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kojinnie · 4 years

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AOT Characters’ Modern Jobs Headcanon; The Vets Edition!

The jobs that The Vets would have in modern!au, their workplace antics and their back story. There might be some inaccuracies when describing the job as obviously I don’t work at these industries to know its intricacies. Most of the jobs are office jobs. Enjoyyyy!

My Masterlist .::. Pt. II: Zeke Yeager’s Modern Jobs Headcanon

Most recent work: Dream Me Home (Before Shiganshina) | reader x erwin smith

A/N: I really need to finish a presentation deck due tonight for an early morning meeting tomorrow but of course, this comes first hahaha

erwin!

A/N: Basically lawyer!erwin is the way to go, innit?

He's in his 40s, so he may have a settled career

He came from a white-collar, middle-class family. So he wasn’t silverspoon-fed, but his parents had enough money to put him through good school

Got a scholarship to go to one of the nation’s finest law schools

Kept it lowkey in college’s social circle, graduated with summa cum laude, developed a strong academic relation with his professor, and got recommended for an internship at top law firm at the capital city

Starting his career as a corporate lawyer, but then built his expertise as white-collar crime attorney

In his early 30s, he represented a union suing against conglomerate corporation in a big case that had national coverage, from then on he began to know his calling

Expanding his portfolio and became well-known for defending workers, consumers and civilians against corporate fraud scheme

Currently doing a lot of pro-bono cases for deprived victims of big corporate fraud. You would see him frequently gracing your local newspaper we love us some socialist king

On the side, he often writes for law journal and fills in as guest professor at local universities for summer courses

Established his own law firm with some of his partners, specializing in white collar crime and labor & employment law

He’s damn accomplished, but never really had any time for self-indulgence. Even after he becomes a household name in the country, with tens of attorneys working under him, his employees would still see him working on New Year’s Eve

He was always attentive to his employees, though. Although he has a very strict, borderline no-life work ethics, he never forces his employees to follow his habit, in fact he despises when his employees works on holidays and can be seen blaming himself for it a bit of a hypocrite but thats ok

He still takes metro to work. He prefers a very lowkey, ordinary lifestyle because he fears if he shows any knack for indulgence, he will be susceptible to gratification from potential enemies or crooked politicians

Definitely a sight to see at the workplace, for he's tall and always oozes a sense of authority in the way he speaks and carries himself generally

His emotional intelligence is top-notch, you would never meet someone who is able to be very objective and calculating, while being kind and compassionate at the same time

His fellow attorneys put a lot for respect for him, and hundreds of applicants come to his considerably small firm every week, because a lot of aspiring attorney find him inspiring to work with

He wasn’t oblivious to his shiny reputation, but he’s trying his hardest to not let the compliments get to his head. Sometimes he doesn’t give himself enough credit for it

Was approached by one of the political party’s committee to run for local senate, but turned it down

basically he’s perfect if you like a man who’s never home for christmas

Hange!

A/N: Ok ok, I really wanna see Paleontologist!Hange because it has always been my fave dream job, but I want Hange to be out and about with people so here it is

Hange is the type to be incredibly good at one thing, that she will dedicate her whole life for that pursuit, but will be awfully oblivious to a whole lot of things (not intentional of course, they just have a very limited attention span) (they wouldn’t know who kanye west is or what tiktok is)

Like Erwin, they came from a middle-class family. While Erwin’s parents might have been teachers, accountants or other common profession, Hange came from a family of academician and researchers

Hange studied Human Geography at uni, but later found passion specifically in its relation to industrialization and urban development

Hange aims to advocate for a better living condition for workforce, and nearby inhabitants of industrialized city detroit would be a beautiful city if only they let hange designed it

Hange is a professor at university, where they also led a non-profit research think-thank that also serves as pressure group for better government policy.

The university that Hange teaches in, is also the uni where Erwin teaches in summer. They’re close-knitted colleagues as they share similar passion. Erwin relies on Hange a lot for some intellectual insights to help his cases

Hange is relentless in their cause, you may find Hange everywhere! From street protest to a hearing in the government court. They are passionate and will do anything for the cause they believe in

Hange was once hired by the government as an independent consultant for a new housing project, but left because they grew to be frustrated by the government’s bureaucracy and their outward reluctance to follow Hange's recommendation

Hange spends a lot of time overseas, consulting and advocating development in newly industrialized countries

On Hange’s birthday, her fellow researchers surprised them with a ‘pampering day’ where they took them to an optometrist because Hange had been complaining about their eyesight for a YEAR that gave them a lot of migraines, but was always either too busy or too lazy to go

Hange never really considers themselves as working, because they enjoy their job very much. Hange likes to spend months observing a community, talking to people for hours, and trying their best in understanding their problem

Out of so many great qualities that Hange has as a researcher that meets different set of people everyday, prejudice or preconceived judgment is completely absent in Hange’s demeanor and perspective

Hange doesn’t get a lot of free-time, even if they do, they’d wander around the city to do a little observation. But when the weather’s bad and they’re stuck at home with their pet lizard, they would logged into Quora to answer random internet questions

They’re an avid writer for National Geographic, and one time Hange won a pitch to make a documentary about an industrial city project they were working on

After the docu-series got broadcasted, Hange gained a small but passionate and loyal fans on the internet. You could even find a subreddit dedicated for Hange’s works

for real I want to be Hange. I want to have that kind of passion in life

levi!

A/N: I spent a lot of times thinking about Levi’s job in modern!au. Because here’s the thing, either we adopt his unfortunate childhood into its modern!au equivalent, or let’s just recreate his whole upbringing. But I think his personality stems from a specific things he experienced during childhood, so let’s not dismiss that.

Levi came from a struggling working class family. I reckon his parents might have had worked multiple jobs to sustain their living expense. Unfortunately they both passed away when Levi was very little, and left little to no inheritance

Levi’s parents were not close to their extended family, so when they died, Levi was admitted to the system and had to brace several foster families who didn’t really pay attention to him

Little Levi had come to realize that life’s all about survival and so he had been able to fend on for himself since very young age, he never asked for things

His uncle, Kenny, finally won custody over Levi when he was in elementary. Kenny made money from small-scale racketeering here and there. Levi never asked what he did for living, as long as he got food to eat and tuition paid off

Kenny was emotionally absent, but he loved spending time with the oddly quiet little child, teaching him a lot of crafts, from carpentering to how to flay pig’s skin

Levi didn’t really care about getting into college, and thought that he’d probably end up working for his uncle, so he put his bare minimum throughout school, although he was really good with numbers, especially in math, accounting and finance

One time in high school, Levi’s teacher asked him to sign up for the olympiad team, Levi turned it down because he thought that was a rich kid thing

He didn’t even apply for college, and worked odd jobs after high school. Probably working as cashiers or assistant to retail shop’s owner for couple of years, enough for him to afford a cheap studio apartment on his own

One of his bosses came to acknowledge Levi’s talent, and trusted him to handle the company’s accounting

By sheer luck, the company hit it big, and Levi found himself running the day-to-day accounting of mid-sized business with over 300 employees

He made good money already without a college degree, but with a new-found confidence Levi applied for uni, where he chose to study accounting (of course)

Although he was confident with his skills, he understood he needed to widen his horizon and network -- thus uni

Levi was one of the oldest members of his cohort in uni, but graduated with highest distinction

After graduating, with his skills and experience, it wasn’t hard for Levi to score a job at top accounting firm

There, he discovered an interest for forensic accounting, where through audits, analysis and investigation, he basically finds out if a company is doing fraud and embezzlement or not

This is where he came to know and get acquainted with Erwin and Hange (yippie they’re together again)

The firm he works for was assigned to investigate the finances of a troublesome company that had been sued by its workers for a jeopardizing working condition. Erwin was on the case, and Levi helped him with evidences for legal proceeding.

By chance, Erwin introduced Levi to Hange. At first, Levi would find Hange annoying and overtly energized, but after learning the things they have done, Levi grew to appreciate Hange’s passion (and secretly wants to have more of his positive outlook)

Levi is fucking good his job. In short amount of time, he could get a really ideal position in the office. He was almost foolproof, finding even the tiniest bit of discrepancy in his audit. He’d get assigned to the big league case/project.

Although really good at his job, he’s not a social person, especially in his office. He couldn’t understand the lavish lifestyle that finance and banking people often lead. He will only show up to office party if it is really necessary for him to show up (usually to receive some kind of informal awards for, again, being so fucking good)

He leads a no-bullshit attitude at the office, largely because of his background. He is a self-made man, and is not easy to impress by some young executives from posh school that talk bigger than they can chew

His cold, seemingly dismissive attitude gained him a reputation of being scary, when actually he is very considerate

One of the things he enjoys doing is to actually teach, he really likes when a new kid at the office come to him with none of that pretentious, big talk, and really asks for his guidance. He would love to teach you a thing or two

He would frequently check on his mentee, just to keep up with their development

And he doesn’t take credit too. When his mentee makes a milestone, he believes it’s 100% your work

If you’re his mentee, he probably doesn’t give a crap about your personal life, so don’t expect him to make small talk about that (and don’t ask him about his personal life either). But he really cares about your skill and career development

Same with Erwin, he leads a very ordinary lifestyle. He doesn’t go out often and would rather reading detective novel with his cat on the couch

He likes to spend Sunday at Uncle Kenny’s house, because he finds himself worried about the old man very often. They became close as Levi grew

Overall, Levi is a really kind and caring person if you know how not to push his button

#aot #snk #aot headcanons #snk headcanons #aot modern au #levi ackerman #hange zoë #erwin smith #modern headcanon #lawyer erwin smith #professor hange zoe #accountant levi ackerman #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #kojin writes

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

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Hi! I really love your writing and was wondering if you would do a part 2 of the fic you did for @kitsunesongs birthday?

The one where Nie Huaisang meets Xiao Xingchen and "persuades" him to go to the Nie Sect.

sequel to this one

Xiao Xingchen and Nie Mingjue got along just as disgustingly well as Nie Huaisang might have predicted, and it was starting to tick him off.

Not just him.

“It’ll pass,” he remarked to the glowering young man sitting beside him. “It always does…eventually. Xiao Xingchen is no different.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Song Zichen said, voice tight and back even tighter. The temples and the sects were not on what one might call the best of terms – it was politely referred to as tensions – so Song Zichen had refused to even consider leaving Xiao Xingchen in Nie Huaisang’s not-so-capable hands, but he also wasn’t strong enough to stop him, so all it meant in the end was that he had to trail along with them like an imprinted duckling.

A duckling with no sense of humor.

“They all come and get knocked over the head with it,” Nie Huaisang said with a sigh, fanning himself. He’d seen it happen time and time again. “My brother, I mean.”

“Your brother…hits people?” Song Zichen said, sounding doubtful enough for Nie Huaisang to realize that even he’d fallen for it.

“No,” he said patiently. “They’re overwhelmed by admiration for how good of a big brother he is and want him for their own.”

Song Zichen’s expression appeared to be at war with itself: he couldn’t decide whether to scoff at Nie Huaisang’s patent ridiculousness, furiously deny that Xiao Xingchen was attempting to market himself for possible adoption, or sullenly acknowledge that he, too, would like to be the recipient of Nie Mingjue’s rough sort of affection.

It was all those meaningful hand-on-shoulder, serious eye-contact, respect-is-given-where-it-is-earned-and-I-respect-you things Nie Mingjue did without thinking about it – possibly it was just the dearth of decent parents among the Great Sects, and the smaller sects too come to think about it, but everyone was hilariously susceptible to it.

(He’d accidentally done it to Lan Qiren once, making the man actually glow with pride for a moment before he realized he was being complimented by someone at least a decade his junior and fixed his expression. It was a memory that warmed Nie Huaisang’s heart.)

“Still,” Nie Huaisang mused. “I will admit that this is getting out of hand.”

He’d known that Nie Mingjue would be fond of Xiao Xingchen, but he hadn’t anticipated how much his brother had apparently been longing for someone with whom he could have ethical and moral discussions that didn’t leave him scowling and looking sick to his stomach. The two of them shared a clear and forthright vision of the world – in which people were supposed to help others, fight evil and save innocents, and that everything else was a distraction – and what started out, to Nie Huaisang’s mind, as some sort of moral purist fan club had eventually sort of…escalated.

It wasn’t that Nie Huaisang forgot that his brother was a powerful sect leader and formerly the general of the combined forces of the cultivation world and therefore was a terrifying political powerhouse to be reckoned with, not really. It was that his brother so rarely ever did anything with his power and influence that it was easier to just…put it aside.

On a normal day, his brother was a simple person: he wanted his family and sect to be happy and safe and strong, the common people protected, and evil defeated – ideally courtesy of his blood-thirsty saber, after a brisk bit of exercise. Nie Mingjue was respectful of others, such that he rarely intervened where he wasn’t explicitly invited, and so his focus had always been Qinghe, its environs, and the surrounding sects that pledged their loyalty in exchange for Nie support and strength.

Xiao Xingchen had more ambitious ideas than that.

Maybe he should have done more to head off their enthusiasm before it got this far, Nie Huaisang grumbled in his thoughts. But his brother seemed so happy, lighter than he’d been in years, less angry at everything – and his sudden burst of activity was driving Sect Leader Jin up the wall, and that was just legitimately hilarious.

Still, it was one thing for Xiao Xingchen to say that he wanted to protect innocents and defeat evil, no matter where it was. In the end, he was a naïve and untried young man unfamiliar with the world, no matter how powerful his ancestry, and such things would always be met with indulgent smiles and virtually no interest, everyone assuming it was little more than a child’s daydream.

It was something completely different for Nie Mingjue, Chifeng-zun and Sect Leader to one of the Great Sects, to put out a call for all able-bodied cultivators with courage and skill to join together once more to sweep through the worst parts of the cultivation world and clean it up together.

After all, Lan Xichen might win the women’s vote, but among men, at least, Nie Mingjue was the most admired man in the cultivation world, bar none, the most idolized and revered and envied, and he was offering an opportunity to win valor by his side. Those who had fought in the Sunshot Campaign were enticed by the notion of something clean and straightforward, cultivator against evil the way it was supposed to be; those that didn’t have a chance to win glory the last time were champing at the bit to belatedly add “fought under Chifeng-zun’s command” to their personal legacies; those who had been too young for the war were excited by the possibility of fame and fortune…

Sect Leader Jin, who was advocating to be Chief Cultivator of the cultivation world, did not want there to be a roving war-bad of powerful cultivators under his chief-most rival’s personal command, traveling throughout the cultivation world and making friends with each other and winning fame left and right with only Nie Mingjue to thank for it.

Sadly for him, there really wasn’t anything he could do about it.

Especially not now that Nie Mingjue was no longer asking Jin Guangyao to come play for him so regularly.

The playing had been designed to help with his ever-worsening temper, if Nie Huaisang understood his brother’s curt explanation properly, but it hadn’t really been doing much, and Nie Mingjue was far too busy now to waste time with things like that.

(Nie Huaisang did not think about how his father had died, and how much stronger his brother was than his father had ever become. He did not think about the fact that Xiao Xingchen was said to be doomed, the way his brother was doomed, or the fact that his brother’s decision to stop listening to Jin Guangyao’s playing or Lan Xichen’s encouragement of it had come on the heels of meeting someone else who was trading away their chances at a long and happy life for a chance to try to improve the world.

He did not think about any of that, or of the slow halting explanation his brother had finally given him about all the things he knew-but-didn’t-know about his sect’s cultivation style, about his brother’s own personal prognosis, and he certainly didn’t think about how his brother clearly saw this whole ridiculous notion of a massive large-scale night-hunt as his final campaign, his legacy, to be left behind when he himself left the world.

It wasn’t relevant, because it wasn’t going to happen, Nie Huaisang wasn’t going to let it happen. So he wasn’t thinking about it.)

“It’s a good plan,” Song Zichen said, and Nie Huaisang looked at him. “I had wanted to start a sect with no bloodline, based only on friendship, but Xingchen and your brother are putting together a coalition of sects that is much the same thing. All of those young men becoming brothers in arms…”

“Women, too,” Nie Huaisang said, because it was true. There’d be plenty of unexpected marriages formed before this whole thing was done – Jiang Cheng had recently declared his intention of joining, the nephew he’d insisted on caring for personally carted around on a sling on his back, and he looked so positively dashing when he did it that the women of the cultivation world might even consider removing him from their blacklist one day.

Maybe.

Song Zichen nodded seriously. “Women as well. Regardless, the end result of what they are achieving is the same - unity, friendship, cooperation, rather than chaos.”

Nie Huaisang smiled. And then, because why not, he used the excuse to slide closer and nudge Song Zichen in the side with a hand that lingered. “Don’t count yourself out, Song-xiong. You’re contributing, too.”

Song Zichen did not appear convinced.

“You are!” Nie Huaisang insisted. “You just need to figure out what you’re good at – some purpose for yourself, some mission, or even just something to pass the time pleasantly. I’ll even help.”

He was about to suggest that they go to bed together – listen, he was shallow and Song Zichen was a very pretty person – but Song Zichen frowned, ducking his head a little in thought.

“Well, there is something,” he said slowly. “I thought, if it was true, that I might go deal with it. Although it’s only a rumor I heard…”

“I love rumors,” Nie Huaisang assured him, shelving his proposition for the moment. “What is it?”

“Have you ever heard of someone,” Song Zichen asked, “by the name of Xue Yang?”

#mdzs #nie huaisang #song lan #nie mingjue #xiao xingchen #my fic #my fics #disaster incoming #Anonymous

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canary3d-obsessed · 4 years

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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 10 second part

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Meta)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Unclean Realm

Lan Wangji has a Louis Henry Sullivan moment on seeing the Nie family home, becoming enraptured by its overwrought monumental architecture after a lifetime of restrained good taste and single-story buildings.

He approaches the fortress with the expression of delighted wonder that he usually reserves for when he’s looking at the moon or at Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian is like, yep that’s a building, all right, but he supports Lan Wangji’s kinks.

Meng Yao tells them about the Wen Clan directive, and has what appears to be a moment of genuine, affectionate amusement at Nie Huaisang’s reaction.

Jiang Cheng kinda blames the Lans for inventing the whole “indoctrination” thing and for encouraging his brother’s disaster bi tendencies. Wei Wuxian responds by complimenting the Lan Clan, almost like someone who met his true love got some real value out of the instruction he received there.

(more after the cut)

One of the great ironies of this story is that Wei Wuxian sort of becomes a rogue Lan disciple because of his relationship with Lan Wangji. He relies on Lan temperament techniques, uses music as a primary cultivation method, has committed all of the Lan rules to his supposedly terrible memory and cites them on multiple occasions, and is an important mentor for the younger generation Lan disciples. Because Hanguang-Jun is just that good in bed.

Xue Yang in the background of this conversation is channeling OP’s church-enduring, school-enduring inner 10-year-old.

Nie Mingjue, Chifeng-Zun, appears, and couldn’t be more different than his brother. On first watching this episode, I saw him as a grumpy, sexy, very emotional leather daddy man who is quick to anger. Rewatching, I see someone who’s struggling with a growing illness...the resentful energy kind.

Nie Mingjue’s handling of resentful energy is very different from Wei Wuxian’s straightforward interest and acceptance. NMJ has a traditional cultivator’s view of it, regarding it as evil and as something to resist, while he is literally carrying it on his back. He’s like a secret alcoholic who is preaching temperence, and can’t find a way to be reconciled with himself.

At this point of the story, Nie Mingjue is keeping it together, but is under a hell of a lot of stress, and Baxia’s blood thirst is already maybe a problem.

The Yunmeng bros think that Nie Huaisang’s fear of his brother is hilarious, because they don’t understand the situation. They think he’s just living in a hideously toxic family dynamic like theirs, when actually he’s in a loving, sorta healthy, if parentless, family that is being crushed under a generational curse.

Compliments for the Yunmeng Bros

I’m not the first meta poster to notice how happy Jiang Cheng is to be praised by Nie Mingjue.

He never gets this at home. Jiang Yanli praises him, but in that watery “you tried your best” way that doesn’t really stick. Nie Mingjue’s praise really means something, because he is a fearsome warrior and stern authority figure. And this is a double compliment, because Nie Mingjue says he heard it from Lan Xichen, and agrees with it.

Let’s Make Terrible Decisions

Keep Xue Yang alive, says Wei Wuxian, and Meng Yao immediately agrees, although I’m pretty sure he would have proposed that even if WWX hadn’t.

So they do, not realizing that “kill him later” is never a good plan for someone who 1. super needs killing 2. has a whole lot of death-dealing skills.

Future clan leader Jiang Cheng notices how smart and talented Meng Yao is. Xue Yang finds it hilarious when the trio praises Meng Yao, possibly because their evil team up is already underway.

Boss’ Bed Warmer Son of a Ho

The constant insults toward Meng Yao are about his mom, but there’s another level of leering implication, that Meng Yao seems to encourage in his conversation with the soon-to-be-murdered guard captain.

Nie Mingjue elevated him way above his expectations, and he is ridiculously pretty, which has to create rumors. In the Nightless City scenes when he’s fondling Baxia and telling Nie Mingjue’s family secrets there’s definitely a sense of intimacy that’s not just “loyal retainer.”

I feel like maybe this whole exchange is a bit of theater designed to show Xue Yang something without showing it to anyone else. Meng Yao didn’t need to have this conversation in front of his prisoner.

Let’s Do Exactly What We Said We Wouldn’t

Once the younger quartet are alone with Nie Mingjue, Wei Wuxian crosses the room away from his friends and practically into Lan Wangji’s pocket, if Lan Wangji had pockets.

He has no pockets and also has no personal bubble any more, when it comes to Wei Wuxian.

We could make a weapon out of Yin Iron, Wei Wuxian says, completely forgetting his entire conversation with Lan Yi, apparently. Lan Wangji doesn’t argue with this idea.

Nie Mingjue warns Wei Wuxian not to try it.

I stabbed a man in Qinghe just to watch him die

Nie Mingjue is like the Johnny Cash of the cultivation world, carrying the weight of his poor choices and trying to steer the young folk to the path of righteousness. But--like Johnny Cash--his bad choices have made him really fucking cool, so he isn’t very good at deterring anybody.

Meng Yao Didn’t Come Here to Make Friends

Immediately after Meng Yao’s fellow Nie clan people call him “son of a whore” again, Wei Wuxian meets him, is nice to him, addresses him by his military title, bows to him, asks why he’s away from the party, and thanks him for his service.

But Meng Yao has already decided to make friends with Xue Yang, so Wei Wuxian goes onto his list of people that he doesn’t give a crap about except if they can be useful to him. Then Meng Yao goes to make out hatch a plot with Xue Yang.

I’ll Sleep On Your Roof

Meeting SongXiao seems to have done away with the last of Lan Wangji’s resistance to his connection with Wei Wuxian.

He hears a noise on the roof and, when realizing it’s Wei Wuxian, he smiles one of his tiny reserved smiles before heading outside.

When he sees Wei Wuxian drunkenly sprawled on the roof, limbs akimbo, wine on his chin and neck, mouth full of poetry about the open road, Lan Wangji gives him the most fond look imaginable.

Then he reluctantly leaves, with his signature “say goodbye, but only when he can’t hear you” thing.

They’ve both come a really long way since their first meeting. Wei Wuxian is openly and vocally attaching himself to Lan Wangji...but is not actually entering his space or asking for anything from him; he just wants to be near him, and wants to let him know that. “I’ll sleep on your roof tonight.”

And Lan Wangji just...loves him. Wei Wuxian is drunk, embarrassing, demonstrative, eager to make a hell weapon out of yin iron, touchy feely, and absurdly sexy. And Lan Wangji is pretty okay with all of that.

I Might Have Been Drunk

Wei Wuxian carefully avoids telling Jiang Cheng where he was last night.

Even if he did get blackout drunk, he would have woken up on Lan Wangji’s roof. And I don’t think he was as drunk as that. He just knows Jiang Cheng wouldn’t like the truth.

Wen Fucking Chao, Again

Wen Chao shows up to be annoying and boring. This leads to a pretty good fight between Nie Mingjue and Wen Zhuliu. Note that when the chips are down, Nie Huaisang stands with his Gege without any cowering. Almost as if he had hidden reserves of bravery, and is not as helpless as he lets on.

Wen Zhuliu isn’t styled to be super hot, although he’s certainly compelling, and in Dance of the Phoenix he looks good with sensitive-guy hair wispies. I wonder what actor Feng Mingjing looks like out of character?

BRB, adding a tag to my follow list

Battle Bros

When the fighting breaks out, the Yunmeng brothers are decisive and united, with Wei Wuxian giving orders to Jiang Cheng and JC following without hesitation.

I feel like if these two could have gone through a few big battles together, instead of being separated during most of the Sunshot campaign, their whole relationship would have improved. On the battlefield, they respect, trust, and understand each other.

The Pointy End

Nie Mingjue is holding his own against Wen Zhuliu, but he gets distracted by Meng Yao hollering “Xue Yang has escaped” and then shanking the guard captain right in front of him.

Wen Zhuliu takes advantage of the distraction to aim a very slow stab at Nie Huasang, and Meng Yao jumps in front to get stabbed on his behalf.

When the Yunmeng bros show up to help NMJ, Wen Zhuliu immeiately yanks Wen Chao back behind him and points his sword at Wei Wuxian. He absolutely sees these two as a serious threat. Considering that eventually WWX is going to kill Wen Chao while JC kills Wen Zhuliu, this concern is not misplaced.

Wei Wuxian tells Wen Chao to stop being such a jerk, and Wen Chao menaces Wei Wuxian and gloats about the burning of cloud recesses. The burning, that is, of some part of cloud recesses that doesn’t include the library, the Jingshi, the main cultivation chamber, the rabbit warren, or Lan Qiren’s house, unless the Lan Clan is really really good at rebuilding things to very exact specifications.

In a rare moment of seeing Meng Yao’s internal thoughts, he is worried about Lan Xichen when he hears about cloud recesses.

The Yelling Part

Now we have the particularly nasty breakup between Nie Mingjue and Meng Yao. It’s...got some layers. Meng Yao is cowering on the floor, but is not apologizing.

He never apologizes throughout this encounter.

孟瑤無悔 - Meng Yao (has) no regrets

This scene is amazing and excruciating to watch, even more when you know what’s ahead.

What the Fuck is Meng Yao’s Plan

On one level this is Meng Yao, manipulative sociopath, setting up a cover story for his aiding and alliance with Xue Yang. On another, this is Meng Yao, loving subordinate, being tossed aside by his lord because he dared to stand up for himself.

He uses the same “scout’s honor” gesture we’ve seen Wei Wuxian use to swear he’s telling the truth. Wei Wuxian is always lying when he uses this gesture.

I’m...not sure exactly what Meng Yao’s plan is, with all these chess moves? By stabbing the captain in front of NHS, he created an opportunity to plant a cover story about Xue Yang’s escape. He might be hoping that Nie Mingjue will forgive him and keep him on, while Xue Yang can stay in his back pocket to be used later.

Dry eyes? Try Visene

Or he might be intending to get kicked out, given his non-apology. In any case, Nie Mingjue is weeping during this encounter, and Meng Yao...isn’t. He is signaling distress in his voice, expression, and body language, but his eyes are dry up until the last moment, and even then they just glisten a bit. In a show where every actor is an expert at crying on cue, that’s got to be a deliberate choice.

Which isn’t to say that Meng Yao is faking being full of emotion in this scene. It’s just that the emotion isn’t necessarily sorrow.

What Does Nie Mingjue’s Head Think

Flip the view and this is about Nie Mingjue being betrayed by a subordinate, who has turned out to be a self-serving murderer. And on another level it’s Nie Mingjue being betrayed by his lover, who was just using him for advancement.

I rewatched the later episode where we get the scene as Nie Mingjue’s head perceived it, and he’s particularly brokenhearted and disillusioned from his head’s POV. In that version there is a telling addition to the conversation.

Nie Mingjue asks about the guys who were roasting Meng Yao behind his back. He asks, if I hadn’t come, would you have murdered all of them?

Um. No, dude. Of course fucking not. That’s what a patriarchal authority does. That’s the way an angry Nie Mingjue/Baxia team might solve a problem.

Meng Yao has to use subterfuge to kill his enemies. And while he super hates being called “son of a whore” it’s absolutely not enough to make him kill someone, with the risk murder brings. Likewise, being treated well isn’t enough to make him spare someone. Nie Mingjue totally doesn’t get this, because he’s been the patriarch of this clan his entire adult life.

And Here’s the Actual Problem

There is a betrayal here, but Nie Mingjue is not simply a victim. Whether it’s a sexual relationship or a non-sexual bond of affection, there can be nothing solid in Nie Mingjue and Meng Yao’s relationship within a feudal society, because it is fundamentally unequal. Even if they love each other deeply - which I’m not convinced either of them does - every encounter they have is tainted with power dynamics.

Meng Yao has been elevated by Nie Mingjue and quite probably taken into his bed, as well as being told many family secrets, but has not been given a new surname (like, for example, Wen Zhuliu was) or independent power. More importantly, Nie Mingjue has not used his authority to remove or punish the many people who disrespect his subordinate. Lan Qiren would have had all of those gossipy fuckers kneeling in the snow, and Wen Ruohan would feed them to his mosh pit zombies.

Meng Yao is a murderous little snake, but he is right to be angry with Nie Mingjue about some things, and his pursuit of his own agenda is understandable.

Well, That Was a Slice

Meng Yao leaves, hurt, with a dignified bow; just as he did that one time when his dad kicked him down the Carp Tower steps.

Take note, both patriarchal authorities: that is his way of saying “I’m going to murder you one day.”

Nie Mingjue sits with his broken heart, as we realize that we’ve only spent 20 minutes with this guy and we’ve gone on an entire emotional journey with him. This episode packed in a LOT.

Soundtrack: Johnny Cash, Folsom Prison Blues

#fytheuntamed #the untamed #wangxian #meng yao #nie mingjue #my gifs #canary3d-original #the untamed meta #the untamed gifs #restless rewatch the untamed

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kishimoto-did-us-dirty · 4 years

Text

Naruto Arts School AU

Reposting bc I love this post and bc I can lol

Character

- major

description

Naruto

-Drums

okie nobody can deny that our main boy over here is a loud soul, however, he can also carry a damn good beat that compliments his band mates’ music really well. Tbh, he sucked at music to begin with and had trouble matching rhythms and listening to his band mates when they played, however he eventually became a really good rhythm maker.

Sasuke

-Guitar (lead)

He’d be assigned to the same band as Naruto, and that’s how they met. This boy is a damn good guitarist y’all, but has attitude problems™, and used to not be able to deal with Naruto’s haphazard beat making, thus perpetuating a rivalry between the two. He constantly feels overshadowed by his elder brother Itachi, a piano major.

Sakura

- Dance

Ya girl fucking demolishes every single dance routine. Initially starting out with a focus on ballet (pre-shippuden in canon), our pink headed queen soon realized that she wasn’t getting the full experience of what it meant to dance. Her point shoes were her loves, however they hurt and nipped in places not just physical. She realized that she didn’t want to be pigeonholed into a genre of which she would be inhibited by standard, and rather to dance so as to forget technical perfection. Thus, what would partner with post-shippuden Sakura in canon, Art School AU Sakura got into hip-hop. And bitch, she goes hard. A lot of the other girls who she used to dance ballet with admire her for her absolutely BODYING her dance routines, but also for never sacrificing her femininity to dance and not taking BS for being a girl who goes so hard in a male-dominated genre. (Some people believe that hip-hop is heavy hitting and a little metaphorically “dark” so to speak, which Sakura is not. So obviously I expect a little disagreement regarding this, however if you look at people like Delaney Glazer or Kaycee Rice, that is how Sakura would dance).

Hinata

- Creative Writing

Shy and bookworm-like, Hinata can write the best poetry, romance and adventure pieces out of all the creative-writing majors. She’s especially good at writing character relationships and development, and has such a subtle sense of intelligent wit in her writing, that if you blinked you would miss it. However should you catch it, you’re sure to chuckle. Her only struggle is that she tends to drag on in important scenes, stretching them against the regular flow of the rest of her writing. Needs validation for her writing through an IV drip.

Kiba

- Drums OR Photography

Drums for obvious reasons (loud and obnoxious), although ruff boi looks good with a camera, too. Great at landscapes and street photography.

Shino

- Creative Writing OR Photography

I could definitely see Shino having fucking beautiful handwriting, and being a beast at writing anything within the sci-fi realm. I could also see him doing some journalism, and writing for the school paper. He’s very good at the logic of his sci-fi books and coming up with logical but enrapturing stories, that intermingle knowledge and mystery. He’s a very specific type of read, however, and may not appeal to all, however if you enjoy anything similar to Star Wars or Hitchhikers guide to the galaxy, then Shino is your author. If this doesn’t float your boat, though, try photography-major Shino. He can get the best angles of bugs he sees, and has an extensive portfolio with entomology-related snapshots.

Ino

- Dance

Like Sakura, she, too, began with a focus on ballet, however began to branch out into contemporary ballet a little later than Sakura. This is another reason why Sakura switched her focuses, as she and Ino had always had a fierce rivalry for dieting (ballet dancers are pressured to be as thin as possible) as well as battling for technical perfection when they were ballet focused. As the two grew, Ino focused more so on contemporary, but can certainly do some hip-hop with Sakura every now and then, just as Sakura occasionally takes a contemporary class with her. The two still have a rivalry, however, just not to the previous extent as when they were actively competing against each other. They’re more like sisters.

Shikamaru

- Guitar (bass) OR Creative Writing OR Architecture

Smart boy’s a tricky one. He would either be a bassist, a mystery and historical fiction writer, or, of his school offers it, be great at architecture. Idrk.

Choji

- ermmmmm….. maybe graphic design? Tech theatre (props)? Vocal???

Choji is hARD dwnccnpc (that’s what she said). I could see him behind a computer screen, animating and designing games/covers/posters or whatever. He could also do something in theatre, but I don’t think he would do anything up on stage. Something like props would suit him. He might do something in music, tho???? Can he sing???? Help???

UPDATE: Choji is a band kid. He plays tuba or some shit. Big boy got big lungs.

Tenten

- Dance

Always has been, and always will be a hip-hop dancer. She wanted to be like Tsunade, a legendary dancer and followed in her footsteps, taking up hip-hop. (that’s why Sakura focused on hip-hop, too, because Tsunade mentored her and taught a few of her classes, too). Tenten is fast and can keep up with any beat. Not only is she a great dancer, but she’s also athletic, and does track and field (cross country), football, and softball at another school too, since the arts schools doesn’t offer it. Overall great dancer with styl. She’s really looked up to by some of her underclassmen for her cheery, but badass style and skill.

Lee

- DANCE (hip-hop, too)

It’s sweat. It’s burn. It’s energy. It’s Lee.

Neji

- Violin

First chair violinist in his freshman year for the school’s philharmonic orchestra. He be extra like that.

Gaara

- Guitar (bass)

He had a lonely childhood with neglectful/abusive parents, and rock music really helped him with that. Emo music is emo and often made fun of, but the songs have messages and Gaara related, so self-taught himself the bass guitar to help cope, and bring him closer to the music that salvaged him.

Kankuro

-Art

Specifically sculpting. For obvious reasons.

Temari

- Acting

Girl can make you cry with some of her monologues. Total lead. Has a seriousness in her acting that makes her believable, however can falter on the less-serious roles. She may also double-major in whatever Shikamaru does. And she’s better at it than him.

Itachi

-Piano

Boy could play any etude at age 7. Performed at Carnegie Hall when he was 10. And no, he didn’t pay to play there. The hall invited him. Began composing at 9. Has perfect pitch. Owns international awards. If he’s not at school it’s because he’s traveling to play for crowds. He excels at classical and baroque, however has an ear for romantic, and enjoys playing/composing pieces either written or inspired by romantic pieces. Enjoys Schumann, Debussy, and Tchaikovsky. Hates modern classical music, though. Can only take cinematic pieces composed by people like Williams, however can’t stand Prokofiev at all. He does like modern music, though, so long as it’s outside of the orchestral/classical music realm. He likes R&B. He would have liked to do film with Shisui, particularly producing, however his parents pressure him with piano, so he helps Shisui with student films and projects outside of school (will probably pursue film after graduating, tho).

Shisui

- FILM / VIDEO PRODUCTION

Fight me on this!!! THIS BOY IS SO GOOD AT CINEMATOGRAPHY MY FILMMAKING ASS CAN’T EVEN. AS SOMEONE WHO IS IN LOVE WITH FILMOGRAPHY, TRUST ME, SHISUI HAS IT™. THE IT™. HE’S GOOD AT EVERYTHING. CINEMATOGRAPHY. DIRECTING. SCREENWRITING. GRIP-WORK. EDITING. PRODUCING. HE’S SUCH A FILM NERD TOO, AND WATCHES OLD FILMS ALL THE TIME. HE’S JUST TOO GOOD AT IT. DOES STREET PHOTOGRAPHY TOO. HE’S OVERALL A GENIUS WITH CAMERAS. Does film with Itachi outside of school and teaches him, and the two are overall geniuses at filmography. They want to start their own studio together (they do, and it becomes huge). He becomes a leading director, while Itachi becomes a producer and directs sometimes too.

Sasori, Deidara, and Sai

Guess.

Kakashi

- Saxophone

It’s the only thing that suits him and it suits him so well. Has suave.

Obito (omfg his arms y'all)

- Not to say drums or anything, but…. drums.

Narutard 2.0. But he also dabbles in other areas of music. Like, he can also play guitar and sing. He’s also pretty good at music production. Makes R&B sometimes. He wasn’t always the best musician but proved to be a late bloomer, and really harnessed his potential. Tries to be as suave as Kakashi and his saxophone. He isn’t.

Hashirama

- Vocal

OkaYYYYYY. VOCAL GOD. CAN DO RIFFS AND RUNS AND HAS PERFECT PITCH. ALSO THE SWEETEST GUY??? WAS A CHAMBER SINGER AS A FRESHMAN. EVERYONE LOVES HIM, GOOD BOY ENERGY.

Likes to belt.

Madara

- Piano

Total prodigy, but hates classical music. Once was accompanist to Hashirama for a solo vocal performance and hasn’t been left alone since.

Tobirama

- Viola or Cello

Some sort of string instrument and takes it very seriously. Probably plays cello because violas are violas and that’s lame (if you know, you know). Has almost as many awards as Itachi and Madara, but hates his usual piano accompanist, Izuna.

Izuna

- Piano

Also a piano god. The uchihas breed them. Hates being accompanist for Tobirama. They’re secretly best friends though, don’t tell anyone.

Karin

- Tech Theatre.

Idk why. Probably started out with props and made her way up to TD (technical director) in senior year.

Suigetsu

- Tech Theatre

Fucking hates theatre kids. Assistant TD. Karin hates him.

Jugo

- Visual Art

Paints landscapes and nature. Really good with oils and gouache respectively.

Yamato

- lmao Trumpet.

Met Kakashi since they both play brass, but boy he ain’t got that suave. That’s why he plays trumpet. Lmao he plays the fucking trumpet anjdwcnojdnn.

Rin

- Vocal

Sweetest voice and could also play the acoustic guitar when she sang. Died in a car accident junior year. Kakashi was at the wheel when they got hit by a drunk driver. Obito saw the whole thing.

Kurenai

- Visual Art

Can create dream like paintings that almost seem like illusions.

Asuma

- Cello / guitar

Used to play cello because of his parents, but loves to play guitar. Can sing but his voice is raspy from smoking.

Gai

Who the fuck do you think teaches dance?

Jiraiya

- Guitar (lead)

Used to major in lead guitar. Sucked at first. Probably has a couple, casual Grammy Awards (they’re actually not that hard to be awarded with, The Recording Academy award many people outside of mainstream media. My school has a few). Now teachers as head of the Band department at this school.

Tsunade

-Dance

Legendary dancer. Probably toured with a few famous people. Now teaches. Mentored Sakura, and mentored Ino but for a shorter time.

Orochimaru

- Idk, didgeridoo, or some shit

Definitely a wood wind. Flute maybe??? Teaches now but no one knows what he does. Pedophile. Has a thing for Sasuke.

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emersonfreepress · 4 years

Note

okay so is there content that you had planned for the ROs and story in general but then scrapped cause there wasn’t a good place in the story to stick it in? and if so, can you share what it was? 👀 👀 👀

yes, definitely. *rubs hands together* oh man, you done asked THE question today xD I can't wait to get into this 😁

Academics. I almost decided to have classes and grades be a minor part of gameplay, but the more time I spent designing it the more I realized I wanted nothing to do with it 😂 I haven’t really enjoyed academic gameplay in other interactive fiction because I 1) hate having to choose between studying and interacting with awesome characters, 2) have terrible short term memory, and 3) hate school in general!! So instead I just opted to have the MC be really good at school, point blank period so I could focus on social drama and relationships instead! 😆

Physical skills. I spent literal months crafting the catering scene around setting up stats for stamina/endurance, dexterity, and strength instead of just magnetism, confidence, and persuasion. They had their own backstories with the MC’s parents being overly invested sports parents instead and I think the background choices were like... martial arts, gymnastics, and track? But yeah, I ended up scrapping it all because I was spending hours on research about those individual sports so I could integrate them into the MC’s narrative organically but like... when I tried to think of what use they would be in the actual story, I came up blank. Best decision yet, esp since it means a lot less coding!

Skin tone customization. For one, I noticed that a lot of my favorite IFs don’t offer that customization and it hasn’t impacted my experience at all. For two, I originally realized I might as well not implement it since I am striving real hard not to introduce any customization that won’t actually be mentioned in interesting or meaningful ways in-story. I don’t think it’s really all that common for real life friends (esp in high school?) to comment or compliment each other’s skin and like... when it comes from someone who doesn’t share a similar complexion or ethnic background, that type of commentary gets... d i c e y. So then I wanted to be sensitive to that but what’s the pay-off? An RO mentioning how they love your skin tone once? Awkward sentences with the MC referring to their own skin color? Idk, just wasn’t vibing with it. I’m open to revisiting it in beta or something but for now it’s scrapped.

Singing, Rapping, and Gaming as Hobbies/Talents. I feel bad about scrapping these, honestly 😂 They’re great and I really wanted to incorporate them but it just came down to already having a lot of stuff to code. Plus, I know I can write the Hobbies/Talents I stuck with far better. And for Book 2 purposes, as well!

Leo. as @sourandflightypeaches asked me about a long while ago, I had to scrap an entire RO 😢 His name is Leo, he was the nephew of wealthy west African diplomats residing in Emerson, and I love him dearly! His backstory was largely based on my mother’s childhood and the circumstances she lived through after immigrating to America. and... ok, i’m about to go on one hell of a tangent so buckle up and bear with me if you can 😅

my intention with this story, aside from writing things that I personally enjoy (graphic violence, spooky woods, social drama, romance, conspiracies 😚), is to explore greed, wealth, and how the ways people and families interact with those two things influence young people and who they grow up to be. here i go sounding pretentious af 😝 and here’s where I apply a cut for those who want to preserve a little mystery to the main characters!

With Gabe, we’ve got someone who grew up with very little stability or financial security but who has found unscrupulous methods to gain status and money, with both noble and selfish motivations.

Kile has some of that childhood experience in common with Gabe, having been in the foster care system since infancy, but they lucked out when they were adopted into massive wealth by a caring, loving couple—a couple that uses their wealth and privilege to be far more lenient and protective of Kile than is actually reasonable or responsible.

Jack comes from a prestigious wealthy family on his dad’s side who he loves dearly but there’s no getting around the fact that they love him back as much as they despise his working class mom.

Jessie is a spoiled sweet heiress (being the baby of her family and the only girl) and while she lives blissfully ignorant of the harmful source and impact of her father's income and career, she bears the weight of the expectation to fulfill very traditional gender roles, including her behavior and appearance, but also extending to her career and life plans.

Rain's wealth led to them growing up sheltered and isolated but also extremely accommodated, giving them maximum freedom and opportunity to discover and develop their personal talents and interests. However, they have almost no positive relationship with their parents who have essentially decided to give up on a kid that couldn't be exactly the accessory they tried to mold them to be—both in terms of their identity and personality.

Rupan/Rohan, at their very core, rejects everything about conformity, self-importance, and excessive luxury—which means they have never, ever truly fit in with their peers. Going full non-conformist, however, has resulted in them becoming alienated from much of their family, as well, despite them all loving each other very much. Their history with false friends and betrayals has led them to over-indulge in their vices and reckless behavior to compensate for that isolation. Sometimes, they just get in over their head and many times, they know better. Every time, it's just that the feeling of finally belonging is utterly intoxicating.

Vivian/Vincent has two extremely successful parents who didn't inherit but instead built up their wealth and they aspire to be just like them, to a degree that is well and truly unhealthy. Their mother specifically is an over-achiever and applies mountainous pressure for them to follow in her footsteps, especially academically. Vi is completely capable of achieving what their mom expects of them, but they were already an extremely sensitive perfectionist so this has made them intensely critical of themself. This is a large part of why they are such a rigid, no-nonsense person and that in turn has made them one of the most disliked people among their peers—which is a huge personal failure to them since their father is a very well-liked and socially successful person in town.

And the Emersons are peak privilege: inherent high social status, brains, looks, charisma, athleticism, and massive wealth. They could never have been anything less than extremely popular, just by virtue of their last name and the nature of the town's social dynamics and politics. And they do enjoy that privilege (esp Curt lol). However, it should go without saying that being so high profile, even (or maybe especially) just in the isolated scope of your hometown, isn't always a boon. Their family's and their own perceived failings are widely discussed and privately mocked and/or celebrated. Real friends are scarce while fake ones and snakes are plentiful. Plus their dad is a gigantic dickhead who sees his kids as extensions of his own status and reputation and not much else. Public shortcomings make for an unbearable time at home and the world outside the estate is at once overly accommodating, full of assumptions, and even subtly hostile at times—all unrelated to their own actions or character.

And with the MC, I think the narrative will make it clear there are several ways that story can go. You start off with irresponsible parents that have lost their wealth due to their own mismanagement and material ambitions—how that affects any individual MC should differ based on choices and consequences!

So why bring any of that up when I was supposed to be talking about my cut OC? 😂😂

Leo was going to be the unwelcome recent addition to his uncle’s household, the son of a brother his aunt hates for (petty af) Reasons, and she took that resentment out on him directly by restricting his access to nearly every aspect of the family's wealth. Especially material goods and living conditions. He was basically treated like the help, tasked with playing nanny for his many younger cousins and burdened with doing the homework and providing academic cover for his dumb as rocks cousin in the same grade as you all. To sum it up, he was basically a victim of trafficking at the hands of his own family with his uncle out of town enough to feign ignorance to how bad his wife was treating his nephew and his aunt going out of her way to keep him busy, at home, and isolated. This is sadly a super common form of trafficking in Francophone African cultures (although I don't think most people view it as trafficking. and I’m sure the same is true of other cultures but I don’t want to speak outside of my purview). And like I mentioned above, it’s how my own mom's (and idek how many cousins') child/teenhood went.

It’s a perspective on modern wealth, privilege and greed that I really, really wanted to tell. I am confident in saying it hasn't been explored in interactive fiction yet (though correct me—and direct me 👀—if I'm wrong) and out of all the wealth/greed explorations I came up with, it's the one I have the closest personal ties to and the strongest feelings about. The characters and plans I had for it were detailed and I'm proud of them but at the end of the day... I just couldn't find a place for Leo in the story at large.

Leo was, in fact, the last main character I came up with, when I had already designed and fleshed out the larger story and started crafting the timeline of major events. I think the worst thing I could have done for a story and perspective that I care about this much is shove it into a plot that didn't have room for it at the very base level, regardless of how well the character or his story is written. Shoe-horned characters always stick out. I didn’t want to disservice Leo by having him be the character that did nothing or could be removed from the main plot without affecting it at all, y’know? That’s so much worse than just forgoing the indulgence, imo :((

ugh.... Leooooo 😭 I'm so sorry bb, I failed youuu 😥

#lovely anon #answered #hotmess #ok I am truly so sorry for going on and on like this #writing #ch design #ty for this question it was really nice to revisit this stuff 😃#and a nice reminder to not look back lol #scrapped

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sentinelstars · 4 years

Text

Since I haven’t figured out how to work AO3 as a writer yet, here is a mini Courferre bullet fic thing that popped into my mind. Enjoy :)

Courfeyrac who is friendly and charming, and who flirts with his friends until they get flustered as a way to show affection.

No, seriously. He’s even made Enjolras blush and stammer on a few occasions, although admittedly he’s not as good at it as Grantaire.

Courfeyrac who treats it like a game, even if he always wins in the end, it’s the initial challenge that makes it fun.

Courfeyrac showing up early to an ABC meeting and shouting a pick up line at Joly and winking, only quitting once the doctor slaps him gently in protest and Musichetta hands him his drink with a warning look.

Courfeyrac being told off by his best friend Combeferre, who is clearly not in the best of moods today

Courfeyrac draping himself across Combeferre’s shoulders and making kissy faces, throwing out a compliment that would make a nun pass out

Combeferre reacting icily and motioning for Courfeyrac to sit down so that they can begin

Courfeyrac realizing, with horror, that Combeferre hadn’t even flinched at his valiant attempts at flirting.

Worried that he is losing his touch, Courfyerac walks over and sits with Bahorel, Bossuet, and Feuilly, missing the glare that Combeferre shoots at his back

Courfeyrac wrapping his arms around Bahorel and whispering in his ear until the man turns red. Courfeyrac sitting down with his drink, relieved that he is still just as charming as ever

But why didn’t Ferre react, then?

Courfeyrac slowly realizing that Combeferre has never reacted to any of his shenanigans, never blushed or stammered. The guide only ever looked at him over his book sternly until Courf backed off.

Courfeyrac making it his personal mission to get Ferre to react somehow, refusing to leave his friend alone for the duration of the meeting.

I mean, he tries everything. Cheesy pick up lines, physical affection, his trade-mark smile and wink- nothing works. Combeferre only reacts with a stern look that makes something in Courfeyrac’s chest hurt. He redoubles his efforts

“Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk past you again?” “Courf, we’ve known each other for 10 years,” Combeferre sighs, before continuing. “Sit down, you’re embarrassing yourself.”

It’s cold, even for Combeferre, but something in Courfeyrac’s gut won’t allow him to give up. He only sits down and stops when Enjolras walks over, looking like he might actually murder the both of them

Ferre gathers up his stuff and exits quickly, before Courf or Enjolras can say a word to him.

Courf sits at the bar and has an internal crisis, trying to figure out why- why Ferre won’t react, and perhaps, more importantly, why Courf cares so much, why he gets that feeling when Combeferre looks him in the eye. It feels like Courfeyrac is freezing and melting all at once, like that single stare has trapped him in a cage, yet his heart seems to be soaring far away, leaving him behind.

Grantaire is next to him, rambling on about what classical figure Enjolras reminded him of today, and Courf isn’t really listening. Well, until Grantaire suggests that they go to a club with some of the others and get drinks. “Yes!” Courfeyrac blurts out before he can stop himself

At the club, Courfeyrac can almost forget about Combeferre, with all of the attention he’s getting. He has four sets of numbers written on his arm, although they’re all blurred by the sweat from dancing. He’s tipsy and laughing, with Bahorel’s arm around him, and yet he still has a nagging feeling at the back of his mind

Courfeyrac leaves to get another drink and as he’s waiting at the bar, alone, the hair on the back of his neck stands up, like he’s being watched. He turns around and there’s his best friend, Combeferre, standing at the edge of the club and quickly looking away

Courfeyrac walks over to him in disbelief. “Are you seriously trying to hide? It won’t work, I’ve never seen somebody look so out of place at a club!”

Ferre cooly explains that he’s there as a designated driver for Joly, Bossuet, and Jehan, and it drives Courfeyrac absolutely crazy that even after Courf caught him staring, he still acts calm, collected, and unashamed

That feeling in his gut is back, and Courf follows it, flirting with his best friend as though he’s some common stranger at the club, not ceasing his efforts even when Grantaire tries to pull him back out to go dance

He becomes so desperate that he goes for horrible, awful lines that he hasn’t used since middle school. “I hope you know CPR, because you take my breath away,”

“I’m a doctor, Courf. Listen-”

But that matter of fact statement sets Courf over the edge. He groans, waving his hand dismissively, “Fuck you, then! I’ll go find someone else to take home tonight!” He means it as a joke, he really does. But he can’t help but notice the air of finality there is as he begins to walk away

Combeferre grabs his arm and fixes him with that look, and Courfeyrac, is for once, at a loss for words. Suddenly, they’re walking to the hallway where the bathrooms are, and Combeferre’s lips are on his and he’s kissing him insistently. Courfeyrac, temporarily stunned, stands there, alcohol-addled brain taking a few moments to comprehend that Combeferre, his best friend, is kissing him

Once he does figure it out, however, Courfeyrac kisses back with enthusiasm, wrapping his arms around Ferre tightly, clinging on to him like he might leave any second. Courf feels like, without Combeferre there, steadying him, he’d collapse, because his knees are weak and his balance is all off

Suddenly, Ferre stops kissing him and pulls away. Courfeyrac looks up at him with a grin slowly starting to form, but his cheeky comment is cut short when he notices the look of absolute horror on Combeferre’s face.

“We should get out of here-” “I’m driving you home.” “And coming inside after?” Courfeyrac asks hopefully, wiggling his eyebrows.

Ferre blushes, he actuallly blushes, and Courfeyrac thinks that now he can die happy. That is, until Ferre says firmly, “No. You’re drunk. You’re going home to Marius and I’m going home to my bed.”

“We can have a sleepover like we used to-” “No!” Ferre looks distressed, horrified at himself, and Courfeyrac feels his heart breaking. “Ferre-” he pleads gently, reaching towards him, but Combeferre holds him at arms distance. “You’re drunk. I can’t- How could I-?” the doctor pulls at his hair, before pinching the bridge of his nose and groaning.

Courfeyrac doesn’t even know how to react, he just follows numbly behind Combeferre as the doctor searches the crowd for someone. Vaguely, Courf wonders how one could go from being so elated to however he’s feeling right now in a matter of minutes.

He realizes that Combeferre is handing him off to Bahorel, who is sober, to take him home, like he can’t even bear to be in a car with him right now

As the guide goes to leave, sheparding Bossuet, Joly, and Jehan with well practiced skill, he glances back apologetically at Courf, and mouthes something that Courf can’t decipher amid the flashing lights.

When Bahorel gets him home and Marius brings him some water while he lies in bed, Courfeyrac can hardly drink it, too preoccupied trying to figure out everything that happened, and he drifts off to sleep.

Courfeyrac wakes up with a headache, but he doesn’t think it’s from the hangover. He can practically feel Combeferre overthinking whatever happened last night, even from blocks away, and it pains him. He knows his best friend, and he can tell that he’s suffering.

He doesn’t even bother to change his clothes from last night, leaving a note for Marius and then practically running to Enjolras and Combeferre’s apartment.

He raps insistently at the door, and he’s about to start yelling when Enjolras answers, coffee in hand, golden hair askew.

“What happened last night? Combeferre came in all in a flurry, totally interrupted my studying, and said something about you- being drunk, him taking advantage of you? He hasn’t left his room all morning!” Enjolras demanded an explanation, blocking the doorway.

“Oh no, Enj, please let me through, I’ve got to talk to him, please,” he begged, making a pouty face before Enjolras sighed, moving to let him by. “You owe me an explanation and an energy drink,” the leader grumbled as Courf ran past him, knocking on Ferre’s bedroom door.

It opens and Ferre looks horrible, as though he hadn’t slept all night. Enjolras, as tired as he is himself, stands and tenses immediately, about to walk over, but he pauses when he sees Courf wrap Combeferre into a hug.

Ferre hugs back hesitantly, before saying, “Courf, listen, I don’t think-”

“Good. Stop thinking. Please, you’re driving me insane. Just let yourself- let us- have this. I’m begging you.” Courf pulls away just enough to grab him by the back of his head and kiss him insistently, and Ferre only resists for a moment before kissing back.

Enjolras nearly spits out his coffee. “You- I-”

Courfeyrac can’t even hear him, too busy grinning up at Combeferre who is smiling nervously, and a blush, a blush!, Courfeyrac thinks with giddiness, is spreading across Ferre’s face.

“Um- Sorry Enj-” the doctor starts sheepishly, and he’s stuttering, flustered, and Courfeyrac’s heart just about bursts.

“I’m not!” Courf shouts excitedly, kissing Combeferre again, and pushing him back into his bedroom.

Enjolras sighs, hiding his fond smile with his coffee mug and mumbling, “I’ve got to call Feuilly.”

Later, with satisfaction, Courfeyrac thought that he really could get anyone to fluster, but he didn’t think he’d ever need to see it from anyone other than Ferre ever again.

30 notes · View notes

moccahobi · 4 years

Text

Written in The Stars [Hoseok x Reader]

Warnings: Cuss words

Summery: Hoseok had always been big on supporting his friends. Thus it came as no surprise that he ended up spending his free time at Namjoon's latest buiseness venture: a little dessert cafe. He didn't expect to fall for the cute barista who always worked when he was there though the.

Word count: 7k words

Genre: Slice of life au; Cafe au

Author’s Note: Thank you so much to @kyub for making the banner and @heyitsmeee2, @jung-hoseok-s-airplane, @jiminful, and @elenasgotyourback for betaing. This fic took so much out of me! I had one idea than the next and the main time I had to write this was during school. Oof! I am glad I did it though! Big shutout to @bangtanscenery for orchestrating and creating this project! It was soo fun!

Hoseok sighed from where he was seated in the all too cliche cafe. Namjoon had just opened it up so Hoseok was trying to fulfill his role as a supportive friend by eating there, but it just wasn’t a place he was into. The place was beautiful. He could tell Namjoon and his business partner had quite the eye for design. The wall behind the register was painted in chalk and the menu was written in large swirling letters across it. They had picked a light and natural wood tone for the tables and booths that complimented the dark grey of the metal chairs which were all all seats upholstered with a rich navy blue and embezzled with glittering gold rebites keeping the cushions to the furniture. It was an ethereal kind of look that undoubtedly drew in the crowds.

Looking around, Hoseok’s eyes landed on a large astrology chart sprawled out on the back wall, similar in handwriting to the menu, painting a story with the chart. He only noticed it because Namjoon had a passion for astrology and he would often gush about it to Hoseok who would listen to almost all the times that they met up. To top it off, the ceiling was painted in an all consuming shade of black, mimicking a galaxy with its streaks of white, here and there, which glimmered like actual stars (although Hoseok could admit that the ceiling was almost a piece of art). Aside from the heavy reliance on a theme, it was a dessert cafe. Hoseok liked sweets. Namjoon loved sweets apparently. Almost every food was doused in sugar and it was almost overwhelming just how sweet it all was. They all sounded amazing and cavity inducing (especially the french toast and ice cream combo), and Hoseok was tempted to try them, but he couldn’t handle all that sugar in one sitting. He’d need someone to help and he didn’t have someone to help him today. The only thing Hoseok could handle was the Black Hole coffee (americano with a little sugar) and a Galaxy bagel (it was just a plain bagel with some sugary cream cheese). Hoseok felt a little more like Yoongi, the resident grump of his friends, sitting in the cafe with such… unsweetened foods.

Of course Namjoon’s cafe had some savory food and Hoseok wanted to try them some other time, maybe with Yoongi.The main thing Namjoon sold was dessert though, and to support Namjoon, Hoseok had to have one of the desserts.

What wasn’t a shock about Namjoon’s cafe was that he co-owned and ran it with someone else. Hoseok didn’t know who it was yet, Namjoon having not told him yet but from what Hoseok knew of the current set up, they were manning the counter with two baristas. From what Namjoon had said about his business partner, they were much more focused on what they were serving as well as the astrology side of the cafe work than any of the real business. It gave Namjoon exactly what he wanted: the business side of things and a partner to share the possible debt. Hoseok had finally managed to visit today, their fifth day open and if he had to list the things that he did like, he’d have to start with the ceiling and then mention one of the baristas:

They took his breath away the second he entered the store. They smiled broadly and greated Hoseok and for a second, he forgot that he was at a local cafe and not a family run restaurant back in Gwangju. The world slowed as he looked at them and all Hoseok could think about was the warm feeling of returning to his mom’s friend’s restaurant after his post-school program and eating kimchi and rice.

The trance was broken the second she turned to take someone’s order and Hoseok slowly came back to reality. He wasn’t in Gwangju but he was about to have a wonderful meal in a shop owned by a friend.

Hoseok had only been in the cafe for half an hour and he could already say that he was starting to develop a small crush on the barista. He didn’t mean to and he didn’t dare think about actually asking her out… it just happened. She was a pretty woman doing her job and Hoseok was an attention starved small business owner who was entranced by her caring attitude. Hoseok was stressed and tired. Plus, he was finally feeling better after his last relationship. There wasn’t this constant longing nestled deep inside him at the thought of the end of his last relationship anymore, and he might finally be at a point where dating was ok to do again.

That is what he brushed it off as.

Hoseok didn’t want to think of the alternative. He just got out of a relationship a month ago and was still recovering even if he felt like he might be better now. Sure it might have been a mutual agreement based on his best interests and their best interest, but that didn’t make it any harder. Hoseok still missed the nights when they would spend the night in their apartment and snuggle close while watching cheesy shows or when they’d force him to stop working on pottery for a day and instead grab food at one of the food trucks. He missed the companionship but by now, he didn’t know if he missed them.

He might.

There wasn’t a real way to always tell though. The two went everywhere together. Every place that Hoseok went to now conjured memories that danced and pranced around in his mind. This cafe would be different though. There were no ghost memories dancing around. It was new and he could work effectively and happily.

At some point while Hoseok was finishing his food, Namjoon came over and joined him. The two had barely had more than a handful of conversations since graduating college, both too busy to make time for the other as small business owners (well this was Namjoon’s second business venture, the other supplying him a good source of money to fund him and the cafe). That was how life was sadly but with this cafe open so close to where Hoseok lived and worked that now they might have a chance of having long and winded conversations again.

“Do you remember watching stars on our old apartment’s rooftop?” Namjoon asked at one point, a soft and content smile on his face

“Somewhat. They were nice. Cold, but nice.” Hoseok lied while taking a long sip of his coffee.

Namjoon had always loved the night sky, so much so that he would drag Hoseok out three times a week just to look at the sky. The man could name every constellation and phase of the moon off the top of his head. It was an amazing skill. Hoseok didn’t have that same passion though. Sure, the night sky was nice, awe inspiring at times, but most nights Hoseok would return from work exhausted and all he wanted to do was go to sleep. Those nights when Namjoon and Hoseok would go onto the roof and look at the sky were mostly filled with Hoseok drifting off in the cold.

Hoseok did it though and Hoseok would do it again in a heartbeat because it made Namjoon happy.

Namjoon smiled broadly, “That was kinda the inspiration for the cafe’s decorations! My co-owner, Y/n-ssi, really likes astrology so she added some of the more… magical elements.”

Hoseok chuckled and looked around with a small smile growing on his face as well,“I am glad you enjoyed those nights so much. Do you still make time to go out and look at the stars?” Hoseok asked before taking a long sip of his coffee.

“No.” Namjoon snorted, his smile much larger now, “I am a working man. I barely have time to eat, sleep, and breath. Let alone gaze up at the stars.”

“You should make time, Namjoon-ah. It isn’t healthy to work all the time.” Hoseok chastised, taking special care now to scrutinize Namjoon’s face.

He looked very similar to the young twenty year old Hoseok once knew but there was more evidence now of stress and wear-and-tear. Frown lines and bags etched in his face. When was the last time Namjoon took a break from all his work? Hoseok didn’t know the answer. He did know though that he was no better than Namjoon. This was his first real break in a week or two.

“You sound like Minjae.” Namjoon laughed.

Hoseok winced instead, “Sometimes we need someone to look after us, Namjoon-ah.”

“I am sorry, man. I didn’t mean to-”

“It is ok, dude. I am over her.” Hoseok said, carefully watching Namjoon process what Hoseok said.

He still looked stressed, his frown lines growing as he looked at the table instead of Hoseok. Namjoon had set up Minjae and Hoseok and his pride was undoubtedly wounded when the two decided to end it. Namjoon also barely had time to check in with the two so his own memory was probably a little foggy.

“ Anyways, we should try to go camping sometime… or go to some sort of museum for stars. Bet we could stay there for five hours before they’d kick us out.” Hoseok proposed, watching as Namjoon smiled, his frown lines becoming ghosts as he looked back up at Hoseok again as the previous stress left him.

Namjoon snorted in laughter, “I would love to look at the stars with you again, if that is what you’re asking.”

His eyes lit up as he started to speak animatedly, “And we can make s’mores and grill some beef. Oh my god! I haven’t had beef in sooo long. It would be so good!”

“I think we would have to go camping to do that, Namjoon-ah. I don’t know if a museum will allow us to start a fire and cook stuff there.” Hoseok laughed.

“Well then, looks like we will be going camping.”

“Yeah. Looks like we will have to plan that soon.”

A comfortable silence filled the two as they looked out at the bustling cafe, nothing left to talk about. They were both running their own stores, Hoseok had his pottery shop and Namjoon had the bookshop and now this cafe. The two did the same work just in a different setting and neither felt the need to talk about it. Shortly after their conversation died down, Namjoon had to go back to work. He mainly worked in the backroom but there was almost more work to be done.. Hoseok didn’t mind. He understood the struggle. Namjoon leaving actually left Hoseok excited as he could finally start reading the latest book he grabbed from the library. Giddily, he tapped his feet against the floor and quickly pulled the book out of his bag and started to read. The soft and sure feeling of the hardback book grounded him as he started to be carried away by the words. Distantly, he registered people moving around him as life carried on but he didn’t care one bit. The tension rose in the story the further he read and soon enough he found himself tightly gripping the book as more and more problems arose. Time passed at an unknown rate to Hoseok as someone new sat near him or left or readjusted. He barely noticed any and all changes that happened around him, too absorbed in the world he held in his hands (which he was somehow only a third of the way through). That was until he noticed someone sit across him at his table. They said something that he didn’t quite hear or understand and he quickly tried to get to a stopping point so converse with whoever it was (probably Namjoon back to bother him more).He looked up in shock to see the cute barista from earlier, smiling and taking a bite of her sandwich. You were the last person Hoseok expected to see sitting with him. Maybe an old friend and very possibly Namjoon, but you? A cute barista he barely said one word to? Nope.

You blushed and started to speak, a hand covering her mouth to hide the food you were eating, “I hope you don’t mind me joining you for my lunch. I noticed you talking to Namjoon-ssi earlier and you’re reading one of my favorite books and I thought that it could be cool to meet and talk to you. I am Y/n by the way.” She smiled brightly and nodded lightly at Hoseok.

Hoseok laughed quietly and blushed himself before nodding with a smile, “I am Hoseok. Why is it your favorite book? Oh! And no spoilers! I just started the second part.”

“Ah! A bunch of good stuff is about to happen! I am warning you!” You laughed before taking a sip of your drink.

As you did so, Hoseok looked at what you brought with you, namely your lunch box. Hoseok knew that Namjoon built into the budget a small meal for each of the workers during their shift and it struck Hoseok as endearing that you brought your own food instead of eating the sugary sweets offered in the cafe. It was smart too. The sweets probably wouldn’t be the healthiest to eat daily and you could eat more if you packed your own food.

“I really enjoyed the story. It just… it traps you and doesn’t let you go. The author is really good about that in general with her works. I have read some of her other works and they’re so good!” You said, your eyes glued on the book splayed on the table and not Hoseok.

“I am learning that now.” Hoseok laughed, “This is my first time reading one of her works and I definitely want to read more of her stuff. I specifically enjoy how she is associating certain aspects of her world with different textures and feelings. ”

You nodded excitedly as Hoseok kept talking, your cheeks full of food as you ate. His heart fluttered endearingly as he watched you eat and talk about the book, your eyes wide and cheeks flushed with excitement. Time was moving almost as quickly as when he read the book and he enjoyed it. There was something fun about talking about a book with someone. He hadn’t done it since high school (Minjae was always more of a movie or show person and he did other things with other people). Until now, reading had been an activity he’d done alone. He found himself smiling and laughing more with you than he had in awhile. Maybe there was something fun about talking about books with others that Hoseok had been ignoring until now.

Maybe there was something magical about you.

Maybe it was how your eyes drew him in and kept him there. He didn’t fully know.

The fun didn’t last too long though. You came to talk during your lunch break and lunch breaks were short. It didn’t help that as they talked more and more, he started getting inspiration on some new pottery and he knew that he would need to start working on them soon or he might lose the idea (that or he’ll lose the inspiration).. Just to be safe, he excused himself after you finished eating your sandwich and made his way to his shop. He tried to ignore the image of you nodding and smiling sadly as he left that bounced around in his head but it was heard. You simply looked so adorable and he wish that he didn’t have to leave.

In fact, he thought about how he left Namjoon’s cafe in a rush many times over the following week. Regret stewed inside him the more time he dwelled on it and didn’t return to the cafe. He should have risked the idea for talking with you (his new creation barely sold so it probably wasn’t worth losing a conversation). He should have stayed longer. He should have asked you for your number. Then maybe he might have been able to ask you out to meet up (and maybe call it a date). Plus, if he had gotten your number then he might have had enough courage to reenter the shop instead of standing outside of the shop like an absolute buffoon every time he passed it. Like he was currently doing right now. Inside the shop, people were bustling around. A group of children had gathered there after school and were drinking some sort of milkshakes. People were simply sitting there and working. Friends were meeting up. You were working away behind the counter.

He was standing outside like a loser.

He wished that he had the gall to go in and order something (as well as as for your number) but all he could do was watch you flutter around behind the counter as you worked hard, his own heart fluttering and stuttering as he watched you work. Why was he chickening out? He didn’t have this issue when he officially asked Minjae out but with you Hoseok could barely manage to gather up courage to ask for your number. Maybe he wasn’t actually ready for a new relationship.

But he couldn’t stop thinking about possibly having one with you. Hoseok was so confused. Friends could ask for numbers too. It wasn’t inherently a romantic action. Hoseok liked the idea of it being a somewhat romantic action.

He didn’t have the courage to go in today sadly. Hoseok didn’t know when he would have the courage to.

With a disheartened sigh that seemed to cling in the air around him, Hoseok turned around and sat at the bench in front of the cafe. It overlooked streets that were surprisingly empty save for a bus or two. He watched as a couple walked hand in hand on the sidewalk across the street, dopey smiles on their face as they looked at each other.

A pang of jealousy bubbled up in his stomach as he stared at them. The two looked so happy and content. He wanted that. He wanted that with someone who wanted similar things out of a relationship (unlike Minjae). Hoseok could be the man across the street holding hands with a romantic partner if he just asked someone out.

“Crazy seeing you here, Hoseok-ssi.” Your voice shocked Hoseok out of his thoughts, making him jump and turn around to face you.

Your hair was frizzy from a long day of work but your eyes shone brightly, almost saying that you enjoyed every minute of the hard work you did. Hoseok understood that drive. Your navy blue apron complimented what you were wearing underneath too, over all you looked undeniably cute. You took Hoseok’s breath away. Even if you had coffee stains and looked like death, you would have taken Hoseok's breath away.

“Y-y-yeah! I… Uhhh… I was enjoying the view.” Hoseok managed to stutter out, turning red as he kept stuttering.

“Oh really? Street views are nice… Yet, I had hoped that you might have been thinking about coming into the cafe. Guess I was wrong.” You laughed, sitting next to Hoseok on the bench and taking out your lunch box, this time a dinner tucked neatly into it.

Hoseok spent a few seconds to look at the tattered lunch box. You must have had it for a while as there were scratches and dents on it that only came with time and repetitive use.

“I-I… well… I might have been thinking about going inside.”

“And what made you decide to not go inside? Did you want an actual dinner?” You laughed before putting some of your food into your mouth.

“Oh… Uh… no… I just… decided not to. Nothing against the cafe.”

“Ok. And how is the book going?”

“Uhh… It is going decent.”

Hoseok was kicking himself. Just a minute ago he was fantasizing about going on a date with you and thinking about how cute you were and now he could barely finish a sentence! How was he supposed to even possibly ask you out when he couldn’t even get out more than a four word sentence and you were carrying most of the conversation?

He was handsome, damn it!

He was a catch! Yet here he was getting flustered by a barista… what has he come to.

You weren’t just any barista though… You were a cute and interesting barista who liked similar books to him.

“Why’d you decide to come outside and eat instead of eating inside?” Hoseok finally asked, trying to push his nerves aside.

“Oh! Well… It’s hot and stuffy. Plus, you’re here. That helps.” You said quietly and from the corner of Hoseok’s eye he noticed you blush as you gently brushed your shoulder against his.

A fluttering in Hoseok’s heart made his response get stuck in his throat. What was that supposed to mean? Was she interested in him too? How was he supposed to interpret that?

He cleared his throat and spoke, “Yeah… You’re pretty cool too, I guess.”

What?

What is all he could say?

How lame!

“I mean, I think you’re cool. I just don’t know you much yet and don’t want to say something that might possibly be wrong… I don’t think you might not be cool though! I just-”

Your laugh interrupted Hoseok and struck him into silence. It was a melodious laugh that he could listen to for hours on end and never get bored.

“I am glad you think I am cool, Hoseok-ssi.” You said, turning towards Hoseok with a broad smile.

Hoseok’s heart was beating wildly now. Its erratic heartbeats weren’t ideal earlier when you were simply sitting next to him but now? How was he even supposed to focus with you staring at him intently? Especially with your lips looking like the perfect place for his own lips.

Unintentionally, Hoseok started to lean towards you.

They really did look wonderfully soft.

What was he thinking about?

You were practically a stranger! Even worse: you were Namjoon’s employee! For all he knew you were trying to use Hoseok to get a better pay.

But Namjoon paid his employees well… and most didn’t have tons of room to grow with the work as it was a small cafe.

“I enjoy your company too, Y/n-ssi.” Hoseok said with a cough as he turned to face the street again.

All of the sudden he was very focused on how hot he was feeling. It wasn’t summer but the heat was… present. He was probably blushing and sweating from the heat. Nothing else.

“Even if we have a conversation like this? Where we’re both awkward?” You asked with a strained laugh, leaning into Hoseok.

You had stopped eating.

“Uhh… y-y-yeah. I am having fun. Even if it doesn’t seem like I am.”

“So… would you enjoy my company if we… went on a date, Hoseok-ssi?” You asked slowly, your voice devoid of all laughter.

“Oh. I. Yeah! Totally.” Hoseok’s voice cracked and he leaned back and coughed to try to cover it up, “I mean… It’d be cool, I guess. Yeah. That would be nice.”

You giggled, “Wonderful. How does… Tomorrow at seven in the evening sound? We can meet up here and then go somewhere close by.”

That was so soon.

He could make it though.

“Yeah. That works.” Hoseok nodded, trying to ignore the incessant vibrations from his phone that was sitting in his pocket.

“Are you going to take that, Hoseok-ssi?” You asked with a small giggle, already going back to eating your food.

“Oh. Yeah.”

He quickly grabbed his phone and looked at who was calling. It was Jisoo, one of his employees.

“Hey… boss. I am sorry but uhh… I can’t make it to my shift. I have been vomiting nonstop. I think I have food poisoning. I am about to go to the hospital. I tried asking Jinyoung but apparently he is currently working and can’t do any more overtime. I am so sorry.” Jisoo spoke hurridly.

Hoseok winced at the connotation. He only had two employees aside from him and this meant that he would have to go in and keep the shop open until ten tonight. Five hours more of work and he needed to leave soon.

“Don’t worry, Jisoo. You didn’t intend to get sick. Take care.” Hoseok said before hanging up and looking over at you, “That is sadly my signal to go.”

You looked like a kicked puppy in that moment, a sad gaze growing as you looked up at Hoseok, “Ok. See you tomorrow.”

All while he walked away, he wished that he could turn around and spend the rest of your break together. He felt like an ass for leaving right after agreeing to a date but his shop needed him. It was the curse of a shop owner and it was a curse that Hoseok had chosen.

Of course, what he hadn’t realized until he got to his shop and Jinyoung had left was that he completely forgot to get your number once again.

He was such a damn idiot at times!

Now he couldn’t text you to fill the time that he was forced to work. He also couldn’t get any more information about your date. Would it be formal? Casual? Where were you going to take him? Should he get a gift for you?

It’d make sense that the two of you would be going on a date after your shift because otherwise why would he meet you at Namjoon’s cafe?

In the end Hoseok fretted all throughout his shift and the night about what he could possibly wear for his date tomorrow. Everything felt wrong and he had no idea what to do. Everything he did and tried on felt like not enough. Nothing felt right and for the first time in a while, he didn’t know what to do. First dates were hard and he didn’t know how to prepare.

He shaved and just barely missed twenty nics and even took a longer than normal to make sure that he wouldn’t stink during the date but what was he supposed to wear?

Despite his panicking and fears, Hoseok somehow managed to calm himself down to restlessly sleep that night and was even able to work in the morning. After work though, he was back to panicking. Somehow Hoseok managed to settle for wearing a simple pair of light blue jeans, one of his favorite large shirts with a smile on it, and his long tan jacket.

His whole afternoon bleed into itself and eventually Hoseok found himself sitting on the bench outside of Namjoon’s cafe, a single sunflower held loosely in his hands as he waited for you (he got it at some point between changing into his current clothes and coming here but he didn’t know if he could manage to pinpoint exactly when he had). He barely had enough sense to wear his jacket for when the sun set and it got cold (or if he had to hide in it if you ended up taking him to some fancy restaurant). He would feel so underdressed if you did.

Why would you though?

From what Hoseok understood, you were just coming off of work so you probably wouldn’t want to go to some fancy place. Plus, working in a cafe wasn’t going to get you too much money, even if one’s employer gave them a living wage. You’d probably be a little pressed for money.

If that was an issue though, Hoseok would be more than happy to pay but he wouldn’t care either way.

It also probably wasn’t Hoseok’s place to pry at this time either.

In a last ditch attempt to make sure he was ready for the date, he quickly tried to check his breath with his hand, only getting blasted with air in his face instead. How was he even supposed to check his breath with his hand?

Had his hair got messed up on his trip here?

Had they even agreed to meet here? Maybe you said a different place instead?

Just to check, he looked inside the cafe and didn’t see you there. It was almost seven so maybe you were in the back? Maybe he could just text Namjoon to make sure you were off at seven. Hoseok didn’t want to overstep yet.

“Are you looking for someone in there, Hoseok-ssi?” You asked from beside him, scaring him to the point that he jumped up and almost dropped the sunflower in his hands.

Once he managed to get his bearings again, his breath was taken away by how etheral you looked. There was almost no way that you had come from work, Hoseok was sure of that. Your hair was beautifully and simply styled and your outfit… Hoseok loved every bit of it. His heart fluttered slightly as he looked you over again (barely noticing the reddening blush growing on your face). You looked so good and for the umpteenth time that day, he questioned his own choice in clothes. He might be really underdressed.

Dress pants would have been better to wear instead of jeans. What was he thinking? He really goofed up.

“Y-You look wonderful tonight, Y/n-ssi.” Hoseok finally said, blushing lightly as you laughed quietly.

“So do you, Hoseok-ssi.” You complimented, a broad smile on your face as you stepped closer and looked down at the sunflower.

“I… Uhhh… I got this for you. I don’t know what your favorite flower is or if you even like flowers but I thought it would be nice.” He stuttered out, quickly giving the flower to you.

You looked up at Hoseok with a small laugh before saying, “I love it Hoseok-ssi. Shall we get to the restaurant? I got a reservation for seven thirty.”

“A reservation! I guess it is really fancy, huh?” Hoseok asked, rubbing his neck nervously as he started to walk with you.

“No. Not really. It is just popular and I didn’t want to have to spend the night looking for somewhere to eat. I hope you like Haemul Pajeon (vegetable pancake), I got us a reservation at a small place that is just about three blocks down the street. They make wonderful food.”

“I love the sound of that. How’s your day been so far, Y/n-ssi?” Hoseok asked, biting his lip to hide a large smile growing on his face.

Haemul Pajeon was one of his favorite foods… and Y/n was being so considerate. He was feeling so soft and mushy. How dare you make him feel so soft.

He loved it.

“It hasn’t been the best. I worked the morning shift and… well there are always rude customers but morning people have such a strange breed of rude customers.” You had started rambulling, animatedly gesturing and talking about the rude morning customers.

Hoseok simply watched and listened as you kept going on, a content and fuzzy feeling washing over him as he kept waking next to you. Occasionally your shoulders and hands brushed as you expertly led the way to the restaurant while ranting and while it left Hoseok reeling, it didn’t seem to phase you at all. He could live with that though. As long as you were happy.

In the midst of all your rambling about work, the two of you made it to the restaurant. It was at the bottom of a large building, the upper floors likely dedicated to apartments or business offices. Even from the outside, Hoseok could see a large mass of people jostling around in the restaurant. Large friend groups talking and moving around the restaurant drunkenly, couples draped over each other, and restaurant workers expertly weaving through the masses.

It was obviously a popular place and it made Hoseok just a little nervous. How would you and him get to talk much when all that was happening around you two? Maybe it would be more of a people watching event? One where he only really talked when it came to theories about other’s lives outside of this restaurant.

There wasn’t too much time to think though as the two quickly started walking inside. You only stopped talking after introducing yourself to the hostess. In the silence between you two, Hoseok looked around the restaurant. It looked different from the outside. Whereas earlier it looked as if it would be a party place, now that Hoseok was inside, he could see a semblance of organization to the chaos.

Despite both you and Hoseok not talking, there wasn’t a silence that fell. The whole of the restaurant was lively and filled with a soft amiability that Hoseok really enjoyed.

“Alright. Your reservation is ready. Please follow me.” The hostess said, bowing slightly before turning around and starting to weave through the tables.

Hoseok swallowed his nerves before he started walking in front of you (the three of you had to walk single file because the space was too small to walk side by side) and gently grabbed your hand from behind. People were bumping up against him as he quickly followed behind the hostess but his grip on you didn’t falter. He hoped that his hand wasn’t too sweaty and that he wasn’t gripping you too hard, but Hoseok was nervous and he didn’t want to lose you in the crowd (or let go of your hand yet).

The table that you had reserved was tucked in a corner and overlooked all of the action happening in the bar. There was a small candle lit between the two of you that flickered gently in the soft breeze created by the fans above. Hoseok liked the spot.

“I just realized,” You started with a laugh once you sat down, “I talked the whole walk here. Silly me. I got carried away. How has your day been so far?”

“I like listening to you talk so it’s ok. As for my day, it has been a good day. I didn’t make any more pottery, but I headed the shop and got some good work done there.” Hoseok started, a large smile on his face as he looked across the table at you.

“Oh! So you’re one of Namjoon’s business friends?”

Hoseok snorted at that. Namjoon did have a lot of business friends at this point.

“Yeah. I think I might be Namjoon’s first business friend though. We met in high school and have been friends since. Back in high school Namjoon wanted to be an astrologer believe it or not.”

“Oh? I wouldn’t have guessed!” You laughed, “So what do you do?”

“I am a potter. My shop is just two streets over from the cafe you work at.” Hoseok nodded.

“Own. Namjoon and I are co-owners. I run the front.” You corrected lightly, “How about we look at the menu?”

“Oh. Yeah. Let’s look.” Hoseok nodded along, somewhat caught off guard.

You were the co-owner? It made sense, Hoseok thought as he opened the menu, you looked like she belonged in that cafe. Plus, you were closer to Namjoon’s age than the other baristas' ages. He should have seen it coming.

After a few minutes of looking through the menu Hoseok spoke up, “So… have you figured out what you’re going to get?”

“Yeah. I am thinking of getting Haemul Pajeon with a side of chicken feet. What about you?”

“Uhhh… I think that I am going to get Haemul Pajeon as well but with a side of kimchi. I’m not too hungry today.” Hoseok laughed lightly thinking back to his two large stress induced meals earlier today.

You snorted and laughed lightly before taking a sip of your water, “I get that. Plus, the Haemul Pajeon are quite large. They have great deals.”

Shortly after you two decided, a waiter came by and took your order, and then Hoseok and you were left in amicable silence once again. He was a ball of nerves once again and he had no idea of where to go from here… He wasn’t this anxious when he started dating Minjae… why was it so hard with you? Maybe because he was genuinely interested in you from the start and he was scared of screwing it up. Maybe because he had just spent most of the day fretting over this date and now that it was here, he realized that he didn’t think over the right stuff.

“So,” Hoseok coughed lightly, hoping to clear his throat some, “Do you come to this restaurant often?”

“Not really. I came here the first night I moved into the apartment complex above the cafe but since then I haven’t. I actually came here on my own and just sat at the bar and talked to random strangers. It is amazing to see what conversations one can have when they’re open to it.” You said with a smile as you looked over at the bustling bar space.

“I can imagine. I haven’t gone to bars much so I don’t have such conversations often but I have never had a dull conversation.” Hoseok said wistfully, thinking back to some of the talks that he had when he volunteered to help the homeless back in Gwangju. He wanted to keep up the volunteer work when he moved to Seoul but it simply didn’t happen. He got carried away with his studies and his life and service work simply got put on a backburner.

“Yeah? I doubt that, Hoseok-ssi.” You laughed, “I can’t believe you’ve never had a dull conversation. Not even one with a boring professor?”

Hoseok laughed lightly and shrugged, “I mean, I guess you could count some of those conversations as dull. I guess I was more thinking about general conversations with people… not cardboard cutouts.”

You snorted at this before taking a large sip of your water, blush rising quickly on your face. A sense of pride washed over Hoseok at your reaction. He had made you laugh. It felt good to make someone smile this much.

“I loved most of my professors, don’t get me wrong. They were amazing, but oh my gosh. Ask Namjoon about Professor Gaewon who taught our Stat 240. He was such a snore.” Hoseok started animatedly, smiling as you laughed again, “Even for me and I double majored in Statistics and Business. Dude could put me to sleep in seconds. Lecture or not. I went to one of his office hours once and it was even worse.”

“Oh really?” You asked with a laugh, raising your eyebrows and looking at him with a lopsided grin.

“Oh yeah! I wanted to know a little more information about some complicated statistic and the details and whatnot, nerdy stuff really. He got so excited but you couldn’t tell because he talked in such a monotone voice,” Hoseok smiled brightly before he started mimicking Professor Gaewon, “This statistic, blah blah blah. It is interesting stuff.”

You were laughing uncontrollably at this point and Hoseok couldn’t help but indulge in the butterflies that fluttered wildly in his stomach. This was amazing.

“Needless to say, I didn’t go to his office hours after that.”

You nodded, “I didn’t have anything like that in college. I mean, I was also not a business major and didn’t have to take any stat classes but I mostly got a lot of very pretentious professors who had written books or wild professors who I loved. I didn’t enjoy the former.” You laughed lightly and shook your head, “They seemed to think that they knew everything. It was painful.”

“Oh? What’d you major in?”

“I double majored in Literature and History. I love it. Don’t use it much with my work but that is ok.” You said, coming to a stop when the waitress came with sides for the food.

You and Hoseok slightly bowed to the waiter before turning back to each other and smiling. For a couple minutes, the conversation died down and the noise of the restaurant around you two filled the air as both of you indulged in the sides. Before you and Hoseok had time to continue conversing, the waiter returned and gave both of you your Haemul Pajeon and the two of you dug in All throughout eating, the two of you made comments about how the Haemul Pajeon compared to what you two had had in the past.

Somehow, all the time in the restaurant blurred together and before he even knew it, the two of them were back at Namjoon’s and your cafe. It had closed by now, the windows dark and reflecting the party life outside.

“Well… this was a great night, Hoseok-ssi.” You said, swaying forwards and backwards with a soft and happy smile plastered across your face.

Hoseok felt giddy looking at you. How did he get so lucky to have you ask him out?

“It was. I would love to do it again sometime.”

“Yeah.” You giggled and bit your lip as you asked.

“Yeah.” Hoseok nodded, biting his own lip as he took a step closer to you.

You took a step closer to him as well, your smile growing as you reached out and grabbed Hoseok’s waist. He leaned closer at this and gently pressed his lips against yours, you quickly reciprocating. His hands rose to cup your face as the kiss got heated, soon enough tongues starting to intertwine.

A moan left him as you broke the kiss, a sly smile spreading on your face, “You may have to work for my phone number first, Hoseok-ssi.”

He groaned quietly and smiled, his hands sliding down your soft face to your shoulders, “Well then, can I get your number then, Y/n-ssi?”

You took a step away from Hoseok and giggled as his hands fell to his sides, “Nope. Try again tomorrow… then I will consider. Until then, good night, Hoseok-ssi.”

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dragonologist-phd · 4 years

Text

Prayer and Ink

A conversation about tattoos and vallaslin leads Zevran to reconsider what it means to have faith in something- and in someone.

Written for ZevWarden Week 2020, a combination of the prompts "faith" and "tattoos"

(AO3)

“Do they mean anything?”

The question catches Zevran by surprise. It’s been a long, tedious day of marching across the Imperial Highway, and the relative privacy and cool shade of the tent coupled with the rhythmic sensation of Allys’s fingers tracing against his skin has nearly lulled him to sleep. He slowly opens his eyes and turns his head, although Allys remains just out of view as she continues to lightly draw her fingertips over the designs that curl across his back.

“The tattoos?” he asks, and Allys nods.

“Is that what you call them?” Her fingers continue their journey, following the curves and lines of dark ink that wind between his shoulder blades, along his spine, down his hips.

Zevran gives her a half-shrug, gently so as not to disturb her inspection. “They are pretty. Must they have a meaning beyond that?” A grin creeps across his face. “And of course, they invite the attention of lovely wardens.”

Allys laughs and ends her study of Zevran’s tattoos to reposition herself so that she is once again lying next to him, her bright brown eyes level with his. Her hair has been released from its typical tight bun and now falls past her shoulders, framing her face in a halo of curls. Even after a day of trudging through the Fereldan dirt and mud, her smile is warm and genuine.

She laughs at his compliments, but Zevran isn’t joking in the slightest when he calls her lovely.

“You know, when I first saw you, I thought they were a different type of vallaslin,” Allys says, resting her chin in her hand as her eyes roam over one of the tattoos on Zevran’s cheek. “I thought they might be meant for some god I didn’t recognize.”

“I suppose they still could be-is there a god for devilishly handsome features?”

Allys rolls her eyes. “I’m serious! Getting my vallaslin hurt like mad- I'm not sure I would have gone through with it if not for the gods. At the very least, I think it would've been much more difficult.”

“What can I say? We Antivans are willing to suffer for beauty.” Zevran flashes another smile, but it fades slightly as studies the vallaslin- the blood writing, they call it- across Allys’s face. He knows the lore behind the vallaslin; his time with the Dalish provided him the chance to learn, and even to hear some of the legends of the gods. But his time with the clan was short and his education quick and basic, so there is much he still does not know. “What of yours, then? What do they mean to you?”

With a smile, Allys takes Zevran’s hand in hers and gently brings it to her face so that his fingertips brush against the dark marks of her vallaslin. She guides his fingers across her face, tracing the lines of ink up her chin, across her cheekbones, over her brow. “These are for Andruil.”

“Ah, I remember her stories. She is the Huntress, yes? How very fitting.”

“I thought so, too,” Allys answers, pleased. She closes her eyes, leans into Zevran’s touch, and after a moment begins reciting something in elvhen. “Vir assan. Vir bor’assan. Vir adahlen.”

Zevran has no inkling what the words mean- he hadn’t stayed with the Dalish nearly long enough to learn any of the ancient language- but Allys’s voice, low and melodic, gives them a certain weight. It’s as if the meaning is right on the tip of his tongue, but he can’t quite capture it.

Noticing his expression, Allys explains. “It’s the Way of the Hunt- Andruil’s code. I started learning that code from the time I was tall enough to fire a bow. I’ve spent so much of my life in the woods, learning the teachings of Andruil. When the time came to choose my vallaslin, it seemed appropriate to honor her.”

Zevran is silent for a moment, thinking back to his time with the Dalish. He’s learned the legends and the names of their gods, but the reverence with which the Dalish speak of their Pantheon…that isn’t something so easily taught. “Do you really believe in all those legends? They are good tales to tell, I give you that, but…”

Allys’s voice betrays no doubt when she answers. “I do.”

“Even in the midst of…” Zevran vaguely waves his hand, motioning to the entire world of calamity beyond the quiet sanctity of their tent. “…of all of this?”

“Even so.” Allys’s smile turns thoughtful, and her eyes go distant for a moment. “Maybe the gods themselves cannot step in and stop the Blight for us, but their presence is felt- by the Dalish, by me. It is because of Andruil and her lessons that I am alive today, that I have the skills to bring this destruction to an end.”

And there it is again- that sensation of being so close to something, but not managing to grasp it enough to even identify the feeling. In a way, it reminds Zevran of the Andrastians and their Maker. Something that just almost speaks to Zevran, but isn’t quite his.

Perhaps Zevran’s contemplation is showing on his face, for Allys gives him a searching look and asks, “What do you believe?”

Zevran quickly banishes his muddled thoughts and gives her a wry smile. “I am an assassin. The only things we believe in are steel and gold.”

Yes, steel and gold. Things that are solid and real, if somewhat less poetic than songs and prayer. It could be that in another life- one where the Crows weren’t constantly on his tail, one where he was able to settle somewhere for more than a few short weeks, perhaps even one where his mother never separated from her clan in the first place- he would have been able to take the time to study and prove himself and become part of the Dalish in truth, earning his own vallaslin. Perhaps in that life, he believes in a purpose for himself, believes that a god may look his way.

But that is not a life that belongs to him, nor one that he can truly imagine.

And yet Allys looks at him with a softness in her gaze. She leans closer and tenderly presses a kiss against his temple, at the start of his curving tattoo, then follows the mark down his cheekbone, planting more soft kisses along the way. Finally she moves to his lips, and whispers, “I don’t think that’s true. And I don’t think you do, either. You’re a better person that you give yourself credit for, and you don’t get that way through greed and violence. Maybe it’s not the gods, but you must believe in something greater than that.”

Zevran raises an eyebrow. “What makes you so certain?”

“Because I have faith in you.” Allys kisses his lips, softly, and then pulls back, the previous mischief returning to her expression. “And incidentally, that’s why I like your tattoos. Because whatever meaning they do or don’t have, they’re yours.”

Zevran does not know what to say. He wants to tell her she’s wrong, to try and make her see, but his throat is thick and the words won’t come. So he just kisses her again, deeper this time, and tries not to dwell too much on her words or the look in her eyes.

He thinks about it all later that night, of course. The thoughts simply won’t leave, and a part of him wishes he could go back to when things like this were easy. This should be easy. Just another mission, another conquest. But maybe…maybe Allys is not entirely wrong. Zevran is not a Crow any longer. In truth, he doesn’t know what he is. But when he thinks of the woman in his arms- the woman who not only spared his life, but showed him what his life could be worth- he realizes there is nowhere in this world he wouldn’t follow her.

It is terrifying, and exhilarating, and Zevran wonders if perhaps this is what having faith feels like.

#zevwarden week 2020 #its either late for faith or early for tattoos take your pick!#ch: allys #mahariel #dragon age #dragon age fanfic #zevwarden

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iwritethat · 5 years

Text

Wally West: One

A/N: This was a detour from what I was doing. Oops.

Warnings: None

>>>>——————————>

"M'gann?"

"Yes."

"The cute alien chic?" You thought of the girl, clarifying it was indeed the correct one.

"Yes."

"And you're sure this one is the one because you said that 3 girls ago."

"Yes... I mean no, I don’t know - look can you please help me (Y/n)." Wally playfully pleaded with you like he’d done on multiple occaisions prior to this and you could only shrug in defeat.

"Sure but my conditions remain the same."

"I know, no bragging, pizza on me, you pick the film for the next 3 weeks."

"And?" You mockingly coaxed, knowing how much the next particular demand pained him which was evident in his deadpan but reluctant tone.

"And no mocking your dates."

"Good."

The following day you’d stategically accompanied Kid Flash on a visit to Mount Justice, the sight of you two together was no surprise to Robin, Aqualad nor Speedy though the remainder were intrigued by the mysterious stranger so Wally proudly made introductions.

"Hey M'gann, Conner, this is (Y/n)."

"Ah, this is who you love so much to talk about!" The Martian beamed grasping your hands as you shot a glare to a flustered Wally, the guy sheepishly running a hand through his strands.

"Is this your... girlfriend?" Superboy casually inquired after thinking of the correct terminology, yet again leaving you to wonder what your friend has been saying about you in your absence - also considering the implication this’d have on your scheme.

"No! Definitely not! I'm totally single, just because I've told you about (Y/n) doesn't mean we're dating. We're not dating by the way." Wally briskly recovered, blush fading as he emphasised his point specifically for the sake of M'gann.

"Nice to meet you both. Ah Kaldur!" You lit up once seeing the Atlantean, immediately embracing his form just as he did to you in hopes of catching up with him.

"It's been a while (Y/n), you look well."

"(Y/n) is here? Looking as lovely as ever, surprised you're still hanging with Wally though, you're way out of his league." Robin proudly joked as he walked toward you, genuinely happy to see you again and a girl called Artemis agreed with him despite only recently learning your name - supposedly teasing Wally was a commodity amount the Team.

"I'm here for training, Canary said she'd activated the sparring platform so I wanted to test it." With a content shrug you set your plan in motion, gesturing over to the designated area as indication.

Now you were very well trained, the team knew that so it wasn't a surprise when every single member landed with a 'FAIL' until Wally challenged your winning streak. You went two rounds, the first you played to his strengths allowing him to take you down with his speed and received the only 'PASS' of the day. M'gann cheered, flying over with questions and compliments whilst you comfortably sat up and proudly watched Wally bask in the desired attention. Meanwhile got to your feet, brushing yourself only to be met with a smirking Robin beside your figure.

"I know what you're doing and you are good at it, but I don't think it's gonna work."

"Does it ever work with Wally? He's never met a girl he's really caught deep feelings for but I'm only in it for the free food he's promised me." Came your knowing reply, softly smirking at Robin who seemed to disagree but accepted your justification nonetheless.

"There is one y'know..."

"Hey (Y/n) ready to get your ass whooped by the best there is? Fastest kid alive babe." The speedster smugly gained your deadly gaze, his boasting violating the agreement you’d struck less than 24 hours ago and thus not giving you a chance for Robin to elaborate like you’d wished.

This time you would not allow him a victory, like the others you took him out with a mischievous smile and then crouched over his waist whilst he leaned up on his elbows to meet you.

"No. Bragging." You raised a brow, tilting his chin towards you as you punctuated each word as a reminder before heading out. Although your plan had still succeeded to a degree, you walked backwards finding the Martian kneeling down to your friend inquiring about his condition as you winked at him - Wally seemingly impressed with your antics, as he usually was whenever he roped you into these scenarios.

You retained your attentive skills, even talking him up to M'gann but it became painfully obvious that her romantic affections were reserved for a certain clone which left you disappointed albeit pleased for her. Now, you had to break the news to Wally - you'd considered such measures while sitting against the wall in one of the Mountains many hallways bouncing a ball off of the other side as a form of contemplation.

Soon enough your felt a familiar comforting presence beside you, catching the ball and initiating a harmless game between the two of you.

"What's on your mind?" Wally knew you incredibly well, narrowing down I even the smallest quirks and he'd use that to his advantage.

"Nothing, but I'm afraid you might have to give up on M'gann."

"I know. Supes right?" He didn't seemed phased by your sympathetic disclosure, which surprised you slightly due to how long he’d spent gushing over the girl.

"Yeah, sorry West."

"It's alright. Thanks for trying, I'll still get you that pizza."

"But I didn't...?" His response was unexpected, leaving you somewhat speechless but he soon continued with conversation before you could finish, no evidence of heartbreak to be seen.

"That Dan guy you went out with? (Y/n) c'mon you're stunning, and he didn't even offer to pay the full check at the coffee shop. You deserve so much better, his flirting game was awful too." Wally reminisced on the details you’d cruelly given knowing he wouldn’t able to comment due to you deal, although such a thing was now void and you’d regretted that decision. Yet part of you enjoyed his mocking support.

"So I get the pizza but have to suffer your judgements for not getting you a date? I'm sure you have something to say about Jackson too." You threw your head back with an exaggerated sigh, Wally laughing as he replied.

"Don't get me started..."

How unaffected Wally seemed about the let down still puzzled you, although you believed something else must've attained his focus - not that you had any indication of what it was as you sat flicking through the channels.

"So... there's another girl." There it is.

"Dude, are you kidding me? Give yourself a month at least."

"No this one is the one, I know it." His tone was oddly confident compared to his usual dilemmas regarding that topic which automatically gained your full attention.

"Uh Huh. And when did you meet her? Love at first sight or whatever?"

"I've known her longer than a few days give me some credit here. But it wasn't at first sight, I didn't even notice it was happening or rather happened..." Wally's point was certainly more realistic in comparison and he was being truthful - again, maybe this peculiar circumstance held promise.

"You know my terms an-" You simply shrugged, assuming he wanted your assistance once more which dulled your growing investment slightly.

"No, not for this one."

"Hot damn, this woman must be special. Tell me everything!" That decision shocked you and it was evident in your tone, you excitedly encouraged him to indulge your lowkey interrogation since he never turned down your assistance.

"Yes she definitely is, but I don't know what to do for her y'know?"

"Romantic restaurant? Roses? Tell her over a romantic dinner." You listed things instantly, barely stopping for a breather.

"Would you want all that though?" Wally considered your ideas, furrowing his brows before he asked his question even if his posture radiated nervousness despite the confident facade he’d attempted to convey.

"Hah, no way! Honestly I'd love a chill night in, order a take out, put on a good series and just enjoy each other's company. I mean roses are nice too but I want to know my date likes me enough to relax and be themselves - you can't really do that in a fancy restaurant. Anyway, you should probably find out what this girl likes first." You simply smiled, giving him an honest opinion and advice for you felt he'd finally found someone more than just a crush to him.

"I guess..."

It was silent for a moment until familiar words echoed in your mind 'There is one y'know...' and instantly you stood up with your realisation.

"I know who it is!"

"What?! How?!" Wally snapped to with concern evident in his expression like a deer in headlights, unbeknownst to you why that was but he too halted in his tracks.

"Dick told me, I don't believe it Wally - it's great!" Now you had Artemis in your head, they'd hated one another at first so it certainly made sense that he'd grown to like her. They'd also kissed at New Years Eve or so you'd heard.

"Robin told you I liked you?! Are you kidding? He only knows because I thought he had a crush on you." That answer caught you off guard, practically disintegrating your ability to form a coherent sentence or even think straight due to the abruptness of it.

"Wait me? I didn't, um, I can't, since when? All the times I've been helping you with girls I... I..."

"Wait you didn't know? Okay stay there, I'm doing this again!" Wally held his hands out in defence, soon disappearing leaving you standing alone with your thoughts. A dangerous thing really.

Did you even have feelings for him? Quite possibly, that would explain why you occasionally compared dates to him and why you were always so willing to help him find his happiness but surely you wouldn't have suppressed them? It was so confusing.

Within a minute he appeared before you, a single red rose in hand and sheepish smile.

"I'm late I know that but there's no pressure for you. This is not how I expected you to find out, I aimed to flirt with you and only you before making a move so it wasn't thrown on you so suddenly but here we are. Guess I'm not great with girls without you."

With a mischievous grin, you pulled him close by his red hoodie and gently met his lips with your own and you couldn't deny how right it felt - an action you’d hope would quell the warring emotions. You pulled apart, his arms wrapped around your waist and yours on his shoulders.

"You're actually quite adequate, I'm just as surprised as you are."

"Oh you're hilarious." He matched your witty sarcasm, but still you find his happiness intoxicating.

"Can we, um could we take things slow? I know that's ironic to ask the fastest kid alive but please."

"I'd slow down for you, I want to take my time in every moment I get so it won't be a problem (Y/n). I promise." Despite the trace of concern in your voice, Wally was reassuring and sincere with his words so you both felt comfortable in whatever situation you'd crafted.

"So, I assume you won't be mocking my dates anymore."

"I think every date you'll have from now on is gonna be too great for me judge. Ah too bad, I know how much you loved me doing that." The speedster playfully responded with a knowingly satisfied smirk to which you threw him an 'are you serious?' expression.

Later, as you both sat comfortably on Wallys' bed eating pizza whilst a film played in the background, you received simultaneous texts from none other than Dick Grayson - his smugness translated even in a message.

[Dickiebird: Told you so.]

#wally west #wally west x reader #wally west imagine #kid flash #kid flash x reader #kid flash imagine #dc #dc imagine

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skaikruswan · 6 years

Text

Will our world come tumbling down - chapter 3

Summary: „Holy shit.” Hank mutters and you share the sentiment. You thought that deviants were the real deal, but nothing could have prepared you for the view of Connor with red eyes, red LED and red blood-stained lips. “Fucking vampire androids.”

Pairing: Connor x female detective!reader

What to expect from this third chapter: Getting ready for the party, exploring the relationship between Connor and reader, some fluff.

Important: Please go into the notes of this chapter and look for the first reblog. You’ll find the links to Ao3 and the previous chapters. Tumblr must really hate me.

“Considering your rapid pace and your determined facial expression, I conclude that you have a plan?” Connor breaks the silence and you decide to turn around and face him. You didn’t really notice that you’re basically running through Detroit. Truth be told, you’re afraid, even terrified. You’ve been undercover, but never truly on your own. Yes, you have Connor, but not having backup frightens you. And yes, Connor is skilled, apt, he can be all the support you need, but still, there is so much that could go wrong. Besides, this is Cordelia Lorde and her fancy party. How can you survive an evening in the cut-throat glamour society of Detroit and also find deviants? Moreover, what if someone finds out about Connor, he’ll be deactivated, and you’ll never see him again?

“(Y/n).” Connor calling your name rips you back to reality. He’s come closer, and both of his hands are resting on your shoulders, his forehead puckered. “Based on your increased heart rate, the short breaths you’re taking and the trembling of your hands, I’ve determined that you’re having a panic attack.”

You can only stare at Connor and blink. Your confusion grows into petrified bafflement when you feel Connor’s arms wrap around you.

“I’m hugging you, all right? Hugs are the best way to give physical contact and comfort. It will help you. You need to calm down.” You can only nod. You shift your head, so it rests better on Connor’s chest. Although there is no heartbeat, you can hear a very faint buzzing and you like to believe that it comes from Connor’s Thirium pump. You put your arms around Connor and pull him closer. You close your eyes and just focus on the sensation of the hug; you already start to feel better. It’s not a bad hug per se; Connor’s grip around you feels a little mechanical, as if he doesn’t know whether he’s hugging too loose or too tight, but you don’t mind.

“Don’t let go.” The words escape your lips before you can do anything about it. Connor’s grip tightens around you and you take a deep breath. This moment should last forever, but you know it won’t. Besides, there’s work to do. So painfully slowly you unlink your arms, letting them fall to Connor’s side, and open your eyes again.

“Thank you so much, Connor.” You hope that these five words are enough to express the deep gratitude you feel right now. Like an anchor, Connor keeps you grounded, keeps you safe.

“You’re very welcome.” Connor murmurs softly and he lets go of you too. You know it’s sappy, but suddenly you feel colder without him. Truth be told, it has become colder in Detroit and you’re glad you’re wearing your warmest jacket.

You roll your shoulders and give yourself a mental shove. Your next mission is finding costumes for you and Connor. No point in looking at the small costume shops scattered across town. At best, you’ll find a costume you might even like, but can’t take, because it’s not fancy enough. At worst, you run into one of these dubious shops, aimed at people who like dressing up their androids. No, your destination is the biggest shopping mall in Detroit.

You feel immediately warmer as you step into the mall. You’ve come to know the mall like the back of your hand, strolling through the shops, enjoying a hot drink in the small coffee houses, or doing grocery shopping. Not today.

Your destination is Hills Fashion, the first clothes shop that pops into your head when you think about timeless, fashionable clothing. It used to be reserved for the upper side of Detroit. However, nowadays the wealthy middle-class can afford some pieces too. Several shop assistant androids roam the boutique, eager to give advice or fetch the right-sized piece of clothing. They are giving you polite smiles as you stride through the boutique. At the right end of the boutique, close to the evening gowns and the tuxedos, hang the Halloween costumes. The costumes look so authentic you don’t even know what to look at first.

Connor will get a costume first, so you move towards the men’s section. The first costume immediately catches your eye. Perfect, you think, a smirk spreading on your face and you take it. You walk towards the dressing room, eager to see Connor trying it on.

“Please try it on. No talking back, trust me on this.” you say, preventing Connor from expressing his opinion. He does raise an eyebrow, but you press the costume into his hands and gently push him towards one of the cabins.

“I wonder what your perception of me in this costume will be.” Connor says after a short moment and pulls away the curtains.

Oh no, he’s very hot; it’s the only coherent thought your mind can come up with. You’ve always considered Connor handsome. Cyberlife has never held back when it comes to designing attractive androids, and Connor really is the prime example of how they accomplished to create good-looking machines. But Connor in the costume is something else. The black pants, although similar to those he usually wears, cling to his hips perfectly. He’s wearing a gray vest that fits him so well, you wish that Cyberlife had made him wear one from the start instead of his jacket. The black cape flows around him to his hips. On other men, it might have been over the top, but with Connor, it just completes the costume.

Your mouth wide open, you wish you could force your brain to work again, but all it does is processing the sight of Connor, dressed up as Dracula. Hot! Sexy! Perfect! – your brain is not doing much right now.

“You look really nice.” you finally manage to say, tilting your head so it seems as if you’re further analyzing him. Connor gives you a court nod, then looks around in the dress room, as if he’s checking something.

“(Y/n).” It’s the way he pronounces your name, in a cautious and hushed tone, that makes you immediately snap out of your bubble. “Given my current predicament, do you consider it wise for me to dress up as one of the most iconic vampires?” How casually he talks about the fact that he drank human blood – although it was only once – still continues to baffle you.

“My mother once told me that the best lies were the ones closest to the truth. So dressing up as a vampire is the best way to hide your current predicament.” you explain, and you can’t help but pronounce the two last words more than you needed to.

“Your reasoning does make sense.” Connor answers after a while, scratching his chin, another human tic he must have adopted. You watch as a muscle in his jaw tenses, he stands up straighter and an iron resolve washes over his features. You call this Connor in his mission-mode.

“Wait here. I’ve already spotted a costume for you.” Connor announces and before you can do or say anything, you watch Dracula leave you. It doesn’t take long for Connor to return, carrying a stunning pale blue dress in his arms.

“Try this on, please.” Connor requests and you look at the dress more closely. The cerulean, strapless corset is close-fitting, adorned on the sides with small pearls and moon stones. The A-line skirt reminds you of the sea, gradually changing from arctic blue to azure, ending below your knees. A tulle layer peaks out underneath the skirt to make it flare and the stones and pearls look like stars reflecting their light on the endless ocean.

You take the dress to try it on, careful not to make the smallest tear. The silky skirt slithers over your skin and the corset fits like a glove. You look like a fairy as you twirl around, the skirt billowing around you.

A fairy, you ponder. A memory flashes before your eyes: you see yourself sitting in her lap as your grandmother tells you a fairy tale about Pinocchio, a puppet boy who wishes to become a real human boy for his father and gets his wish granted by a blue fairy. Your reflection stares back at you with a wistful expression on its face. What if the fairy also wishes for someone to become human? The thought has barely slipped through your mind before you reprimand yourself for it. Do not give into hope when there is none. You have to accept reality as it is.

“Voilà!” you shout happily as you jump out of the cabin into the dressing room. You feel Connor’s assessing gaze on you as you await his judgment, spinning around.

“The costume suits you and it will serve its purpose for the evening.” Connor states and you try to ignore the blow of irritation his words make you feel and school your face. His LED turns yellow and after watching him processing information, you could swear that Connor blushes, a slight blue shimmer on his cheeks. “This was not very socially adept of me. What I mean to add is, you look really nice too.”

A content giggle escapes your throat and you skip closer to Connor, looking at both of you in the reflection of the giant mirror hanging across the cabins.

“We look great.” you proudly announce. Your reflection beams back at you, with Connor’s corners of his mouth curled up slightly.

“I agree.” a woman announces, and you notice the third person inside the dressing room. Helena Mills cuts a striking figure, her auburn hair, free of any gray strands, are coiffed in an elegant bun. She’s wearing a green jumpsuit complimenting her slim figure, red hair and her fair complexion.

“Thanks Ma’am.” you answer politely. Helena is approaching, circling both of you. However, her interest seems to belong entirely to Connor, who she’s eyeing with interest. She’s almost ogling him, and you’re reminded of someone standing in front of the butcher, trying to find the best piece of meat. It unsettles you.

“How peculiar. I pride myself on being up-to-date with the latest android models, but I can’t figure out what model this is exactly. A new companion model?” It’s the way she says it that almost drives you over the edge: condescending yet self-reliant, believing she knows everything. You can’t do anything about it, you put yourself in front of Connor, ready to shield him from her.

“It’s fine if you don’t know this, but Connor is the newest prototype, an RK800 model investigating deviant cases. He’s not a companion model.” Your voice is sugar hiding the sweetest poison and you almost hiss the last sentence. You’ve inched closer, your back almost hitting Connor’s chest, but you don’t care. This woman has no right to stare at him this way.

“My name is Connor. I’m the android sent by Cyberlife.” Connor says his trademark sentence, but you notice that he’s saying it with a chilly undertone.

“My apologies. You two look close, you had me fooled.” Helena’s last words still ring in your ears after she’d left, and now you’re putting your clothes back on. Connor’s already waiting for you, dressed in his usual clothing, his jacket letting everyone know what he is; there would be no mistaking him now.

Before heading to the exit, you quickly check the accessories section and find what you need to make the costumes perfect: a silver wand for you and fake fangs for Connor. You choose not to look at the price as you pay at the exit, hoping that the department will refund at least a small part.

With Connor carrying the shopping bags, you wonder what to do next. You know that going back to the police station is out of the question. You can almost hear Hank bellowing at you to get out of here, to gather your strength for the evening. It’s still too early for lunch and you’re in no mood to take a stroll through the mall.

“Let’s go home, Connor.” you say and you secretly like how easy, how natural the little sentence rolls over your tongue. Connor doesn’t say anything but gives you a court nod and you curse Helena internally. Damn her and her comment about you and Connor being close. While your heart agrees, your mind knows that this has made Connor put some distance between himself and you. He’s walking two steps behind you and you know that unless you say something, he won’t converse either. His body language says enough: not only is he keeping his distance, he’s also leaning backwards, walking as straight as he can. He’s not turned towards you. Truth be told, it upsets you.

This is going to be a long day, you think as you enter your apartment. You walk into the living room and have no clue what to do. After putting down the bags, Connor stops in front of your little library, apparently picking up where he has stopped yesterday. You take your tablet to occupy your mind and your hands, switching between articles about Cordelia Lorde and videos of cute animals. Connor is reading Pride and Prejudice. Interesting choice of books, you think as a small smile spreads on your lips at the sight of Connor, completely immersed in Netherfield, his gaze glued to the pages, leaning forwards as if he wants to fall into the book.

After watching enough dogs in the snow, you decide to quit wasting time and do something. You catch up on your shows. You tidy up your bathroom. You rearrange your pillows. You clear out your wardrobe. Not in the mood for cooking, you just wolf down a few pieces of toast. You take out the trash. In fact, you do all the things you’ve postponed because you’ve never had the time to do them. A small voice inside of you hisses that the chores keep your mind and hands occupied, but you don’t mind it, as it is true. Better to clean than to have another panic attack.

You’re about to clean the living room when you notice that Connor is no longer sitting, but he has stood up. His arms are crossed, and he gives you a sharp glare.

“Stop.” he says firmly, almost ordering you and you raise your chin up. “You’ll only tire yourself out. I advise you to rest before the evening party. I gather that such events can take long, so you should be as rested as possible.”

“God, I hate it when you’re right!” Secretly, you’ve had this thought more than once after meeting Connor, but this time you actually voice it. You turn around and storm off into your bedroom. You regret your sudden outburst the moment you close the door. Connor only meant well. Yet your hand hovers over the doorknob. Maybe it’s best to take Connor’s advice. A nap can only do you some good. Maybe you just need to cool down.

You’re gone the moment your head hits the pillow.

You wake up, rested but with a fuzzy feeling in your head. How long did you nap? You check the alarm clock on your nightstand and let out a loud yelp. Dashing into the bathroom, you confirm your worst suspicions: your hair is a tangled mess and you’re sweaty because you’ve slept in your clothes. You burst into the living room to see Connor sitting in his armchair, already dressed in his costume, still reading Pride and Prejudice. At least he’s ready.

“(Y/n)”, he greets you. “It’s good that you’re awake. I was about to wake you up. We mustn’t be late.”

“I know. Now I may be rested, but I’m stressed!” you answer, your voice shrill. You grab the bag from Hills Fashion and return into the bathroom. This time you shower faster. No time to lose.

Your heartbeat slows down the moment your reflection shows you dressed in the fairy costume. Your hair is in a braided chignon, a few strands framing your rouged face. The fake LED is sticking to your temple. Silver stilettos complete the outfit. You reach into the bag to retrieve your wand and notice that the fake fangs are still lying in it.

This time you don’t burst into the living room but enter it calmly, crossing the distance between yourself and Dracula.

“Connor.” you call out kindly, and he rises from the armchair. He hasn’t said anything, his expression guarded. His gaze darts towards your temple and his eyes widen, only for a small moment. You open your hand to reveal the fake fangs and he immediately perceives what must be done.

“You don’t mind?” Connor asks, allowing you instead of him to choose what will happen next.

“Not at all.” You hope that Connor understands that this is your way of making up for your last outburst. Putting the glue on the fake fangs, you wait for Connor to open his mouth a little. You steel your heart to remain calm while you press the first fang against Connor’s incisor. Satisfied with the result, you repeat the procedure with the second one.

“Now you look perfect.” you say with a smile. Connor really looks like a vampire now. He looks dashing, as if he’d jumped right out from the cover of a vampire novel. Fake blood would make it complete, but there’s a reason you chose not to buy the vials of red liquid you’ve seen in the store. One mustn’t tempt fate. You pray that this incident with human blood won’t happen again. You’re terrified that it could only bring misery to Connor and heartache to you.

“So do you.” Connor sounds genuine and you blush at his words.

Bringing some distance between you and him, you twirl around, grab your black coat and your silver clutch containing the invitations, and head to the door. The taxi Connor had called arrives immediately. You’re too lazy to walk to the precinct at this time and with this weather.

You can’t explain the weird unreality you feel as you enter the precinct, your makeup and hairdo flawless, wearing a blue silken dream, with Dracula walking next to you. You move slowly, careful not to get a wrinkle in your dress and you wish that you were better at wearing high-heels.

“A fairy and a vampire walk into a police station…” Chris jokes good-humoredly, his smile reaching his eyes. As you and Connor close in to Hank’s desk, you flash Chris a joyous grin. The grin fades away when you notice Hank’s empty chair. You’ve hoped that he would be here.

“Who knew that you could dress up so nicely.” Gavin sneers and you roll your eyes. He’s leaning against the wall and you hadn’t noticed him before. Why must he be such a prick? You know that Gavin does have a good side. It’s just very easy to miss.

“And you dress up as a douche? Really nailed it.” Your quip seems to hit a target, as Gavin leaves in a huff, grabbing his jacket and heading for the exit.

You hear Hank’s barking laugh and turn your head to see him coming from the cafeteria, a hot beverage in hand. If he looks any grumpier, he would scare children, you think as you wait for him to arrive at his desk. There are coffee stains on his shirt and even your best concealer couldn’t hide his eye bags.

“Good one, kiddo. Gavin deserved it. Hell, he always deserves something.” Hank says after sitting down in his chair and you watch him take a big gulp of his drink. Before he can say anything, you hear the captain’s office door opening and watch Fowler approach you. His authoritarian presence always makes you stand up straight. His stern gaze flies over you and Connor and he nods slowly. Coming from Fowler, this is as much praise as it can get.

“As Hank has already explained to you, you will be on your own. You can’t imagine the hell I went through just to get these two tickets.” Fowler’s stern gaze loses focus for a moment, and his flat tone doesn’t hide the chagrin in his eyes or that his shoulders sagged a little. “Find deviants. We need to advance in this investigation.” Fowler doesn’t waste any more time and heads back to his office. You know that there’s nothing more to do here either. Your instructions are clear, you know what to do. Now it’s up to you and Connor.

A small part of you wishes that the lieutenant would say something to you, that he would encourage you, but you know that this isn’t Hank’s style. His eyes are glued to the screen of the PC and from the corner of your eye, you quickly read Lena Williams. Guilt coils up in your stomach; Hank is doing your work. This is the report you’re supposed to write and he’s covering for you.

You turn around to leave, clutching your purse, your eyes fixed on the ground, the clicking of your stilettos echoing the clicking of Hank’s keyboard.

“(Y/n), Connor, come here!” Hank barks and you turn around to see him standing close to the windows. When did he get up and why? You do as he demands, and watch Hank take out his phone. Everyone knows that Hank is not fond of technology. You once saw him screaming at his phone because he had accidentally deleted a picture of Sumo.

“You two, don’t look as if you’re two deer in headlights. Smile!” His order snaps you out of your confusion and now you understand: Hank wants to take a picture of you and Connor. Joy warms you up from the inside better than any alcohol could, and you beam at Hank. With a subtle side glance, you notice that the corners of Connor’s mouth are also turning up.

You watch Hank take several pictures and pray that they don’t get deleted. You’ll absolutely ask Hank if he can send them to you. You need these pictures. He checks them, but the slight frown on his face seems to indicate that he’s not satisfied yet.

“Get closer. On the picture you look as if you two are strangers.” Hank instructs, and you take the initiative to move closer to Connor. He’s taller, so you take a small step forward, choosing the position that can only be described as standing in front of him and next to him at the same time. Your arms make contact, your bare skin touching his shirt. You will your breathing to be even and hope that Connor doesn’t pick up on your rapid heartbeat. You could reach out for his hand, but you’re a chicken. Instead, you gently incline your head so that on the picture it will look as if you’re resting your head on his shoulder. Somehow, this reminds you of parents taking pictures of their children and their date for the high school ball and you have to fight to keep up the smile.

“All right then, that’s enough.” Hank says and puts his phone away and you release your breath. Hank looks at both of you for a second, his jaw locked. “Show these rich bastards how to party. Take care.” The last two words are almost whispered and a vulnerability you’ve rarely seen takes over Hank.

“We’ll do.” Both of you reply at the same time, causing you to giggle about the fact of how in sync you are. No longer wanting to waste any more time, you leave the station, heading towards the cab that will take you to Cordelia Lorde’s mansion. You stare out of the window, anxious to keep your mind empty.

“Wow.” you gasp when the cab pulls into a circular driveway, parking next to foreign, expensive cars and even a few limousines. Like moths drawn to a flame, you watch people walk towards the brightly-lit mansion of Cordelia Lorde. Even from afar it looks magnificent, the white marble structure shining like a star in the night.

The doors of the cab open and you step outside, the cold immediately cutting into you. You hiss in the crisp, freezing air and you head for the mansion, walking as fast as you can in your heels, trying not to slip on the frozen concrete.

“I hope the cold is not too uncomfortable.” Connor says next to you, easily keeping up with you and you raise your hands to blow into them. The cold will never bother him. One of the many perks of being an android.

“You have no idea. I’m turning into a human Popsicle.” you whimper. The cream tights you’re wearing underneath your dress could as well be made from paper, for they don’t keep the cold from your skin. You snuggle into your black greatcoat, grateful for the warmth it provides.

Before you can enter the mansion, you realize, you have to show your invitation to the people – androids or humans, you can’t tell – dressed in black who roam the space in front of the massive iron front door. Several sleek outdoor heaters are providing the much-desired warmth and servants dressed in white walk around with steaming cups. There aren’t many people outside, but the few who are still waiting for their invitation to be checked, all wear masks.

“Connor why do all these people wear masks?” your voice is calm, but inside of you, anxiety raises its ugly head. Did you miss something? You look again, careful not to miss something. Not only is everyone wearing LEDs, but also breathtaking Venetian masks. You and Connor stand out. Great.

“I don’t know. There was no note of masks in the invitation.” Connor replies and you fight the urge to rub your hands. You’ll have to roll with it. After your invitations are controlled, you are granted entrance.

As you enter through the front door, the first thing that happens is that Cordelia Lorde’s staff relieves you off your coat, bringing it into an adjoining room. You see black-dressed people keeping a watchful eye on the entrance. It eases your mind that Cordelia does have security. One can never be too sure, especially at such events.

As you watch the room you’ve just entered, the first thing you notice is the big staircase occupying the foyer. Red carpets mark the path to go on the marble floor, with golden chandeliers illuminating the room and bathing everyone in a warm glow. Pictures you can’t imagine the worth grace the ebony-lined walls. You think that some of the art could be by Carl Manfred. In short, you’ve only entered but you already feel abundance, the extravagance and the wealth overwhelm you.

Slowly walking forwards, you realize that the red carpet doesn’t lead you towards the staircase, but to a big double door made of mahogany. You notice a signpost at the bottom of the staircase, advising everyone not to explore. Dear guests, please do not cross this point. Respect the private quarters. Trespassers will be excluded.

“Connor look.” you whisper and nudge him gently, your head tilting towards the staircase. “I don’t like it that there are quarters we shouldn’t visit. I like to know the whole area. Who knows what could happen there? Moreover, it could leave us exposed.”

“I agree.” Connor replies in hushed tones, leaning towards you, his breath tickling your ear. You watch as his LED turns yellow, focusing on his face. Whatever Connor is processing, he doesn’t seem to like it. His eyebrows are furrowing, a muscle in his jaw tenses and his gaze wanders over the whole mansion. “This doesn’t make any sense. I can’t find any information about this mansion, especially the layout.”

“Guess we’re going in blind.” you say and let out a weary sigh. Not the best start.

“Not only blind, but also mute.” Connor grumbles and you cant your head. His LED is still yellow, and his right hand is tapping against his left upper arm. He’s turning towards you. “As you know, androids can communicate between each other and make calls. However, an interference is running in this house, preventing this communication.”

Your mouth falls open and you scan the room in the fruitless attempt to find the source of interference. However, if Connor can’t find it, chances are big you won’t either.

“Why would Cordelia Lorde do that?” you ask incredulously. Authenticity aside, it implies a source of risk for the evening. Connor doesn’t seem to have an answer, but rather puts his hands on the small of your back, gently pushing you forward.

As you approach the door, you see a man dressed up as a medieval herald, sporting dark gray tights and a feathered hat.

“Good evening, fair lady, noble lord.” he greets you, deeply inclining his head and you fight the urge to curtsy. “Who may I announce?” His questions comes out of the clear sky and you freeze. You must keep up your cover, but don’t be suspicious. What to say?

“Tinkerbell and Dracula.” you impulsively blurt out and while you cringe internally, you force yourself to stand tall, lifting your head. If you’re convinced that this is right, so will other people, you hope.

“Very well.” the herald says with a twinkle in his eyes, and he opens the door. “May I present Dracula and Tinkerbell!”

Your first reaction is thinking that you might have tumbled into a fairy tale; this ball room is made for princesses and princes, for queens and kings. Intricate swirls make every beige marble tile look like a piece of art. Countless chandeliers, lit up with real candles, dangle above you. The largest one in the middle of the round room immediately catches your eye. Made of countless crystals, it sparkles so beautifully that you can’t help but gasp in delight. The big marble pillars lining up form the basement for the second floor of the ball room. There are no stairs and no other way to access the second floor, so you suspect that it can only be reached through the private quarters. No people are to be seen upstairs, so until now, the private quarters restriction seems to be respected. Brown settees invite to take a break and relax, with champagne glasses and appetizers waiting on small vitreous tables. Classical music is played by a small orchestra in the left corner of the room and you close your eyes, listening to the beautiful tunes of a piano and a violin in perfect harmony. Moonlight falls into the room through the big, arcuated windows.

Connor clears his throat and you shake the melody’s grip on you. You have a mission after all.

“Okay, let’s mingle, talk to the people here, so we can at least try to identify them and have at least a chance to find out who’s human and who’s android. You go left, and I go right, let’s meet again in the middle okay?” you suggest and Connor nods. After being around Connor the entire time, your right side feels empty without him, but there’s no time for sentimentality.

You carefully approach the many knots of people in the ballroom, mindful not to get to close, but close enough to overhear the conversation and to get a good look at the people. Damn these masks! They may be beautiful, some so artistically crafted that you would have never dared to wear them, too afraid to break them, but they seriously hinder your investigation. So many of the masks cover more than half of the face.

After the second knot of people, where all you’ve learned was boring chit-chat, who’s dating who and what the best colors are to wear this season, you start to become frustrated and anxious at the same time. You almost run your hand through your hair but remember the pain it was to get the hairdo, so instead you just flex your fingers and take a deep breath. There’s no need to panic. The evening has just started. Maybe Connor has more luck. You continue your way through the crowd.

“It’s such a shame that Elijah Kamski didn’t come.” a black-haired woman dressed as devil, wearing a red and black jumpsuit, whispers to her neighbor, Marie-Antoinette, complete in 18th-century gown and a red line across her ivory neck. This comment piques your interest. Elijah Kamski has been invited? You haven’t heard something about the Cyberlife founder and creator of androids for quite some time. All you know is that he has disappeared from the public, living reclusively somewhere close to the city.

“I wonder why he hasn’t come.” Marie-Antoinette whispers back. You’re glad these two have only eyes for each other, because otherwise they would surely notice the way you’re blatantly eavesdropping. They don’t even notice that you almost stand in their personal space. “He just doesn’t show up anymore. Is he ill? Dying? Bored? Working on new androids?” They start discussing reasons why he didn’t come and the more unlikely they get, the less interested you become. You continue on your way.

Finally you spot a person you’re sure you recognize. Chatting with a good-looking man dressed as a knight, you see Lily Watson, who played the female lead in your favorite teenage drama. You’ve watched the show religiously and would recognize the freckled face, brown eyes and honest smile of the main actress everywhere. You’re ready to add yourself to the conversation when you notice that across the room, close to the orchestra, you see someone standing with a striking resemblance to Lily Watson, the only difference being the color of the dress and the hairdo. Your eyes narrow. What’s going on here?

You pick up a quicker pace and crane your neck, your gaze flying over the crowd. The more you focus on the people in general, the more you notice that many people here seem to have a doppelganger. Androids who are the same model all look the same, but Lily Watson is human, you’re sure of it.

You feel like a fool when it suddenly strikes you: these people must have dressed up their androids, so they look like themselves! You let out a groan as you storm towards the middle of the ball room. Connor is already waiting for you, leaning against one of the pillars, still as a statue. If people were paying attention, they would notice his inhuman motionlessness and calm. He has chosen the best position to keep an eye on the whole room. He notices your arrival immediately.

“These people here have dressed up their androids, so they look like them!” you hiss indignantly, shooting daggers at yet another celebrity you can’t recognize because of the mask and because he has a doppelganger only standing a few feet away.

“I see you’ve come to the same conclusion.” Connor replies, pushing himself off the pillar in one smooth move, his gaze shifting from the whole room towards you. A+ vampire move, you think as your cheeks warm up. The way he quickly crosses the small distance between you has something ethereal, almost hunting to it.

“I have the feeling as if Cordelia Lorde has thought of everything to make this undercover mission our personal nightmare.” you whine as you shake your head. Your hope of finding deviants is pretty much gone.

Speak of the devil, you think as all the chatter in the ballroom dies down the second a woman enters. Cordelia Lorde seems to glow. Her long, white sleeveless gown almost touches the ground. Several white gemstones shine in competition against each other, drawing patterns on the lace. Her platinum blonde hair falls around her face in soft curves, a white gold tiara crowning her head. Red lipstick is in stark contrast to the pale, even features of her heart-shaped face, her gray eyes highlighted with silver kohl. She really looks like a queen, you muse, watching her stride into the center of the ballroom.

“My dear friends.” Cordelia Lorde has that kind of melodious voice that makes people immediately listen to her. “To have each and everyone of you here warms my heart. Thank you for your presence. This evening, we celebrate harmony. We welcome those who look like us, who think like we do, regardless of the color of blood. We also celebrate secrecy and the freedom it gives us.” She’s really good, a real socialite. Although speaking to a crowd, you feel as if her words are meant for you. She knows how to capture a crowd. As you quickly glance across the room, you see everyone hanging on her lips. “Let us put our mind and our body at peace with a little dance.” She claps into her hands and the orchestra starts playing, filling the room with classical music.

You can’t help but freeze when people around you start getting into position to dance. Oh no. You can’t dance to save a life, especially not a waltz. Everyone in this room is gathered in pairs and you have to act now.

“Connor, help.” you stand on your toes to whisper into his ear, a rebellious streak of your hair brushing against his jaw. His LED blinks amber and you pray that there is a dancing module or software. Connor takes your hand and leads you into the ballroom. His left hand holds your right hand, his long fingers locked with yours, while his right hand is resting on the small of your back.

“Put your left hand on my shoulder.” Connor instructs, and you comply, putting your hand on his silky vest. Dancing implies body contact, and the waltz is no exception. The closed position you’re currently holding really is close. Your toes almost touch and you’re so close to Connor that you can count the freckles on his face. You’ve always liked his brown eyes. A hot chocolate during winter. The rich, soft ground on which you lie on a summer’s day. Your favorite teddy bear. All these fond, warm memories fill your mind while you lose yourself into his eyes.

“Don’t worry, (y/n), everything will be all right.” Connor says, his voice reassuring and you feel his fingers tighten around yours. You barely notice that you two have started moving, Connor pulling you with him. You have no experience of dancing a waltz, but still you think that he’s an exceptional lead and you’re glad that all you have to do is following him. You float across the room and from the corner of your eye, you see some people give you impressed, even envious glares.

“I never thought you’d be such a great dancer. Cyberlife really thought about everything.” you tease Connor and just for a second, he stiffens, and you lose focus, your feet no longer under your control. In an effort to keep you from falling, Connor catches you by lifting you up and twirling you. For an instant your feet no longer touch the ground and a fleeting thought crosses your mind – that’s what flying must feel like – before you’re gently put back on the ground. You cling closer to Connor, your left hand no longer on his shoulder but on the nape of his neck, your fingers touching his hair. His hand is no longer resting on the back but on your hips, steadying you. The first dance seems to have ended for there is no more music. You and Connor are locked in this tight embrace and you finally find the courage to search his face for a reaction. His stoic look is replaced by an almost content expression, an avid twinkle in his ever-fixing gaze.

Your mind is a blank space and your heart is a thundering mess. Even with the music gone, you’re not capable of any clear thoughts.

The sound of gun shots catch you by surprise.

#detroit: become human #connor x reader #dbh connor x reader #connor rk800 x reader #dbh fanfic #dbh #my writing #*prayer circle*#please appear in the tags #AGAIN

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theartofdreaming1 · 6 years

Text

Partners - Part 6: Charity Ball

Rating: T

Pairing: DickBabs

Summary: The big day has arrived: Barbara and Dick meet up at Wayne Manor for the annual Wayne Charity Ball!

Read this chapter at AO3 or start from the beginning; read on my blog: chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5.

“Oh… wow.”

It was the day of Bruce Wayne’s charity ball and Barbara had just gotten out of her car, taking in the impressive exterior of Wayne Manor.

It certainly was… big. The warm light that shone through the windows and the animated chatter and soft classical music sounding from the inside at least made the mansion appear a little friendlier, although all the dignified splendor that exuded from the building didn’t help in making the whole ordeal seem any less intimidating to Barbara.

Oh well.

Barbara swapped the comfortable flats she had worn for driving with a pair of less comfortable high heels. She then made sure she had actually locked the car, took a deep breath and made her way across the driveway and up the steps leading to the wood-paneled main doors.

Standing right before the entrance, Barbara nervously smoothed out an invisible crease in her midnight blue dress. It had been some time since she last had accompanied her father to one of these functions. She had forgotten how nerve-wracking these kind of events could be.

Oh well...

Barbara sternly reminded herself that this evening was supposed to be fun, and not cause for her to fret even more than she was already doing anyway, with her mysterious letter and… - Barbara stopped herself from continuing that thought; she had firmly resolved not to think about this subject for at least tonight - this was a night for Dick and her to just be, have fun, and see where that would lead them.

Now mentally prepared for the evening, Barbara squared her shoulders, took a deep breath and entered the Manor purposefully.

Another ‘Oh… wow,’ crossed her mind again.

The entrance hall of Wayne Manor could only be described as grand: The floor was made of polished marble, with an expensive-looking persian rug on display in the center of the room. The ornately carved ceiling was carried by equally beautifully crafted wooden pillars, with a big crystal chandelier hanging from it - Barbara briefly wondered if this was the chandelier Dick had told her about during their first real talk at Hogan’s. To top it all of, works of art were displayed throughout the entire room - not in a showy way, but in a way that showed them to their advantage, in tasteful presentation.

It was certainly enough to leave a strong impression on Barbara.

Still taking in the Manor’s interior design, Barbara’s admiration was cut short by someone approaching her: “Miss Barbara! How delightful to see you again.”

Barbara snapped out of her reverie, turning to the person who just had addressed her - which turned out to be Alfred.

A bright smile lit up her face as she said cheerfully: “Alfred, hello! Great to see you again!”

Barbara sometimes was still astounded by the big difference clothing could have on a person’s appearance: now that he was dressed in the traditional butler’s uniform, Alfred looked like the very epitome of the dignified butler one would expect working for one of the richest people in the country, rather than the kind and humorous grandfatherly figure she had met at Dick’s apartment only a few weeks ago, when he had simply been wearing some more informal slacks and a button-down shirt.

Still, one look into the kind expression on his face was enough to let Barbara know that the “distinguished butler”- Alfred before her now was the same Alfred she had been introduced to in a much simpler setting.

With that in mind, Barbara decided to pick up where they had left off:

“I’m sure you will be relieved to know that Dick’s cooking certainly did the “Alfred Special” justice - it was absolutely delicious.”

The butler received the compliment with a humble nod: ”Why, thank you, Miss Barbara; Master Dick had told me that the response to my recipe had been favorable, but it’s most pleasing to hear so from yourself.”

Barbara smiled, letting her eyes wander across the hall, the doorway arch on the left-hand side allowing her to catch a glimpse of the enormous crowd of people that were entertaining themselves tonight at the Manor as well.

At that thought, Barbara’s expression grew a little hesitant; those were a lot of people in a very big house...

“Um, Alfred?” the redhead asked sheepishly, “Do you happen to have any idea where I might find Dick?”

Not batting an eye, the butler simply remarked calmly: “I am confident Master Dick will be here any minute now-”

“Hey Babs!”

As if on cue, Dick had stepped into the hall, a hand lifted in greeting, before he headed toward Alfred and Barbara.

“Your arrival has been awaited most eagerly, I might add,” the butler informed Barbara in a low voice, the crinkles around his eyes relaying the older man’s amusement. Before Barbara could even react to his comment, Alfred had already stepped away to greet the next slew of guests entering the Manor.

By then, Dick had made his way to her, still standing a little farther away than he usually would have; Barbara realized somewhat nervously that Dick had stopped closing the distance between them because he was taking in her appearance…

Barbara suppressed the urge to smooth out another non-existent wrinkle in her dress.

“Wow,” Dick said finally, haltingly, sounding like he was nervously fumbling for words, “you look…amazing.”

All of a sudden, Barbara was very pleased with herself for choosing the dress she was wearing tonight - it was simple, but elegant, with a mermaid cut, off shoulder straps and sweetheart neckline; its midnight blue color made for a beautiful contrast to her vibrant red hair that she had styled to one side, causing it to fall over her left shoulder in gentle waves.

“Thanks,” Barbara said a little bashfully, “you don’t look bad yourself.”

That was obviously an understatement on Barbara’s part: there was a reason Gotham City’s tabloids used the term “Pretty Boy” synonymously for “Richie Grayson”; Dick was never hard on the eyes, but especially tonight in his (undoubtedly expensive) well-cut tuxedo, accentuated with a midnight blue cummerbund and bow tie that brought out his beautiful dark blue eyes...oof. There was no denying that her partner was exceptionally handsome.

“I try,” Dick said humbly, before gallantly offering his arm to her.

Barbara accepted his gesture, linking their arms and letting Dick lead her towards the big ballroom.

While doing so, they passed underneath the big crystal chandelier.

Barbara couldn’t help her cheeky remark:

“So, I see you have given up on hanging from the chandelier while the hors d'oeuvres are being served, huh?”

Dick responded with a wide smirk, giving a casual, one-armed shrug: “Well… I kinda stopped doing that once I crashed the original one.”

Barbara almost tripped over the hem of her dress.

“What?!”

“Yeah… turns out that chandeliers are not really built for eleven-year old acrobats to practice their skills on them… Bruce had a trapeze installed in the gym afterwards.”

Dick grinned impishly at that recollection, while Barbara could only shake her head.

“You‘re unbelievable.”

The elegance of Wayne Manor’s entrance hall was nothing in comparison to its ballroom. Barbara was trying really hard not to let her awe show, but she knew that she couldn’t fool Dick, especially when he commented the room with an amused, nonchalant “Pretty spiffy, huh?”

Feeling the need to tease her smug partner, Barbara only gave a shrug, pretending to feel indifferent to all this excitement around her:

“It’s alright, I guess.”

The ghost of a grin flit across Dick’s face before he nodded understandingly. He leaned closer to her, whispering as if he was revealing a big, well-guarded secret:

“Oh, you should see it without all the people in it - it’s an excellent room for sock surfing.”

Barbara barely managed to suppress a snort.

“Now, that would have been impressive,” she agreed in a fake pretentious voice, before vaguely gesturing towards the dignified hall, which was bustling with members of Gotham’s high society,”unlike this run-off-the-mill, fancily decorated room filled with Gotham’s most influential people, buffet and live music… but I suppose this will have to do.”

Dick laughed.

“Glad to hear that you are willing to make do with the little we have to offer.”

Barbara grinned, feeling a lot more relaxed now after goofing around with Dick.

“Maybe later I could give you a proper tour of the house, which would also include some very sock surfable hallways, I might add,” Dick said, a humorous twinkle in his eye, before suggesting more earnestly: “But how about we just mingle for now? There are some people I’d like you to meet.”

Barbara smiled, gently squeezing Dick’s arm.

“Lead the way.”

They spent some time talking to the other guests, some of which had been delightful and intriguing new acquaintances, like Wayne Enterprises’ CEO Lucius Fox. Others had been people Barbara was already familiar with from other functions she’d attended (such as Leslie Thompkins, a doctor running the free Thomas Wayne Memorial Clinic in Park Row), as well as plenty of young socialite ladies who felt it their duty to chat with the host’s son (while not-so-subtly inquiring after the whereabout of his adopted father and host of the evening).

After socialising like this for a while, they had now decided to stop by the buffet before hitting the dance floor (“You wouldn’t want to miss out on the mushroom puffs, trust me”, Dick had assured Barbara, while expertly weaving through the crowd, with Babs trailing after him).

They had almost arrived at their destination when someone near the buffet table caught Dick’s eye - Barbara observed with surprise Dick’s face brighten with delight, all thoughts of mushroom puffs immediately whisked away.

“Ooh, there is someone I need to introduce you to,” he said to Barbara excitedly, before calling that special someone’s attention to them:

“Hey, Tim!”

Tim turned out to be a dark-haired teen of small-to-medium height, who Barbara pegged to be around fifteen years old. He’d looked a little miserable in his tuxedo, standing all by himself to the side of the buffet - that is, until he noticed Dick and a wide, genuine smile spread across his face.

“Tim’s like my honorary little brother,” Dick explained to Barbara, while they were heading towards the teen,”he’d spend his time here at the Manor whenever his dad was on a business trip, which was pretty often.”

Barbara observed the guys exchange joyful greetings, and with their blue eyes, black hair and just overall unaffected camaraderie displayed on both sides, Barbara wouldn’t have doubted Dick if he had told her that Tim was his biological brother.

When Dick introduced her to the teen, Barbara noticed that Tim acted a lot more nervously and shyly towards herself at first. She was pretty sure Dick had taken notice of that as well; Barbara could tell that he was putting an effort into keeping their conversation as easy-going and natural as he could to make Tim feel more comfortable:

“So, Tim... With this fancy shindig going on,” Dick made an indistinct gesture towards the crowd behind him, “I wouldn’t have expected you to be here tonight!”

“Yeah… Dad and Dana thought it would be good if I left my room for a while - but you know that I’m always happy to drop in… I’m just not really keen on attending these parties usually,” Tim professed sheepishly to Barbara.

The redhead smiled: “I’m in good company, then - I haven’t been at one of these functions in years.”

“Well, out of all the functions one could attend, you have definitely picked the best one,” Tim assured Barbara,“at least the people that throw this party are pretty okay-” (“I’m so flattered,” Dick commented amusedly) “-plus, the food is always great.”

Barbara could barely suppress a snort.

“So I keep hearing.”

Dick looked a little sheepish.

“Well, how about we’ll get Babs here over to the wonderful buffet I kept telling her about when I coaxed her into coming, grab some food and prove that I’m a man of my word, huh? And you’ve got to tell me how you are liking Brentwood Academy so far, Tim!”

Tim threw a discreet look in Barbara’s direction, trying to make sure Barbara was fine with that plan; he obviously didn’t mean to intrude on her and Dick’s togetherness.

But Barbara simply gave her best friendly smile and nodded encouragingly; she was genuinely interested in knowing more about Dick’s honorary little brother (as long as she could also eat something in the meantime).

Tim seemed to have come to the conclusion that Barbara truly didn’t mind him tagging along for a while and finally gave a shy smile.

“Sounds good,” he said, before giving her a piece of advice that caused both Dick and Barbara to chuckle: “If you want something really good, you should try the mushroom puffs - they are amazing.”

Dick, Barbara and Tim spent their time very enjoyably, talking about anything and everything (as it turned out, Tim was very interested in and knowledgeable about all things tech-related, especially regarding computers, and a good deal of the conversation consisted simply of Barbara and Tim talking about the latest IT developments).

A few times while they had been busy chatting, Barbara could have sworn that she had seen the party’s host himself making his way over to them; however, he seemed to disappear whenever a swarm of young and middle-aged ladies alike appeared in Barbara’s field of vision.

The redhead was starting to wonder if she had simply imagined this bizarre routine, until one horde of these eager female guests swarmed Dick in their zealous attempt to find out the whereabouts of his adoptive father. While Dick warded off the throng of women by pointing them in one direction of the ballroom, Barbara could clearly observe the object of their desire, Bruce Wayne, hastily duck into an adjoining room on the exact opposite side of the room.

She quickly took a sip of her drink to conceal her grin. While this burlesque was taking place, Barbara made the mistake of catching Tim’s eye in the process - both of them had to break eye contact immediately to stop themselves from breaking out laughing - or, in Barbara’s case, to stop herself from choking on her drink.

She waited patiently until the ladies were way out of earshot, then addressed Dick amusedly:

“You two practice this routine very often? The misdirection?”

Her partner ducked his head shyly, looking like an 8-year-old who got caught with his hands in the cookie jar, “only in self-defense.”

Barbara shot another glance at the flock of gaggling women marching toward the other end of the room: “Fair.”

“You must excuse this foolish ruse,” a deep, unfamiliar voice sounded close to Barbara, startling her. When she turned back to Tim and Dick, she could see that the much sought-after host of the event had finally joined their group, now that the coast was clear. Bruce Wayne appeared to have mastered that same ability of silently sneaking up on people that Dick also possessed - which was pretty impressive considering his tall, broad-shouldered frame.

In direct contrast to his imposing figure was the little bashful smile displayed on his face,”I wanted to meet up with you without raising a ruckus.”

“Not an easy task, that’s for sure,” Dick commented jokingly, “it looks like Miss Vreeland came here with the firm intention of spearheading a manhunt… but here you are: Bruce, please meet Babs.”

And just like that, Barbara was shaking hands with the Bruce Wayne, one of the most influential people in Gotham, who told her most jovially how pleased he was to finally meet her.

“Dick has told us so much about you - only good things, I can assure you,” Bruce said, smiling warmly at her.

Barbara noticed Dick shuffling his feet awkwardly in response, while Tim was smirking gleefully.

“Considering how Blüdhaven is such a tough place - even in comparison to Gotham -, it’s just such a relief to know that Dick has someone who has his back out in the field.”

Barbara couldn’t help but smile at Bruce’s concern; it reminded her a lot of her father fretting over her safety.

“I know for a fact that my father shares these sentiments; with regard to Dick, of course,” Barbara clarified, before continuing: “I think both Dick and I have gotten very lucky in that regard - I’m certainly very glad to be partnered up with him,” she admitted, earning herself a wide, heartfelt smile from Dick.

“Speaking of the Commissioner, I just realized that I have yet to have the pleasure of encountering him tonight,” Bruce observed suddenly, his eyes quickly scanning the room in search of James Gordon.

“Oh, I’m afraid my father and Sarah asked me to excuse them for not coming - I think there was some business at the precinct that required their attention.”

Barbara wisely neglected to mention that this ‘business’ at the precinct had been regarded as a most welcome distraction by her father - even after all his years as the police commissioner of Gotham and being invited to the city’s most important official parties and galas, Jim Gordon’s dread of having to attend any of them hadn’t lessened one bit.

Bruce’s face fell as he let out a little sigh.

“What a shame! I very much enjoy talking to the Commissioner,” he said to Barbara, before adding in a low voice: “He offers a much more substantial conversation than most other guests.”

From the dejected look on his face Barbara could tell that he truly regretted her father’s absence.

Dick only laughed at his adoptive father’s dramatic antics: “Now come, Bruce, I don’t think you will be in want of an entertaining conversational partner - I’m pretty sure I saw Selina Kyle just now, talking with Leslie.”

Dick’s mischievous comment left quite the mark: To her surprise (and the boys’ amusement), Barbara observed the Bruce Wayne lower his gaze bashfully like a schoolboy, his cheeks taking on a slight variation of pink.

Tim grinned at Barbara, nodding sagely: “Every time.”

But before any of them could say anything else, a penetrating, shrill voice reached their ears:

“Ah, Brucie, there you are!”

Bruce tensed, looking extremely uncomfortable.

“If you’ll excuse me…,” he said apologetically to Barbara and the boys, before turning around to accept his fate.

Then, all of a sudden, Barbara observed how his whole demeanor changed, his posture relaxed, and a charming smile (that Barbara now could easily discern as fake) plastered on his face.

“Ladies,” he effusively greeted the group of females (led by Veronica Vreeland), earning him some excited giggles.

Barbara raised her eyebrows at this transformation.

“It still weirds me out when he does that,” Tim said, having noticed Barbara’s expression.

“It’s a little bizarre,” Dick agreed, by now already used to the strange ways of his adoptive father.

Barbara (and Tim) stared at Dick.

“... Okay, maybe a lot.”

Soon after Bruce had left their little group, Tim extricated himself as well, effectively turning their terrific trio back into the original dynamite duo. Dick and Babs consequently resumed their previous plan of joining the other couples on the dance floor, and ended up having a lot fun (at this point, Barbara wasn’t in the least fazed to find out that Dick was also an absolutely splendid dancing partner - was there anything he couldn’t do?).

They had been dancing for quite some time, not yet out of breath, but cheeks already slightly flushed, when Barbara became aware of that strange, unpleasant prickle at the nape of her neck. Familiar with this sensation and what it usually meant, she let her gaze stray from Dick’s face and let it shortly wander about the crowded room, before making eye contact with her partner again:

“Why do I have the feeling that we’re being watched?”

Dick grinned amusedly: “Well, I’m certain that we are cutting quite the rug here if I may say so. Which is definitely worth watching -,” Barbara rolled her eyes good-humoredly, “- but, as usual, your instincts are actually quite on the money-” with that, Dick artfully dipped her, a move that let her take notice of a woman with strawberry blonde hair and sharp eyes standing a little behind Barbara’s current position, “Vicki Vale seems to have taken quite the interest in us.”

Barbara frowned. She didn’t like the idea of being observed by the famous Gazette journalist, who wasn’t above reporting for the tabloids if she chose so.

Dick, who was studying Barbara’s face intently, was quick on the uptake and immediately asked Barbara in a low voice: “Wanna skip the rest of the event?”

The redhead couldn’t help but smile; her partner was almost ridiculously good at reading her moods.

Her smile turned into a cheeky smirk: “Is that offer for a private tour to all the best sock sliding places in Wayne Manor still standing?”

Dick grinned.

“Of course it is.”

“Then let’s get out of here.”

Once they had discreetly left the ballroom (with the help of Tim, who had distracted Vicki Vale long enough for Dick and Barbara to slip by the eagle-eyed reporter undetected), Dick began their little tour by leading Barbara to the unusually busy kitchen to swipe some cookies from Alfred’s “hidden” cookie jar.

“Provisions for the road,” Dick justified his actions with a grin, handing Barbara some of the most delicious cookies she’d ever eaten in her life.

The next stop on their itinerary was the absolutely breathtaking library of the Manor: this beautiful sight of rows and rows of bookshelves stocked with the most gorgeous, leather-bound editions of all kinds of genres was nearly enough to make Barbara cry; Dick was close to having to forcefully drag her away from this room so they could resume their tour.

“You asked for sock surfable hallways and you shall get sock surfable hallways,” he explained cheerfully, while leading Barbara back to the magnificent entrance hall, and up the grand staircase.

Reaching the top of the stairs revealed one ridiculously long hallway that probably connected up to fifteen different rooms.

“Tadaa,” Dick said, grinning, while making a theatrical gesture, “the second best place for sock surfing in the house - apart from the empty ballroom, that is.”

“That certainly is a hallway perfect for sock surfing,” Barbara agreed, grinning as well, “consider me impressed.”

Dick’s grin went from triumphant to goofy:

“Now, for a demonstration…”

Barbara watched Dick amusedly as he quickly undid his shoelaces and toed off his shiny dress shoes, pushing them to the side. He walked down the hallway a little further, to have more of a running start, before gleefully sliding the full length of the hallway, just coming to a halt right in front of the door on the end of the floor.

Barbara giggled.

Dick grinned: “Your turn.”

Barbara slipped out of her shoes and slightly lifted the hem of her dress to reveal her bare, sockless feet: “I’m afraid I’ve gotta pass on this one.”

“Nonsense,” Dick disagreed, carefully walking up to her, ”you’ve come all this way - I’ll borrow you some of mine; come on!”

And with that, he picked up his shoes with one hand and took Barbara’s hand with his other and led her towards the door on the opposite end of the hallway.

“Are you ready to enter the holy of holies?” Dick asked Barbara dramatically, pausing at his childhood bedroom door for effect.

“But you’ve already shown me the library…?” Barbara replied teasingly.

Dick pretended to give her a scandalized look, then opened the door.

Dick’s room turned out to be of moderate size, which surprised Barbara a little, after seeing so many of the enormous rooms Wayne Manor had to offer (at least Dick’s room seemed to have its own balcony, which was still a fancy feature in its own right). The walls were of a beautiful, calm blue and adorned with three posters: one movie poster of the Errol Flynn Robin Hood movie, one poster of the Haly Bros. Circus and another poster of the Flying Graysons (this one hung right above the bed).

The room was furnished with a queen-sized bed, a spacious desk, multiple shelves filled with lots of books, clutter, pictures of friends and family and a couple of trophies, a fluffy rug, and a dresser, which Dick headed for to get Barbara a pair of socks.

In the meanwhile, Barbara studied the contents of the shelves with utmost interest.

She giggled.

“Nice mathlete trophy,” she said in a teasing voice, “I hadn’t expected you to be that much of a nerd.”

Dick playfully chucked the rolled-up pair of socks he had picked out at Barbara. She caught it easily with one hand.

“It’s not like I’m the only nerd in this room,” he pointed out amusedly, winking at her.

Barbara grinned: “Touché.”

She put her high heels down next to the bed before she sat down on it to put on the socks. They were wonderfully soft.

“Besides, it’s not like I have been much of a beacon of exemplariness all the time,” Dick said chattily, while opening the balcony door.

He stepped over the threshold and pointed at the tallest tree nearby; Barbara could see that it had one branch hanging very close to the balcony railing: “I’d occasionally sneak out that way.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Barbara clicked her tongue admonishingly, while getting up to join Dick on the balcony. She peered over the balustrade: it was still quite some way down that branch; it would have required quite the gymnastics expertise to reach the ground safely from that height.

“You can take the boy out of the circus…,” Barbara and Dick found themselves saying at the same time, causing them to trail off and burst into laughter.

“So,” Barbara started again, once their laughs had subsided, “how many times does “occasionally sneaking out” actually encompass?”

“Two,” Dick admitted sheepishly, making Barbara giggle again, “and I got caught by Bruce one of those times - my punishment was to wash his cars; and please take notice of the plural here, for he has plenty of vintage cars in his garage, therefore making this quite the task… A very effective deterrent, though.”

“The end of a very short bad boy career,” Barbara pointed out, making Dick chuckle.

Over the course of their conversation, the two of them had assumed more relaxed postures, and were now leaning forward with their arms propped up against the balustrade, nearly touching. A sudden quietness had settled over them, and Dick and Barbara found themselves sharing this serene moment, doing nothing but overlook the vast grounds of the Manor.

The evening air was still pretty chilly, it being only early March, although tonight was special as in lacking that crisp coldness from the nights before: another sign that spring was just around the corner. There was not a single cloud to be seen and due to the remoteness of Wayne Manor, one could actually see the stars twinkling in the sky, making for a truly beautiful view.

Despite it being a more mild night than usual, Barbara couldn’t help but shiver from the cold.

Dick shifted and turned to Barbara, noticing the goosebumps on her bare arms.

“Maybe we should head back in…” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Barbara nodded.

“Yeah…”

Neither of them made a move to get back inside.

Then, slowly, as if there was an invisible force pulling her closer, Barbara could feel herself gravitating towards Dick, wanting, needing, to close whatever gap between them remained: her fists soon found the lapels of Dick’s tux jacket and his hands found their way to her hips, resting gently on them, spreading their warmth through the thin fabric of her dress… And when their lips met, Barbara could feel something fluttering inside her stomach and -

there was something else, something heavy. A something that made Barbara break away from that kiss, from that warmth, her eyes trained firmly on the ground.

She shuddered from the cold.

“There is something I’ve got to tell you first.”

Notes:

"Batman & Mr. Freeze: Subzero" : This chapter has been mainly influenced by the party scene in this animated movie: Veronica Vreeland and her flock of ladies are from it, for example. There is a really cute DickBabs scene on a balcony in it and the dress Babs is wearing is also borrowed from this movie.)

Batman: Dark Victory #9: Dick is shown to have climbed the chandelier; Alfred is worried that he (and the chandelier) are going to fall

Batman #54: Dick is shown to have broken the chandelier while trying to "fly" again

Gotham Gazette: Batman Alive? #1: In this issue, Vicki Vale notices how Dick and Babs are "exuding hot, unspoken tiger heat" which puts Vicki Vale on the track of figuring out the Batfam's secret identities actually

The Mathlete trophy is a nod to the episode "Schooled" from Young Justice, which shows a picture of Dick holding a mathlete trophy

Dick sneaking out of the Manor by climbing down a tree is a nod to the BTAS episode "Robin's Reckoning" and just in general, Dick has been shown to have snuck out the Manor/home in both Robin Annual #4 and Batman: Dark Victory

Dick having to wash Bruce's car is a nod to the Batman episode "The Breakout", in which Dick and Babs joke around/complain that Batman doesn't assign them really challenging cases, but would rather have them wash the Batmobile as if the fate of Gotham depended on it ^^

#dickbabs fanfiction #I write sometimes #dick grayson #barbara gordon #dickbabs #alfred pennyworth #tim drake #bruce wayne #my fics: Partners

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texanredrose · 6 years

Text

Communication is Key

A commission for @psychicrebelartisan! Based on a joke.

Ruby narrowed her eyes, flipping her pencil around to erase the last line she’d written. Blake laid on her best, entirely engrossed in her latest book while Yang did push-ups between their expertly crafted- if she did say so herself- bunk beds. A nice, calm weekend filled with some quality downtime that each of them spent in their own way.

Well, honestly, she’d rather not be spending her morning studying for their upcoming test in Grimm Studies, but her partner had them on a bit of a schedule. Seeing as Weiss had gone off to the combat rooms two hours ago, Ruby either had to study now or get an earful and then study, which always kinda put a damper on the whole thing.

“Did you know that Creepers can congregate into colonies of more than two hundred?”

“I thought it was one-fifty?” Yang paused, pushing out a breath. “Or was that how many push-ups I was on? Crap.”

“You were on one hundred and fifteen; you’ve been counting under your breath the whole time.” Blake flicked one of her feline ears, the ribbon she used for her bow set aside for the moment. “And they just recently discovered the colony size; one-fifty was the old estimate.”

“Oh, cool.”

Ruby chuckled. “Sorry, Sis, didn’t mean to throw you off.”

“Hey, you probably helped me ace the test!”

“Yes, because missing that perfect score would be oh so tragic.”

“Ah, c’mon, Blakey, don’t be a-”

“Finish that sentence and I’m throwing my book at you.”

Ruby smiled, trying hard not to laugh out loud. No doubt Yang was about to make a very specific pun, one she’d made countless times before but got shot down before it could even come out this time. A quick glance over proved that Blake wasn’t actually mad about it and probably wouldn’t throw her book- she usually at least grabbed her bookmark if it was going to leave her hands- but her sister relented anyway with a chuckle before returning to her exercise.

Then, the door opened and Weiss drug herself inside, obviously worn out from her practicing. “The next time Pyrrha suggests we spar together, someone please remind me of this moment.”

Ruby winced, collecting up her papers and setting them in her book- as close to a bookmark as she ever came- and turning around in her chair. “Oh, she didn’t go easy on ya, did she?”

“Unfortunately, I’m quite certain she did.” The heiress groused, her combat outfit showing worse for wear and Myrtenaster still in hand. Which, odd- usually, Weiss secured her weapon in the assigned locker near the combat practice arenas; she only brought it back to the room for maintenance. “Apparently, my skills are still in need of some refinement.”

“What happened to Myrtenaster?”

“Hm?” She raised a brow at Blake before looking down, the pinch to her brows indicating annoyance. “Dust damnit.”

“You didn’t even realize you’d carried it all the way up here, did ya?” Yang chuckled, pausing in her exercise to sit back on her heels with a grin. “Yeah, sparring against Pyrrha kinda wipes your mind blank. She’s really good.”

“That’s one way of putting it.” She turned around. “I’ll be back-”

“Hey, wait.” Although she couldn’t really tell at that distance, she thought the dust rapier sported a few new knicks along the guard. “I have to go down to check on Crescent Rose anyway. I’ll take it back for you.”

Briefly, a war raged, between a chiding remark on weapons not needing daily maintenance and her exhaustion from the spar. Ultimately, the latter won out. “Fine. I’m in dire need of a shower and a fresh change of clothes anyway.” She walked over, handing off Myrtenaster before heading to collect up her small armada of hair care products- put to shame only by Yang’s- and other essential shower supplies before heading out the door. “If I’m not back in two hours, assume I’ve expired and let me rest in peace.”

Once the door closed, Yang clicked her tongue. “She’s always so hard on herself. Girl’s gotta lighten up.”

“Good luck with that,” Blake said, almost returning to her book but catching something out of the corner of her eye. “Ruby? Are you okay?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah.” She held up Myrtenaster, which she’d been inspecting thoroughly for the past few minutes. “Weiss was so tired, she didn’t notice the damage, and I’m not sure if I can fix it.”

“Whoa, back up, damage?” Yang got to her feet and came over, whistling low.

As far as weapons went, Myrtenaster had a fairly straight forward design. The chambers that housed the dust were probably the most complicated part; as luck would have it, the plating that covered them was the part that was damaged, bent at such an angle that it probably wouldn’t cause any functional issues but it definitely looked like changing out the dust would be a bit more difficult than it should be. Add to that a few scratches in the otherwise durable metal and Ruby had to sigh, shaking her head.

“These plates need to be replaced and I don’t have the spare materials to do it.” She winced. “At least, not in white. I have an extra casing for Crescent Rose’s headpiece but-”

“Well, hold on; there’s machines down in the shop garage that could easily cut a new plate. We just need to pick up some Hunter grade metal.” Yang went over to where her scroll sat on the dresser, smiling as she tapped on an icon. “Yeah, I should have enough to grade some raw metal. How much would we need?”

Without hesitation, she pulled a fresh piece of paper out and started scribbling away, rounding up to make sure they’d have enough; she could eyeball it pretty well but definitely wanted to err on the safe side. While she was at it, she did a rough blueprint so she could visualize how they’d need to machine it in order to make a seamless replacement.

After a few more calculations, she circled the ending number with a smile. “There.”

“Sweet, I can afford that.” Then, Yang winced. “Not sure how we’re going to get the detailing down, though.”

“I can do that part.” Blake offered, setting her bookmark between the pages and getting off the bed, amber eyes tracing along the undamaged plate before she nodded. “It’s not too different from calligraphy.”

“You know calligraphy?”

“It’s a hobby.”

“Great!” Ruby quickly wrote down the weight and specifications of the metal they’d need on a separate paper, handing it off to her sister. “While you’re grabbing the materials, I’ll get to work on a better schematic.”

“We can hide Myrtenaster under my bed until it’s done.” At the curious looks she received, Blake merely shrugged. “It’s not like we can put it under your beds.”

“Point.” Yang snatched up the paper. “Back in an hour!”

“I’ll meet you down in the garage!” She called out as her sister threw on her jacket, shaking her head. “Not sure what to tell Weiss about where Yang and I went, though.”

“Leave that part to me and send me a text when it’s my turn.” Blake patted her shoulder. “Trust me, I know how to keep a secret.”

Ruby laughed, bending over the desk to start working in earnest on the dimensions.

Later that night, they’d managed to successfully keep their teammate in the dark about the location of her weapon, Ruby somehow managing to convince her that she’d put it in Weiss’ locker, just as she said she would. While Blake slipped off to put the finishing touches on the new plates that Yang had machined out, her sister used jokes to thoroughly distract Weiss from all thoughts regarding Myrtenaster, eventually leading to a pun war that had almost made Ruby bang her head against her desk.

One would think she’d be used to it by now but one would be wrong, in fact.

“Ya know what, I gotta be honest, you’re starting to get pretty good at this!” Yang laughed, lounging on her bunk while watching Weiss, glaring up at the blonde from hers. “A few more years and they might even be funny.”

“Forgive me if I’ve only had the past few months to indulge in bad habits,” Weiss replied, though she couldn’t hide the way she preened at that bit of praise. Ruby didn’t exactly get it but somehow the heiress responded better to teasing compliments that flat out ones and Yang had picked up on it first. “Now, where is Blake? We should be heading to dinner sometime soon.”

“Oh, uh, I’m sure she’ll be right here!” She’d pulled the ‘team leader’ card earlier to keep her partner from sending a text earlier but now found herself running out of excuses. “She said she was on her way!”

“That was thirty minutes ago.”

“C’mon, Princess.” Yang hopped down from her bunk. “Let’s go down and grab ourselves a table. You know how Blakey is; I’m sure she just got lost in another book. Ruby can wait for her to get back.”

A huff. “Fine.” Getting to her feet, the two started for the door. “And you’d better come down soon, Ruby Rose! You’re not having another dinner that’s only comprised of dessert because the main line’s closed!”

“Okay, okay! We’ll be down as soon as Blake gets here!” She ducked her head, letting out a sigh of relief the moment the door closed. Now, she could retrieve her scroll, hoping she wouldn’t disturb the Faunus. She’d actually never sent the message earlier, for exactly that reason.

A moment later, the door opened and Blake stepped through, letting out her own sigh of relief and leaning back against the door, holding Myrtenaster in her off hand. “That was close.”

“But she didn’t see you, right?”

“No.” A small smile. “I thought you two would’ve gotten her to go down for dinner already. Thankfully, Yang’s loud.”

“No kidding.” Bounding to her feet, she quickly closed the distance. “Can I see?”

Wordlessly, Blake handed over the weapon, and she hadn’t been kidding about her skills with the engraving. Ruby wouldn’t have noticed the swap between the busted plate and the new one, were it not for one slight addition.

Property of Weiss Schnee A Great Friend and Teammate

“I… couldn’t help but make the addition.” Blake shrugged. “It’s like Yang said. She needs to lighten up.”

“Oh, man, she’s going to love this!” Ruby couldn’t help but giggle, though she immediately jumped and hid Myrtenaster behind her back- a bad plan, in hindsight- as the door opened and Yang slipped in with a grin.

“Ah, good, that was you in the hall.” She made a motion with her hand. “Well, c’mon, don’t keep me in the dark! Let’s see it!”

She showed Yang Blake’s handiwork, all three of them beaming that they’d pulled it off- until they heard a certain someone stomping up the hall.

“Quick!” Amber eyes flicked. “My bed!”

In a flurry of rose petals, Ruby stashed Myrtenaster away, knowing better than to try presenting the repaired weapon now. A few things one did not keep from Weiss Schnee: her beauty rest, her favorite chocolate, or her dinner.

“WOULD YOU-” The door burst open, blue eyes scanning the interior of the room before she continued. “THREE HURRY UP?”

“Yep!”

“Right.”

“Coming Weiss!” Ruby hurried to the door, smiling wide.

Yeah, she could be a little demanding from time to time, but Weiss was a great friend! She really couldn’t wait to see her expression!

Although she tried to play it off as best she could, Ruby could hardly sit still. Last night hadn’t provided a good opportunity to present Myrtenaster- Weiss went straight to bed after dinner and, again, one did not mess with her beauty sleep- so she sat on her bed, pretending to be engrossed in playing a game on her scroll against Yang, across the room on her own bunk. Blake had dived straight back into her book while Weiss did some studying of her own, though she abruptly stood up after about an hour.

“I’m going for a walk.” She grimaced, putting a hand to her lower back. “I’m afraid I’m still sore after yesterday’s spar.”

“Don’t let Pyrrha catch you limping; she’ll offer to carry you back to the room.” Yang warned with a chuckle. “She takes that stuff hard.”

“Duly noted.” She scanned around the room. “You three could do with some exercise as well.”

The blonde shrugged. “I went for a run this morning.”

“I did pull ups!”

“Pulling yourself out of bed doesn’t count.”

“I will do pull ups!” She amended. Really, Ruby didn’t mind a little exercise- it took a fair bit of muscle to swing Crescent Rose around- but she didn’t keep as strict a regime for a number of reasons. The first being: she liked to enjoy her time off.

Blake merely looked up from her book, ears canting back briefly.

“Right, well, then, I’m off.”

Weiss left the room, allowing her teammates to spring together, all wearing smiles.

“Oh, man, this is going to be great!”

“Yeah, I can’t wait for her to open her locker.” Yang laughed. “She’s going to be so floored!”

“I do hope we’ll be around when she sees it.” Blake tilted her head slightly. “You know we’re not going to hear the end of it for a while.”

“It’s not like she’s going to be mad.” Ruby reasoned, though she didn’t doubt the veracity of the Faunus’ claims. “She’s just going to try to one up us or something.”

“Oh, I can hear it already.” Her sister adjusted her posture and raised her voice. “How dare you three keep a secret like this from me, really, are we not teammates, we’re not supposed to keep secrets!”

The three of them laughed.

This was going to be good.

The weekend came to an end and they returned to classes with anticipation. However, after a few days, Weiss didn’t seem to act like anything had happened. Which, okay, they had some tests and bookwork on Monday and Tuesday, but surely she checked her weapon locker at some point, right? Ruby couldn’t help it; she’d started to get discouraged.

Did Weiss not like the new plate? Did she even notice?

A hand smacked her shoulder, startling her away from staring blankly at her textbook while supposedly studying. “Hey!”

“Ruby.” Weiss crossed her arms over her chest, starting down at her with just a hint of fury. “What did you do with it?”

She frowned. “With what?”

“With Myrtenaster!” Throwing her hands into the air, the heiress immediately launched into a rant. “When I noticed it wasn’t in my locker on Monday, I didn’t mention it, because maybe you’d put it in yours for some reason, but it’s Wednesday and we have a combat exam in two days! I need to practice!”

“Wait- Yang!” Leaning around her partner, she looked over at her sister. “Did you not put Weiss’ weapon in her locker?”

“What?” The blonde blinked. “I didn’t- you were supposed to put Myrtenaster back!”

“Hold on.” Blake sat up in her bed. “Neither of you put it back?” Then she leaned over, reaching under her bed and pulling the rapier in question out. “Are you two serious?”

“Hey, it was under your bed!” Yang snapped her fingers. “And you were the last one to work on it!”

“I brought it up here so you two could see it! Ruby should’ve put it back!”

“Yang said she was excited about Weiss’ reaction and she’d already gone out on a run!” She defended herself. “I thought she put it back!”

“What are you absolute dolts screaming about?” With a huff, the heiress marched over, finally retrieving her weapon.

“WE DID SOMETHING NICE BUT SHE FORGOT TO GIVE IT TO YOU!” All three of them spoke in tandem and-

Okay. Granted, they probably should’ve talked about who put Myrtenaster where. It wasn’t any one, single person’s fault.

But also, Ruby thought, it wasn’t hers.

She couldn’t really see Weiss’ face but she could see the slight shake in her shoulders as she stared down at Myrtenaster’s guard.

“How dare you,” she said, and for a moment the three exchanged worried glances because they could hear the warble in her voice, but then she snapped her head up to look at them, and they could very clearly see the tears she just barely held back. “How dare you three do something nice for me with absolutely no warning!”

“Wait, Weiss, don’t cry!” Ruby rushed over, throwing her arms around her teammate.

She wasn’t the only one, quickly joined by Blake and Yang as they surrounding the heiress while she clutched her weapon to her chest. “Yeah, c’mon, no tears!”

“We thought you would like it?” Blake offered, ears twitching.

“Of course I like it!” Despite a tear or two slipping out, she cleared her throat and tried glaring at them, though it… wasn’t very effective. “But here you three are, engraving my rapier, and I have no idea how to repay you! I don’t know enough about engraving-”

“Actually.” Yang smiled, reaching up to run a hand through her hair. “Ruby noticed one of the guard plates was damaged, so we wanted to replace it for you. The engraving was all Blake.”

“It was Ruby’s idea.” The Faunus shrugged slightly. “I just… added a few touches.”

“Yang machined the parts though and bought the materials!” She smiled, catching her partner’s expression as she obviously fought back even more tears. “You deserve it, Weiss!”

“Not yet,” she replied, before carefully tossing Myrtenaster on her bed and doing her absolutely best to return their hugs. “But I’m going to.”

Ruby smiled, happy that it all turned out for the best and enjoying the group hug with her team.

She just hoped Weiss didn’t go overboard with her ‘payback’; there were a terrifying number of things the heiress to the SDC could buy and they only had a dorm room.

#TRR writes #there's no ship just Team RWBY in V1-2 era being goofball friends #TRR commissions

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kishimoto-did-us-dirty · 5 years

Text

Naruto Arts School AU

Character

- major

description

Naruto

-Drums

Sasuke

-Guitar (lead)

Sakura

- Dance

Hinata

- Creative Writing

Kiba

- Drums OR Photography

Drums for obvious reasons (loud and obnoxious), although ruff boi looks good with a camera, too. Great at landscapes and street photography.

Shino

- Creative Writing OR Photography

Ino

- Dance

Shikamaru

- Guitar (bass) OR Creative Writing OR Architecture

Smart boy’s a tricky one. He would either be a bassist, a mystery and historical fiction writer, or, of his school offers it, be great at architecture. Idrk.

Choji

- ermmmmm….. maybe graphic design? Tech theatre (props)? Vocal???

Tenten

- Dance

Lee

- DANCE (hip-hop, too)

It’s sweat. It’s burn. It’s energy. It’s Lee.

Neji

- Violin

First chair violinist in his freshman year for the school’s philharmonic orchestra. He be extra like that.

Gaara

- Guitar (bass)

Kankuro

-Art

Specifically sculpting. For obvious reasons.

Temari

- Acting

Itachi

-Piano

Shisui

- FILM / VIDEO PRODUCTION

Sasori, Deidara, and Sai

Guess.

Kakashi

- Saxophone

It’s the only thing that suits him and it suits him so well. Has suave.

Obito (omfg his arms y'all)

- Not to say drums or anything, but…. drums.

Hashirama

- Vocal

OkaYYYYYY. VOCAL GOD. CAN DO RIFFS AND RUNS AND HAS PERFECT PITCH. ALSO THE SWEETEST GUY??? WAS A CHAMBER SINGER AS A FRESHMAN. EVERYONE LOVES HIM, GOOD BOY ENERGY.

Likes to belt.

Madara

- Piano

Total prodigy, but hates classical music. Once was accompanist to Hashirama for a solo vocal performance and hasn’t been left alone since.

Tobirama

- Viola or Cello

Izuna

- Piano

Also a piano god. The uchihas breed them. Hates being accompanist for Tobirama. They’re secretly best friends though, don’t tell anyone.

Karin

- Tech Theatre.

Idk why. Probably started out with props and made her way up to TD (technical director) in senior year.

Suigetsu

- Tech Theatre

Fucking hates theatre kids (I feel that (I used to be one so don’t come at me)). Assistant TD. Karin hates him.

Jugo

- Visual Art

Paints landscapes and nature. Really good with oils and gouache respectively.

Yamato

- lmao Trumpet.

Met Kakashi since they both play brass, but boy he ain’t got that suave. That’s why he plays trumpet. Lmao he plays the fucking trumpet anjdwcnojdnn.

Rin

- Vocal

Sweetest voice and could also play the acoustic guitar when she sang. Died in a car accident junior year. Kakashi was at the wheel when they got hit by a drunk driver. Obito saw the whole thing.

Kurenai

- Visual Art

Can create dream like paintings that almost seem like illusions.

Asuma

- Cello / guitar

Used to play cello because of his parents, but loves to play guitar. Can sing but his voice is raspy from smoking.

Gai

Who the fuck do you think teaches dance?

Jiraiya

- Guitar (lead)

Tsunade

-Dance

Legendary dancer. Probably toured with a few famous people. Now teachers. Mentored Sakura, and mentored Ino but for a shorter time.

Orochimaru

- Idk, didgeridoo, or some shit

Definitely a wood wind. Flute maybe??? Teaches now but no one knows what he does. Pedophile. Has a thing for Sasuke.

And that’s that!! Feel free to send in more requests!! Tell me what you think~

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ckret2 · 7 years

Text

Forty-Five Missiles

Prompt: "Something happy with Prowl?"

Check it out, the first thing I ever got money to write! Which is why I got stage fright/writer's block and it took me a month to write! Sorry about that.

In which Prowl shows off his only two skills: calculating trajectories and orchestrating massive plans.

If you want a tiny fic/story, buy me a coffee and leave a prompt in the comments!

(Feel free to reblog/add comments)

Seventeen Autobots, with vents frozen, stared up at a screen. It was displaying a black sphere covered in still, bright purple dots. Slowly approaching the purple dots were several blinking red ones.

It was the most fascinating bunch of dots any of them had ever seen.

Eight star systems away from the nearest Autobot base, and twelve planets away from their current temporary station, was a Decepticon outpost—a weapons manufacturing facility, being run by alien slave labor. Aside from the slaves, it was almost entirely automated, with less than a dozen Decepticons to control tens of thousands of laborers. Less than a dozen was all they needed—most of the work of controlling the slaves was performed by an automated weapons system that corralled the population and fired on prisoner fights, dispensed food only when work quotas were met, and sounded alarms when it detected the barest whisper of rebellious talk. Furthermore, they'd all but eliminated the possibility of escape or rescue by completely seeding the star system with mines that could sense, chase, and destroy anything that got too close to them. Just outside the orbit of the planet, the net of mines was so dense, it dimmed the sunlight. Not even a car could squeeze between the mines undetected.

A car couldn't—but forty-five missiles with meticulously-calculated trajectories could.

Which was why Prowl was here.

And one way or another, it was thanks to Prowl that they were all here. It had been one of his agents, still undercover in the Decepticons, who discovered this weapons manufacturing facility. It had been another agent (Skids, who was in the room now, although no one else had been told his role in all this) who had discovered while on a diplomatic mission that the facility was populated by enslaved alien—shortly before the Autobots had planned to throw so many bombs at the planet the surface would be liquefied even after the mine field took out some. They’d had to immediately cancel that plan and look for some way to destroy the facility without killing the aliens.

Over the next couple hundred years, Prowl had slid another spy into the group of twelve Decepticons stationed on the planet, to get them intel from the inside; had sent three scouts to painstakingly map out the galaxy; and had personally mapped the movements of every mine, celestial body, and asteroid belt in the system.

It had been Prowl who had tracked down someone at the Kimia Facility who could design missiles small enough and maneuverable enough to get through the narrow gaps, thus Wheeljack’s presence too. (Not because Wheeljack had made the missiles, but because somebody who knew how they worked had to be there to get them prepped and install the guidance software, and—according to Wheeljack—the missiles' actual inventor shouldn't be trusted within ten lightyears of a planet full of unknown Decepticon weapons tech, lest he be inspired.) And Prowl had consulted with a dozen different tacticians, two of whom were in the room now, before selecting the forty-five targets they would aim for on the planet below.

Even Springer and Impactor were present, the rest of the Wreckers waiting on their ship—"Either to go take those dozen Decepticons alive," Prowl had said, "or to fight their way in if the missiles don't work."

If the missiles didn't work, it could mean anything from the death of all the aliens on the planet, to the swift location and annihilation of the small Autobot station from which this operation was being carried out.

The latter of these risks was the reason—the only reason—that Optimus wasn't present for such a major operation. (Prowl had spent several weeks talking him out of coming.) But he was here in spirit, hovering spectral green in the room through a hologram projector. Watching.

They were all watching.

Watching the missiles, and watching Prowl.

Prowl was sitting at the front of the room, looking straight up at the projection of the globe, his optics glowing so bright they were almost white. His processor fans were audible from every corner of the room, whirring furiously to keep pace with his calculations. The only sound competing with them was the clicking of his fingers on a keyboard. He'd decided that this operation was too delicate for him to risk letting the missiles go down on autopilot, and so he was flying them manually.

Who else could do it? Of all the Autobots here, only Springer came close to matching Prowl's ability to track and calculate a multitude of trajectories at once—but unlike Prowl, he could only track them. He'd never needed to learn how to manipulate them. It had to be Prowl.

Wheeljack had offered to set him up with a joystick to pilot them, but Prowl had declined, for two reasons. One, he wasn't dexterous enough to use one; and two, a joystick could only control one, but he needed to steer all forty-five. Yes, simultaneously. No, he couldn't fly one at a time—many of their targets were interstellar comm towers and most of the rest controlled the weaponry aimed at the native population. If they only hit one or some of the targets in the first wave then the Decepticons might radio for help or slaughter their hostage slaves. It had to be all of them, at once.

Prowl had been planning this operation for centuries. Everyone in this room knew it, because he'd brought everyone to this room as part of that plan. Everyone in this room knew what it might cost if a single thing went wrong. And they were all watching him, as he adjusted the course of every single missile, sometimes one-by-one and sometimes a handful in synchronized movements and sometimes a couple dozen veering sideways all at once, as he carefully, carefully, so carefully, so quickly, snuck them past the minefield wrapped around the planet.

His vents hitched once (and consequently, another half dozen mechs' did as well), as a notification popped up stating that missile #33 had come dangerously close to triggering a mine. (They were all dangerously close, all the time; that notification popped up only when a missile was within an inch of going too far.) Prowl frantically corrected the course, and the notification went away. It didn't help relax him at all.

Not until every single missile was through the minefield.

He was going to make it.

From that point, getting all the missiles to their targets was a snap. Just point them in the right direction, waste a little time zig-zagging the ones that were closer to their targets so they didn't get there too soon, and...

All forty-five red dots hit all forty-five purple dots within a second. All forty-five flashed white, and then disappeared so quickly and so neatly that it looked more like the simulation had suddenly shut off than like the mission had been successful. Which was why Wheeljack, who'd been leaning over Prowl's shoulder this whole time, asked, tentatively, "... That all of them?"

Prowl nodded sharply. "That's all of them," he said. "Every one."

All right, he thought. They'd need a moment to process that, but the cheering would begin at any time.

There it was. The expected hooting and hollering. Job well done. (Job very well done, he thought. A Decepticon weapons facility destroyed, a whole planet of aliens liberated, and not a single Autobot or alien life lost. How often did that happen? How often could he save everyone, accomplish everything, and lose nothing?)

The hooting and hollering were expected. The clapping—not excited clapping, but actual applause—was not expected. He turned around, surprised, to look at the rest of the room. He also hadn't expected everyone to be looking at him.

But they were. And they were smiling. He didn't think that had ever happened before.

"Beautiful!" Wheeljack clapped a hand on Prowl's shoulder, making him start. "I didn't think you'd pull it off."

Why would Prowl have attempted it if he couldn't pull it off? But he decided to simply accept the compliment for what it was and nodded.

A bigger, heavier hand clapped Prowl's other shoulder, and Prowl started again. He looked up at Springer. "It's a shame," Springer said, although he was smiling. "I was looking forward to battling my way through a whole planet of automated weaponry."

"I'm sure you'll get another opportunity someday," Prowl said. "You'd better get moving. You've got a spy to extract and eleven soon-to-be prisoners of war to capture, and you don't want to give them time to recover from the shock."

"Right, right." Springer jogged over to where Impactor was waiting by the door. "Minefield's down?"

"All three stations controlling it."

"Then let's go!" Springer was out the door, and Impactor right behind him. Prowl watched him go, then settled back in his chair, prepared to bask in the rare bounty of peer approval.

"Prowl."

Prowl was immediately on his feet, facing the hologram. "Optimus, sir."

"So." The resolution wasn't great, but Prowl was sure he could see the twinkle in Optimus's optic. "All went according to plan?"

The beginning of a smirk twitched at the corner of Prowl's mouth. "Yes, sir."

"The most long-laid plan I've seen to date."

"Not my longest," Prowl admitted, "but it's up there."

"I see," Optimus said. "Well. You did some fine work."

Prowl's already elevated mood shot straight up, and ended up hovering somewhere in the vicinity of cloud nine. "Thank you, sir."

Optimus nodded. "I'll take care of contacting the Galactic Council to let them know we have some refugees for them to pick up, and I'll delegate someone else to getting the refugees onto a neighboring planet to wait so we don't have to worry about the Council landing on a planet loaded with Decepticon technology."

Oh, this was going to score the Autobots massive diplomatic points with the Council. "With all due respect, Optimus, I'm already here, and I can—"

"I'm completely confident that you can, Prowl. But you've earned yourself a break. Enjoy your victory."

Prowl considered protesting, decided that taking a break while surrounded by mechs who currently thought he was a missile-mastering magician didn't sound so bad, and nodded. Optimus nodded back, and the hologram flickered off.

Prowl settled back into his chair, looking around the room with a wholly unfamiliar sensation that he thought might be contentment. Skids caught his optic and gave him a thumbs up. Prowl gave a thumbs up back.

Yeah. Okay. Enjoy his victory. He could do that.

You can also read/kudos/bookmark/review this on AO3.

#prowl #transformers #maccadam #fanfic #my writing #kofi prompts

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