love with you, cross his heart, hope to die.

At least, that’s what he likes to tell himself. In actuality, he fell for you the moment he laid eyes on you—it’s as cliché and cheesy as one of those Jimmy Dean flicks, but goddamn it, it’s true all the same.

Doesn’t help that that’s one of the first things you said to him, though.

You look like Jimmy Dean, Mister, you had giggled dainty behind your hand, batting those long, thick eyelashes as you gazed up at him, gracious and polite and all the things a good little girl like you should be. Is supposed to be.

It made him want to fucking ruin you. It sparked a white-hot fire deep in the pit of his stomach, a blaze that grew, and grew, and grew with each of your cute mannerisms. It procured an inferno full of pure desire, heady and intoxicating, that nearly engulfed him in an instant.

“Oh, yeah?” he had asked with a smirk, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest, tongue running along his front teeth as he steadily held your eyes. “‘N why’s that, little miss?”

Those eyes, the sparkling ones that had been so bold only a moment ago, bashfully flitted down to the teal typewriter sitting in front of you on a large oak desk, fiddling a little with your nails against the worn keys.

Baby pink. Cute.

“Oh I—I—” your gaze flashed up to his for a moment, intense cobalt burning into your very skull, before you averted your stare again. “Well, I-I don’t mean to be rude, Mister, it’s just that—your hair,”

Sapphire eyes flicked up, as if to gaze at his forehead, as if he were able to see his own hair from just that motion, eyebrows raising with the action.

“S’all messy like the way he wears his. You know, when he’s not doing a picture and all that,”

And you noticed your mistake immediately, eyes widening, tongue tripping over your words in your haste to correct yourself, to speak properly, like a lady. “I-It’s all messy, s-sorry, excuse me, it’s all messy like the way he wears his,”

A smirk, slow and dangerous, spread across his face as he observed you, tilting his head a little as his eyes travelled down your neck, to your shoulders and the sweetheart neckline of that pretty, pretty dress, and then back up again, narrowing slightly as they did so. It’s in that moment that Dabi first wondered what you’d sound like underneath him while sharp hipbones bruise his name into the tender flesh of your inner thighs, how you’d slur your words together then.

His voice was a touch huskier when he spoke again. “You like Jimmy, miss?”

“I sure do,” you nodded, painted lips morphing into a little melancholic smile as you looked down at the typewriter again. “It’s a real shame he passed,”

“Sure is,” Dabi mimicked your movement, giving a simple nod in agreement. “But thank you for the compliment, doll, I’ll take it,”

Your head snapped back up. “Oh, c’mon, m’not stupid y’know,” you huffed with a roll of your eyes and a light laugh.

“No?”

The traces of amusement that played in his azure eyes had your own narrowing a little in response, sitting up straighter as you rolled your shoulders back.

“No,” you shook your head. “I know who you are,”

“Yeah? And who’s that?”

“Touya.”

And it’s the way you said his birthname, the way your lips curled into a devious little smile around the word, the way one of your perfectly arched eyebrows raised in question, in challenge, that had confirmed it for him, right then and there, in that stupidly luxurious office.

“Touya Todoroki.”

He was sure he had to have you. He was positive he had to make you his—forever.

“You’ve been compared to Jimmy since he debuted—”

“And you know this because—”

“—because I read Time and Vogue and all those other stupid magazines, just like all the other women in this country. And I’ve seen you,” you paused to point a manicured nail at him. “On or in every single one,”

Oh, and he was sure you had, sure you knew that he was notorious for stealing several of his father’s girlfriends when he was in his early twenties, infamous for fucking them and then selling the Polaroid’s and information to vying tabloids and the like. He always did like to spice up those stories a little, to fluff them and make them a hint more scandalous, glamorous—those ones always sold for more.

Not that he needed the money.

“It’s rude to point, baby,” he winked before he straightened up, pushed himself off the wall and stalked towards your desk, stopping in front of it as large hands splayed out on the wood, and leaned close to your face.

“And I don’t go by that name anymore, sweetheart,” he had told you, voice smooth as scotch over ice, though something dangerous glinted in his eyes as they carefully searched your face, something omnious etched into the sharp smile on his face

A shiver crawled up your spine, frosty and slow, fingers tiptoeing up each vertebra as you nodded your understanding. “Y-Yes, sir,”

The door to your boss’s office had swung open then, Dabi straightening up and spreading his arms out in a grand sweeping movement.

“David!” he greeted as if the two were old friends, large smile stretched too tight across his face as he walked forward and clapped a large hand on the smaller man’s shoulder. “How are you doing?”

He murdered your boss that day. You didn’t know, of course, didn’t have a goddamn clue until over a month later, Dabi had made sure of that. But by the time you found out, you were already in too deep; too enamoured by him, wholly captivated by him in every sense of the word, too dependant on him, to care at all.

He had made it quick—quiet and painless and looking as if it was an accident, strolling out of the office only a few moments later and asking you out on a date like nothing had happened, words flowing smoothly from his lips in that drawl that is so distinctly him, almost lazy in a way, glittering lidded sapphire scalding your skin with its intensity.

Yes, as much as he’d like to deny it, it’s true; Dabi fell in love with you the moment he laid eyes on you.

Because Dabi saw more than just a pretty little thing when your gazes first met.

Nothing, that’s what.

Honestly, he did you a favour—he swears he could see it in your eyes, sparkling as they gazed at him like he sculpted the moon himself, pleading for someone—for him—to come along and take care of you, to put you in your place, to keep you in line, absolutely desperate for someone to mold you, shape you, construct and arrange you into his most perfect creation.

Perfect, perfect, perfect, that’s what you are; so good for him, so obedient and compliant, always hanging on his every word and eagerly awaiting his next command, enthusiastic to submit to him, to please him, to receive the praise you crave so badly.

And Tomura had agreed, too, after only fifteen minutes of meeting you, of observing you, of assessing you, that you’d be a flawless addition to their operation.

So Dabi did what he does best.

He started slow, of course, enchanted you with strings of pearls and gorgeous dresses and expensive dinners, fed you tidbits about his mysterious lifestyle, about his family and his job and his past, just enough to keep you coming back for more, until you were practically begging him to let you in, to permit you to join his vocation, to accompany him on the wild ride that is his life.

And that was the best part of all—you didn’t care, you wanted it just as badly as he did; wanted to help him, to serve him, to be his, without ever requiring the full story. You readily gave everything up for him, accepted his orders, his wants and his needs without as much as a single question, never faltering in your honesty, in your pure devotion to your creator.

It’s love in its truest form, you’re both sure of it—possessed by one another, infatuated with one another, dedicated to one another—both consumed by the most potent drug, this love, a force to be reckoned with, the strongest pull either of you have ever felt before.

And, really, what more could you ask for?

✰ ✰ ✰

He took you under his wing, crafted you into a master of manipulation, pairing it perfectly with that innocent kitten demeanour you wear so well, and taught you everything he knew: all of the infiltration techniques and self-defence he had learned before he was ostracized from his father’s company—a privatized intelligence agency that works closely with the federal government—the very organization he’s been working so tirelessly to burn to the ground.

You still don’t exactly know what happened. He doesn’t like to talk about it, about where those scars decorating his body came from, about why he’s thrown away his old identity and constructed a new one, trading ivory hair and a high-fashion wardrobe for inky black and weathered Levi jeans with big black motorcycle boots.

But you do know a little.

He had been the favourite son, the chosen son, the one set to inherit the empire his father had built. That was, until he got himself into an accident—one that he still isn’t ready to disclose the full details of, and you never push. But you know it had involved a twelve year old Touya—always devious, crafty, and ever-so intelligent, even as a child—sneaking along on a mission he absolutely shouldn’t have. The silvery burns that adorn his skin, puckered and soft and shimmering like moonlight when they catch in the sun, scars tinged with the slightest hint of baby pink, are from this incident. Whatever had happened after had scarred his soul forever.

Because you’ve never encountered such intense hatred, burning bright blue flames that rage and roar inside of him, the words that are spit from between clenched teeth when he talks about his father, about his baby brother, positively scalding.

But it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that you don’t know the full story, that you aren’t entirely aware of why this vendetta against his family exists. It doesn’t matter that his one goal in life, his only true desire aside from you, is to take down his father. It doesn’t matter that he’s willing to do anything and use everyone to achieve his objective.

Because he is letting you in; slowly, bit by bit and piece by piece, the most fascinating and tragically beautiful jigsaw you’ve ever put together. He may never be ready to tell the full story, and that’s alright with you, because as you’ve reassured him countless times in the dead of night, you’ll always love him anyway—you’ll always be by his side.

That’s when he’s most vulnerable, it seems—in the middle of the night, at two and three and four in the morning, when he wakes trembling and whimpering and soaked with his own sweat.

He never tells you what they’re about, the nightmares. Sometimes, they’re so violent that they wake you first. He doesn’t fuck you immediately on those days, doesn’t say a word as he finds solace in your warm bosom, little fingers pushing back sweaty strands of inky hair from his temples as your other arm wraps around him, holding him close to you as his shaky breathing calms, as his muscles stop quivering. On those nights, he says nothing as he spreads your legs and climbs on top of you, railing you into the mattress like it’s his last day on this earth.

That’s how he likes to be comforted; that’s what calms him down best. It’s standard procedure at this point—not that you mind waking up to his soft sniffles and him shoving himself into your barely prepped cunt, or rousing to feel the tip of his naked cock rubbing against your clit through thin cotton undies as he tells you in that wavering voice to stay sleeping and let your Mister take what he needs. You’re there to serve him—and you do, so perfectly. You just want to help, after all. You’ve always ever just wanted to help. You never know which nights he’ll gift you another little piece of himself, of his soul, for you to try and fit in somewhere in the puzzle that is DABI. You don’t know the triggers—as far as you’re concerned, they don’t seem to exist anywhere outside of the padlocked barricade of his own head, no rhyme or reason to them, more random than anything else. But you’ll readily accept anything and everything he’s willing to give, the very instant he’s willing to give it.

✰ ✰ ✰

Sprawled out on the hotel bed with his white t-shirt riding up and exposing your lacy panties, you watch, in an almost trancelike state, as Dabi does his hair in preparation for the game set to begin in an hour or so. He leaves it messy and ungreased when he isn’t working, all tousled and fluffy, a sea of half formed curls that flow into each other, akin to tremulous waves hours before a storm like an inky ocean atop his head. But he cleans up well, when it comes time to get down to business.

“Every little swallow, every chickadee, every little bird in the tall oak tree,”

Standing in front of the mirror clad in a white undershirt and his suit pants, he sings along to Bobby Day’s staticky voice as it flows through the small radio set on the bathroom counter, nimble fingers dipping into a tin of greasy pomade and gathering a generous glob, a responding giggle bubbling up in your chest.

“The wise old owl, the big black crow,” he catches your eye through the mirror, a devilish smile materializing on his face as he continues, lathering his hands together. “Flap-a their wings singin’ ‘go bird go’,”

“Should’a been a singer, I’m telling ya,” you say as you roll onto your stomach, chin resting in your palms and head propped up, eyes glittering. “Could’a rivalled Elvis,”

Huffing out a laugh accompanied by a roll of his eyes, his hands begin to rake through his hair, slathering it with the substance and slicking most of it back from his face, sure to leave a few curls at the start of his hairline untouched. “So sweet you’re gonna rot my teeth, baby,”

“M’serious!” you insist, blinking at him as your eyebrows raise, watching the teeth of the black comb run through the slicked-up strands, his palm following close behind as he smooths it over; crisscross, crisscross, crisscross, fluff, pat, crisscross.

“Uh-huh, uh-huh,” he shakes his head in disbelief, though there’s the faintest pink tinting his stubbled cheeks. “I think I’m better at this job,”

What? Playing poker with a bunch of criminals and making deals with mafiosos and murdering those who wrong you? you swallow the words, letters stinging and scraping your throat as you force them back down, schooling your face into a neutral expression. “I respectfully disagree,”

“‘Course you do,” he mumbles to himself distractedly, leaning closer to the mirror to complete the look. “Elvis, you say?”

He begins belting out lyrics in an exaggerated deep voice as he adds the finishing touch—your favourite part—slender fingers shining with residual pomade as they twirl and coat the few stray curls left neglected, allowing them to hang artfully in the middle of his forehead.

“When I feel like this and I want to kiss youuu,” pivoting on his heel, he gazes at you with that shit-eating grin and continues. “Baby, don’t say doooon’t,”

“Oh, God, no, not Don’t!” you groan, flopping onto your back dramatically, face screwed up as if you had just tasted something sour.

“Alright, alright, alright,” he’s chuckling as he advances towards you, a small towel in his hands as he cleans them. “How ‘bout…” trailing off, he hums a little as he thinks.

“Hold my hand and promise,” he begins in a low voice, smooth and sweet like the finest melted chocolate, depositing of the towel and crawling onto the bed.

“That you’ll always love me too,”

Large hands gently pry your legs part, signature crooked smirk spreading across his face when he’s met with zero resistance, rough palms caressing silky skin as they slide up, fingers gripping and grabbing and kneading.

“Make me know you love me,”

The words taper off into a whine, beginning to sound more like begging than singing, as his body settles between your thighs, hipbones digging into the soft flesh while he hovers above you, supporting his weight on his forearms.

“The same way I love you, little girl,”

Lips trail along your jaw, leaving tender kisses in their wake—unhurried, careful, and full of purpose—as he mumbles against your skin.

“You got me at your mercy, now that I'm in love with you,”

Calloused hands begin to ruck up his t-shirt, digits dipping into the lacy waistband of your panties, his voice starting to tremble ever so slightly.

“So please don't take advantage, cause you know my love is true,”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, sapphire eyes gleaming in the golden sunlight and he pauses, blistering gaze searching your face for something, muscles relaxing and head dipping a moment later to finally press his lips against yours, whispering into the kiss. “Darling please, please love me too, I beg of you,”

And despite all the glitz and glamour, all the extravagance and exhilaration, that comes with each mission, this will always be your favourite part—when it’s only you and him, lounging around in some luxurious five star hotel or some dingy roadside motel, exchanging lazy, messy kisses full of stringy shining saliva, goofing around and whispering stupid Elvis lyrics to each other, words that hold more weight than either of you care to admit.

✰ ✰ ✰

It was supposed to be a fairly simple operation—minimal violence, Tomura had instructed. No guns or casualties, if it can be avoided, if Dabi can keep his temper in check. It was supposed to be easy, straightforward, safe.

It was supposed to be. But Dabi gets bored easily, likes a little spike of adrenaline with his missions, rolling his broad shoulders and cracking his neck as he joins the rest of the men around the poker table, a sly smirk on his face as they name the bets and the prizes.

“And my little doll,”

It’s hard to resist rolling your eyes as those four words slip from between his lips, slow and smooth in that deep, lazy drawl, trademark smirk painted across his lips as his lidded eyes scan the faces sitting around the table, an eyebrow raised, daring any of them to protest. Several hungry eyes dart towards you for a moment, standing like the reward you are a few feet behind Dabi and leaning on a railing, a shy little smile briefly gracing your lips in greeting, elegant evening gown shimmering under the crystal lights.

This isn’t new—Dabi usually bets you when he plays. Keeps him sharp, he claims. Keeps him on his toes, keeps it fun when there’s something important at stake, something valuable to lose, he says. He plays better that way, he promises.

Except he’s always craved that thrill of danger, has always liked to push further and further simply to see how far he can go before he topples over the edge. It’s a rush, a blast, a high akin to the morphine that so often flows through his veins, and he fucking lives for it.

It’s been over an hour now, since those words were murmured in that velvet voice, floating across the table and cloaking the thoughts of the other men like a lethal haze, most of whom can’t seem to keep their eyes from wandering back to you every so often, leering gazes coating your skin with grime you itch to scrub off.

But that’s the point—or it’s supposed to be, anyway. That’s the whole reason you’re here in the first place. To act as a distraction, Tomura’s words drift through your mind, just whisps of his voice that tickle the walls of your skull.

And what a perfect distraction you are, in a Dior dress that looks like it was made only for you, tapered perfectly to every curve and edge of your body, silk flowing gracefully with every miniscule movement, with every rise and fall of your chest.

But it bores you to tears, this poker game, eyes dry and sticky, sick of staring at the back of your boyfriend’s immaculate, intricate hair as his nimble fingers play with the mountain of chips accumulating in front of him, plastic clacking together as he shuffles through them.

You had begged him to let you go shopping—just for the first half of the game, you swear!—but he refused. I need my good luck charm there with me the entire time, babydoll, he told you, brushing calloused fingers down your cheek then tracing along the line of your jaw, gazing at you with brilliant sapphire that glitters in the late afternoon sun, streaming in through the hotel’s floor-length windows. We can go shopping after the game is finished, he promised.

You regarded him with skepticism.

“And dancing?”

“Of course,” he responded with a playful scoff. “We can dance until our feet are bleeding, pinky promise,”

Keigo comes to join you just before the game passes the two-hour mark, large hands finding purchase on your hips and pulling you back against his chest as his head dips down, soft full lips against your skin.

“Lovely dress you’ve got on,” he murmurs, breath hot against your ear, tickling the shell. “You look stunning—breathtaking—I mean, gosh, look at me, I can barely breathe,” he gasps dramatically, chest heaving against your back as he does so, chuckling when you roll your eyes and giggle at him to shut up, Kei, the vibrations from his laugh a comforting sensation, a familiar sensation, a welcomed sensation, sending warmth spreading through your body. “I’m so happy you’re here,” you whine, leaning further into him and head tilting against his collarbone to gaze up at him. “I’m so bored,”

“Yeah, I bet,” he says, something unusual—unreadable—settling in his topaz eyes as he glances up at the table. “You aren’t used to games lasting this long, are you, baby,”

A little pout settles on your lips and you nod, playing right into his condescending cooing as you snuggle into him, eyes following his stare. Truthfully, you haven’t a clue what’s going on, and, really, you couldn’t care less. You aren’t entirely sure what the significance of this poker game is, or who most of these men are, and you aren’t allowed to. Just sit pretty and perfect like you always do; it’s the thing you do best.

Except tonight—tonight something is different, unsettling, off. It’s no big deal, though, of course—you can almost hear that deep, dark voice drawling the words out in your mind, phantom breath tickling your skin.

Because Dabi’s always been startlingly good at what he does. Because Dabi’s always been able to worm his way out of a difficult situation. Because there’s never really been a reason to worry about it before, anyway. But tonight—well, tonight you’re watching as his Balenciaga clad shoulders are getting tenser, and tenser, as his jaw is clenching tighter, and tighter, as his grip on that singular sparkly chip resting in his palm is becoming stronger, and stronger, thin skin stretching painfully over sharp bony knuckles.

Keigo’s breath is bated, his fingers digging into your hips as he observes the game unfolding in front of the both of you, pulling you closer to him, hushed curses falling from his lips every so often. And Keigo knows what’s happening, of course, but he refuses to tell you, promising you that you wouldn’t understand even if he tried to explain it. Creases form on your forehead as your eyebrows knit, eyes drifting back to the table. Whatever it is, it’s clear that it isn’t good, Keigo’s body tensing against yours as he sucks in a breath and holds it for a moment before blowing it out from his mouth, exasperated. “Well, I’m positive it’s fine,” you say, trying to wave it off lightly, to whisk away the acrimonious dread that roots deep in the pit of your stomach and begins to spread, thick and dense as it slithers into your surrounding organs, to brush off the impending sense of foreboding that seems to lurk over you, getting heavier and heavier, darker and darker with each second that ticks by—though your voice sounds high to your ears, tinny and false. “Dabi’s never lost a game before, that’s why they send him to these things,” But Keigo doesn’t sound so sure, responding with a nervous breath of a laugh, lithe fingers flexing on your hips, rubbing little lopsided circles into the flesh. “First time for everything, songbird,”

The words send ice piercing through your veins, but you persevere, rolling your shoulders and standing up a little straighter, swallowing past the painful lump that’s lodged itself in your throat. It’s fine. It’s always fine. He’s always found a way to get out of messy, tight situations before. Why should tonight be any different?

It won’t be, it isn’t—you can already see Dabi collapsing on the cream sofa upstairs in your luxurious hotel room, tugging at his bowtie with a sigh as his head falls back, nimble fingers popping the first few buttons on his crisp white dress shirt, and had you scared for a moment there, didn’t I, kitten?

And you’ll playfully slap his shoulder as you crawl into his lap, roll your eyes as you straddle his hips and allow him to tilt the champagne flute to your lips, laugh it off as his hands begin to wander, rucking up your dress and kneading your ass, cock tenting his expensive trousers. Like always. You’re sure of it

It’s just past the three-hour mark when Keigo speaks again, all traces of teasing, of that easygoing lilt that is so distinctly him, gone from his voice. Golden locks stand in all directions, his hair having fallen out of its usual ducktail style, a curtesy of fingers raking through it nervously. His smile is tight as he looks down at you, front teeth nibbling at his cuticles as he speaks, muffled a little by his fingers. “Maybe we should get you out of here, sweetheart—”

“No,” you respond instantly with a firm shake of your head. “I’m not going anywhere,”

“Sunshine, listen—”

“I said, no, Kei,” you pull back a little to look at him, resolution sown into your voice, chest puffing out just a touch. “I won’t leave him,”

Honey eyes hold yours for a moment, and you can almost hear Keigo’s molars as they grind together. He exhales a deep sigh a moment later, shaking his head and tugging his fingers through golden strands again. “Alright, alright,” It finally comes to an end, a few minutes past the four-hour mark. Heavy lids start to lift as commotion begins to stir—soft murmurs among the men and chairs scraping against the floor, plastic chips clacking together and the sharp whisp that travels through the air as cards are shuffled—whining a little as you lean further into Keigo, who is now supporting most of your weight.

“Kei, feet hurt,”

“Shh, I know, songbird,” he hushes you, a large palm stroking your head. “But I need you to wake up, sweetheart,”

Rough, unfamiliar hands are wrapping around your arms only a moment later, yanking you from the warm sanctuary that is Keigo and hauling you against stiff muscle.

“I believe you’re mine now, darling,”

The words are gravelly, uttered in a low voice against the crown of your head. A vicious shiver crawls along your skin, whole body trembling with the force of it, as your lids snap open.

“Wait, what?” frantic eyes search the gaudy room for familiar cobalt, breath beginning to accelerate as you struggle a little in the grasp of a burly man with one eye. His grip tightens in retaliation and a pained yelp hitches in your throat, Dabi’s eye twitching at the sound. “Dabi? D-Dabi!”

Sapphire blazes into your skull, steadily holding your watery gaze as his jaw clenches, swallowing thickly at the sound of your pitiful little whimpers of his name, at the way you squirm and wiggle in your abductor's grasp, desperate to escape, to get back to him.

“H-Hold on, now,” Keigo begins, holding his hands up in surrender, a motion meant to signify peace, to signify that he isn’t a threat—even though you know he’s got the cold metal of his favourite pistol tucked into the waistband of his trousers and pressed against his warm skin. “Let’s talk this through, yeah? Just wait a minute—”

“Nope,” the man cuts Keigo off mid-sentence with a loud, harsh laugh, and you wince at the sound. “No way, a deal’s a deal, friend. I won her fair and square—she’s mine,”

A light chuckle, laced with irritation and dubiety, escapes Keigo’s lips as he shakes his head a little. “Come on, Dabi jokes around like that all the time,” and while his voice seems amicable on the surface, its ridden with cold undertones, phantom threats that are felt, not said. “And this little lady—as pretty as she is—is a person, not a prize. Taking her against her will is, in fact, kidnapping, and I’ll be forced to—”

“Let him go,”

“What?” the word falls from your lips and Keigo’s simultaneously—one incredulous and pitched high with distress, the other breathed out in disbelief, both equally as concerned—gazes snapping to Dabi, who sits quiet and brooding, dim lights casting shadows on the sharp planes of his face.

Azure drifts between your faces, features ridden with terror and alarm—furrowed brows and deep frowns tugging at the corners of lips, one pair of eyes wide with scepticism, the other pair glistening with tears. Dabi’s silent for another moment before he pushes on his knees and stands, squaring his shoulders and clearing his throat, voice ringing out loud and clear, dripping with admonition. “Let him go. He’s right; he won her, fair and square,”

He speaks slowly, annunciating each word with careful precision, sapphire glinting in the dim light has he holds the muscular man’s gaze. It holds something threatening, something menacing, something terrifying deep within the depths of his eyes, and you feel your captor pause for a second, tense, and then shiver.

“Uh, r-right,” he says, voice wavering a little as he nods to himself. “Fair and square,”

Dabi stalks towards you, shiny oxfords echoing against the pristine, freshly waxed marble floor, tutting his tongue and shaking his head, casual and relaxed as ever.

“Don’t struggle, you hear me?” he says, voice softer, gentler, as a calloused thumb swipes across your cheekbone, catching a stray tear. “Be a good girl for him,”

And I’ll see you soon.

The promise doesn’t need to be vocalized—you can see it, shining bright and true in his sapphire eyes, can sense it, in the air surrounding him, can feel it, at the very core of your soul.

A sudden sense of relief floods your body, pathetic little sobs getting caught in your chest as you exhale shakily and deflate in the burly man’s arms, tears finally spilling over your lashline and streaming down your cheeks.

“Okay,” you breathe.

Dabi gives you a simple nod, lips quirking up into a ghost of his signature lopsided smirk. Okay.

And just like that, all of the fear and trepidation and panic vanishes from your body, a serene calm chased by a sense of giddiness replacing it, scorching through your veins.

Because before the door to the man’s hotel room has even swung fully shut, Dabi’s barreling through, crystal handle smashing against the wall and cracking as skilled fingers tangle in short hair, yanking the man’s head back with a sickening crack and dragging the razor-sharp edge of his favourite switchblade across the man’s exposed throat.

He moves like a flash of light, a spark igniting a fire, so fast he’s merely a blur of black and navy and blazing sapphire. Thick crimson begins pouring from the wound immediately, a large splice spanning from one earlobe all the way to the other.

The man hits the shiny hardwood floor with a distinct thump, but you aren’t paying attention to him or the way he’s writhing as he tries to claw at his neck, coughing and gagging as he begins to choke on his own blood.

No, you’re captivated by sapphire, bright and burning as it surges towards you, calloused hands seizing your face roughly as chapped lips find yours, unforgiving and ferocious, bloody knife still in one hand, cool metal pressed against your cheek, smearing streaks of scarlet across your skin as you try to get closer to him, to get more, the stench of copper stinging your nose.

It’s eradicated in an instant though, Dabi’s heady scent—campfire and hickory wood and expensive cologne—filling your lungs, your mind, your entire being as it curls around you in the most intoxicating embrace, familiar and comforting and him, him, him. Stumbling backwards, you just about trip over your own feet as Dabi shoves forward, strong hands wrapped around your biceps keeping you steady. The sharp edge of the small rosewood dining table digs into your lower back, Dabi swallowing your resounding yelp as he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth and tugs, large hands finding your waist and squeezing before he hoists you onto its surface, using his hipbones to force your thighs open.

You nearly topple over from the power, from the urgency, hands flying out behind you and grappling against the table’s surface to keep you sitting upright as he heaves and pushes and leans against you, motions knocking sparkling crystal glasses and fine porcelain plates off the top.

The sound of shattering glass and cracking china mingles with the gurgling and garbling of the man who lay a few feet away on the floor, suffocating on his own blood. It creates such a beautiful symphony, intertwined with Dabi’s ragged breaths and your broken moans, with the ruffling of clothing and the screech of the table legs against the gleaming hardwood floor. And it’s desperate, and needy, and messy, teeth clashing and clacking together violently, saliva dripping down chins as tongues rub and glide and lick, hands pawing and gripping and tugging and ripping, the delicate material of your silk Dior dress practically turning to ash as his fingers materialize through it, tearing it to shreds.

“Off, off, off, I need this off,” he’s growling against your lips as his hands work, a low whine getting caught in your throat as you nod frenetically.

Yes, yes, yes, you’re whimpering, your own little fingers helping him destroy the silvery fabric, eager and anxious to rid your body of the bothersome garment.

A guttural groan, deep and dark and inducing a fluttering in your tummy rumbles in his chest as his eyes roam over your body, clad in the daintiest white lace.

“You’re fucking gorgeous, y’know that,” he’s mumbling between sharp bites to the flesh of your neck, fingers snapping the clasp of your bra, breaking it in one simple motion. “A fuckin’ angel, that’s what you are, baby. My very own angel,”

Rough palms slide down your torso, slow and purposeful as they trace, feel, knead the dips and curves, planes and contours of your body, slender fingers pausing to play with the elastic of the garter belt adorning your waist, holding up your lace-trimmed thigh-highs which have begun to tear, then hooking in the waistband of your thong.

His cock grinds against your inner thigh, hot and hard and throbbing as it strains against his trousers, digits toying with the lacy elastic, twirling it between his fingers before he lets it snap back against your skin, the harsh slap! echoing throughout the hotel room.

“Oh, Mister, I want it,” the plead falls from your lips in a shameless moan, high and whiny as your hips press forward in an attempt to grind against him. Slender fingers untangle themselves from the lacy fabric in an instant, gripping your hips to still them, fingertips digging into your flesh. “I need it,”

“Need what, dollface?” his lips brush against your skin as he speaks, teeth sinking into your collarbone a moment later, hard enough to break the skin, a loud cry getting caught in your chest. He sucks on the wound, hard, tongue laving over it in soothing little circles, slowly dragging over the bite.

And it’s a compulsion, a sickness, a fucking disease surging through your veins, infecting your mind with thoughts of him and only him, entire body buzzing with the desperate, pathetic, urgent need for him, for his cock, for his cum.

“Need you, need you,” you’re whimpering out, squirming and struggling a little in his grasp, a warning hiss spit through his teeth as blunt nails nip your skin. “Please, Dabi, please, lemme have it,”

“Have what, baby?” lips curling up into a coy smirk, he pulls back just enough to look at you, finally pushing his hips into yours, a patronizing laugh spilling from his throat as you instantly grind against his cock, impatient and impetuous. “Use your words, Mister wants to hear you say it,”

Scalding heat seeps into your cheeks as you squeeze your eyes shut tightly, a broken whine of complaint sounding in the back of your throat as you shake your head. “Y-You know,” you mumble. “You know,”

“Oh, come on, baby,” he tuts with a disappointed shake of his head, voice overflowing with condescension. “You act like such a little slut, but as soon as I want you to say what you apparently need oh-so-badly, you can’t? You get all shy and bashful like you’re innocent, or something?”

An arrogant chuckle bubbles up in his chest, a rough palm colliding with the flesh of your ass a moment later. Scarred lips graze your ear as he leans back in, speaking low and smooth, words leaving his mouth in a huff of warm, sweet breath. “You’re being bad, y’know that?”

The huskiness in his tone sends chills pebbling across your skin, a delicate shiver dancing up your spine.

“Please,” you whisper, bottom lip beginning to tremble. “Please, Mister, please,”

“Tell me,” he rasps, taking the lobe of your ear between his teeth and sucking, bruising his name into the sensitive skin. “I know you can do it, doll. What is it that you want? Tell me,”

And, God, it’s so embarrassing, vision blurring with the sting of tears, entire body beginning to tremble from the combined humiliation and lust surging through your veins, his clothed cock still rutting against your core, poking and prodding and so close, you’re so close, two tiny words, just say them. “Your—Your cock,” you almost yelp, blinking back the tears in your eyes as you try to gaze levelly at him, teeth digging into your bottom lip to quell its pathetic quivering. “W-Want your cock, please, Mister, I-I need it,”

“Yeah?” he breathes while he rests his forehead against yours, butting forward a little as his glazed eyes rapidly search your face, pupils blown to hell and lips bitten red, shining with spit. “Where, huh? Down here?”

A finger tugs the flimsy soaked lace to the side, another dark chuckle slipping from his lips as he drags a knuckle up your dripping slit.

“Here?” it presses into your cute little hole, your hips eagerly bucking forward in response.

“Yes, yes, there, Mister, there, please,” you keen, head nodding in almost frantic movements, skull knocking against his. “Please, n-no fingers, want your cock, need your cock, stretch me out, fill me up, I need it,”

And it’s your senseless babbling that does it, bratty and needy and incessant in high broken whines, that snaps the final thread of patience holding him back, and a growl rips from his chest, so violent it vibrates through your own.

The heavy buckle of his belt clinks as hasty fingers fiddle with it, shoving his trousers down his thighs just enough to free his cock.

You can’t help the mortifying moan that escapes your throat the moment you see it, velvety and pink and oh-so-pretty, flushed tip glistening with precum and two thick veins snaking around the shaft like vines.

“Christ,” he groans as he pushes into your cunt, burying himself inside of you in one swift thrust, your nails biting into the hard muscles of his shoulder through the thin material of his shirt as your hole stretches around him, both of you exhaling simultaneous sighs of relief.

It burns and it stings and God, you need more, eyes rolling back in your skull as the sharp heels of your stilettos dig into his lower back, little fingers tangling in white cotton as you try to pull him closer, closer, closer.

“Greedy little brat,” he snarls out as his hips begin snapping, the movement sudden, unexpected, welcomed, a choked cry of his name catching in your throat.

And it’s brutal and relentless, primal and desperate, lacking most of his usual finesse as he pounds into you, cockhead slamming against your cervix with every harsh thrust of his hips, hard enough to move the entire table itself, legs scraping against the floor a little more with each pump.

Inky curls cling to his forehead and temples, the white cotton of his dress shirt becoming translucent as it sticks to his damp skin, highlighting the hard planes of defined muscle that flex with each ragged inhale.

Surging forward, his tongue runs along the inside of your teeth before it drags against yours, slow and heavy, depositing his taste and staining it with the flavour of him, fiery cinnamon gum and smoky Marlboros. Gorgeous, needy little whines break in his throat in time with each strong piston of his hips, muffled by your mouth, and you greedily swallow whatever he’ll afford you.

It’s total sensory overload—he’s all you can see, all you can hear, all you can taste, touch, breathe, hijacking all of your receptors and overwhelming you with him.

It’s building inside of you, deep in the pit of your stomach, scorching flames that glow as blue as his eyes as they rage, climbing higher and higher, licking at your insides and expanding further and further until they finally engulf you, consume you, with their blaze, and everything shatters, body convulsing almost violently around his cock as you cum with a strained cry of his name.

“Fill me, Mister,” you’re babbling, begging, swearing you’ll die if he doesn’t, the flames will burn you to ash if you don’t get his cum soon, voice absolutely wrecked. “Fill me, fill me,”

And he obeys, filling your cute little cunt to the brim with thick, hot cum as his cock pulses, a cracked whimper of f-fuck, slipping past his lips.

His chest heaves as he collapses against you, the two of you falling back against the table’s surface with a thump, his cock still buried inside of you. A soft whine sounds in the back of your throat as you carefully unlock your legs from around him, wincing a little at the stiffness in your thighs.

I love you.

The three words are murmured into your shoulder, so soft you barely hear them, so quiet you’re sure you’d have imagined them had you not felt his lips move against your flesh, not felt his hot breath on your skin, not felt the gentle vibrations in his chest as he spoke.

“I love you,” you respond, voice tender as tiny fingers comb through his dishevelled hair. “I love you,”

He’s silent for a moment, your combined pants the only sounds ringing out among the hotel room, and then he nods—once at first; just a quick, sharp motion, and then again a moment later, with more vigour, more purpose, more acceptance.

Little hands smooth down the damp cotton hugging his back and your head lolls to the side, cheek pressed against the cool wood of the table. A certain type of giddiness—a type that’s sick, that’s twisted, that’s stuffed full of love—floods your body as your eyes connect with those of a dead man, laying in a pool sticky crimson, and God, yes, you love him, you love him, you love him—more than anyone else ever could, more than you could ever love anything else.

1K notes · View notes

ragingbookdragon · 3 years ago

Text

If All Of The Kings Had Their Queens On The Throne

Batsis x Ghost-Maker One-Shot

Word Count: 4K Warnings: Explicit Language, Slight Angst, Mature Themes

Author's Note: This is a direct continuation of the previous fic! Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

When the door to The Haunt didn’t immediately open, she frowned and clicked the button. “Hey! Lemme in!”

For a moment, there was nothing, then she heard, “Apologies Miss Wayne. Ghost-Maker is busy training. Shall I alert him?”

She sighed. “Nah, just let me in and I’ll get him.”

“Of course.”

The doors split open, and she walked into the base, immediately rolling her eyes at the colors, or better yet the lack of color at all. She had no idea what spurred him to pick white as one of the main colors in everything he wore and used, but God if it didn’t make him look like a psychopath. A snort passed her lips at her little joke, and she wandered around the desk setup and through one of the curtained areas until she heard boxing gloves meeting a punching bag.

Gently tugging the curtain aside, she paused, leaning against the doorway, and watched his back. He was shirtless and had headphones in, as he usually was and did when he trained alone, and his muscles rippled each time he threw a powerful strike. She couldn’t help but watch him; he’d always been so diligent when it came to his training, and if she hadn’t known him better than she did, she would’ve assumed all he did was train. She was very fond of it though. Very fond of him.

“You going to stand there or are you going to get a set of gloves and spar with me?”

She shook herself from her thoughts to see him rounding the bag, throwing a devastating kick; she snorted. “No thanks, Ghost. I just got over having a cracked skull.” Walking over, she neared the space, but stayed just far enough that she wouldn’t get struck.

“I’m actually here to invite you over to the manor tonight.” She said, watching as his eyes flitted to hers behind the mask. “I take it you know.”

“About the little pool party Bruce throws for everyone? Yes. I keep hearing about it over the Ghost-Net.”

She smiled. “It’s a lot of fun, Ghost. You’d have fun.”

He scoffed. “What? Being surrounded by every single hero this side of the galaxy? No thank you, (Y/N). I’d rather not.”

Rolling her eyes, she grabbed the punching bag and held it, looking at him. “You’re not going to make any friends if you spend all your time cooped up in here.”

“I’m not looking to make friends,” he retorted, throwing another punch that sent shock-waves through her arms to her core. “I’m here to clean up Gotham.”

(Y/N) gazed at him. “Sure I can’t persuade you?”

“Positive.”

She shrugged. “Then you leave me no choice.” Leveling him with a strong expression, she warned, “As the newest member of the Batfamily, you have to attend the pool party. It’s tradition and anyone who doesn’t, has to take patrol routes for everyone for a month straight.”

Ghost-Maker stopped dead in his tracks and looked at her. “You’re lying.”

(Y/N) sucked in a breath dramatically, “Ghost, I never lie.” She looked to the ceiling. “Icon, run the conversations from my phone named, ‘Bat-Chat’ and tell him I’m not lying.”

After a moment, the AI’s voice came over, clear and positive. “Miss Wayne is correct, sir. Record texts have shown that those who do not attend the parties thrown by the family for the other superheroes are subject to various torture techniques.”

“What!” (Y/N) shouted. “No, we don’t!”

“You said on June eighth that your brother Timothy Jackson Drake was going to be swirlied for missing the party.”

She sputtered. “I was joking! We don’t swirly each other. We just force our patrol routes on each other.” (Y/N) glanced at Ghost-Maker. “If you don’t come, you’re going to take patrol from me, Dick, Jason, Tim, Cass, Steph, Duke, and Damian. You really wanna patrol all month by yourself? All that territory? Think of the time and energy it’ll take, Ghost.”

Ghost-Maker stared her down for a minute, mulling over his choices, then he finally sighed, resigned to his fate. “Fine. I’ll come over tonight.”

(Y/N) grinned. “Nope, you gotta get ready now. We’re arriving together.”

“You annoy me.” He griped, bypassing her to the doorway, and she followed him towards the stairs and to his bedroom where he entered the bathroom and got in the shower. She waited on the bed, gazing around his room while he showered.

“Who all is attending this party? That you know for sure.”

(Y/N) blinked, taking a moment to think. “Uh, all of the Justice League, the Titans and Teen Titans, the Outlaws, a few Green Lanterns…and probably a few anti-heroes but we’ll see.” She shrugged. “So pretty much everyone we interact with on a normal basis.”

“I heard Harley is coming too.”

“Yeah, she’s technically part of the family at this point.” (Y/N) said. “She’d be upset if we didn’t invite her over.”

Ghost-Maker stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist and she stood from the bed, wandering in behind him as he lathered his face in shaving cream.

“Trying to show out in front of everyone, Ghost?” she joked, leaving back against the door-frame of the small cabinet behind them.

“Bruce doesn’t keep himself kempt all the time. I do,” he remarked, flicking out the straight razor; he raised it to his jaw, and she hummed warningly, causing his brown eyes to meet hers in the mirror. “What?”

(Y/N) shook her head. “I’m just worried you’ll cut yourself.”

“I’ve been shaving my face since I was fifteen, (Y/N).”

“So that scar on your cheekbone isn’t from cutting yourself?”

He gazed at her. “You know why I have that scar.”

“I do.” She answered, then leaned away from the wall, shifting until she was sitting on the bathroom counter in front of him. Taking the razor, she tilted his chin up and carefully, scraped it down his cheek before rinsing it. “I gave it to you when you called me a coward.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to hit me that hard.” Ghost-Maker replied, coffee eyes focused on her face; she felt exposed under his knowing gaze.

She chuckled. “I think that was the first time I really surprised you that I wasn’t just my brother’s twin sister following him around to make sure he was safe.”

“You can’t blame me for thinking you were. You never joined in the training.”

“I learned better watching then doing.” (Y/N) rinsed the razor and tipped his head back as she drug the instrument down the exposed skin of his throat. “Most people are fearful when someone holds a razor to their neck,” she murmured, carefully shaving his Adam’s apple.

“I’m not afraid of you.”

Her hands stilled ever so slightly as she gaped at him. Normally he would’ve said, “I don’t feel fear” but now he said he wasn’t afraid of her. She wanted to hope it was because of what had occurred the last month, her confessing her feelings, him replying that he couldn’t love her like she did him—he’d not totally ruled out caring for her, at least that’s what she saw his words being. They’d not talked about it more than that night, merely going back to work, but she could tell that Ghost-Maker’s demeanor towards her had changed a minute amount. He watched her more. Was…softer with her.

(Y/N) smiled. “I’m glad to hear that.” She rinsed the razor and looked over his face for a moment, then she grabbed the towel and wet it, gently brushing over the shaving cream still on his face. Patting his face dry, she nodded. “Looks good. No nicks.”

“Thank you,” he approved, but didn’t move, keeping his eyes on her and she couldn’t help but look down, suddenly nervous under his gaze.

Her eyes widened when she saw the expanse of his chest though and she reached up, fingers delicately tracing a jagged and raised scar in the middle of his chest. Even healed it looked angry and a bolt of sadness hit her in the heart.

“You’re sad.” He noted. For a psychopath who didn’t feel empathy, he was actually good at discerning when people felt sad—or maybe it was just because he’d known her so long.

(Y/N) nodded, whispering, “There aren’t many scars on mine and Bruce’s bodies that look like this one.” Her fingers moved to one on the right side of his ribs and she frowned. “We’ve always had someone to stitch us up, or we did it for one another. But I can’t help but wonder…” her eyes met his. “Who did it for you? Who stitched the ones you couldn’t reach and do yourself?”

Her chest hurt. “Who was there for you when I wasn’t?” she leaned forward and pressed her forehead to the center of his chest. He was so warm, and she sighed, willing herself to not tear up. “I’m sorry, K.”

“For what?” he questioned, a hand coming up behind her, palm resting against the back of her neck.

“For leaving you behind,” (Y/N) answered, deciding then to wrap her arms around his waist, turning her face so her cheek rested to his chest. “I should’ve stayed with you.”

Ghost-Maker made a noise in his throat, and she wasn’t sure if it was agreement or bitterness. “And if you had, you wouldn’t have raised your family.”

She sighed. “Yeah…I know…but even during that time I couldn’t help but wonder how your journey was going. How you and your tech were evolving throughout the years.” (Y/N) pulled back slightly and looked at him. “I used to imagine what it’d be like to be there with you. To fight beside you. To live out your dream with you.”

His hand shifted from the back of her neck to cup her cheek and he tilted her head up, leaning down to kiss her. She closed her eyes, arms shifting from around his waist to wrap around his neck and his free hand gripped her waist, pulling her against him. Ghost-Maker shifted, pressing his lips to the underside of her jaw as his fingers dipped under her thigh, pulling it up until (Y/N) got the hint to cock it around his hip.

“K,” she breathed as he sunk his teeth into her neck, biting hard enough that it had her inhaling sharply, fingers twisting in the dark hair at the nape of his neck. She felt him smile against her skin.

“What do you want?” he asked, pressing surprisingly gentle kisses to where he’d bit as the hand that was on her cheek lowered to push up the blouse that stopped at her waist. His fingers dipped underneath, rubbing against her skin and he asked again, this time firmer, “(Y/N), what do you want?”

Her heart was hammering in her chest, and she could barely think, could barely form words. “I—”

A shrill beeping startled the two of them, well, her more than him, and she finally got herself to breathe. “That’s Bruce calling.” She uncurled one of her hands from his neck to reach for the phone in her pocket, but he caught it.

“Call him back.” Ghost-Maker said, grabbing a fistful of her blouse, starting to pull up.

(Y/N) shrugged his hand off. “If Bruce’s calling, it means he needs my help.” He pulled away and giving her a look, one she met firmly. “I need to take it.”

They gazed at each other for a moment and then he harrumphed, pulling away from her, and walked from the bathroom to his closest.

She sighed and pulled out her phone, answering it. “Hello?”

Are you on your way yet? The party’s already started and everyone’s asking where you both are.

Clearing her throat, she replied, “Yeah, he’s getting his swim trunks.” She glanced out the doorway. “You own trunks, don’t you, Ghost?”

“Do I somehow give you the impression that I’m incompetent?” he shot back, and she rolled her eyes.

“Ass.” She put the phone back to her ear. “We’ll be there in fifteen.”

Be careful. Love you.

“We will. And I love you too.” She ended the call and hopped off the bathroom counter, flicking off the lights as she walked out, seeing him throwing a bag over his shoulder.

“I’m ready to be bored out of my mind.” He grunted and she rolled her eyes again.

“Oh, shut up. You’re going to have a great time. I promise.”

Ghost-Maker glared at her as he pulled the white and black mask over his eyes and nose. “And how do you know?”

(Y/N) grinned, shoving him in the stomach as she walked past him. “Because I’m going to be there all night.”

***

“See!” she chirped as he sunk into the hot tub. “This isn’t so bad.” She handed him a drink. “Free drinks, laughter, and swimming. Fun, huh?”

He grunted, sipping the margarita she’d given him. “Your family and their friends are loud.”

(Y/N) looked over his head towards the other pool, grinning as her eldest nephew threw her youngest into the pool, then turned and threw his best friend. Laughter peeled from the entire group in the pool.

“Yeah…but that’s how you know they’re having a good time.” Her eyes drifted to Bruce who was fondly watching Jason and Roy grill, occasionally laughing as one of them told a joke. “Feelin’ good, Bruce?”

He took a sip of his brandy, sinking until his shoulders were covered by the running hot water. “Feeling great, (Y/N).” he held out his drink. “Put some ice in there? Please?”

She smiled and pulled her legs out of the hot tub, and really, it wasn’t exactly a hot tub because most were above ground, but Bruce being who he was, had redesigned it so that it and the pool were both in ground and connected.

Taking his glass, she rose and wandered over to the bar where a few of her friends were pouring drinks and chatting. “Hey Clark. Diana. How are you both tonight?”

Diana smiled and raised her wine glass. “I am well, (Y/N). How are you?”

“Can’t complain.” She said. “Clark, put an ice cube in here, would you?”

He did as she asked and dropped one in with the tongs. “I’m still surprised you got Ghost-Maker here. I assumed he wasn’t going to come.”

Her eyes flicked back over to the hot tub, and she watched Bruce tip his head back as he laughed, Ghost-Maker chuckling too; she smiled. “He’d never admit it, but he’s glad he came tonight. Anti-social as he usually is, he likes being included in things.” (Y/N) smiled at them and winked, walking back over.

She took her seat back on the side in the middle between Bruce and Ghost-Maker, handing her brother his brandy. “Clark licked all over the rim of your glass, Bruce. Just letting you know.” Feeling particularly childish, Bruce raised the glass to his lips and licked all around the glass. “You’re a child.” She remarked, then glanced to her side, seeing one of the Green Lanterns coming down the way.

“Kyle!” she greeted. “Join the fray!”

The artist smiled, then looked at the men in the hot tub. “I don’t want to intrude,” he said, and Bruce waved.

“Come on in.”

(Y/N) patted the wall between her legs and Kyle walked down the steps, shifting until his back pressed against the wall and she dropped her legs over his shoulders, fingers carding in his hair. “How’s it been going on Oa?”

He shrugged, sipping his beer. “It’s good. Can’t complain too much about saving the universe.”

She smirked. “Uh huh…and what’s this about you and Soranik?”

Kyle choked a bit on his beer, coughing slightly as she giggled. “It’s uh—complicated.” He tipped his head back, resting on her thighs so he could look up at her. “What about you? How’ve you been?”

(Y/N) sighed wistfully, combing back his hair. “Ain’t nothing changin’ but the weather…and the usual telling off the men in front of you for continually betting each other who can do the more stupid shit.”

At that, Kyle’s head tipped up and he first looked at Bruce, then to Ghost-Maker who merely drank from his margarita. “Uh…who’s that?” he asked quietly, and she snorted.

“Kyle, this is Ghost-Maker. Ghost, this is Kyle Rayner, the torch bearing Green Lantern.” She smushed his cheeks. “Isn’t he adorable?”

Ghost-Maker gave her an amused puff. “He is handsome, I’ll give you that.”

Kyle was glad the water had already flushed his skin because the way the man had flirted had made his cheeks warm. “Thank you.” He glanced back at her. “Is his name…?”

She nodded. “Yeah, he takes anonymity to a whole new level.” She tugged at a strand of his hair. “Did you know that only me, Bruce, and a few others know what he looks like and what his entire name is?”

He blinked in response. “That’s…hardcore secret identity, right there.”

“That’s because he doesn’t have any friends.” (Y/N) shot Ghost-Maker a grin. “But you can call him Ghost for short. It’s easier than the mouthful of Ghost-Maker.” The vigilante in return merely rolled his eyes and sipped his drink. “So, Kyle, have any new graphic novels in the works?”

“I do actually. Haven’t written them down but here’s an idea.” He brought up his hand out of the water and a green flash appeared in everyone’s vision. “See how you like it so far?”

(Y/N) huffed a laugh in disbelief. “This is so cool.” She grabbed the construct comic book and flipped through it. “Who’s the main?”

“Haven’t named her yet. But she’s a transgender, pansexual Native American who solves crimes as a superhero.” His cheeks flushed. “I know it’s ironic because we’re superheroes, but I couldn’t help it, you know?”

She nodded, seemingly impressed. “Figured out which tribe yet?”

“I was thinking possibly Cherokee. Or Mohawk.”

“I’ve got a MTF Kanienʼkehá꞉ka friend who lives in Quebec.” She said. “I’ll give her a call about working with you on this.”

Kyle lit up like the morning sun. “Really, (Y/N)? You’d do that?”

She looked down at him and shifted her thighs a bit, bumping his head. “Of course. You’re one of my best friends.”

“I love you, (Y/N).” he grinned, and she chuckled.

“I love you too, loser.”

Suddenly the speakers thumped, and her head shot up, looking towards Tim and Bart who were giggling. She pointed at them. “HEY! THIS IS NOT AN APPROPRIATE SONG!”

They merely giggled more and suddenly everyone was singing along to the raunchy song, well, the teens and young adults were but not her and the older people.

(Y/N) shoved Kyle off as she got up and ran towards the speakers. “WAP IS NOT AN APPROPRIATE SONG TO PLAY AT A POOL PARTY! THERE ARE CHILDREN PRESENT! TIMOTHY JACKSON, YOU GET BACK HERE WITH THAT IPHONE! TURN IT OFF!”

***

She smiled sweetly at her family and friends passed out in the living room, pillows and blankets thrown everywhere, arms slung over bodies, heads on stomachs and backs. It was nice to see them all so comfortable with each other, so tightly knit; it reminded her of a better time.

Most of the adults had gone home though some had stayed in extra rooms. She was sure that her brother and him had gone down to the cave to have it out just for the hell of it, but she was rather tired and decided to call it a night—though it was actually one am.

Closing the door behind her, she didn’t bother to go shower, planning to do it in the morning as she started stripping. First went the swimsuit cover, then the top and bottoms. She kicked her flip-flops off into the corner of the room and stretched her arms above her head, a quiet groan passing her lips as her joints and bones popped.

As she lowered her hands, a hand clamped around her mouth and another wound around her waist, tugging her back and she gasped against their palm, starting to struggle when she heard them chuckle. The sound, combined with the familiar smell of sandalwood wafting up her nose told her who it was, and they smiled against her ear. “Worried?”

She reached up and yanked his hand from her mouth, hissing, “You’re lucky I didn’t turn around and punch the shit out of you, K.”

“Promises, promises,” he murmured, pressing a kiss behind her ear and she shivered against his chest.

“What are you doing in here? I thought you and Bruce went to go spar?”

Ghost-Maker hummed, the hand around her waist starting to squeeze the flesh of her side. “We did. He said he was tired and went to bed.”

“And you didn’t go home?” her voice kicked up a notch when his other hand slipped from her grip and slid down her front.

“I didn’t want to go home.” He pressed his front against her rear and she gasped, one of her hands coming back to grab at his thigh, digging her nails in to keep him there. He smirked as she ground back against him. “Seems like you don’t want me going home either.”

(Y/N) swallowed thickly. “Something’s up with you tonight. You’re being a lot more…passionate than usual.”

He nipped at her neck, fingers delicately dancing over her abdomen. “I don’t like that Green Lantern friend of yours.”

“Who? Kyle?” she questioned confusedly. “Why?”

“He’s very free with himself towards you.”

At that, it was crystal clear, and she spun in his arms, looking at him, though she had to strain to see his face. “Are you jealous?”

“No.” He griped, though the way his jaw set, told her the truth.

“You are!” she laughed. “You’re jealous that I’m close with other men. That’s adorable.”

Ghost-Maker stared at her for a split moment, then he bent down and grabbed her legs, throwing her over his shoulder. (Y/N)’s gasp turned into a laugh as he marched towards the bed and tossed her onto it, watching as she rolled onto her back and laughed some more at him.

“God, you’re green, K.” she giggled, watching with hooded eyes as he shucked the swim trunks down to his feet and crawled onto the bed.

“I’m not envious of a glow-stick who’s never gotten this far with you.” He countered, grabbing her ankles; he yanked her down the bed and underneath him and she gazed up at him.

“Do you wanna know how many men have gotten this far with me?” (Y/N) challenged and Ghost-Maker stared into her eyes.

“It doesn’t matter how many because once I’m done with you, you won’t remember anyone but me.” He lowered his head, pressing open-mouthed kisses to her stomach, trailing downwards and she panted in anticipation when,

CRASH!

They started, and this time, he did too, both turning to the door, then to each other.

“What the hell—”

“OH SHIT! SOMEONE PUT OUT THE FIRE!”

(Y/N) grunted. “Oh my God, what did they do?”

“DON’T JUST STAND THERE! OH MY GOD SOMEONE CALL NINE-ONE-ONE! OR THE FIRE DEPARTMENT!”

“AUNT (Y/N)! DAD!”

She rolled out from underneath Ghost-Maker, ignoring his grabbing for her and she hurried to her door, yanking the bathrobe from the hook on the back. Slinging it on, she turned and pointed at the man. “Once I’m done out here, I’m coming back and you’re not going anywhere for a few hours.”

He smirked as he collapsed onto his back, taking himself in his hand. She almost burst into flames at the sight, and he purred, “You might wish to hurry, (Y/N). Wouldn’t want to miss anything.” His words tipped into a groan as his hand shifted along himself, and she scowled at him as she pulled the door open, his erotic frame illuminating in the hall light.

“You’d better watch it, K. We both know how mean I can get when I miss out.”

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helnjk · 4 years ago

Text

By Its Cover - F.W.

Fred Weasley x fem!reader

Word count: 3k

Summary: fred knows he’s quick to act and to judge, but what happens when it backfires with the pretty healer he meets at st. mungo’s?

Warnings: malfoy!reader, mentions of hospitals, mentions of light injury, being estranged from one’s family, found family, adoption, insecurity

A/N: this is for @theweasleysredhair‘s 9k writing challenge! my prompt was ‘i love you, but stop talking.’ so sorry i took this long to churn it out, but i hope you like it 💕

prompt is in bold

–

St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries was always full of healers rushing through the halls and patients with the strangest afflictions.

Y/N Malfoy donned her healer robes and walked confidently through one of the wards, on her way to deal with her newest patient. Some sort of accidental explosion. According to the file, he was a male, 23 years old, and had a history of finding himself in the emergency wing of St. Mungo’s. It was Y/N’s first time treating him, though.

Pushing aside one of the curtains to the correct cubicle, she was met with the sight of a long and lanky redheaded man, lying on the hospital bed with patches of purple across his neck and exposed chest. Other than the fact that his skin was discolored, he seemed perfectly okay.

His eyes sparkled with mischief and amusement as the nurse on duty made sure he was comfortable. Clearly, he was in no pain at all, or if he was, it wasn’t enough to stop him from sending flirty comments in her direction. Used to this kind of behaviour, the nurse simply rolled her eyes playfully and continued her routine checks.

“Ah,” she noted when she saw Y/N walk in, “I’ll leave you in the very capable hands of Healer Malfoy now, alright?”

With a soft pat on the patient’s non-purple shoulder, she gave Y/N a tentative smile and nod before exiting the small cubicle and closing the curtains on her way out.

Y/N, however, didn’t miss the way her patient’s shoulders tensed as he heard her last name. Her heart sank slightly as she saw the playfulness in his eyes dim, but she refused to let her feelings get the better of her professionalism. After all, she was quite used to this treatment from patients and colleagues alike.

“Hello mister,” she paused to check her clipboard, “Weasley. Now what can I help you with today? Could you tell me exactly what happened with the potion you were brewing?”

“Added the wrong amount of aconite,” came his curt reply.

“Right,” she said, noting it down on his file, “And what other ingredients were mixed in the potion?”

“Look, I’m completely fine. Things like this happen all the time at my workplace, the patches of color will fade away eventually. I just need you to sign the release form.”

Y/N’s brows furrowed and her smile slipped into a small frown. This was going to be a tough one. She had recognized his last name and she knew he was a pureblood. There was no doubt in her mind that the moment he realized she was a Malfoy, he created an image in his mind that was the furthest thing from what she truly was.

With a soft sigh, she prepared herself to deal with the resistance that would come from her reply, “I’m sorry Mr. Weasley, but I can’t let you go until–”

“Healer Malfoy, there you are!” said a little girl who was dressed in her own small hospital gown as she burst through the curtains.

For a moment, both adults in the small space gaped at her as if she were a ghost.

“Mattie!” Y/N said, surprised. “What are you doing all the way here, silly? You’re meant to be resting after the round of potions you took this afternoon.”

Currently preoccupied by her small ward, Healer Malfoy didn’t notice the way Fred Weasley was staring at her. As if she had grown a second head.

“But I missed you,” whined Mattie, wrapping her arms around one of Y/N’s legs. “You said you’d visit again to read books!”

A soft chuckle escaped Y/N’s lips, “Yes, but I said I’d come read books after my rounds and after you napped! Nurse Thomas must be looking all over for you.”

The pout that the small child sent up at her nearly made it past Y/N’s strongholds.

“But I want to stay with you, Healer Malfoy!” she whined, “Please!”

With a bright eyed, stubborn toddler clutching onto her legs, she couldn’t possibly say no to the request. However, her keen awareness of the other critical pair of eyes on her gave her pause.

“Oh alright,” she caved, taking a moment to glance back at her patient, “But you’ve got to be good while I just finish up with my patient here okay? He’s gotten into a bit of an accident and I have to help him out. We don’t usually have purple skin, right?”

“Right!”

For the first time since she barged into the room, Mattie seemed to notice the redhead on the hospital bed.

“How’ve you got purple skin?” she asked confidently. Fred’s eyebrows shot up towards his forehead at the direct question before a large grin spread across his face.

Working at Wheezes gave him loads of experience when it came to curious little kids, and he was quick with his response, “I was making a secret experiment and it exploded all over me!”

His tone was conspiratorial and just enough for the little girl to move away from her position clutching Y/N’s legs and to inch closer to him.

“Yes, Mr. Weasley was just about to tell me what other ingredients were in his secret experiment so that I can help put his skin back to normal.”

Fortunately for the healer, Mattie’s presence aided in softening the redhead’s attitude towards her. With the little girl firing question after question for Fred to answer, he was much more calm and receptive to whatever Y/N needed to ask or know.

Unknown to her, the reason why Fred was more compliant this time around was because he was busy trying to alter the image he had conjured in his head about what a Malfoy was, and the scene he had just witnessed. He hadn’t known any Malfoy to be as patient, considerate, and overall just kind to someone who was not their own. Yet here she was, perfectly balancing a needy-child and a patient who judged her too quickly.

“Alright Mr. Weasley, I’m just going to pop out to get you the right potions to take for this and I’ve got to get Ms. Mattie over here back to her room,” said Y/N, “I’ll be right back.”

“Bye Mr. Weasel! I hope you get to finish your secret experiment!” Mattie waved enthusiastically, turning from her position holding Y/N’s hand to get one last look at the redhead.

When Y/N returned, Fred was sitting quietly on the bed, twirling his wand absentmindedly. The sound of her pushing back the curtains drew his eyes upwards towards her figure, and he sent her a tentative smile.

Well that’s an improvement, she thought, returning the gesture slightly.

“Alright,” she said, placing a box down next to him, “Here are the potions to take, there are two, you’ll have to drink them twice a day for the next three to four days or so. Your skin should return to normal by then.”

Y/N watched as her patient’s eyes darted from the box of potions to her face then down to his hands. He seemed hesitant now, a far cry from the ease and calm that he donned the first time she saw him.

Still, her job was done. She had equipped him with what he needed to heal and she had no jurisdiction over his temperament.

“If you don’t have any questions–”

“How are you related to Draco Malfoy?”

Fred’s question came out of the blue and it took Y/N off guard. Her heart clenched at the mention of her younger brother, the one she hadn’t seen in more than a decade. Still, the question is much too complicated and there’s so much history behind it that he doesn’t know about, she shook her head.

“I’m sorry,” she began, clutching her clipboard close to her body, “But that is a very personal question and I don’t like to share that kind of information with patients.”

She noticed him visibly swallow, “Right. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Mr. Weasley. Don’t forget to take your potions, twice a day, for the next four days.”

Y/N’s back is turned and she’s about to pull the curtain of the cubicle aside when she hears a faint, “Wait.”

When she turned on her heel to face the redhead once more, there’s a sheepish expression on his face. He was rubbing the back of his neck slowly and the tips of his ears were tinged pink, “I-er, I’m sorry about how cold I was being towards you earlier. Is there a chance that I can make a better impression over coffee or something?”

–

It’s a little awkward, Y/N had to admit. They were seated across from each other, clutching warm cups of coffee and taking sips periodically.

She didn’t know what made her agree to meet Fred on one of her days off. Maybe it was the sincerity in his request, how he seemed eager to make a plan and see her outside her place of work. Or maybe it was her curiosity getting the better of her, knowing that he was a pureblood and what her father would call a blood traitor.

Y/N had spent so many years hiding away from this part of wizard society, she didn’t know if she wanted to integrate herself back in.

“So, er,” Fred started, “Where’d you go to school? I don’t think I’ve seen you around Hogwarts, and you seem to be around my age.”

That elicited a small smile from Y/N, “I went to Beauxbatons actually. Went all six years then got a healer apprenticeship at Mungo’s.”

“Oh!” he exclaimed, “Do you know Fleur then? Fleur Delacour? Or well, she’s Fleur Weasley now.”

“Of course I know Fleur,” she gushed, “We shared a dorm. One of the sweetest and strongest witches I know.”

At long last they had a common denominator. After the stilted small talk was out of the way, conversation between them flowed freely.

Fred, Y/N found out, was wit and cleverness all rolled up into a 6 foot frame. He seemed to have a sarcastic comeback to every quip she made. They made laughs tumble from her mouth and stitches appear in her sides. It was every bit exhilarating and charming.

Y/N, Fred found out, was absolutely brilliant. Her mind seemed to be running a mile a minute but somehow she was able to put all of her thoughts into carefully worded sentences. He was caught off guard every time she let out a laugh, entranced by the effortless beauty that radiated from her smile.

Sooner than they had liked, their coffee cups were emptied and they were both glancing at the clock.

“I, uh, I really enjoyed myself, Fred.” Y/N smiled and gathered her things.

He sent her a grin in reply, “Me too.”

She could tell he was hesitant to say something, but she knew not to pry too much. Instead, she simply hoisted her bag over her shoulder.

The next day, Y/N walked into St. Mungo’s to find Fred nervously shuffling around clutching a cup of coffee in his hand. When he caught sight of her, a smile stretched across his lips and he silently placed the warm cup in her hand. Without saying a word, he pressed a kiss on her cheek, blushed profusely, and waved.

He had gone through the Floo before Y/N could say anything. When she took a sip, she was pleasantly surprised to note that it had been her exact order from the previous day.

Slowly, Fred Weasley inched his way into Healer Malfoy’s daily routine. It didn’t surprise her anymore when she would spot him making small talk with the receptionist as she clocked into work.

Like the first day, the first thing he would do was to hand her the cup of coffee. Some days he would stay and chat for a few minutes before he had to get to work, others he would have to leave right away. What always stayed constant, though, was the kiss on the cheek he would give her before leaving.

–

“Alright, I’m sure you’re dying to know by now.” Y/N sipped her drink.

She and Fred had gone out to dinner after weeks of him showing up at Mungo’s every morning. When he finally had the guts to ask her out, she took one look at him before saying ‘took you long enough.’

He had been the perfect gentleman the whole time, showing up at her flat with a bundle of flowers in hand, opening doors for her, asking if she was comfortable. Y/N found it extremely endearing to see the cheeky, witty wizard trying so hard to make sure she had a good time.

Fred sent her a confused look, “What?”

“How I’m related to Draco,” she explained, “Remember? You asked me the first day we met.”

“Right. Right, yeah.”

Despite him trying to appear as if his curiosity hadn’t peaked, Y/N could see the spark of recognition in his eyes. She knew it was time to finally tell him everything.

She took a deep breath, “He’s my brother.”

Fred, who was in the process of taking a sip of his own drink, choked on the liquid and began to violently cough.

“I-what?!” he exclaimed, “How are you Draco Malfoy’s sister? How did I not know he had a sister?”

The absolute disbelief in her boyfriend’s face elicited a small laugh from Y/N, “Because I never went to Hogwarts. Ran away from home when I was pretty young, ended up living with Andy.”

“Andy…” Fred mumbled, mulling over the information, “You mean Andromeda? Tonks?”

She nodded, “Yeah. My house was actually a safe house during the last bit of the war, I don’t know if you remember.”

“Godric now I feel like even more of a huge dumbass for treating you the way I did when I first heard your last name.”

Y/N’s hand reached over the table and squeezed Fred’s. Her warm smile and kind eyes told him everything he needed to know. He had definitely apologized enough for how quickly he had judged her when she was introduced to him at Mungo’s. She knew that he knew who she really was, and not what her family name meant.

–

Fred watched as his girlfriend paced nervously. He wasn’t even quite sure that she knew what she was doing, but as she strode across the room, her bottom lip remained caught under her teeth and her hands were fidgeting with the bottom of her shirt.

“Sweetheart,” he sighed after letting her walk back and forth for long enough, “You’ve got to calm down.”

“I’m totally calm!” she exclaimed, turning quickly to face him. The volume of her statement startled the both of them and Fred sent her a look that definitely said I-told-you-so.

She sat down next to her boyfriend with a huff and instead of the sarcastic comment she expected to come from him, he took her hand in his. The two of them said nothing as their eyes concentrated on the way he traced her small and nimble fingers with his larger ones.

“You ready to tell me what’s wrong?” Fred asked eventually.

At Y/N’s hesitation, he squeezed her hand gently. She gave in with a sigh, “I’m just nervous about meeting your family. I know you’ve talked to them about me, but they don’t exactly know I’m a Malfoy.”

Before Fred could even open his mouth to reply, she cut him off, “And I know, I know. Your family is wonderful and the complete opposite of mine. I’m just so used to bad first introductions–”

“Y/N, I love you, but stop talking.”

Y/N let out a nervous laugh at what Fred said, despite how unnerved she felt at the sensation of the bubbles of anxiety in her chest. Still, she couldn’t help but feel the tips of her cheeks and the back of her neck heat up as well. One would think after months of dating the cheeky redhead she would be used to his ways, but hearing him say ‘I love you’ always made her heart flutter.

Fred shifted, his body turning to face her fully, “Love, my mom would adore you even if you were a hippogriff with anger issues. The fact that you make me happy and that you love me is more than enough for her. You are more than enough.”

Then, he wrapped her up in his arms, her cheek resting against his chest. She could hear the rhythmic beat of his heart, and in the calming presence of her boyfriend, Y/N was able to settle some of her nerves. She could do this.

“I love you so much, Freddie.”

“I love you more.”

–

“Mum, this is my girlfriend Y/N. Y/N Malfoy.”

Y/N knew that to have raised seven children and look great doing it, Molly Weasley had to have been some sort of super hero. What she didn’t know, and what she wasn’t prepared for, was how tightly the Weasley matriarch hugged and how gently she dragged her hand up and down backs as she was doing so.

It nearly made Y/N cry.

“Oh I am so happy to meet you dear,” gushed Molly once she eased away from the hug.

“Me too, Mrs. Weasley,” Y/N smiled, “Fred’s been keeping me from you and your wonderful cooking for much too long.”

“Please dear, call me Molly.”

Before she could respond, Y/N was ushered into the kitchen where all of the food was waiting for her under a few well placed preservation charms. Y/N turned to look back at where Fred was standing, and he had a smug smile on his face.

“Told you so,” he mouthed at her.

–

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