#do i appreciate the head shots and detail w/ the crying and blushing

[ayoyoungg]

It. Finally. Happened!!

[damedamedame]

akane aoi + reader | say what ?

| description ! | your current relationship with akane gets a little out of hand (which may or may not be good?) (yes, there’s a question mark).

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You flip to a page, one to a theory about a mysterious creature who could control the time around the halls of Kamome Gakuen by their own hands and by their own choice. There’s even a sketch of what it could be... and it looked nothing like the boy standing in front of you now. Your finger points to a space, wordlessly wanting him to sign it if your pleading face was anything to go by.

Akane stares at you blankly, then to the picture book in your hands. The expression on his face screams confusion because of your actions but you were insistent.

Being an enthusiast for all sorts of supernaturals and apparitions that had crossed your path (which may or may not have led to various dangerous incidents), you stood your ground as firmly as you possibly could.

Even if you wanted to melt at the sight of this new Akane Aoi.

Fuck it, you probably already melted when he saved you mere minutes ago.

Sucking in a deep breath, you continued to ask another question, briefly ignoring the fact that Akane didn’t bother to sign. Maybe he had no pen?? What kind of apparition has a pen in his pocket?? Wait would they--

“C-Can you help me investigate more s-supernaturals?”

‘OH NO.’ You looked at the ground as if it was the one who was making your cheeks redden to the max. ‘I STUTTERED TOO MUCH DHBFSH--’

“Interesting offer but….” Your head shot up to meet his smile, it didn’t meet his eyes but it made you look like a tomato nonetheless. A shudder goes down your spine at the way he stares right through you. “I don’t think I can handle another second seeing any one of them.”

…?

“W-WHY?? SUPERNATURALS ARE AMAZING CREATURES !!” You cry out, unable to hold back.

“Wha…? What makes you say that?”

There’s a hint of a spark happening between you two, one filled with tension and the start of a very very long argument between the justification of supernaturals.

Not that you intended to speak up and start a fight about it, you had only wanted to bring up a few points. Which he had a rebuttal for every time. Perhaps this is why you liked this smartass, but never did you think that you would be on the opposing side of the debate.

“Aoi-kun, I’m pretty sure not all of them are bad..!”

“You might want to see a certain seventh somewhere--.”

“YOU KNOW THE SEVENTH MYSTERY ???”

Secretly, your foot hurt like actual hell, having been pushed to the ground rather harshly after almost being struck by a truck. But how could you let this chance pass by? You were finally talking to the boy you simped for and you have the chance to meet more supernaturals and apparitions!

Granted, you almost died and you were both arguing about the goodness of supernaturals and apparitions, BUT STILL—!!

“I don’t think he appreciates seeing someone limp into his stall.”

Akane motions over to your foot. The foot that you were trying so desperately to hide but alas, the awkwardness stood out.

“Um… I-I’ll go to the clinic then! After that, you can take me to see Hanako-san…!”

Two steps forward and you were already wobbling. You were determined to get to the clinic without any hesitation if it meant finding out more of these supernaturals that always invaded your mind, if you weren’t already thinking about Akane.

Being the gentleman that he was forced to be by one strict Teru Minamoto, he had, as much as he didn’t want to offer because he was salty, offered you a, “Do you want me to take you to clinic?” which you may have replied with a small nod, the flush on your cheeks rising significantly so.

Significantly so may have been a slight understatement.

Your cheeks—no, your entire face raged with a pink blush once Akane put his hand on yours, telling you to lean on him if your legs hurt too much. The way he held your hand calmly without hesitation made it seem like he experienced this sort of thing before. Or maybe he spent his time eagerly researching this for Aoi’s sake. ‘Okay, yeah, it’s definitely the second one.’ You sink your head low in dismay.

Thankfully, the clinic wasn’t too far off since the incident took place right at the exit of the school. Making quick work into getting to the clinic, also avoiding the people who looked at you two quietly bickering about another something related to your slowly developing debate about supernaturals and all that. Or perhaps they looked at you two and wondered why two simps were spending time with each other. What if they thought you were dating him (finally) and Akane had given up on Aoi--

You scoff, immediately letting the fleeting thought away. Akane raised an eyebrow at your action but you simply looked away, not acknowledging the other thoughts that crowded your mind.

“Can you open the door while—”

“Yeah, I think I can just…”

After a few minutes of trying to open the door leading to the clinic, and failing miserably, your prayers have finally been answered. By a fellow Student Council Member.

“Oh! (L/N)-san!” This girl is… the ‘Secretary’ of the Student Council, if the messy black hair, the dark red ribbon hanging loosely around the back, and the round glasses framing her small face was any indication. “What happened?”

“I tripped and fell on the sidewalk.” You explain, not delving into any of details because even if the guy you just had to like out of everyone else (seriously, why couldn’t you have liked Minamoto-senpai instead? It’d probably be so much easier) had a bunch of hatred for the ones you absolutely adored (and you still didn’t get why he hated all of them instead of merely hating the ones who pushed Aoi), you still didn’t want to cause any trouble for him.

The ‘Secretary’ looks at you two for a bit, a small knowing smirk gracing her lips, which she tried to hide with her hand but failed, and walked away. She also mentioned something about the ‘President’ dropping off some paperwork on his desk. You don’t know why Akane’s expression turned into a disgusted one but you didn’t want to pry on that.

Oh nono, you wanted to pry about something else.

Right after sitting down on the bed after the nurse had told you to do so, you began swinging your legs out of nervousness. And you regretted that a second later because the pain finally settled in. Akane had thrown an ‘are-you-kidding-me?’ look at you and you replied by rolling your eyes into oblivion. Not wanting the silence between you two to thicken (or maybe you should, you were literally on the verge of kicking your crush when he mentioned how annoying your beloved Mokke were), you somehow managed strike up a conversation.

“Say… what happened to that truck a while ago?” Gold star for not stuttering over there, champ.

Akane turns to look at you, lips screwed tight and eyes wide. Had he not noticed it? How his supernatural suit and tie and honestly aesthetically pleasing outfit went away and changed back to his normal uniform? How the truck had crashed into a pole instead of you? Considering the amount of shock graced his features, it’s safe to assume that you were correct. Seriously though, how could he not have noticed?

‘Maybehewasfocusingonyou—SHUT UP’

He’s silent, not willing to admit that he did not, in fact, notice the truck nor his outfit changing. You hear him mumble a few words under his breath, definitely not missing the ‘That bastard might actually kill me this time’ or the ‘If Ao-chan ever finds about this…’ but he stops when the doctor of the school clinic came in.

“So, (L/N)-san, what do we have here this time?” The doctor, Nito-san, asks for the third time this week (or was it the fourth…?). He kind of looked frustrated with you, which you brushed off with an awkward chuckle. You could have sworn you heard Akane stifle a laugh. “Did you fall from the stairs again?”

“Not today, haha…” ‘CNDSJFNDSFOSID’ You fumed, hands clenching into fists. Now you heard Akane actually having to hide his laughter, which resulted in you having to cover your face with your hands.

Oh, why did you have to come in like this Nito-san??? WHY???

As if God Himself heard you, you were blessed when Teru Minamoto poked his head in from outside the room’s door. Funnily enough, he did not have his usual smile and ^^ on his face. He just looked lowkey pissed, which was a first for you and for people inside the clinic.

“Aoi-kun, why don’t we have a chat outside?”

You glanced at Akane in concern, and your choice was right, he should be of concern right now. He looked like a man about to be executed.

“Y-Yeah…”

At this point, you might as well plan his funeral. Yes, Aoi is going to have to give a speech about him or he would haunt the school. ‘Wait isn’t he already haunting the school—’ You thought as Akane was pretty much dragged outside by Teru. ‘Oh, I didn’t get to ask him about Hanako-san!’ You frowned, slapping yourself on the face. Although, you probably shouldn’t be focusing on that as of now, since Nito-san looks... positively furious.

| end notes ! | i’m so sorry for the long wait !! and i’m really sorry if the update wasn’t as good as you’d thought it would be,, not that it was alr good to begin with :’>

taglist: @astrxrism​ @sparkleswritings​ @closetweebsmh​ 

[smol-and-grumpy]

Something Just Like This - CH26

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester, mobster boss. He’s a little cocky, a lot ruthless and more often than not, short tempered. But he’s also, Dean Winchester, a war veteran and hero who suffers under a shit ton of PTS. He met her in a bar and thinks it’s fate that brought her to him. Little does he know why she’s really here.

Warnings: Angst and aw fluff and angst again.

WC: 3463

A/N: Please, if you want to be tagged for the rest of the series, let me know.

SERIES MASTERLIST

The ride in the ambulance is bumpy and loud. The beeping of machines that keep Y/N alive are noisy and she has a pipe down her throat. Dean’s holding her hand to stop his own from shaking. He’s still crying, the tears drip down the tip of his nose, drops onto the stretcher she’s lying on.

They arrive and Dean follows them as they wheel her in, running through doors until he isn’t allowed to go any further. And it’s hard. Hard for someone who lives in illegality to follow rules and boundaries. It takes everything in him not to burst through that door and go into surgery with her. 

Dean rakes both hands through his hair before crashing his fist against the wall. It hurts. But it’s not nearly enough. Not enough to take the fucking pain away.

He slumps down into the next chair he can find and covers his face with his hand. 

“Dean!” 

At the mention of his name, Dean looks up to see Cas walking towards him. The man sits down next to him wordlessly. Neither of them said a word after.

Dean doesn’t really know how long they have been sitting there. It felt like hours, days — fucking years.

“Do you want me to call Sam?” 

“Huh?” Dean jerks his head up and tilts his face to the side to be reminded that Cas’ still here. “No,” Dean says, and then adds, “No, I don’t need him to worry about this life anymore.”

This life. His life.

That’s no way to live, he once told her.

If it wasn’t for this life, he wouldn’t be here. Y/N wouldn’t have been shot. 

This life sucks.

“Do you,” Dean starts, “Do you sometimes think how your life would be if you wouldn’t be doing what you’re doing?”

Cas breathes out, “All the time.” And then he adds, “But I also see the good in it. If I wouldn’t be doing all this, I wouldn’t have met you and the rest of the family. It’s not the life that makes it good. It’s the people in it.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t have met her either.” Dean agrees. “But I still want out.”

“And we’ll get there. Just give it time.”

Dean closes his eyes and leans his head back against the wall. He doesn’t know how much time has passed but when he opens his eyes again, Cas’s standing there with a steaming plastic cup of coffee in his hand.

He takes the cup out of Cas’ hand, realizes that his own hands are still bloody, “Thanks.”

“How is she?” Cas jerks his head towards the door they are not allowed to go through. 

It’s the first time Cas asks about Y/N. He’s considerate. Probably gave Dean time to process before he dared to ask. Dean knows and appreciates it.

“Emergency surgery.” Dean’s voice is small. “She still had a pulse when we arrived, apparently it’s a good sign.” He only hopes it’s enough to keep her the fuck alive.

Cas nods and Dean empties his coffee. They sit in silence some more until someone in scrubs comes out of the forbidden door.

“Are you the one who was with the patient? Dean Winchester?”

Dean stands up too fast, his head’s spinning. He pinches his nose and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before he manages to answer. “Yeah.”

“She just woke up and asked to see you. I’ll get the papers ready and will be rolling her to her room, if you can just wait a couple of minutes?”

“Yeah, sure.” Dean’s unable to feel his own heart beating. Maybe it stopped. He watches the woman walk towards the door where the reception is situated.

She’s alive.

She’s— fuck. Dean’s heart is beating out of his chest.

“Uh, Dean?”

He turns around to see Cas still in his seat. “Huh?”

“Yeah, uh, you might wanna wash your face and hands.”

“Yeah.” Dean says and walks towards the door he’s not allowed to go through.

“The other way.” Cas says.

“Yeah, I know.” Dean answers, he is breathing hard, feels nauseous all of a sudden.

  Y/N vision is still blurry and her throat hurts from something they rammed down there. It makes her cough and every time she does, her wound starts to hurt. She tilts her head to the side, sees Dean talking to the doctor before he walks towards her. 

She can detect a small smile on his face but the rest of it hangs in a dark cloud. His bow tie hangs loose around his neck on either side, the top three buttons of his dress shirt are unbuttoned and his jacket is missing. It’s weird how she can detect small details like this just short out of surgery but her ability to see details is logged in her brain.

“Hey,” He says and kneels down to brace his elbows on her bed, his fingers brush away at the hair on her forehead.

“Hi,” Her voice is scratchy.

“You’re alive.” He kisses her cheek and she really wishes that he would climb into bed and hold her. Wishes for him to blanket her in with his body, make her wake up from this surreal dream.

“Yeah.” She nods to that.

“I’m sorry,” He whispers, takes her hand in his and kisses it. She breaks away from his hand to brush at the tear that rolls down his cheek. 

“Don’t be.” 

“They said you’ll be okay. You were shot below the clavicle, it’s a clean wound. You can go home in a couple of days.”

“Ugh.” Y/N groans out. “I hate hospitals.”

Dean chuckles at that, “Well let me see what I can do with my money to get you home sooner.”

“Stop spending money on me, Dean.”

“I already dropped two hundred thousands, what’s a little more?” He leans down, kisses her forehead.

She doesn’t ask about Cain. Already knows what probably happened. She wants to forget it. Wants to erase it from her mind.

“Dean, I’m tired.” She says instead of asking about Cain, because it’s true. She feels the strain of the surgery, the enormous amount of painkillers that’s still pumping into her body. 

“That’s okay. Sleep, baby. I’ll be here when you wake up, alright?” 

“You don’t have to.”

“I know, but I want to.”

She doesn’t remember a lot but she remembers Dean stroking her head until she fell asleep.

 ***

 Y/N wakes up again to see Dean sitting at a desk in her hospital room. It’s a different room than she fell asleep in. This one is more spacious, has a big couch and a little desk, a table that seats four, off to a wall. But it’s still a hospital room nonetheless. The coziness of it doesn’t change the fact that it’s still ugly and sterile. She hates hospitals. Ugh.

Dean’s working on his laptop, typing out something with a crease between his eyebrows. He’s changed too, is wearing something else. Something with less blood on it but he still looks like a walking billboard ad, except that his scruff is slowly and surely turning into a beard.

She likes that. Likes how much softer he looks with a beard.

Sitting up a little, she also sees that she’s in a different bed. It’s slightly bigger than the one she was in before. She watches Dean work for a while, he’s so deep into his work and lost in concentration that he doesn’t even notice that she’s been awake.

Tilting her head to the side, she looks out the window, they’re quite high up, the next high rise is still towering over them, though. 

There’s a bouquet of flowers on the table next to her bed, her phone is also there, connected to a charger and there’s a jug and a glass filled with water. Next to it, are pain meds. She looks down on herself, sees that she’s still in an ugly hospital gown that probably has her backside wide open.

Ugh.

Her throat feels awfully dry so she reaches out her hand for the glass. Her hands are still a little shaky, and it takes her two tries to finally be able to grab it. Gently, she puts it to her lips, tilts the glass and takes a sip. Setting the glass back again, she flinches at the pain. Y/N turns her attention back to Dean to see him leaning back in his seat and watching her with a grin on his face. 

“Hi,” She blushes a little because how can she not.

Dean stands up and strolls towards her, his hands in his pants pockets. The smile grows bigger the closer he gets and she forgot how pretty he can be. My god, he’s beautiful. The light makes his freckles stand out. 

His eyes are still a little red rimmed. Because he cried, she thinks. Feels guilty because she didn’t want to make him cry. It wasn’t her intention. 

He sits on the side of her bed, bends down to kiss her forehead. “Hi,” He says when he sits back up. His hands leave his pockets, and one of them is holding her hand while the other one is stroking her cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been shot at.” She says, grinning a little and Dean rolls his eyes. 

He chuckles at her joke before he pulls himself together. “I was able to move you into a private suite.”

“I don’t even wanna ask how you did that.”

He snorts, “Well, in my defense, it wasn’t me, even if I want to take all the credit for it. It’s actually Crowley who pulled the strings.” And then he goes on, “Anyway, the flowers are from Sam and Jess.” 

“Oh,”

“Yeah,” Dean groans. “Ew, they don’t know you at all.” 

“No, that’s actually nice.”

Dean raises an eyebrow, “So, you accept flowers from everyone else but you don’t want flowers from me, got it.”

She laughs, but that’s a bad idea because it hurts and she flinches, “I just don’t want you to spend money on things that won’t last.”

Dean nods, letting her words sink in but he doesn’t say anything further, instead he looks around before he begins to speak again. “I got Cas to go get things from home. He brought you your phone and a set of clothes for you to change into when you get released.”

“You haven’t been home yourself?”

“No.” 

“Oh,” She says, “And Cuddles?”

“Cas.”

“He’s allergic.”

Dean laughs, “Yeah, I know.”

“Oh my god, poor guy.” 

“Cuddles or Cas?”

She thinks about it. “Probably both.”

  On the fourth day she gets released. Dean had to pull some strings, because she can only be released when all the criteria are met. He quickly employs a nurse and with the help of Sergei, they will be good to go soon.

She walks around in her hospital gown, muttering something while he’s packing his things. 

“Sweetheart, what is it?” Dean zips up his laptop bag, walks to sit on the bed and guides her to stand between his thighs. 

“Cas.”

“Cas?” Dean frowns.

“Have you seen his choice of clothes?”

Dean’s doing his best to bite back a laugh, it’s not really working and she stares him down. 

“I’m sorry,” Dean says, “He probably had good intentions.”

“Dean, a glittery tube dress is not how I wanna dress to go home. Well, at least he brought leggings? So yay?”

He’s still grinning like an idiot, he knows that, but how can he not, she’s cute when she’s upset. “Well, to be fair, I gave him an earful myself when I saw it but he said that he just wanted for you to not use your shoulders too much while getting in and out of shirts.”

Y/N lowers her head, and he knows that she probably rethinks her options. “I’m really thinking about going home with that gown.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Dean chimes in and it’s the first time that he dares to touch her, touch her ass, and it’s exciting. He missed it, missed the feeling of her flesh underneath the palm of his hands. She hasn’t been wearing underwear and he skids his hands over her bottom, rests it on the small of her back. “It’s easy access.”

If looks could kill, he’ll be dead.

“I can offer you a shirt.” He says, tries to make her comfortable. 

“Please,” She whines, and he has to grin at that. He kisses her and stands up to walk over to his overnight bag, fishes out a shirt, he doesn’t have a new one left but an old one will do just fine. Besides, he likes her smelling like him, too. So, it’s kind of a win-win situation they got here.

He gets back to the bed, shirt in hand, guides her back between his legs and strips her off her gown, lets it fall to the floor. Bad idea, he thinks, because she’s standing there naked and he can’t help it. Is already half hard just by looking at her. 

“Maybe I have to mention that Cas didn’t bring you new underwear.”

“Of course he didn’t.” 

“I told him not to because I can’t stand the thought of him going through your panties and bras.” He adds, as he let her slip into his shirt. She’s flinching a little. 

Dean buttons up the shirt and pulls her forward, both hands on her hips. “You’re as beautiful as ever.” He says, purses his lips into a grin and there’s a small smile on her face, a hint of pink in her cheeks.

“Okay,” He says, “Now we should wear pants before I’m doing something I’m not supposed to.”

  A flock of nurses were standing in front of her hospital room when Dean and Y/N walked out. It’s like they’ve been waiting to get a look at Dean. He is clearly the star here because since she woke up, there’s always someone coming to knock at their door and ask Dean if he needs anything when it’s her who’s recovering from an injury. She can’t blame them though. He’s really easy on the eye.

He holds all his things in one hand while he has one arm around her. He looks like he’s been struggling with the load and she told him that he can walk twice but apparently, Dean Winchester doesn’t take two trips.

 *

 Back at home, Cuddles is lying next to her on the bed while Dean takes his laptop to bed and works from there. He doesn’t say anything, and it seems like he doesn’t mind that Cuddles is in their bed, but she guesses it’s just a temporary thing he tolerates because she’s not fully recovered yet. Dean makes some calls too, keeping his voice low as not to be a big disruption, but she’s still too knocked out from pain meds to listen to it anyway. She tunes the voices out, strokes Cuddles until she falls asleep.

The next morning Dean wakes her up with coffee and a tray of breakfast. “You have to eat before taking those pills, sweetheart.” He says and sits down next to her, back leaning against the headboard. He watches her eat in silence but he has his phone in his hand and was thumbing and typing away on it.

She guesses it’s about that big thing and decides to bluntly ask him about it, “How’s work going? Is that big thing still on?”

He pauses from staring at his phone screen. “Yeah,” He looks at her then, “We’re figuring out details.”

“When is it?”

Dean grins, “You shouldn’t be thinking about it. It’ll hurt your pretty head.” And in another breath he says, “It’s still gonna be a couple of months, but we’re getting there.”

And then, it’s like a dam broke in him and he starts to tell her everything. She got to know more than she bargained for. He’s telling her about the whole operation, who’s involved, how they are doing it, how much money he's gonna be making. He asks her for her opinions, too. 

“Do you think it’ll work out?” 

She thinks, and it might have been a longer pause than she’d anticipated. She wants to help him, wants so much for him to be happy but she also wants to please Linda. Why can’t she have both?

“Have you thought about a decoy?” She asks him and he looks at her like she’s crazy. 

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just risky to me if you put everything on this operation, and it’s illusive to think that someone won’t interfere with it, is all.” She shrugs and sees Dean scratch at his scruff, which he has trimmed this morning, as if he thinks that there’s some truth behind her words.

“I need to make a call.” He then says, kisses the top of her head. “I’ll be right back.”

 *

 He draws her a bath later, carries her to the tub, undresses them both and helps her in before he follows her. He leans against the tub, lets her sit between his thighs and lean her head back onto his chest. She still has a plastic bandage on her chest and Dean’s careful not to get it wet.

“How are you feeling?” He asks as he sits there and lets her wash herself. She wanted it that way, feels a little weirded out at the thought that Dean has to wash her. 

She finishes and leans back, wonders if he’s not grossed out by stewing with her in her filth. “Good. Much better, actually. How long did they say that I had to rest?” 

“At least another week.”

“Ugh.”

Dean snorts, “Yeah. But I’m here along the way.”

They get out with him carrying her over the ledge because he’s too afraid of her slipping out and falling down. He gets into the showers with her, rinsing off the bathwater and she sees that he’s hard. 

“Do you need help with that?” She asks, a smirk on her face.

He raises an eyebrow. “Stop staring, I’m trying to be good.”

She shrugs. “I mean, I can.”

Dean lets out a frustrated groan and gets out to wrap himself into a towel before holding one out for her. 

***

 Y/N’s been at home for four days now and is feeling significantly better. She could drop one of her pain killers, and Sergei is very happy with the healing of the wound. She’s now able to hold things in her right hand again, like her phone, or a pencil and she’s back to drawing, too.

She wants to call Linda, tell her what’s going on but she’s never had a minute to herself. Dean’s always present and as much as she likes that he’s been so attentive, she also needs space to breathe. So when he comes to the bedroom with Crowley on the other line and asks her if it was okay when he goes out for a meeting, she might be too enthusiastic with her reply that it was more than okay. The crease between his eyebrows grows but then she adds that he please bring back something from Bobby’s, his face lights up again, pleased that she has found her appetite. 

After Dean had left, she waited for another twenty minutes, just to be extra sure. 

Linda picks up at the second ring. “Y/N?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” 

“My god, I was worried. I haven’t heard anything for over a week! What happened? Are you alright? Is everything okay? Is this a hostage situation I have to get you out of?”

“Linda, first of all. Can you calm down? Your questions are hurting my head!”

“Sorry,” 

Y/N takes a deep breath before she begins to tell Linda about everything. Everything from the day she made the deal with Linda until the present day. And Linda listens for once, doesn’t interrupt her and her train of thought.

“Will you be able to hold your part of the deal?” Linda asks at last, after she spoke out her concern for Y/N’s wellbeing. 

“Yes.” 

“Okay, I have already started to set everything in place for the due date. You said it’s gonna be a couple of months, right?”

“Yeah.” 

“Good. I still have time to make final arrangements. I’ll text you further instructions and coordinates once it’s final.”

“Good.”

“Take care, Y/N. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

She hangs up, throws her phone away and buries her face in her pillow. She tries not to cry, doesn’t want Dean to see that she’s been crying because he always knows when she did. It’s annoying really. 

CH27

[thetriggeredhappy]

Hi!! I love your work sm dude! QwQ Your Running Blind series is legitmately incredible! (It had me crying hadhs) I always get super excited whenever you talk about it or update it, Taking Shots is so creative and funny and sweet just AAGH I love it so much- It is probably my favourite fanfic in this entire fandom. If you are at all taking requests, I would like to ask if you could do an EngieSpy fic with Spy knowing exactly how to get Engie all flustered cus I think that would be cute -w- Ty!

ahgfdsj don’t mind that this took forever,,,, here’s some cheesy cheesy romance ft. a cheesy romantic

(no warnings)

-

Dell Conagher was a 45 year old man. He had more degrees than fingers (including the false ones) and a considerable amount of respect and acclaim in the wide majority of academic communities. And besides that, he made himself a formidable opponent in combat, taking no prisoners and becoming a tactical nightmare to deal with, able to push and direct in a way that others couldn’t do so effectively single-handedly.

So you’d think that there wasn’t much that would leave him flustered, but figures—there were people who could fluster bigshots like him just as much as there were people to fluster your average Joe. Maybe he should consider it a humbling experience, but he was plenty humble already.

What he hated was that it was so predictable of him, the things that made him blush. Nothing unusual—some of the other members of the team had initially assumed from his accent and general demeanor that surely he would balk and blush at more risqué jokes and shenanigans, but he could swear and chuckle just as much as the rest of them. And while he occasionally got fired up over things, he didn’t tend to get hot when he got angry so much as stern and then very much cold.

No, what got him to stammer and make a damn fool of himself was just the thing that not many people had the guts to do to him over the course of his life—goopy, sappy, extremely romantic displays.

Just his luck that he’d fall for a Frenchman.

Part of what got him so flustered—and therefore more frustrated with himself—was the fact that he was smart enough to figure out that it probably took an awful lot of work to do the things Spy did for him. He didn’t know of a good florist in a hundred mile radius of their base, and Spy had ranted about it enough that he’d also gathered there were no particularly good wineries around either. And you probably had to take a class to get as good as Spy at decoration and whatnot, surely, and cooking too. Setting a whole table and room and making a romantic dinner with wine older than his grandad with a whole bouquet as a centerpiece, well, it must’ve taken Spy all day, or, or maybe even weeks of planning and plotting and scheming—

And he tried to dissuade Spy from going to all that trouble, every time he pulled off some stunt like that. Shook his head and called him a sentimental old fool. But it never made Spy’s grin budge, maybe because Spy could tell the comment reflected right back onto the Engineer too. And he didn’t let up.

Instead he walked straight up to the Engineer and took his right hand, bending at the waist and lifting his hand to lay a brief but meaningful kiss on his knuckles, and already Dell was flushing, even before Spy got to the verbal part of his greeting. “Hello, mon cher Monsieur Conagher,” he said, smirking a little.

“I can’t feel that, you know,” he reminded, keeping his voice level and glancing between his gloved hand and Spy’s face.

“Oh? I’d disagree,” Spy purred, and guided him a half step forward before kissing each knuckle in turn one more time in succession. “I’d say you must be feeling something, at least.”

“What makes you say that?” he asked, brows furrowing just a touch.

“Why else would you be so red?” Spy teased, the slightest further uptick at the corner of his mouth, and the Engineer huffed, pulling back his hand and looking away.

“Hush, you,” he muttered, flustered, moreso as that just made Spy laugh.

“Mon cher, don’t tell me this makes you embarrassed,” Spy said, looking well amused by the idea.

“Well, you’re the one making a damn fool of the both of us, right where anyone on the team could see,” Dell pointed out.

Spy raised an eyebrow. “Is this your way of asking me to stop?” he asked.

“Well—yes! It is!” he said, even though a significant portion of him immediately protested.

“Understood,” Spy said, and the word was tailed by a little grin that told him he’d just gotten himself waist-deep in some new kind of trouble.

He waited for the kicker, when Spy did immediately stop with the showy displays of affection and admiration. The punchline ended up showing up relatively quickly in the form of a bouquet in a vase there on a workbench right in the middle of his workshop, unannounced and unprompted, without even a note. But he knew who it was from, even if he had no idea when Spy snuck past his security—or how long Spy had known how to sneak past his security.

And after that first gift, he found others cropping up in similar fashions for a while—most often flowers, and occasionally wine, chocolate, other luxury goods he’d never buy for himself but couldn’t help but be delighted by when he received them as a gift, especially from his lover. They appeared occasionally in his workshop, or sometimes beside the coffee maker (presumably because he tended to be the first one there, the first one awake in the morning). And the one thing he could count himself being lucky about was the fact that Spy didn’t seem to be there to catch how it made him blush, every single time.

He tried to bring it up, when he and Spy were together, and Spy perfectly feigned ignorance and misunderstanding, as well as confusion and amusement. He stopped bringing it up, knowing it wouldn’t get him anywhere.

And then one day, for reasons he didn’t understand, the gifts shifted. He still got roses and flowers, usually just in time to replace the previous bouquet in the vase that had made a home in his workshop (although moved somewhere they would be less of a fire hazard). But less often did he get the wine and chocolates and similar classic romantic fare. Instead he found, occasionally, that he would glance up from his work in the workshop at the clock on the wall, and he would realize he’d worked straight through dinner again, and he’d curse his iron-clad focus for a moment before his eyes fell to the counter below the clock to land on a plate containing a full and well-rounded meal, covered in plastic so as to protect it from sawdust or similar mess.

He found that, suddenly and for reasons he couldn’t immediately explain, he tended to have leftovers waiting, labeled with his name, in the fridge despite him not having put them there. He found the shirt he’d discarded as a lost cause after a bad tear washed and stitched cleanly and sitting on top of his pile of clean laundry. He found a spare set of new laces just when he started to wonder if the ones in his boots needed replacing, and his supply of water bottles he kept near his station to stave off dehydration mysteriously never getting any emptier.

And for some reason that flustered him all the more, because flowers and wine and kisses on the back of the hand were nice, were a lovely display to think of and accomplish. But to be thinking of him so often, to notice such tiny details and to keep on top of them and to fix them—without even saying anything, at that! To notice those things meant that Spy was thinking of him so much more than he expected, than he’d ever feel right expecting, was more than he could ever ask from any partner and it just...

He found himself bringing it up one day, chest filled to the bursting and needing somewhere for it to go. He and Spy were sitting together in the smoking room, and Spy had some album playing—worn enough by then that Dell could just barely understand it well enough to parse out that it wasn’t English. Whatever it was, it was low and soothing and non-distracting and filled the room just as much as the warmth of the fire and the lingering smell of exotic spices from some point in the past.

Stronger was the smell of Spy’s cologne, though, there sat next to him, warm against his shoulder. He couldn’t tell much about what it was that Spy was reading, just that it looked to be a play of some kind based on the spacing of phrases, and that it was in Russian. He was sure his own reading was probably significantly less interesting, just being the order form for the next month’s shipment of parts that he needed to parse through.

Easy to get distracted from, was a way he could refer to it. Easy to stop thinking about it and to instead think about the man leaning against him.

“Spy?” he asked softly.

“Hm?” Spy hummed, looking up from his book.

“Why do you keep doing things for me?”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Spy smirked.

“I’m being serious,” Dell said, voice still quiet.

Spy’s expression didn’t so much fall as it did relax. “Are you?” he asked. “Isn’t it obvious?”

When Dell just frowned, Spy deigned to elaborate.

“I do these things because I care about you, mon cher,” he said simply. “To make you happy, because I want you to be happy, because I care about you and you deserve to be happy. If I’m not doing a good job, correct me so I can do better.”

“It’s not that,” he said quickly, and hesitated. “I just, I don’t understand—“

“—What, why I care? Why you deserve to be happy?” he asked outright, and maybe that was it. Maybe that really was all. And maybe it showed on his face. “Laborer, have you considered that your reluctance to accept my gifts and acts of appreciation are because you’re uncomfortable with the idea of someone holding you to such high value in such a real and tangible way?”

“I—I don’t—that’s—“ he stammered, face going red.

“That perhaps others caring about and valuing you has been either a distant dream or something you imagined to be a reality because you needed the morale to get through the day, and now your mind and emotions are significantly freed up and you don’t quite know what to do with yourself, which is something both new and intimidating for you, someone who always tries to be so in control of your own life?”

“Why the sudden psychoanalysis?” he managed, feeling more than a little bit tense.

“Because I have a feeling you intended for this conversation to be your asking me to not do things for you because you feel you don’t deserve them, and quite frankly I’m stubborn enough that you will never change my mind,” Spy said, and leaned in to kiss him, an ice pack on a sucker punch, startling and disorienting and...

And nice.

When Spy pulled back, he seemed to see the disorientation, and he smiled. “It’s alright that you don’t know what to do yet. It’s alright if you never know. I simply enjoy doing these things for you, as often as I can without treading on your toes or making you feel smothered.”

“You never do,” Dell assured with the part of his brain that was still functioning.

Spy kissed him on the cheek gently. “You are very sweet, Dell Conagher,” he said simply.

“Me? You’re the one who—“

“Shush,” Spy laughed, and gave him another peck. “Just accept that making you happy is what makes me happy, oui? Is that such a strange thing to ask?”

“It feels like it,” Dell admitted.

“Well, perhaps the millionth time I say it, it won’t,” Spy teased.

“You’ll say that a million times?” he asked, incredulous.

“I’ll say it as many times as you’ll tolerate. I’ll say it on the hour every day until you get entirely tired of me or die, whichever comes first—or perhaps at the exact same moment. I’ll learn every language on the planet and say it in each and every one until you can repeat it back to me fluently. Because, mon cher, I mean it, and when I mean something, there isn’t a soul on the planet who can stop me from making it absolutely clear that I mean it, not even the person I love most in the world and his ridiculous, skewed lack of ego. Do you understand?”

The Engineer kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him, and yeah, he understood. He really did. And maybe Spy was right—maybe he would believe it someday. Maybe someone that stubborn was the only type of person who could convince him.

Time would tell.

[ihaileysenpai]

2 and 8, you, confessing your love to Midoriya.

#2: “In the least creepy way possible, I know where you live.”

#8: “I’m sorry, can we just pretend I never said that.”

Love Makes Us Awkward

 (Izuku x Hailey)

Bud, this was fun to write and I think that I got a bit carried away lol

Palms sweating.

Heart racing.

Face flushed.

‘Jesus, is this a panic attack?’ Hailey originally thought when her body started reacting.

But reacting to what exactly?

It didn’t click at first, Hailey’s mind racing at the possibilities that could be the cause. But luckily, the cause noticed and took concern.

“Are you okay, Hailey? You look anxious about something.” The green-haired Izuku Midoriya questioned softly.

Boom.

“O-oh jeez, sorry! Izu.” Hailey sheepishly laughed, trying to play it off. “My anxiety face isn’t known for being appealing.”

Izuku shook his head, “I-I wasn’t thinking that! Y-you always look pretty- I mean nice- uh- you just looked like you were worried about something!” He stammered, his freckled cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Hailey chuckled and gently ruffled his green locks. “Oh Izu, you’re so adorable when you get embarrassed. And I appreciate your concern but I’m not too sure that what I’m worried about will ever go away, not if keep dwelling on it and not taking any action.”

Izuku thought he understood what Hailey was referring to, “Is it the hero course stuff? You know that I can help you out with any of it!”

“Izu, it’s not-“ Hailey tried to interject, but Izuku persisted.

“After school today we can do whatever you need!” 

“That’s sweet of you, Izu, but really.”

Izuku blinked, realizing that maybe he was jumping the gun a bit too quickly with some high enthusiasm. He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh sorry, I guess I came on a bit too strong there. It’s just like you said, you won’t get what you want if you just sit around and not take action.”

Hailey thought for a moment, even though Izuku didn’t understand what the context of the whole thing was, he gave her some pretty good advice. 

Taking in a deep breath and exhaling for some confidence, Hailey smiled. 

“You’re right, Izu.” She said, standing to her feet from her desk. “I’ll come find you when I figure out what I need to do.”

Izuku’s eyes lit up and he smiled as he nodded his head in agreement. “For sure!”

Then their homeroom teacher entered the room and told his students to get ready for their training exercises. 

When entering the girls change room, Hailey was met with Mina’s knowing gaze.

“You’ve got it bad, huh?” 

Hailey turned and gave her classmate a confused look, “Got what bad?” She questioned.

Mina wiggled her eyebrows, “Your crush on a certain boy~” She cooed.

“Kero?” Tsuyu croaked as she and the other girls took notice of the conversation.

Hailey’s face blushed a bright pink, “Wh-what are you talking about?” She attempted to divert the attention away from her.

“I saw you talking to Midoriya and your face just screamed ‘I have a crushbon you’!” Mina gushed, just itching for details.

Hailey sweated and her face became redder. “Oh jeez.”

Mina giggled at Hailey not even trying to deny her feelings.

“Aw! I think the two of you would be so cute together!” Mina exclaimed happily bouncing.

“Kero, you would be good for each other.” Tsuyu chimed in. 

The other girls voiced their agreements happily. Hailey scanned the girls and their faces, she thought that Uraraka had a crush on Izuku and she’d have to respect girl code, but Uraraka shot her a thumbs up with a supportive grin.

“So when do you plan on confessing?” Tohru gleamed, Hailey could see the hype radiating off of her invisible friend.

“I-uh- uh… I don’t know if I should! I mean, I don’t wanna ruin our friendship if he doesn’t feel the same.” Hailey sputtered awkwardly, covering her arms over her head.

“Don’t settle just like that.” Kyoka remarked, pulled up her jacket to her hero costume.

“I agree, just because you have doubts doesn’t mean you should bottle your emotions. You should be honest with Midoriya.” Momo added, with her own mature input.

Hailey awkwardly stammered incoherent words as she began to panic, unsure how to approach such a situation. 

What would she do? 

God, what would she say?

“Hey, hey, hey.” Mina called softly, “Calm down, you can always do it later, not right now. How about after training? Or after school?” She suggested.

“I-I don’t know.” Hailey sighed.

“Don’t stress, you can take your time with this kind of thing. Get the right timing and then some.” Momo chimed, seeing her classmate’s nervousness.

“Um no! It should be today! Some other girl might try and confess to him if she’s waits too long!” Tohru argued.

That struck a cord with Hailey as she realized that Tohru made a valid point.  She would probably feel better if she got it over with as soon as possible and not risk being subject to Izuku dating someone else.

“O-okay! I’ll try and do it today.. I’m guessing you’ll all want details.” Hailey suddenly joked and the other girls giggled.

—————————

Life was not planning on going easy on Hailey, because as training went on, Izuku had gotten badly injured by Bakugou and was sent home after his wounds got healed by Recovery Girl. 

Hailey grumbled as she stuffed her books into her bag back at the 1-A classroom. 

Shouto questioned if she was alright, after noticing her behaviour.

“Just frustrated that something I planned for didn’t work out.” Hailey replied in frustration.

“What was it? Can I help?” Shouto inquired.

Hailey shook her head, “No Sho, thanks but it’s.. not a big deal. It might actually be a sign that it shouldn’t happen.” Hailey sighed softly.

Suddenly, Mina pushed past some of her classmates, Bakugou grumbling as he walked out of the classroom.

Mina pushed a strip of paper into Hailey’s hands.

“Take this!” She urged.

Hailey looked at her with an unsure gaze, “What is it?” And unfolded the piece of paper to see that an address was written on it.

“Get your man! No settling, remember?” Mina exclaimed.

Then Hailey realized that Mina had somehow convinced Bakugou to give her Izuku’s home address. 

“Mina-“ Hailey tried to admit defeat, but was ushered out the door of the classroom.

“Just go before it’s too late!” She cheered.

Feeling a bit more motivated, Hailey started to run out of the school and towards the address.

Later when she arrived to the apartment complex, Hailey awaited in front of the door to the Midoriya household. That confidence that she had was beginning to be drowned out by Hailey second guessing herself with doubt.

‘Am I seriously doing this?’ Hailey thought, trying to find the amusement in her anxiety.

But she couldn’t turn back now, or she’d look strange to the neighbours. 

Knocking on the door with little tune, Hailey waited nervously and twiddled her thumbs.

Suddenly, the door opened to reveal Izuku in his casual clothes.

“Hello- oh Hailey! What are you doing here.. and how did you know where I live?” Izuku questioned.

Hailey deadpanned and awkwardly chuckled, “In the least creepy way possible, I know where you live.” She then paused and added, “Because of .. Bakugou.”

Izuku thought for a second before shaking his head, “Oh really? It’s really nice of you to stop by and visit? Did something special happen?” Izuku prompted, sheepishly scratching his cheek.

Hailey felt her words get caught in her throat, “I-I-I-uh h-had to come h-here and tell you something that’s been on my mind f-for a while.”

Hailey cursed at herself in her head, she usually was more confident but this boy seemed to be her weakness.

“Izuku, who’s at the door?” Hailey and Izuku heard Izuku’s mother call out to him from inside. 

Hailey’s face continued to heat up as her embarrassment continued to grow the longer that it took to tell Izuku about her feelings.

Fortunately, Izuku noticed’s Hailey’s flustered expression, “One of my friends came to tell me something, it’ll only be a second, mom!” He called to his mom and shut the door so the two of them were alone outside.

“Sorry about that.” Izuku smiled awkwardly. 

“No problem! Your mom seems really nice.” Hailey waved off.

“So what was it you wanted to tell me?” Izuku inquired.

Hailey bit the inside of her cheek for a moment as she began to scratch the skin beside the nails of her fingers as she tried to think of how she was going to word her next few sentences.

Hailey averted her gaze from Izuku. “I-I d-don’t want this to end our friendship, Izuku. Y-you’ve been really great to me for as long as we’ve known each other.” Then suddenly a bunch of words came flooding out of Hailey’s mouth, contrasting her earlier nervousness. “God you are so smart, more than anyone I’ve ever known. You’re so driven and motivated to be a hero that I can’t help but be inspired by you! You just want to help people and will do anything to do so.” 

Then Hailey’s voice began to crack as she felt more emotions as she continued. 

“But that means you get hurt. And when you get hurt, I get scared and worried about you. When you cry, my heart breaks and when someone wants to hurt you, I-I wanna defend you!”

“Hailey-“ Izuku tried to interject.

“And I feel like this because I think I love you!” Hailey blurted and immediately regretted that she let it slip.

“W-what did you-“ Izuku breathed, his faced shocked.

“I’m sorry, can we just pretend I never said that?” Hailey quickly yelped and turned to leave, but was stopped by Izuku calling for her to stop and grabbed her wrist.

When Hailey didn’t look at Izuku, he gently pulled her face to look at him.

Hailey’s eyes began to sting with tears threatening to spill from the embarrassment. Izuku looked at her softly.

“I feel the same.” Izuku told her apologetically, “But I was too nervous and didn’t want to ruin our friendship too. I’m sorry that I made you wait so long.” 

“H-huh?” 

“I’m saying that I think that I love you too!” Izuku exclaimed, then became a bit more timid. “C-can I.. can I make it up to you..?” 

Hailey giggled, “How do you plan on doing that?” 

“By this..” Izuku breathed and met his lips with Hailey’s own soft ones.

[skzrequests]

Fortunately - Hwang Hyunjin

@sunnycatuwu said : “My pace. Ok, can i have a 9 prompt with Hyunjin, please? ^^ something both funny and fluffy ♡  thank you~”

9 ➝ “You don’t remember last night at all, do you ?”

➵ Pairings : hyunjin x reader

➵ Warnings : mentions of partying ; mentions of alcohol consumption 

➵ Genre : fluff 

➵ Word count : 2.3k

➵ Note : I don’t know if it’s funny too but I tried. I hope this is okay and that you’ll like it ! don’t hesitate to give me feedback, it would be highly appreciated :’)

apply to become a member and provide requested content to others (links on blog)

You rolled on your side, pulling the blanket over your head as you sinked deeper into the mattress and pillow. 

As you were starting to wake up, you began to stir more and more, rolling from one side of the bed to the other, meeting with the fresh sheets where you hadn’t been sleeping. This side is cool. 

And then you realized: you had a single bed. This was obviously a king sized one. 

You shot up, sitting up on the bed as you whipped your head around to take in your surroundings, trying to make out where you were and whose bed you were in. What the hell happened?

Whoever’s room this was, it was nice and clean. There was a big window to your right but the curtains were closed, so you couldn’t see outside. The room was dimly lit, but you could see a desk with a few papers scattered on it, a television and a playstation were facing the bed. To the TV’s left was a wardrobe to which the doors were opened and allowed you to see t-shirts, hoodies, black jeans and a lot of shirts inside. All boys’ clothes. 

After analyzing the room, you had come to the conclusion it was most likely not that one of a girl. But still, you couldn’t tell whose house you had been sleeping at. Worse, you had no clue how or why you had ended up here. You didn’t feel sick and your head didn’t hurt that much, it was probably just from how you had been whipping it around too quickly right after waking up. 

Carefully, you got up and made your way out of the room. You headed downstairs, hand on the railing as you went down as quietly as you could. Eyes opened wide and steps hesitant, you walked around in the house, looking around carefully to see if you spotted any detail that would give away whose house this was. And if you could find your stuff so you could leave. 

At this point, you began to think you were alone in the house and relaxed a bit. You stepped into the kitchen and stood by the sink, resting your hands on each side as you looked out the window. Grass. It was a garden. A pretty nice one. 

You let out a sigh, your head was still hurting. Maybe it wasn’t because you got up too fast, after all. Your mouth was dry and your body felt numb. Maybe you had done something stupid the night before.

“Sleep well?” a voice spoke from behind you and you froze. Oh no. You recognized this voice perfectly, and you didn’t want to turn around. What kind of mess had you gotten yourself into? 

Biting your lip, you turned on your heels, heart racing in your chest, and faced him. 

There was no doubt now. He was there, watching you as he rested against the doorframe. Still as gorgeous as ever. 

It was his house. You were at Hwang Hyunjin’s house. Of all people, it had to be him. You couldn’t even remember how long you had been crushing on him. But how could you not? He was clever, funny, cute, talented, an amazing dancer, and hell did he look good. Everything about him was godly. 

You had known him for years, and only found yourself falling for him a little more every time you thought about what you liked in him. You weren’t exactly friends, but your friends were friends and you often found yourselves hanging out together with your groups. You enjoyed talking to him, even though it didn’t happen that often.

You couldn’t stand the eye contact and looked down to your bare feet, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. You noticed the shirt you were wearing was too big for you and had a “Vans” logo on it. That was not your shirt. 

You tugged on the hem of it with your forefinger, still looking at your feet. What the hell was going on. 

“Is everything okay?” Hyunjin asked again and you looked up in surprise. He seemed concerned as he started making his way towards you and you panicked inside. 

“Y-Yeah,” you stuttered and tried to step back, hitting the sink again. 

He smiled at your actions and stopped two meters away from you, then turned to open a cabinet and took a glass out. 

“I was gonna get you a glass of water, I don’t know why you panicked like that” he joked and your face burned. 

He handed you the glass and you thanked him quietly, blushing when your fingers brushed his. You were a mess on the inside. 

Still, you composed yourself and turned around, pouring yourself some water to drink. You had a hard time swallowing as you felt his eyes on the side of your face but kept a poker face. 

“How’s your head?” he asked again as you took your last sip. You looked at him, raising your eyebrows. 

“Uh, it’s okay, why?” you asked back and he furrowed his eyebrows. 

“Wow, I really thought you’d be a mess in the morning-” he checked the clock on the wall behind you and corrected himself, “or afternoon. Guess you’re a tough one” he smiled. 

You didn’t understand exactly what he was talking about, but you were pretty sure something had been going on the previous night. 

Hesitating a bit, you bit your lower lip before you looked back up at Hyunjin and asked the question that was burning your tongue :

“Why am I here?” you asked nervously. He looked a little surprised at your question but still chuckled as he answered.

“Well, I was surely not gonna let you go home like that” he said. 

You furrowed your eyebrows. His answered made it all worse.

“What happened? And whose shirt is that? And why am I wearing it?” you kept asking as you tugged it a little.

Hyunjin looked taken aback. 

“You don’t remember last night at all, do you?” he asked. 

You shook your head, “Not a second of it”, you told him as you pouted. 

“Well, that’s... my shirt you’re wearing” he said as he pointed at it. 

You blushed a little as you looked down at it. Nice, Y/N.

But then, as you thought about it, it hit you: why were you in his clothes? Now that you thought about it, you were pretty sure you hadn’t been wearing this kind of shorts the night before if there had been a party. There had been one, right?

You started to panic as you thought of all the possible reasons as to why you were wearing Hyunjin’s clothes right now. 

“Why am I wearing your clothes?” you asked, looking back up to him. He bit his plump lip as if he were nervous about telling you. You panicked even more. You had woken up in his bed. “Oh my- did we- ?” 

Hyunjin’s eyes widened when he understood what you were talking about. He started waving his hands around: 

“Oh my god, no! No, of course not, I would never-” he kept shaking his head. You felt relieved for a second, before you squinted your eyes at him, hand coming up to your chest. 

“Wait, what do you mean ‘you would never’?” you asked, feigning being hurt.

He grew red and shook his head again. 

“No that’s not- You were wasted, okay?” he defended himself, “We’re friends- wait why do I even need to say this?” he rambled as he furrowed his eyebrows once more. 

You bit the inside of your cheek to refrain from laughing. 

“Hyunjin, I was kidding, of course you would not” you said with a small smile and he sighed. 

“You’re in my clothes because you threw up all over yourself last night. I couldn't leave you like that, even less let you get in my bed in your dirty clothes” he explained with another sigh. 

You nodded in understanding. You had gone too far the night before, and it did not end well. But at least, you were with your crush in his kitchen right now. And you were in his clothes. 

“Wait,” you said, coming to realization, “How did I end up in your clothes though?” you asked, eyes squinting at him again. 

He licked his lips and looked down, scratching the back of his neck. 

“Actually, you changed into my clothes yourself,” he said, eyes meeting yours again. “I didn’t really have to help” he added, but you noticed the faint blush on his cheeks.

You nodded. You vaguely remembered getting stuck in your shirt and crying about it. You remembered someone had come to help you and then nothing.

You blushed, realizing it was probably him anyways. You must have been ridiculous and pathetic. 

“How much did I cry while drunk?” you risked asking. Your image was ruined for him, so you might as well ask about how much it was ruined.

He laughed and said: “A lot,” he smiled and you couldn't help the tugging at your lips, “You wouldn’t stop” he said and you facepalmed yourself. 

“Oh my god, stop making fun of me” you said as you hid your face in your hands. “I’m a crying drunk” you added as you looked back at him while he laughed. 

“It was cute though,” he said and then smirked, “You wouldn’t stop clinging to me” he wiggled his eyebrows at you and your stomach dropped.

Bad. This was bad. 

“D-Did I say anything?” you asked carefully, face heating up flushing red in embarrassment as you expected his answer.

He kept on smirking. “Yeah, you did” he said. 

And he didn’t add anything more. Your heart was in your throat. You fumbled over your words as you gestured for him to continue.

“W-Well, what did I say?” you asked. You wanted to know just as much as you feared his answer.

He smiled sweetly this time. “You said I was hot,” he started and you closed your eyes to help endure the pain. It was worse than you had imagined. “You also said I was a dumbass” he continued and your face twisted as he spoke. “You said I had amazing lips,” he kept on listing but you cut him before he could add anything even more embarrassing, if that were possible. 

“Okay, okay! I get it, I made a fool of myself, I’m sorry you had to endure this” you said as you waved your hands around to make him stop as you looked at him and saw his amused smile. 

He caught your wrists and spoke teasingly, “Really? But you haven’t heard the best part yet,” he said as he smile devilishly. 

“What now?” you asked, exasperated. At first, you failed to noticed the very small distance that separated you from him. He held your wrists tightly, keeping you close, faces inches apart. If your face got any redder, you would turn into a tomato. “What more did I say?” you dared to ask again as you stared back into his eyes, trying not to look away.

“Something along the lines of ‘I love you’” he almost whispered and you felt his breath on your face. 

“And then?” you whispered back? 

Hyunjin smiled. 

“Then, I kissed you,” he said and your heart exploded in your chest. Hyunjin bit his lip. 

“You did?” you asked, breath hitching in your throat. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, “And then you threw up everywhere” he added.

Your mouth fell open as both your heart and stomach dropped while Hyunjin began to laugh as he watched your face sink. He let go of your wrists and held his sides as he let his head fall back as he laughed.

You were stunned and left speechless. You had no words for yourself, even your inner voice wouldn’t talk to you anymore. This was the end for you. You felt so many different emotions at the same time that you couldn’t feel anything anymore. You just stood there in the kitchen, arms dangling on each side of your body as you processed what had just happened. 

The worst part was, you remembered now. He wasn’t lying. 

Hyunjin wiped a few tears of laughter as he told you, still half-laughing. “Oh my god, y-you should have seen your face right now” and snorted again when he saw you look back at him with an ‘I want to disappear’ expression. 

“I can’t believe myself” you mumbled as you shook your head. 

Hyunjin managed to calm down and stopped laughing, wiping the last tears away with his right hand as he shook his head at you. 

“No, it’s okay,” he began, “it was nice, actually” he said. 

You made a weird face as you furrowed your eyebrows. 

“It was nice seeing me get sick around in your house?” you asked, dumbfounded. 

He shook his head again and rolled his eyes. 

“No, dummie,” he said, “I meant the kiss. The kiss was nice”

You let out a small “Oh” when he finished the first part and a bigger “Oh” after the second.

“I wouldn’t mind doing it again” he said with a raised eyebrow. 

You were frozen in shock and it took you a few seconds to process what he had said. 

“Oh, like, right now?” you asked as you pointed your finger between the two of you. 

“Sure,” he said and smirked yet again, “but maybe brush your teeth first, you know?” he teased. 

You bit your lip. 

“Right” you said as you looked him in the eye. “I’ll be right back”, you said as you dashed out of the kitchen and upstairs. 

What an unexpected twist of events, you thought. You weren’t gonna let that occasion slip though. Fortunately for you, that boy didn’t seem to hate you at all. 

---

~admin zia ♡ ( @jinniesmeow )

[demethinkstoomuch]

Deme Rates Villagers, Part 4: Birds

Disclaimer: Images are from the wiki, all good dogs, my ratings are mainly just there because “Deme gives her abstract thoughts on villagers” is hardly a catchy thing. 

Let’s get to the birbs! Are there borbs? No, not really, Animal Crossing birbs have a pretty straightfoward and uniform shape, they are most likely not borbs.

Ace

Another villager time forgot! Without seeing a clear shot of his eyes (they’re not perma-closed), a big element of his design is sadly lost on me. Otherwise, he’s pretty cute. Nothing fancy, but cute.

2 (Hidden Eyes) /5

Admiral

Eyebrows. Angry. Eyebrows! 

...What’s with his stomach not being the same color as the underside of his face, though? It makes them feel disconnected, which honestly loses some of the appeal for me. On the other hand, angry eyebrows for a grumpy bird. 

Eyebrows... /10

Anchovy

To be honest, I don’t know what to make of Anchovy. On the one hand: I like his simple, bird-like color scheme. I like his square eyebrows... But his expression, his pupils so very, very tiny... Kinda weirds me out. Which, spoiler, is going to be a thing with the birds. Not good eyes, the birds. But once I started looking at other screenshots, with his beak a bit more closed, I came to like his look of mild surprise, in a sort of flickering fondness.

A decent bird, perfectly cromulent. 

I don’t know but it swings between 4-6/10

Flash

Oh man, look at this bird! It’s a crying shame he hasn’t returned since the gamecube days, what with his little swirly little hair-feather, sleepy rectangle eyes, and jaunty little hat, and a cute blue coloring. We are robbed of his revival, and I, for one, will weep for this little bird.

Blue Bird Lamentation / 10

Jacob

What is it with these birds and looking tremendously surprised by existence? Jacob is apparently sort of Brazil-inspired, which is an odd choice of country to make into a charmingly tropical bird, but alright. He and Pave can enjoy carnivale festivale together.

6 /10

Jacques

Look at this fantastic little hipster! He has a beard even if it’s absurd for a bird to have a beard! Blond eyebrows! The green beanie! If he’s come out before the existence of Smug, I’d say he’s a cute little lumberjack, but smug officially marks him as a proud resident of... Maybe Portland, but I’m thinking Seattle. Walks around in the rain, goes hiking in the woods on the weekends, sure, but during the week he goes to an independent coffee shop that does artisanal, free-trade coffee. He used to go to Starbucks, but then they got mainstream. Do hipsters of a certain type play the harmonica? Well, they do now because he is one and he does. Look me in the eyes and tell me I’m wrong. You can’t, can you? He’s so wonderfully a thing. Also, he’s got nice eyes, good, big pupils, and does a nice job tying his beanie color into the rest of his design. A good, good boy.

He would only accept a rating if it was ironic. I have no way of telling if my ratings are ironic or if they’ve looped back to being semi-sincere or if they’re just dumb gags and that’s not irony, you guys, so let the fact that he’s a serious contender for my New Horizons goals list be enough.

Jay

He’s really more of a swallow than a jay, looking at his coloring. Specifically, he’s got the red head and blue body and white underside of a Lesser Striped Swallow. So, now you know. That’s a plus for me, though not a super powerful one, and his eyes have that sort of strange staring quality I noted about Anchovy, but the eyebrows are less good. A rather run-of-the-mill bird.

He’s wearing a 6, however, so 6/10.

Jitters

Oh god that is unsettling. The dark-ringed eyes that are just the wrong sort of wide and staring... I feel like he’s seen Things. I don’t want him to show me Things. (What is funny is that I feel like, given the opportunity, I would probably loop back around and love his thousand-yard, sleepless, burnt-out stare. But I haven’t, so it creeps me out.)

Aaaaaaaaaaah! / 10

Joe

This bird is too small and dark for me to really see, but that might be a nice purple. Look, some villagers from the foggy shores of the past just cannot merit comment.

-/10

Lucha

I wonder why Nintendo keeps looking at luchadors and going “You know what this needs to be? A bird.” This is clearly Hawlucha’s little brother, and the effect could be more dramatic or detailed, but it does rather get the job done! 

Lucha Libre / 10

Madame Rosa

Well, well, well, a villager with a form of address in their name! How interesting! I like her face, what little of it we can see, and I think her color is appealing. She looks suitably fancy. Honestly, another villager it is a shame to lose.

Admiral Gets To Come Back And That’s Fine But Why Not Rosa? / Villagers Who Didn’t Get Amiibo Cards

Medli

So, here we are. The first of the Amiibo specials! This one is obviously meant to be Medli from Wind Waker, and as an emulation, she’s cute, but please, understand... It’s creepy when fur or feathers or something on an animal character goes for that fair-toned flesh look. The naked mole rat look, except not on a naked mole rat. It’s creepy when custom ponies do it, it’s very creepy when Animal Crossing villagers do it. Please stop.

No Seriously I think about this every time I wanna make a pony of a specific fictional character and then I shudder in deep distaste / Please For the Love of All That Is Good And Holy, Stop. Let Them Have Fur! Or feathers!

Midge

Awwwwwwwwwww! Midge is so cute! Look at those cute little swirls on her cheeks! Her precious little tadpole eyes! She’s a pretty, rosy sort of pink, too. I approve, even if honestly there is no rhyme or reason to her, she is just cute. 

(@ o’  v o’ @) / 10

Otis

Who is this guy, and what do I think about him? He looks... Like a bird. That covers that, I think.

-/10

Peck

Peck has a nice Java Sparrow look to him, though not entirely. The eyebrows are such a bright red that I don’t quite dig it, but I have to admit, he is a cute. Not my favorite vaguely Java-Sparrow-y person, though. That will always be Azami!

Drives Safely / 10

Piper

Man, Piper just does not have cute eyes, this image is a lie. She’s got half-circle eyes that make her look kind of bored. And given that she has so little detail, she really needed cute eyes to make me pleased.

3/10, an actual rating that isn’t just me giving a numerical shrug.

Robin

Robin’s pretty rockin’. I like the subtle blush, assuming that’s not a trick of this one screenshot. The little bit of blue “hair” up on his head ties together his tail and.  Shame his stomach’s not red all the way down. Commit, Animal Crossing designers! Commit! 

Rockin’ Robin: Tweet / Tweet Tweet 

Shoukichi

Oh man, it’s a little daruma doll bird! That’s so good! Look at him, he got his wish I guess! Not much else to say, save that I am sad no one has seen him again. I wish he’d come back one day.

One Eye / Two, for that unfilled wish.

Sparro

This is a pretty cute sparrow. You know what he could use? Bigger eyes. I feel the eyes have been an issue with the birds, and I intend to solve this puzzle. ...I think, considering my reactions, it is that they have big round bobble-heads, and so need a big eye to not look weird. Anyway, I appreciate the big dark rings, but not the weird little blush. He looks like he had a little beard, also good.

W(hy is there a missing W?) / Z

Twiggy

Twiggy sure is. The blue on the cheeks and the tail is nicely tied, and I like the very dark stripes on the legs. I have no particular other feeling, but these are good eyes.

5/10, the rating that is me giving a numerical shrug.

Twirp

Oh, I see Nintendo once considered the matter of bird eyes. And making their pupils ginormous. I see. Hm. Well, I guess I do like it better That said, I have no idea what is going on with this creature. Is it meant to evoke a shaved head? Is this creature naked? He looks very naked. Look, just. I respect your saying farewell to me, Twirp. Goodbye.

??????? / 10

The birds have some fun motifs, and we’re seeing a lot of realistic-ish birds, which is fun, but I think we’ll definitely have more enthusiasm-inducing species. Not new time, though. Next time is cows and bulls, and my expectations are low.

[gaycrouton]

Devotion

Words of Love 4/27

Devotion: (noun) love, loyalty, or enthusiasm for a person, activity, or cause. [Mulder was nothing, if not devoted to his partner...which was probably why he was carrying her drunken, sleeping body right now]

Mulder never hid from the facts, even if they framed him in a less than favorable light. He was well-aware of the fact he was a man driven by obsession. For as long as he could remember, he could never just casually like something; he would become wholeheartedly devoted .

In the years prior to Samantha’s abduction, he spent his days in fanboy splendor. Each week when a new Star Trek episode came on, he would sit in front of the screen, absolutely enamored with the lavish fantasies of galaxies undiscovered. He would methodically spend the days between episodes rewriting the one he just saw. Exploring everything from the dynamics of the crew to the cultures of the creatures. He could still remember the Spock costume he spent hours creating, wearing it beyond what was deemed appropriate.

He was able to multitask though, just as many hours spent in the fantasy world, he spent an equal amount grossing over the recent baseball scores. From the major league to the local junior league, he was absolutely captivated with the performances and would spend hours recreating the games in his mind, only using the score sheet as a guide.

However, after Samantha’s abduction, his obsession moved onto finding her, and finding out what happened, almost exclusively. He knew it wasn’t healthy, but it was all he could focus on. Well, it was all he used to be able to focus on. It was an irony he was having a hard time grasping. His most recent point of focus, constantly at the forefront of his mind, was the one thing helping him to become less obsessive and compulsive. He was finally able to look at the world through more than a cryptic lens. Is this a new obsession, or is this what love is? Regardless, all he knew was that he was hopelessly devoted to Dana Katherine Scully.

The petite powerhouse came into his life six years ago and he has never been the same. Whenever he thought about the man he was before meeting her, he couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed in himself. He wouldn’t take back a moment he spent searching for Samantha, regardless of how much he had lost, because inevitably it was what led him to Scully, but his life had been so monotonous. He had been living solely for the purpose of chasing, what he now felt to be, a ghost.

He didn’t know when his life’s purpose switched from sulking in the past into investing in the future, but he knew Scully was at the heart of the change. He thinks it was when he first saw her cry after he pulled the trigger during the Modell incident. It dawned on him that, for what seemed like the first time, someone would truly be upset if he died. He didn’t mean to sound morose. He knew the Lone Gunmen and maybe even Skinner would be sad, but Scully’s life would change. She would be devastated. Since then, when he wakes up in the morning, he wants to be a better man for her. God, that sounds so cheesy.

He would do absolutely anything for her; which is probably why he was carrying a completely inebriated Scully to her apartment right now.

Scully asking him for a favor was rare. In fact, aside from this singular instance, he didn’t know if it had ever happened before. When she initially asked him, he couldn’t hide his amusement at how flustered she was about it. Her friend was getting married, and she needed a date.

“Are you asking me to go with you?” Her gaze in response to him screamed ‘tease me and you die.’

“If you aren’t busy, I would really appreciate you accompanying me.” She was trying to hide the fact she was asking him on a date under a veil of professionalism. The only signal she was nervous was the blush she couldn’t shake off her cheeks.

Deciding not to make her recant her request by teasing too much, he readily agreed, “I’d love too.” She gave him a 100 watt Scully-smile and he felt his heart hammer in his chest.

She gave Mulder the time and instructions and he spent the rest of the week fantasizing about their impending date. He knew it was a date in the platonic sense of the word, but it didn’t stop the pride that welled up in his chest every time he remembered she chose him. Scully was a very beautiful woman. He had been present to witness men flirting with her more times than we was comfortable with. He knew it would be so easy for her to ask anyone she wanted, but she wanted to spend the occasion with him.

For the first time in longer than he could remember, he fussed over his appearance. He wanted to make the most of this occasion, and he didn’t want her to regret asking him. Mulder didn’t think he was ugly by any means, he knew he was at least average and his suits were always nice and presentable, but now knowing he was about to pick up Scully, he could only focus on the crease that wouldn’t even out on his shirt and the pronounced nose that had been a grievance to him since puberty. He sighed, figuring this was the best it was going to get, and left to go pick up Scully.

When she opened the door, he was positive this had to be an elaborate plan to get him into an early grave. Mulder was not well versed in the terminologies of women’s fashion. She was wearing, what he could best explain to be, a very sexy sundress. It was a dark emerald, beautifully contrasting her hair while simultaneously highlighting her eyes. The dress plunged down her breastbone and it was near backless. The simple straps over her shoulders became an elaborate criss-cross pattern on her back, going so far down it revealed her tattoo.

Her hair was in a similar style to what she wore to work, the only difference being that she allowed her natural curls to be present instead of straightening them out. She was absolutely radiant and it made Mulder want to cry.

They spent the ceremony in comfortable companionship. Though with the added benefit of her occasional touches and hushed whispers. He was glad to know that she knew just about as many people here as he did. It was a dear friend’s wedding, but a dear friend she hadn’t seen in over a decade. So she used him to pass the time in between events. Asking him different odds and ends questions as he returned the same to her. He realized it was humorous halfway through; they could describe how each other’s moods would shift after x-amount of time in a car, how much energy one cup of coffee could provide the other, provide a detailed list of each other’s medical histories, but they didn’t know any of the basics.

While they were sitting in the pews, waiting for the bride and company to get to the chapel and for the wedding march to organize, they took turns asking each other things they didn’t know. Mulder reveled every minute of it, cherishing the new facts he learned like he cherished those baseball scores all those years ago.

Her favorite season was autumn because she loves watching the trees change colors and hearing the leaves crunch beneath her feet. She has an eclectic taste in music, but if she had to choose, her favorites would be Tori Amos and Radiohead. When she was young, she had an irrational fear of clowns. One of his favorite new tidbits of information was that when she was fifteen, Scully let a friend pierce her belly button. She was able to hide it for a year, but when her dad found out, he made her take it out. She’s always wanted to get it redone. Mulder couldn’t shake his amusement at the thought of a rebellious, teenage Scully.

He listened to her words in complete rapture as if she was reciting scripture. Each new anecdote helped him understand his enigma of a partner. He offered answers to her questions too, not wanting to be unfair, and he was flattered to see her equally as interested. It was during the reception when she took him by surprise.

He wouldn’t say Scully never drank, he definitely had seen her indulge in a glass of wine or two in the past, but never had he seen her drink to the point of slurring and stumbling. Retrospectively, it was kind of his fault. She had teased him that she could drink him under the table any day. He insisted that, even though he never drank, his body mass compared to her petite frame would make it easy for him to beat her in a drinking contest. As she sat the first pair of shots down in front of them, she reminded him she was Irish, and the rest was history.

He had to admit, the woman could drink. Every time he flicked his head back and let the amber liquid poor down his throat, it took every fiber of his pride to keep from visually wincing. She, on the other hand, took each shot like a champ, displaying no discomfort whatsoever. Initially the only sign she actually took the shot was the flush that spread across her chest.

After the sixth shot he was feeling pretty buzzed, when he turned to tell her so, he saw she was resting her head on a bended arm, giving him a lazy smile.

“I think I’m ready to concede Scully, I don’t want to let myself get too forgone.”

“I toldja I’d w-win,” she gloated, adorable hiccups breaking apart her slurs.

Mulder felt a grin spread across his face when he realized his normally-reserved Scully was absolutely drunk.

“I may have conceded, but if we evaluate who the drunker is here, I believe that would be you my dear,” he mused, earning him a girlish giggle.

“Whatever you s-say Muldy.” She raise herself from her slouch and moved to rest a hand on top of one of his own. “Muldy, will you dan-ce with me. Just this once? Pleeeassee,” she drew out the last word and jutted her bottom lip out in a pout.

He laughed at his new nickname and couldn’t say no to that face. He grasped the hand that had been clutching onto his and prompted her to stand with him. As soon as she stood up, he was supporting most of her weight. Her head rested on his chest and she swayed on unsteady feet.

“I’m not sure if dancing is in your ability range at the moment,” he laughed, relishing in the normally forbidden contact.

“That’s-s okay. We can jus’ rhythmically hug. I like this,” she disentangled her hand from his and hugged him around the middle, grinning into his torso.

“Rhythmically hug?” He laughed, but didn’t put up any resistance. He crossed his arms on her shoulder blades and rested his cheek on the crown of her head. He was enjoying the swaying even though he wasn’t sure whether it was the ‘rhythmic’ part or the hug or if it was just impossible for her to stay still.

They stayed like that for a while until he felt her drooping more and more in his grasp. Taking a glance down to look at her face, he noticed she was starting to fall asleep.

“Scully?” He nudged.

“Hmmm?”

“Let’s go outside, I’ll get us a cab so I can take you home.”

“Okie dokie Muldy.”

Now, here he was carrying a very inebriated Scully, bridal style, up to her apartment. She was out like a light as soon as they got into the cab, and it took some skill and balance to get her out without waking her up. Mulder had to admit, of all the times he’s imagined a scenario like this, she wasn’t a limp sack of potatoes in his arms. And he wasn’t taking her to bed for sleep.

It took a bit longer than usual, but he was able to unlock the apartment door, pull back the covers, remove her heels, and tuck her into bed. He didn’t know if she’d be mad that she slept in her dress, but he wasn’t going to violate her privacy by changing her.

“Goodnight, Scully,” he whispered after pressing his lips to her forehead in a gentle kiss.

As he turned to leave, he felt a small hand reach out and grab onto his fingers. Turning around he met her gaze through sleep-hung lids.

“I love you,” she sighed with a smile.

His heart jumped to his throat and he brushed some stray hair behind her ear. “I love you too Scully, and I always will.”

He left the room with a final smile that took hours to leave his face.

He couldn’t help it. When it can to Scully, he would be eternally devoted.

[kidolegend]

Renewals - A Prompto Argentum Fic (Part 10)

Previous | AO3

Heyo!! We’ve reached the big 1-0 and the end of the introduction!! To all the readers, thank you so much for sticking with me through the start of this journey and here’s to the story taking off into the sunset!!

Any reblogs, comments, moral support, constructive criticism, or just some hellos are always appreciated~

Tagging: @cupnoodle-queen @blindbae @paopuicecream @xnoctits@themissimmortal@poisonous-panda @noxfreyas @insomniascure@thegoddesseos @crossedquills @sailormars109@valkyrieofardyn@ultimoogle @drpepper280 @decision-height @lithiumkatana17 @roses-and-oceans @@thirsty-angst-lord @e-addi

Introductions and Familiar Faces

Cleaning and mending Aylin’s wounds in the safety of Hammerhead was a much neater ordeal than the botched, messy cleanup Prompto had struggled through. Once Aranea--who naturally had some medical training as head of her mercenary troop--and Ignis had ensured that no other shards of metal had broken off inside the young woman’s wound, they were able to close it with a couple of potions and elixirs.

“Can’t go sealing up bullets or metal under the skin--it’s impossible to get out after.”

“Indeed. The same applies to broken bones--unless it is done shortly after the fracture or break, the injury needs to set properly before curatives can be used, or the magic will heal it incorrectly.”

Prompto nodded as he watched them work, still consumed with guilt for allowing Aylin to get hurt under his watch. “Kinda like that time Noct dislocated his knee and you wouldn’t let him use an elixir on it, right Iggy?”

“Yes, and it was quite an effort to restrain him from doing so. Although, the prospect of having to re-break and set it properly may have been a good enough deterrent, as he did not complain so much once I had explained it to him.”

“Hah, I’ll bet pretty boy really liked that.” Aranea sat back as Ignis applied the final elixir, reaching for the damp towel Prompto was wringing out and cleaning her hands. “Well, we did what we could. She’ll be all right.”

“Yes, it will be a couple of days before she will be well enough to fight again, but… She is alive.”

“Phew,” Prompto hadn’t realized how tense he had been until his muscles loosened up. “Thanks guys…”

“Of course.” Ignis dipped his head once.

“But there’s something I wanna know, Prompto.” Gladio spoke up from his chair across the room. He had been watching the entire ordeal quietly, only looking up from his book if a new pitcher of hot water or other supplies were needed.

“Yeah?”

“How’d you two end up fighting together?”

“O-oh. Well…” The blonde scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “Geez, where do I begin…?”

Aylin didn’t wake up for several more hours. By then, Ignis and Gladio had retired to the room next door--Takka had been generous enough to lend the group use of the restaurant for the night--leaving Prompto to watch over the young woman as she rested.

The gunner had almost dozed off by the time Aylin woke up, her expression scrunching up in pain. “Aaah!!” She couldn’t stop the piercing cry that left her mouth as she attempted to sit up and failed spectacularly.

Prompto leapt to his feet, startled into alertness. “W-what? A-Aylin, you’re awake!”

She looked over her injuries and spotted the shrapnel that had been cleaned off and set off to the side of her bed, putting two and two together as she groaned in pain. A steady stream of curses left her mouth and she gritted her teeth.  "Are you feeling okay?" Prompto knew the question was stupid, but he had to ask anyways. "Well, to tell you the truth i feel like i just had a giant chunk of metal yanked out of my side,” Her voice was dry, but the look she gave him was good-natured. “But otherwise I’m faaantastic."  He didn’t take the joke as well as she thought he would. "Damn… I’m so sorry. I should have warned you, I knew it was going to happen but I got distracted and was stupid--”  Aylin raised her hands, regretting the motion as it sent another jab of pain through her abdomen. "Don't beat yourself up too much... I wasn't walking into that completely ignorant. I had seen the armors self-destruct before but was just as careless as you. No one's really at fault here."

A knock interrupted their conversation and Gladio stuck his head in.

“We heard a yell and came to check in.” He walked in once Prompto waved him over, followed closely by Ignis. “How’re you feeling?”

Aylin regarded the two men with wide eyes, intimidated by their sudden appearance. She glanced over a Prompto and after noticing he was completely at ease with them, relaxed. “I...I’ve been better.” She replied honestly.

Gladio huffed out a laugh and Ignis’ lips quirked up into a small smile. She blinked at them for another moment before speaking again.

"Sooo… Gladiolus Amicitia and Ignis Scientia, right?"

The two men looked surprised and Gladio shot an exasperated glance at Prompto. "Wow, how much of our life stories has Prompto blabbed about already?"

"H-hey," Prompto gave a small noise of protest, but Aylin chuckled.  "Not Prompto, actually. The Marshall, Cor the Immortal. He told all the hunters to keep an eye and ear out for your names... And warned less experienced hunters to steer clear since some pretty serious dangers tend to follow you guys around."  They all exchanged bemused looks. "Well, he's definitely not wrong about that."  "Indeed... We are a rather inconspicuous lot, given that detail."  "He also told the veteran or higher-tier hunters that keeping an eye on you all or even lending a helping hand might be valuable experience." Aylin continued.  "Hn, I'm guessing since you helped Prompto take out that military base, you're more from that group." Gladio remarked.  "Well, I'm definitely not an amateur, at least. But obviously" she gestured at the wound in her side. "I still have quite a ways to go before I can say I've truly honed my skill."  "Eh, mistakes happen." Aylin noticed Gladio's fingers skimming a scar that cut across his forehead as he brushed back his hair.  "Yes, even to those who are most prepared," Ignis had a rather tight-lipped smile on his face and the grip on his cane tightened.

Another knock signaled Aranea’s appearance. Aylin’s expression went from tense to flustered.

“M-Miss Highwind?!”

The silver-haired woman resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Just Aranea, kid. Don’t make me sound older than I am.” She gave a small sigh, her tone softening. “One of the guys told me about Levant… Sorry to hear it.”

Aylin was taken aback and she ducked her head a little. “O-oh. I… Thanks.”

There was no indication of further dialogue that would come from the younger girl, so Aranea bit back another sigh and spoke up again. “Your brother would’ve been proud of you, y’know.”

Aylin looked back up at her, eyes shining and cheeks bright red. “You think so?”

“Hell yeah. Kicking Niff ass and helping the Prince’s best friend? He’s probably jealous of you, if anything.”

Aylin gave a small laugh, holding her injured side. “I guess he would be.”

After the group exchanged more pleasantries and Ignis checked Aylin’s wounds again, everyone left for their respective rooms.

Prompto lingered behind a bit, waving Ignis and Gladio off and promising he’d be following them shortly. “So, are you sure you’re okay?”

Aylin had settled back down to rest. Her expression was tired, but her voice was carefully even. “I’m doing better.” She gave him a look. “...You’re not still blaming yourself, are you?”

The blond’s face flushed. “Ah… you got me.”

She rolled her eyes. “I already told you not to worry about it. It was just a stroke of bad luck, nothing new for me.”

Prompto nodded, unconvinced. “A-anyways… It was fun, fighting with you as my ally.”

A tiny smile appeared on Aylin’s face. “Thanks. I… I haven’t really gone on any hunts with people since Lev… But it was pretty nice.”

“I guess you can say we made a good team, right?” Prompto turned to face her and gave her a quick wink and pointed his fingers in what he believed would be a suave manner.

She burst out laughing, grimacing at the sharp stabbing pain in her side but still grinning at Prompto’s corniness nonetheless. “I guess we do.”

“Ahaha… Well, get some shut eye, m’kay?”

“I will, and Prompto?”

“Hm?”

“Thanks for looking out for me.” Aylin gave him a smile.

The blonde found himself blushing in spite of himself and he rubbed the back of his neck. “I… Sure thing. G’night.”