#the line with the freckles surprised me so much and punched me in the feels but it's my fave

[elvenbeard]

20677

“What happened in 2067?” Kerry asked.

“Hm?”

V, still somewhat zoned out, needed a moment to register fully what he had said. It was oddly quiet in his apartment, as if the city hadn’t fully awoken yet either. Nibbles dozed on her favorite pillow on the sofa and the sun was shining, dust swirling in the light. Everything seemed strangely peaceful, normal even… as if there was anything normal about having Kerry-fucking-Eurodyne casually lounge in his bed after an emotional rollercoaster of a day and night yesterday. Yet, with all that had happened over the past two months, V grasped at every semblance of "normal" he could.

“I mean… don’t have to tell if ya don’t wanna,” Kerry added, sitting up properly now, and moving to join him at the edge of the bed, “Was just curious.”

He had every right to be… V had grown so used to being silent about his past, his private life, that it had become quite hard to open up when prompted. Even with people he felt safe around. To a degree, his silence felt unfair towards Kerry, whose life had been on public display for decades – more or less accurately depicted. He literally carried his past on his sleeve, but even if he didn’t, by Johnny’s presence alone V already seemed to know so much more about Kerry than the other way around.

Kerry trailed a finger or two down V’s spine, making him shiver in a pleasant way. A caress of something he had almost forgotten about, at least for a moment taking his mind off his uncertain future. Reminding him of where he once had been and how far he’d come, who he had become since then.

“Ah, the tattoo…” he realized.

“Guess you can put two and two together ‘bout mine,” Kerry said with a sad smile, looking to the floor for a moment, “2023… hell of a year.”

“Pah, he can talk,” Johnny scoffed somewhere in the back of his mind, but V decided to not humor him right now. Honestly, he doubted Johnny really meant what he said half of the time. They weren’t so different after all, in that regard at least: hiding their hurt behind sarcasm and snark…

This thought alone made V want to spill his entire life’s story right then and there. But no matter how much he wanted to do it just to prove Johnny wrong, spite wasn’t strong enough a weapon to break down the walls he’d built up around himself. As much as he’d set himself free in 2067, it had somehow also marked the beginning of a downhill race – sure, with a few peaks in-between, but the overall trend hadn’t been that positive in hindsight. There was little glory in his past, and he dreaded the moment he’d have to come clean about his time with Arasaka. Not in the sense that he regretted having worked there, he still didn’t and probably never would… but not being sure at all about how Kerry would take it.

As if he could hear his thoughts, Kerry looked back up at him, almost expectantly, but V still didn’t know where to begin, or what he was even ready to share.

“Could say 2067 for me was what 2023 was for you, in a way,” he decided to say, lame as it was as a reply, “Something ended, and something new began.”

Deep down he knew Kerry would understand. You didn’t get a year and wings tattooed across your whole back if it didn’t hold significant meaning, usually even in a painful way. Yet all that had happened then seemed so minor and unimportant to what was happening to him now… If he made it out of it alive, he’d have to get the six covered up with a seven.

He realized he’d been quietly staring at his own intertwined hands for a little too long now, abruptly turning to look Kerry in the eyes again. The thin golden rim around his gorgeous, piercing blue irises gleamed in the morning sunlight and the sight took V’s breath away for a moment.

“As I said, no need to tell right now. Or ever,” Kerry repeated softly, lips then curling into a cheeky grin, “Like me a man with secrets. Somethin’ to look forward to unravelling further down the line.”

V’s heart first jumped then sunk at that notion.

“Kerry…” he hesitated, voice barely more than a murmur. Then he sighed.

“In 2067… Felt like I was at a point of no return then. I thought I’d never be as scared and lost again as I was that year. But now…”

He hesitated for a moment.

“Ironically what scares me the most is knowing exactly what I’ll have to do next. My path is clear, seems to be set in stone, I didn't have that certainty back then… but at the same time it’s like I’m ‘bout to walk straight off a cliff.”

Kerry looked him in the eyes intensely, and V wanted to believe he recognized understanding and sympathy in his expression.

“I’m not gonna say I understand even half of whatcha goin’ through right now,” Kerry said and scooched a little bit closer, their hips and thighs touching now, his arm around V’s back. Kerry sighed, and his face was so close to V’s, his breath brushed past his cheek and neck and chest. Had he wanted to, he could have counted all his freckles, reminding him so much of the stars in the night sky he’d always been so desperately looking for as a kid.

“You asked me yesterday if I was sure about this. Us,” Kerry said quietly, “Knowin’ what’s potentially gonna come.”

V’s heart was beating so hard, so fast, as if it wanted to climb out of his throat.

“Yeah,” he said, voice cracking slightly, grasping at his own fingers even more tightly now, shoulders tense. Then Kerry pulled him closer, just a tiny bit, less than an inch really… but it was still somewhat startling and unexpected. Kerry wasn’t shy about touch, that much was clear, and V was still somewhat overwhelmed by it now and then. But this now was different, subtle, soft… and he liked it a lot.

He looked back up at him.

“Still no doubts,” Kerry then said, gently and firmly at the same time. V was frozen in shock for a moment, but the warmth of Kerry’s smile started to melt his tenseness away, little by little.

“Thing is… ya never know what’s gonna come. Sometimes you just gotta take the leap and hope for the best. Take all chances you can, cause life’s only gonna throw so many at ya.”

He had a point. All he could really do was continue moving forward. No matter how much he wanted to put off the inevitable, it would arrive sooner or later.

Kerry tilted his head slightly and smiled, and V couldn't help but do the same, heart beating hard and fast again. Fuck... it was way too soon to say "I love you", but in this moment he was certain that this was exactly what he was feeling. He hadn't fallen so hard and so fast for someone in a while, hadn't even thought he'd ever be capable of it again.

"Guess the odds of us ever meeting and ending up here were pretty slim, too," he then said instead.

"Nothin's impossible if you set your mind on it. You've shown me as much, and I'll keep it in mind for sure..." Kerry smiled as he leaned in to capture V’s lips in a soft, warm kiss, his hand reaching out to hold V's, the sun embracing them.

Maybe it was worth risking it all, if on the other side of the abyss waited a future with more of this. And even if not… V was certain, whatever time he had left, he wanted to spend it at Kerry’s side.

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

valentine

pairing: steve harrington x reader

WC: 1.9K

warnings: cursing, some suggestive stuff, a little nightmare sequence that involves punching and blood mentions. should be it!

summary: you blinked and suddenly, you had a valentine. ❤️

A/N: a late v-day post, i guess. inspired by the lovely Laufey song. much love to @alecmores for proofreading 💗💗💗

it cut off some of the ending when read on mobile 😒 but it’s looking completely fine on computer. just an fyi

masterlist

I’ve rejected affection for years and years. Now I have it and damn it, it’s kind of weird.

Out of your twenty-one years of living on this planet, this is the first year you have a relationship and it’s simultaneously the greatest feeling in the world while also making you want to run away. But you can’t find it in yourself to run, not from him.

Steve. Steve Harrington is your boyfriend. 

You feel like you need to pinch yourself every time he looks your way and throws a smile meant for you, or feel the furnace heat of his fingers grasping your hips before pulling you into a kiss, sweet or searing.

He tells me I’m pretty.

The two of you are just laying in his bed on a lazy saturday morning, with no hurry to be anywhere, facing each other as you practically share his pillow causing your noses to bump with a simple shift. The blanket covers both of you from the waist down, your top half open to the slight chill dancing through the room.

Steve's shirtless and you're wearing an oversized shirt you found at a garage sale, one that goes to rest at the top of your thighs, but right now it’s bunched up high, allowing Steve to toy with the elastic of your underwear and drag his knuckles over your exposed waist. Legs tangled together, your cold feet pushing into Steve’s calf causing a gasp of shock from the boy which pulled a heartfelt giggle from your lips.

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” A hand instantly moves to tuck loose strands behind your ear.

You don’t say anything, you can’t. Not when he’s looking at you like that. Soft eyes that twinkle, an easy smile that displays his stunning smile lines, his freckles, and moles that mark his face and body that you smother with thousands of kisses when given the opportunity. How his bed head of hair is curled and twisted this way and that, the ends tucking and touching his ear lobe and neck or even his jaw.

You don’t know how to respond to the sudden compliment, you haven’t received much in your years. So as you memorize him, you instantly say the words back to him, in your own way, of course.

“You’re quite pretty yourself, Steve Harrington. Very nice on the eyes.” A finger trailed his nose and down to his jaw.

A deep rumble from his chest filled you with a warmth that pushed away the February chill. You weren’t sure if you should’ve called him that. Most guys don’t like the word "pretty" being used when complimenting them, most like strong or handsome, pretty to them seems weak when it isn’t towards a girl. But when you looked at Steve he was all those to you, but pretty will be the one to always come to mind when you look at him, especially in moments like these. Intimate and away from prying eyes.

With every passing moment, I surprise myself.

You’re usually scared of guys, whether it be in a general sense or a relationship kinda sense. You’ve been on dates, didn’t like the guy and stopped talking with him or you liked him and went on a few dates but those ended up fizzling out as well.

But Steve Harrington made you feel scared, but the good kind of scared. The roller coaster adrenaline scare, where you’re whooping and hollering at the top of your lungs. Clinging to the metal bars for dear life worried you’ll fly away, but they're holding you securely in their grasp.

Steve constantly made you smile and laugh, scream out of slight fear or extreme pleasure. He held you in firm hugs, his chin digging into your scalp as he slowly swayed your bodies. He made you feel safe and loved.

Loved. You’ve fallen in love with him after just a year. Now you were scared.

What if he’s the last one I kiss? What if he’s the only one I’ll ever miss? Maybe I should run, I’m only twenty-one.

You began to panic. There was no real reason to panic, but you're an overthinker, constantly making useless scenarios in your fast-paced mind, thinking the worst of peaceful times. It’s a terrible flaw, but one you can’t push away no matter how much you try.

‘What if he gets bored of me? What if he thinks I’m clingy? What would he do if I told him I love him?’

Evil thoughts that would creep up in the time of silence.

You stared at nothing while you sat behind the counter at Family Video, body unconsciously swiveling the rolling chair from side to side. Steve and Robin are out on the floor putting away new releases and returning stock, their friendly banter becoming white noise to your ears as more corruptive thoughts came to mind and cramp every single space in your brain.

Your fingers pick at your nail beds, you don’t even feel the pricks of pain or feel the little trickles of blood pooling to the top. Only when you feel someone else’s hands pulling yours apart into their hold do you snap from your trance.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Steve's melodic voice rings in your ears.

“Huh?” Not too sure what he means.

His eyes are focused on your hands, pulling each finger in his eye line and then bringing a kiss to each nail. It made you flush at the sudden display of affection.

“I was calling for you,” another kiss, “and you didn’t answer so I came here,��� kiss, “and your eyes were just wide and you were picking at your nails. I thought you stopped that.”

‘Great now you disappointed him’ ‘Probably thinks you’re a liar’

You bit your bottom lip, “got lost in my thoughts. That’s all.” A shrug of your shoulders.

He still held your hands, fingers laced together and his thumb ran atop your knuckles. He was warm and comfortable, it pushed the negative thoughts away just a bit.

Then he crouched down, hands placed on your knees and head tilted to look up at you with your small bit of height. His head tilted and swayed, trying to find your eyes that you wanted to hide away from him, he could always find what was wrong in the end.

“Sweetheart,” he sighed, “I’m not gonna make you tell me what’s wrong, or I won’t act like a mind reader, cause I’m not-“ “Beg to differ on certain days.” You interrupted.

He breathed a laugh, “if you believe so. But I just want you to know you can talk to me if something is bothering you, especially if it’s about me. Cause I don’t want you to think the wrong thing.” He squeezed your knees.

You looked at Steve, held his eye contact, and said, “I really like you, Steve Harrington.” The closest thing to I love you right now.

He smiled wide, “I really like you too, sweetheart.”

I’ve lost all control of my heartbeat now.

He said the words. He said the words.

“I love you, (Y/n).”

It felt like all the air left your lungs and now you probably looked like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing. Trying to process everything that just happened while also trying to find the words for a proper response.

“(Y/n)? You okay?” He has a firm hold on your biceps.

Your own hands are also holding his biceps, eyes dancing across his face. You wanted to memorize this moment, the way he looked in the overhead lighting of the grocery store where you were buying snacks for a night in.

He just had to say the words that rocked your heart in the freaking grocery store!

“Sweetheart, say something, please. You’re scaring me a bit,” a chuckle but you knew he was concerned.

“Uh,” you blinked a few times, “really caught me off guard with that.”

The both of you chuckled, you from the absurdity of the moment and Steve from your comment. But it felt so perfect, a special moment to remember for the future.

When I hear I love you, now I’ve got someone to lose.

You tried fighting back, you desperately tried with all the strength you could muster into your bones. You yanked hard against the metal cuffs, the skin on your wrist starting to sting from the breakage. You tried kicking with your legs, but it was no use, you weren’t close enough to hit anything or anyone.

You could only stare and scream as you thrash. Watching helplessly as the soldier beats Steve down with his knuckles. How his skin breaks and bleeds, the loud cracks of his nose breaking causing blood to spill from his nostrils.

“Stop! Stop! Please! We’re telling the truth!” You tried to plead with them.

They just laughed and continued the harassment. Steve always being the hero, making sure they don’t lay a finger on you, causing him to be the center of their attention and attacks.

When the soldier got tired from throwing punches, he gripped Steve’s neck tight. You could slowly see the blood leaving his face, the air not making its way to his brain. His feet scrambled against the floor to find some purchase.

In what seemed to be his final moments, he looks at you.

“Steve!” You cried as you blotted upward from the bed.

Your chest heaved with heavy breaths and sweat formed at your temple while your back and chest were sticky with perspiration. A hand touched your chest to feel your heart as you pushed sticky strands from your face.

‘Just a nightmare’ ‘It was just a terrible nightmare’

“(Y/n)?” A scratchy voice was heard through the darkness of the bedroom.

“Steve, sorry.”

You felt him sit up, his hand rubbing circles to your back along your sleep shirt. He laid his head on your shoulder and placed his free appendage on your thigh.

“Was it a nightmare? Cause usually if it's dreams, there’s a different way we go about things.” He tried for a laugh and you gave him one. “There we go,” he sighed.

“Can you just hold me?” You whispered. An unspoken ‘I love you’

“Always, sweetheart.” ‘I love you too’

The first one to ever like me back. I’m seconds away from a heart attack.

“You know you are my first boyfriend, like ever.” You randomly blurt one day in Steve’s kitchen.

“No way, I find that hard to believe.” He called over his shoulder as he worked on breakfast.

“Oh!” You hop onto his counters, “and what makes you think that? Do enlighten me.”

He didn’t say anything quickly, so just as you were about to say something, he spoke up, “because you’re… you. Anyone would be lucky to be with you.”

He said the words so easily like they were the most obvious answer to your question. He was trying to give you a heart attack with how sugary sweet he is.

“Like I can’t believe I get to call you mine. Every day I wake up and remember I’m dating you and it makes my day one hundred percent better already. And knowing I get to call you or see you throughout the day, it keeps me from going insane during the boring or terrible moments.”

You were speechless. Steve caused every word and thought to leave your mouth and brain, all you could say was, “I love you.”

I blinked and suddenly, I had a valentine.

[katyswrites]

ur robin smut was amazing 🫶🏼 could u do 13, 98 or 142 with her from the “150 random prompts” list? whichever one you feel more inclined to do works for me! or do all of them i wouldn’t complain 🫣 hahaha

Hi, anon! Sure thing! I was originally going to write a blurb, but this ended up being a whole oneshot, so I hope you enjoy!

Prompt 13: “If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to a bed.”

Prompt 142.: “Could he make you feel as good as I do?”

I Don't Want You Like a Best Friend

Pairing: Robin Buckley/afab!reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+), vaginal fingering (reader receiving), fluff, friends-to-lovers, reader has a bit of a sexuality crisis

Smut below the cut!

It had started simply, really. You were reeling from your fresh breakup, your boyfriend of a year doing it via phone call. He had decided that the girls at college were better, more interesting to him, and that he didn’t have time for his girlfriend stuck back in Hawkins for her senior year. Well, he hadn’t exactly put it that way, but… you weren’t stupid.

It’s been two weeks since then. You had gone through a range of emotion - devastating sadness, frustration, regret and blinding anger. The pain is less raw now, and you’re pissed, more than anything. Still, it’s a welcome surprise when Robin calls you up and invites you over for a movie night - somehow, she always knows exactly what you need.

Robin’s parents aren’t home, and she’s brandishing a tape of Labyrinth, freshly-arrived at Family Video. It’s sold-out nearly everywhere, but she had set it aside for you.

“Perks of the job,” she says, popping it in the VHS player and passing you the bowl of stovetop popcorn.

You sit for a while and just watch the movie, making jokes and commentary throughout. Robin doesn’t bring up the breakup - you both know that it’s why she’s invited you over, to take your mind off of it. 

“God,” you groan. “How much do you think they paid Bowie to dance with puppets like this?”

Robin laughs, the kind of laugh that has her snorting and gasping a little. It’s not even that funny, but she’s acting like she’s just heard the best joke in the world. You look over at her, the way her eyes crinkle and her face turns red, warming the freckles that dot her skin. And, for a moment, your heart aches with how bad you want to reach over and brush her hair out of her eyes, and hold her face in your hands.

You shake the feeling quickly, and push it down. You’re vulnerable, and reeling, and Robin’s your best friend… you can’t cross that line, not now. Besides, she likes Vickie, and you know that.

You turn your attention back to the TV, and focus intensely on the movie, taking in David Bowie and Jennifer Connelly as they ballroom dance. Soon, though, the credits are rolling, and Robin’s gotten up to rewind the tape. 

“So,” she says, flopping back down on the couch next to you, “What now? Wanna watch something else? Or, we can break into my mom’s liquor cabinet, if you’re feeling frisky.”

You grin. “Hm - I like that second option.”

*****

Soon, you’re splitting a bottle of vodka, mixed with some fruit punch Robin unearthed from the back of the fridge, and you’re feeling warm and light. Robin’s turned on the radio, Madonna’s voice floating through the crackly speakers as you melt into the couch. For a moment, it’s easy to forget about everything, and to just be here, with her. After a while, you feel Robin’s gaze on you, and you flop your head over to look at her. Her face is soft, and sympathetic, and you sigh.

“What is it, Robs?”

“Nothing! Just - you’re doing okay, right?”

You take a deep breath, and stare up at the ceiling. 

“I mean - I guess. I’m definitely doing better, at least, better than a couple weeks ago. I’m just pissed. I mean, I wasted so much time with him.”

“Yeah,” Robin says, scooting a bit closer. “I mean, I always thought you were way to good for him. I never really liked that guy.”

You look over at her, furrowing your brow.

“Wait, actually? And you never said anything?”

Robin sighs, pressing her palm to her forehead.

“Well - yeah! I mean, you really seemed into him, so - what was I supposed to do? I mean, would you tell me if I was dating a girl you didn’t particularly like?”

You sigh, and cross your arms. “No, probably not. I mean, not if you seemed to really like her.”

Then, you raise your eyebrows suggestively, and look over at her.

“Speaking of girls you like - anything going on with Vickie?”

Robin’s face falters a bit, and she shakes her head. 

“Um - no, not really. I mean, we chat at band practice, and stuff, but… I don’t know.”

You furrow your brow, confused. “You don’t know what?”

Robin shifts, tucking her legs underneath her on the couch and fully facing you.

“I mean - Vickie’s cool. And, I like her. But, not as much as I thought I did. I mean… I think I maybe like someone else, and that’s the real stuff.”

Your stomach lurches, and you shove it down - you’re not the jealous type, you can’t be. So instead, you force a smile, and lean casually against the back of the couch.

“Oh, yeah? Who?”

Robin looks at you for a moment, something unreadable passing her features. Then, she scooches a bit closer to you, enough that you can count her constellations of freckles, her blue eyes soft and sincere.

“Hey - if I ask you something, can you promise not to get weird?”

You nod, not risking saying anything. The alcohol makes your brain feel a bit fuzzy, your face flushed and warm. Then, Robin whispers something softly, delicately.

“Have you - have you ever thought about kissing a girl?” 

Your breath catches in your throat, a hot rush to your face - you’re almost positive you’re beet-red.

“I - um - what?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just - have you?”

You don’t know what possesses you - maybe it’s the alcohol, or the mourning of lost time, or the acute awareness of how close Robin’s face is to yours, doe-eyed and beautiful. But, aloud, you say something you’ve never even admitted to yourself.

“Yes,” you breathe. Then, without thinking, you’re closing the remaining distance between you two, and you press your lips to hers. She lets out a squeak of surprise, but doesn’t pull back. For a moment you’re terrified, and unable to believe this is happening, because you’re kissing your best friend and - of God, she’s kissing you back.

She tastes like cheap liquor and cherry Chapstick, her mouth moving with yours as you breath her in - lilies, sandalwood, and mint, and so Robin. All at once it’s scary, and amazing, and strangely familiar. You aren’t thinking about anything else, just how right this feels, even if it’s actually wrong. Your brain is short-circuiting, your skin is on fire. You suddenly understand what people mean by sparks, and they’re firing off in your head, unable to think anything besides yes. 

You open your mouth a bit, allowing Robin’s tongue to enter, exploring your mouth as you let out a small moan. You bring your hands to her hair, grasping the back of her head as she melts into you. She lets out a groan of approval, and you’re letting her take the lead, easing you back on the couch to lay underneath her.

Then, you’re both pulling away, gasping for breath. She’s hanging over you, and you both stare at each other wordlessly for a moment. You’re both breathing rapidly, hearts thumping, lips swollen and glossy. Robin speaks first.

“I - um, I just -”

“Shut up,” you breathe, and you’re pulling her down to you, kissing her deep and hard. She holds herself up, swinging one leg so that she’s straddling you. It’s getting messier, all gnashing teeth and tongue, your kisses becoming more desperate. Is this what you’ve been missing, this whole time?

Then, your fingers are toying with the hem of her t-shirt, lightly brushing the soft skin of her navel. You sit yourself up a bit, pushing her into an upright position, and she’s pulling it over her head. You stare at her, taking in the rapid rise and fall of her chest under her black bra, and it finally occurs to you that this is happening. Part of you thinks you might return to your senses, decide to not go any further, but it doesn’t happen - instead, you want more.

“Wow,” you gasp, taking her in. 

She smirks. “If you keep looking at me like that, we won’t make it to a bed.”

You smile devilishly in return. “Who says we have to?”

Then, she’s on you again, pressing you into the couch and kissing you hungrily. You gasp into her mouth, her lips soft and perfect, exactly how you’d imagined.

Then, she’s tugging at your shirt, and it’s being pulled over your head, flung to the other side of the room.

“Everything - ah, fuck - everything, off,” she breathes, fiddling with the button of your jeans. You help her and shimmy them down your legs, kicking them off the edge of the couch. She sits up, leaning back on her knees, and stares at you in absolute awe.

You suddenly feel shy, and cross your arms over your chest. “What is it?” you ask, avoiding her gaze.

“Nothing, it’s just,” she shakes her head incredulously, “you’re really beautiful, you know that?”

You blush at that, your heart fluttering and threatening to burst out of your chest - you can’t remember the last time someone called you beautiful, least of all him.

“You really mean that?” you ask, voice feeling small.

She nods, leaning over you again until her face is inches away.

“Yeah - I’ve always thought that.”

Then she’s kissing you again, deep and slow, and you sigh into her mouth. She moves from your lips to your neck, peppering kisses there and making her way down to your chest. Then, she looks up at you, eyes soft.

“Can I touch you?” she asks, her voice low.

Your stomach flutters, the warmth in your chest spreading further, lower.

“Yes,” you breathe. “Please.”

She grins, and presses another kiss to your chest, your neck, your lips, her hand traveling downwards. She brushes her fingers along the edge of your panties, toying with the elastic.

When her hand finally slips underneath the thin fabric, and she runs her finger along your slit, you gasp. 

“Jesus, you’re so wet,” she murmurs, completely in awe. She coats her fingers in your slit, touching you, but not exactly where you need her. Before you have a chance to beg, she brings her fingers to your clit, and you see stars.

You cry out, involuntarily bucking into her hand as she begins to rub slow circles on your clit. Your eyes flutter closed, and she toys with your cunt, spreading the lips and stroking.

“Oh, fuck,” you cry, voice shaky and strained.

“That feel good?” she asks, her voice sultry and low as she kisses your neck. You bite your lip and nod, unable to speak, unable to think anything besides how much you need her.

“Could he make you feel as good as I do?” she rasps. You shake your head,gasping for air as she speeds up her ministrations on your clit.

“Well, could he?”

“No! God - fuck - no, he couldn’t,” you gasp, writhing underneath her.

She smiles into your skin. “Good.”

Without warning, she sinks a finger inside of you. You moan, and as she curls it along that spot along your walls, your back arches, head thrown back in ecstasy.

“Oh, oh God,” you pant, grasping the back of Robin’s neck and pulling her impossibly closer to you.

“God’s not here, I’m afraid,” she whispers. Despite yourself, you roll your eyes. But before you can come up with a clever retort, she adds a second finger, and you lose all cognitive function.

She scissors her fingers, stretching you out, her thumb continuing on your clit. 

“You close? You gonna come for me?” she asks, reaching up with her other hand to start palming your breast.

“Yes - almost there - Robin, fuck, keep doing that -”

It’s too much, and not enough, and exactly what you’ve been needing. She pumps her fingers, once, twice, three times, and you’re done for. You let go, your orgasm washing over you like a tsunami. You scream, head lifting off of the pillow and pressing into her shoulder. You clench around her fingers, convulsing as she continues to circle your clit, slowing down as you ride out your high.

“That’s it - there you go, that’s perfect,” she croons, soothingly stroking your hair as you come down.

Then, you’re flopping back, heart pounding, panting heavily. She withdraws her fingers, and you look down, the sight of her hand coated in your juices making your head spin.

Did that really just happen? As you stare into Robin’s wide eyes hovering over yours, you come back to reality - the reality where you just had the best orgasm or your life on your best friend’s fingers, that is.

Neither of you say anything for a moment, matching each other’s slowing breathing as you assess the situation. You decide to break the silence.

“That - that was -”

“Yeah,” Robin says, sitting back up on her knees. “Um - is this the part where we talk about it?”

You look at her, as if you’re seeing her for the very first time. Maybe it’s the afterglow, or the fact that things make sense for what might be the first time in your life, or the fact that her lips look so kissable. But, you shake your head, and shakily bring yourself to a sitting position, pulling yourself closer to her.

“No,” you whisper, bringing your face close to hers, brushing your noses. “Now is the part where you show me how I can make you feel that good.” A smile spreads on her face, warm and big until she’s positively beaming. Then, you’re pulling her in for a passionate kiss, and she’s falling back, taking you with her. It’s all smiles and giggles, kisses and touches, and you know that no matter what happens after tonight, this is what you’ve been looking for.

Taglist: @cityofidek

Stranger Things requests are open!

View prompt lists below - in your request, please specify which prompt list you’re referring to, and which character you’d like it for!

random sentence prompts

smut prompts

touch prompts

kiss prompts

domestic fluff prompts

[blazedfists]

Alive (MarAce)

((Hey all! This is my little Marco/Ace one shot I finished last weekend! This is also posted on my AO3, Fanfiction.net, and Wattpad accounts aMaskedNinja! Hope you all enjoy it!))

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

"Luffy!" 

Ace cried out upon seeing his little brother falling to his knees out of exhaustion. The battle at Marineford…the fight to save his life, had been a long and hard one. Luffy had fought hard…busted his ass to make it to where Ace was being held for execution, and to everyone's surprise, the boy had made it and managed to set Ace free, causing panic to spread throughout the Marines. Everything seemed to be going well…a little too well. Just as they were making their escape, Akainu had opened his mouth and managed to get under Ace's skin. The freckled raven had stopped running instantly, turned to defend the man he called his father, but Akainu continued to press the other and had looked past Ace to where Luffy was. The younger boy was exhausted. His body was failing him and he couldn't even find the strength to move. 

"Luffy! Watch out!" Ace had suddenly cried out when the Admiral suddenly flew past him, heading straight for his exhausted little brother. Without hesitation, or thinking twice, the raven moved and put himself directly between Akainu's attack and his little brother. Within seconds, Akainu's magma-covered fist had shot straight through Ace's torso, leaving Luffy kneeling there with a look of horror on his face. Gritting his teeth harshly, Ace stood there with both hands clenched in fists. He couldn't even feel the pain, not even when Akainu's fist was removed from his body, causing him to fall to his knees. Coughing up blood, Ace slowly brought one of his trembling arms around his terrified little brother and pulled him into a weak hug. 

"I'm sorry…Luffy… You went through so much trouble…and I screwed it up…" Ace coughed out, his eyes barely remaining open. So many people had put their lives on the line for him…and he went and did something completely stupid. He stopped running…let Akainu get under his skin and the results left him severely wounded and barely alive. "Y-you fought so well…and I…went and pulled something like this…" 

As he spoke in a low tone Luffy remained frozen in place. His body was shaking from both fear and exhaustion. There was no way this had actually happened…right…? "H-hey…Ace it's going to be alright… We'll get you some help…and you'll be okay…" The Straw Hat captain spoke out with a tremble in his voice. "We…we can still save you…so just hang on…" 

"Luffy…he burned my organs…punched me straight through…there's no way I'm going to survive so just listen…" Ace coughed out while tightening his grip on his younger brother. He could always feel himself fading so he needed to speak as quickly as possible. "You…are one stubborn pain in the ass…never listening to a damn thing I tell you… I swear, you would do it just to drive me up a wall but… in the end, I was really glad to call you and Sabo my brothers… The three of us…we really were a bunch of trouble makers… We drove Dadan insane…yet she still took care of us… If you ever see her…" Ace had to pause his words for a moment as a cough escaped from him. Time was running out but he wasn't done yet. "...Tell her I'm sorry for being such a brat…and also tell her thank you…" The raven went quiet again as tears started to spill down his freckled cheeks. He didn't want to die here…not anymore. He wanted to live, wanted to see Luffy achieve his dreams but he was certain he would be gone soon. There was no escaping this fate. 

"Luffy…if I have any regrets, it's that I won't be able to see you fulfill your dream… I won't get to see you…become King of the Pirates…" Sniffling softly, Ace's vision started to blur, whatever life was left in him was fading fast. "Thank you…for being the best little brother I could ever ask for…thank you for loving me… a-and one more thing…" He paused once again to cough up more blood. Over Luffy’s shoulder, he caught a blurry glimpse of blond hair and a purple shirt. Marco… "T-tell Marco…I'm sorry…" 

"A-Ace…! H-hey…! Dammit hang in there! You can tell him yourself that you're sorry! You have to survive! You can't just die like this!" Luffy shouted out while clinging to his brother's battered body. In his hold, Ace's breathing was slowing down drastically. The younger raven couldn't stop shaking while continuing to beg his older brother to hold on just a little longer. "W-We're going to get out of here…! You have to see me become the King of the Pirates! Ace…! ACE!!" 

~~

Beep….beep….beep…

The sound of the consistent beeping was more than annoying, it was down right infuriating. Wait…why could he hear beeping, yet he was surrounded by darkness? What happened…? The last thing he remembered was hearing someone screaming his name before darkness had completely taken him over. He was certain he had died but…if that was the case then why could he still hear the annoying beeps, along with other sounds that he couldn't quite make out. Footsteps? Maybe… Voices? But who's voices…? He couldn't make out what the voices were saying, only a few words here and there. 

"....alive…but…no telling….wake up…" As much as he continued to try and make out the full conversation, his brain refused to work. Exhaustion was taking over once again, and soon everything went quiet, as if he had passed out again. 

In the room with Ace, there were two men, both rather tall, one with dark hair and tired looking silver eyes, the other blond with blue eyes that were stained red as if he had been crying. Together, both men had been working non stop, not only to save Luffy, but to also save another raven. With both surgeries successful, all they could do now was wait. 

"He's lucky to be alive, but there's no telling when he'll wake up. His injuries were very severe…along with Straw Hat's. Neither of them should have made it." The dark haired male spoke out while removing a pair of rubber gloves from his hands. "You're lucky I got there in time and had that weird clown drop them onto my submarine. Normally I wouldn't let anyone help that's not on my crew but… well, considering one is part of your crew, I decided to let you help." 

Standing beside the dark haired raven, the exhausted looking blond ran a hand through his hair and sighed softly. It had been an extremely close call for both of their patients, but somehow they were both going to pull through the incident. "Trafalgar Law… I can't help but wonder what you were doing at Marineford…" The blond spoke out as he pulled his glasses off and rubbed at his tired eyes. Of course the question only made the raven scoff before he rolled his eyes and made his way to the doors.

"Call it a whim. I saved Straw Hat because he still has something in this world to accomplish. There's still things we haven't seen from him. As for Fire Fist…I assumed he was already dead, but it seems he wasn't quite ready to die yet either. Don't read too much into it. Just be fortunate that I was able to save him." Law spoke out lowly before making his way out of the room, leaving the tired looking blond with the unconscious raven. 

~~

How many hours had passed since he had heard those voices…? The sound of the annoying beeping was still echoing in the background, but this time Ace somehow found the strength to open his eyes a bit only to find himself in a very unfamiliar place. It looked like he was in some sort of hospital…if that were even possible. He was certain he had died on the battlefield at Marineford, so why was he waking up to a place like this? A majority of his memory was fuzzy, the last thing he was able to recall was Luffy screaming for him… Luffy! Where was he!? Was he alright!? All the questions that were buzzing around in his head made his heart rate increase drastically, causing the heart rate monitor to start beeping like crazy. His anxiety was at its peak due to not knowing where his little brother was…or if he was even alive. During his panic, a hand suddenly came down and covered his eyes, followed by a very gentle and familiar voice. 

"Shhh… calm down, Ace…" That voice…Ace knew it all too well but…what was he doing here? 

"M-Marco…?" Ace asked softly. His voice was just barely there. 

"That's right… it's me…" The blond replied, making sure to keep his tone nice and quiet. The gentle voice and familiar presence was slowly helping the raven calm down, but he was still very worried about Luffy.

"Ace…" Marco's voice called out to him again,  pulling him from his thoughts as the hand that was covering his eyes slowly retracted. Blinking a bit, the raven slowly turned his head in the direction the voice was coming from, only to smile slightly when his gaze finally fell upon a familiar looking blond. Marco really was here…but where was here? 

"...Where the hell am I…? Where's Luffy…? Is he alright…!?" Ace was starting to panic again, causing the heart rate monitor to skyrocket one more. Sighing softly, Marco sat himself down on the edge of the bed the raven was laying in, only to bring a hand up to gently ruffle the other's messy hair. 

"Calm down…he's fine. He's in the next room sleeping. Both of you suffered from severe injuries, but a certain pirate showed up and managed to save both of your lives. You're actually still on his submarine." Marco explained softly while continuing to run his fingers through Ace's hair in order to calm him down. "You're going to have to stay put for a little while." 

Hearing that Luffy was alive was enough to get Ace to calm down a little bit, along with Marco messing with his hair. Sighing softly, the raven's eyes slowly closed for a few moments while he tried to remember everything that happened at Marineford, though only a few memories were coming back to him. Mostly he remembered when Luffy had fallen to his knees out of exhaustion…and more importantly…he remembered the decision to jump in front of Akainu's attack in order to save his brother's life. That's right…he still didn't understand how he was alive. He knew Marco told him someone had helped save him, but with how severe the injury was…Ace was having trouble believing he was actually still alive. 

"Marco…am I really still alive…? Saving my life should have been impossible… He- he punched me straight through and my organs were burned… There's no way I should still be here…" Ace spoke out as he tried to sit himself up, only to hiss out in pain. Seeing that the raven was trying to move, Marco quickly placed a hand on the other's bare shoulder and gently pushed him back down to keep him from moving around too much. 

"Ace… you can't move like that. You'll open that wound again and if that happens, there will be a much higher chance of you dying…" Marco replied before letting out a quiet sigh. Keeping his hand on the raven's shoulder, the older blond leaned over him so he could look into the other's tired eyes. "You felt pain when you sat up, right? And you've been awake talking to me. If you were truly dead, you wouldn't have felt pain and I wouldn't be here. You can see me and you can feel it whenever I touch you, right?" 

Listening to the older blond once again, Ace let out a bit of a sigh. It was true…if he were really dead he wouldn't have felt pain a moment ago, nor would Marco be right here with him. He could feel every touch and see every detail of the man before him, so why was it so hard for him to believe he was truly alive? Maybe because he had already accepted that he was going to die on that battlefield…and with how bad the injury was- no one should have survived that. While he continued to lay there quietly, he finally decided on one more confirmation test to ensure that he was alive. Biting slightly at his bottom lip, Ace slowly brought his hand up and placed it against Marco's warm cheek. Sure enough, nothing happened. He could feel the warmth of the blond and his hand didn't phase through the other. He was in fact alive…and that alone got tears to form in his tired eyes. 

"Y-yeah…I can see you perfectly…and I can feel it when you touch me… Your warmth…it's always so comforting…" Ace mumbled out through his tears. It was an overwhelming fact to know that thanks to not only Luffy, but to Marco and another pirate, that he managed to actually get out of Marineford alive. Wait…that suddenly reminded him. "Marco…where's Pops…?" 

Heating that question, Marco stiffened up slightly. He should have known that question was coming, but he wasn't prepared to tell Ace about that. However…there was no point in keeping it a secret. While there had been many tragedies on the battlefield for both sides…the most tragic loss that was going to throw the world out of balance was… "He didn't make it out of there, Ace… Pops died on the battlefield, still standing with that usual grin on his face. As much as none of us wanted to run, when we found out you were still somehow alive, his final order was for us to get you out of there…and despite trying to protest he wouldn't budge on the order. Even with the odds against him, he didn't turn to run… He was a great man and pirate up until the end…"

Talking about Whitebeard's death…it really was difficult for Marco but he managed to get through everything before he too started to cry lightly. After his explanation of what happened, he leaned down and lightly pressed his forehead against the raven's. His larger form was trembling slightly, but he remained still, continuing to carefully lay over Ace as if he were trying to shield him from anything else that could possibly take him away. Underneath him, he could feel the raven's body starting to tremble more. As he suspected, the news must have shocked him but Marco wasn't about to sit here and lie to him. Ace had wanted to know and he deserved the truth. 

   

"H-he's really gone…? T-that old fool…" Ace managed to mumble out through his tears as he brought both of his arms up and wrapped them around Marco's neck. "I…I didn't want him to die for me…he didn't have to go and risk his damn life like that…! Dammit… he's the one who should still be alive! Not me!" The news really had been too much to bare. Ace didn't think anything could take the old man down…but even he wasn't invincible, and now…he was gone. 

"Ace…don't say that…" Marco suddenly mumbled out in a bit of a stern tone. He even gave the raven a bit of a squeeze without hurting him, almost as if he were clinging to the other for dear life. Whitebeard was gone…and Ace nearly left them as well. Marco knew their captain wanted Ace to live, and he wouldn't want them mourning over his death, especially not like this. "Once he found out you were somehow still breathing…he threw away any worries about getting himself out of there… He wanted you to live, and if he were here right now, he would have been overjoyed to know that you pulled through…so don't go saying stuff like that… I know it isn't easy…none of us thought he would die but he didn't just save you, he saved all of us because he saw us like we were his sons… He saved what he could of the family he worked so hard to build…and he wouldn't want you to say you should have died…" 

With Marco lightly squeezing on him, Ace sniffled softly and tightened his arms around his neck, as if he were afraid the other would disappear on him. He couldn't stop crying or shaking, and he knew Marco was crying too. He could feel the tears from the other falling onto his freckled face. It really was a tragedy…and it was one that would throw the world out of balance, but they would find a way to deal with it. Even with their captain gone…the Whitebeard Pirates weren't just going to fade away from the world, not if the First and Second Commanders had anything to say about it. 

"Y-you're right… He wouldn't want that… I'm really sorry, Marco… If I hadn't tried going after Teach, none of this would have happened… I just…wanted to make him pay for what he did to Thatch…" Ace sighed out while bringing one of his hands up to run his fingers through Marco's pineapple-like hair. The hairstyle always cracked him up, but he couldn't laugh at the moment. He was still too busy crying right along with Marco. 

"I know that, Ace…. You saw it as your responsibility to go after Teach and make him pay despite Pops telling you not to… I'm not upset with you. I'm just glad you managed to pull through for me… Now we can get through this together and once you're fully healed, we'll go back out to sea and show the world we're still here and still fighting. How does that sound?" Marco asked as he finally lifted his head up so he could look down at the other and so he could wipe at his eyes. "But you have to promise me something…" 

After Marco had sat up a bit, Ace brought one of his own hands down and wiped off his face as well. Hearing that they could still go out to sea and show them all that these events didn't destroy them…that sounded like a good idea, but of course Marco had a catch. Lifting a brow slightly, Ace tilted his head to the side with a curious look on his face. "And that promise is…?" 

"You're not allowed to leave my side…because I don't know if you're going to do something stupid. You're reckless and you're an idiot, so that's why…you have to promise me that you'll stay by my side and do everything I tell you to do. No more going on missions alone. You have to always have someone with you if I can't be the one to accompany you. Does that sound fair?" Marco asked, though he used that serious tone to show that Ace really didn't have a choice in the matter.  Smiling lightly, the raven simply nodded his head to show he understood and pushed himself up a bit so he could be a little closer to Marco's face. 

"Marco… I promise I'll stay by your side and do as you say, however… I can't promise I won't be a pain in the ass. If you can accept that, I'm willing to accept your conditions… I'm really sorry I made you worry so much…" Ace finally replied while continuing to give the blond a little grin. Hearing that got Marco to chuckle lightly as he shook his head a bit. He shouldn't have expected that from Ace, but he wouldn't have wanted it any other way. 

"I think we have a deal then." 

~~

Several weeks had passed since the two of them made their agreement and now that Ace was in a more stable condition, he was finally able to go with Marco and return back to their friends. Of course the raven made sure to thank Law several times for saving his life and Luffy’s, but the taller raven simply waved him off and told him it was a one time thing, which he could accept. Once Luffy was awake, the two of them hugged and cried with each other, both feeling relieved that the other was alive and well. Now that they were both in a decent spot, Ace had asked Luffy what he planned on doing next. After all, his little brother was still missing his entire crew, and finding them wasn't going to be easy. 

"I actually have a plan to send them a message. It's going to be risky, but it's the best way I can think to give this message to them. After what happened on Sabaody…it made me realize we aren't strong enough yet. We need to improve our skills so we never have to go through that again." Luffy explained while stuffing his face full of food. "All I can say is…keep an eye out for the paper. You'll see what I mean." 

Naturally Ace laughed at his brother's explanation and he ruffled the boy's hair before embracing him tightly. He knew Luffy was going to do big things once he got to the New World and Ace was glad he was going to be alive to see what his little brother had in store. Once he had let the raven go, Ace went over and stood beside Marco. Like Luffy, his chest and body was still bandaged up but he felt well enough to move and wanted to get back to the others. 

"You're going to do great things Luffy. Risky, but great things. You're really going to shake up the New World, and I'll be here rooting for you. If you ever need any kind of backup, you can rely on us. After all, you are my bumbling kid brother. We'll see each other again soon." Ace said as he held out a thumbs up toward Luffy, who grinned widely in response. 

Once the two of them had said their final goodbyes, Ace and Marco boarded a smaller ship so they could set sail to meet up with the remainder of the Whitebeard Pirates. For a while they sailed in silence, enjoying each other's company but eventually Marco had moved and wrapped his arms around Ace's smaller form. Sighing happily, the raven leaned back against Marco's chest and closed his eyes as a breeze ruffled through his messy hair. They were back at sea again…together. After a moment, Ace opened his eyes once again and tilted his head up so he could look at the blond. 

"Marco…" Ace called out, earning the other's attention instantly. The second their eyes met, the raven felt his heart stop a little bit. Was Marco always this handsome? Or was this the first time he had really gotten to look at the other without worrying about anyone else questioning it. In the end, he supposed it didn't really matter. Instead he brought a hand up and placed it lightly on Marco's cheek while standing up on his toes. "I love you…" 

The three words were just barely a whisper, but Marco heard them perfectly. Three words he had been wanting to hear for some time, and feared that he would never hear. Now that they were out there, the blond simply smiled and leaned down to close the distance between the two of them. Their lips met for the first time, causing Ace's heart to start pounding in his chest. He turned slowly without breaking their kiss and threw both of his arms around the taller male's neck while the arms around his waist tightened even more to hold his shorter form close. After a few moments the pair pulled away from each other and pressed their foreheads together, both having smiles on their faces. Ace’s cheeks were flushed with a light shade of pink, something Marco found to be rather perfect on him, and to think…the moment almost didn’t happen between them. Leaning down once more, Marco brought the raven in for another quick kiss before letting out a soft chuckle. Ace was here…he was alive…and Marco planned on making sure he didn’t go anywhere ever again. 

“I love you too…you reckless idiot.” 

[friendlylocalwhumper]

Wavy hair dangling and tickling their cheeks, brown eyes wide, freckles stark against paling cheeks, Quinn struggles to take in the sight before them. One hundred and twenty stories up in a massive tower in the city, the firm grip of a furious businessman at the back of their neck to pin them bent over the guardrail on this rooftop. If they fell from this height… well, they need to make sure they don’t fall.

The cars driving down below look like little toys. The streetlights and headlights make up a stunning array, a swarming pattern that will only be extinguished when the sun rises again. Will Quinn be around to see that sunrise? The man behind them shoves down harder so they’re dangling at a sharper angle, startling a sharp cry out of the young spy. Their fingers are wrapped tightly around the railing.

“You’re a liar,” Growls the man. Pearce, his name is. “You just wanted to skim off the top, make a quick buck. Ruin my portfolio. Ruin my life.”

Quinn is in nice slacks, a white dress shirt, shiny shoes. Those shoes are scuffed now from struggling against being shoved to the edge of the rooftop. Their shirt is bloody from the initial punch to the face that they took as soon as he figured out their scheme. Quinn licks their busted lip and tries not to let their mind drift away to escape this situation; they blink at the constellation of city lights as their mind works frantically.

“It’s just a job, Pearce. Just a - a corporate spy thing, just a paycheck, it wasn’t meant to ruin you. You would’ve made that money back easy by the next quarter. Just a, a setback - wait, wait!” Their hands fly off the guardrail and smack against the cold metal-stone exterior of the building. He’s gripping them by the hips and holding them more than halfway off the ledge, now. Suddenly their breaths are coming out as sharp, quick whimpers. This is happening. They could die. Does he have a good enough grip on them? Will they hear him make a sound of surprise as his hold slips before they plummet to their death?

“Just a setback? Five million? I should kill you with my bare hands. You’ll be lucky if I just let you fall, let it be quick.”

Okay, he’s more than angry. He’s hurt. Quinn runs through all their mental notes of him, every piece of information they’ve gleaned in the past two months.

“You - please, wait!” He’s on the verge of just letting go. They have to regain his attention and interest. “You don’t have to kill me. I can get your money back! I can - I can help you get twice as much from them!”

His grip tightens. They imagine that his mouth is forming a straight line as he does the mental math. “Like a double agent?”

Their vision is swimming, the lights are going blurry. A heavy tear falls finally from their lashes like a single raindrop heralding a storm. Will someone down below feel that raindrop and know that someone up here is begging for their life? “Yes. A double agent. I like you, Pearce, I didn’t want to scam you, I can make it up to you. I’ll get you-”

“Ten million.”

“Yes. Yes, I’ll get you ten million. And I’ll tell you who they are, you can get your own revenge.”

A jolt forward. Quinn screams in shrill panic, their sweaty palms slipping further down the edifice of the building. Low-hanging clouds dampen the surface with droplets, and they’re sure it’ll be the reason they slip too far and fall.

“Maybe I want revenge,” He grants, not sounding all too keen to take them up on the offer. “Maybe I just want you to pay. I gave you my clients' information. I invited you into my home. I told you about - fucking told you about…”

“Loni.” Quinn’s toes are just barely scraping the roof. Their chest is tight with terror, blood pounding in their ears. “You told me about Loni. And I told you I lost someone, too. Right? I lost someone. I lost my best friends. Let me tell you about them, Zack. Let me tell you the truth.”

They’re still dangling. Quinn can see their own warped, foggy reflection in the metal inches from their face. Tears drip over their brows and down their forehead.

“…Are you crying?”

A humiliated, ragged sob. The spy squeezes their eyes shut after one more frightened look down at the street below. “Yes.”

Is he going to let go? They’ll be dead. They’ll die, they’re going to die… he holds on tighter, shifts them against the guardrail, and at the movement, the spy weeps openly, pushing as hard against the building as they can without propping themself too far out and causing tension he can’t uphold. Their arms quake, breaths choppy.

One haul backwards. Quinn’s eyes fly open. The lights beneath are still beautiful, a lot of them red instead of white now as a traffic jam starts up. The swarming movement slows in big swathes along the highways.

Another haul. The rail presses uncomfortably into their stomach, then against their ribs. They wheeze frantically, scrabbling against the front of the building, then the edge, then the rail itself. He’s pulled them up, and now he tosses them back to crumple at his feet.

“I thought you looked young at the pub.” He’s standing over them, looking more weathered and pensive than they’ve ever seen him. "How old are you really?”

What? Quinn wipes the tears from their forehead and cheeks with the side of one hand. They have to try twice before they can quell the shaking enough to not miss. Star-like pinpricks of light are floating in their vision in an echo of the sight off the edge of the roof. They told him they were twenty-two in the interview, and no one at the pub carded them. Why does it matter now? Because they lied? A sniffle, then they answer, “Nineteen.”

Zackary Pearce lowers down on his haunches, staring at them. “I thought you sounded like a kid, crying like that.”

It doesn’t sound quite like he means to tease, but Quinn flushes with anger anyway. They avert their eyes, fully aware that he could very well still be about to kill them. His company has allowed kids to die to protect their bottom line.

He reaches out to grab them by the collar. The spy bites the inside of their cheek and looks him in the eye once more.

“If you ever show your face here again, or anywhere near my home, I won’t stop halfway through. You’re going headfirst off of a roof next time. So don’t let there be a next time.”

They can live? He’s letting them live? Quinn’s head bobs with eager nodding. “I understand. Zack, I… thank you. I’m sorry.”

He shoves them away with disgust and stands to watch them scramble backward and up onto their feet. Stands still to show he won’t attack again, while they bolt for the roof access door and down the stairs. Answers a text about the running assistant in the lobby with a curt, Let them pass. But never let them in the front door again.

From his view up on the roof, he watches the tiny spy down below running through a sparse crowd of pedestrians, slowing occasionally to look casual, probably panting from their mad dash. A teenager who screwed them out of millions and cried instead of defending themself when they were seconds from death. That’s not someone he ever wants to see again, not even to get his money back.

[moonlight-frittata]

I Don’t Need a Mechanic

Overwatch: Dva and Brigitte (a few others make appearances)

Word count: ~5500 

My take on when Dva meets Brigitte and the first month or so of them getting to know each other on base.

---

Six months Hana Song had been a part of Overwatch, and during that time she set a very strict precedent that no one, not even Winston or Athena the AI was allowed to touch her mech, Tokki. So seeing the back of someone inside the cockpit as she entered the Watchpoint Gibraltar hangar made her blood boil. 

“Excuse me!! What the hell are you doing??” 

The person’s body jerked, their head banging against the low roof of the cockpit ceiling they wedged their torso inside. Hana heard a short mumble of something incomprehensible and a long, thick ponytail of red hair retreated from the mech in a hurry. A very tall, buff young woman around Hana’s age emerged blushing with a sheepish grin.

“Ah! I’m so sorry, I couldn't help myself. I’ve always wondered what these Korean models looked like up close. But in hindsight I really should have asked first.”

Her accent was European, but it was hard for Hana to place with any real certainty. Could have been Scandinavian, remembering some of the players from Finland she competed against back in her pro days. 

“Yeah, you should have fucking asked.” 

The crimson hue on the tall, possibly Finnish trespasser’s cheeks faded and she held her ground, not scared off yet by D.va’s harsh tone.

“Right. Won’t happen again, I promise,” she said. 

Dva scoffed a bit and pushed past the buff intruder to look inside the mech to inspect if anything was out of place. A moment of stuffy silence passed between the two and Hana hoped the other girl would get the message and leave.

“I’m Brigitte Lindholm by the way.”

Hana let out an audible huff as a familiar freckled face appeared looking through the glass on the other side of her heads up display.

“Oh. Yeah, Fareeha warned me a new girl was joining,” Hana replied from inside the cockpit while she busied herself checking Tokki’s systems. 

“And you’re Hana Song, right?” Brigitte continued lightly, clearly unperturbed. “Or do you prefer to go by D.va?”

Hana paused at the mention of her gamer tag turned call sign. 

“It’s Lieutenant Song, actually.”

Brigitte raised an eyebrow at the curt reply, her smile fading to a neutral expression. It only dipped for a moment though as she extended her hand. 

It was an awkward gesture to shake hands from inside the mech, even though the front of the cockpit was partially open near the joysticks. Hana looked at Brigitte’s outstretched hand and gentle smile on the other side of the glass. Was this a joke? She pursed her lips and sized Brigitte up for a few tense seconds before reaching out. The grip was firm and Hana’s hand practically disappeared in Brigitte’s large palm.

“Lieutenant Song. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Hana sighed and rolled her eyes, a little of the bluster going out of her at the sincerity in Brigitte’s tone. Satisfied that no harm had come to the mech, she backed out of the cockpit.

“Just call me Hana. That rank doesn’t really mean anything here anyway. Lena will probably make fun of me if she hears you calling me Lieutenant.”

Brigitte walked back around Tokki to join her, a lingering hand tracing over the pink exoskeleton as she moved. “I’m surprised she doesn’t make you call her Captain.”

“Oh, she’s tried.”

Brigitte laughed. 

“Sounds about right.”

D.Va chuckled for a moment, briefly disarmed by the new stranger, before she remembered how this person was rudely poking around her stuff only moments before, and snapped back into her gruff demeanor. 

“Lindholm, you said? Like Torbjörn Lindholm?”

Brigitte sighed, clearly used to this connection.

“Yes. Genius engineer of Overwatch 1.0, founder of Ironclad Industries, husband to Ingrid, and father of way too many children, including yours truly.”

“So, you grew up in an Overwatch family?” Hana asked as her full attention focused on Brigitte for the first time in their conversation.

“You could say that,” Brigitte said. She picked up a silver ratchet resting on a nearby worktable, spinning the head around between her fingers and levering the handle back and forth, testing the weight distribution of the tool in her hand. 

Hana could tell there was more to the story than her new teammate seemed willing to let on. She found it interesting that Brigitte, who had been all candid smiles a moment ago when she was caught somewhere she shouldn’t be and oversharing to someone she just met, was now hand waving around the subject.  

Overwatch kids are pretty up their own asses about 1.0 normally. Wonder what her deal is...

This was what Hana was known for back in her pro days. Seeing a flaw in an opponent’s defense and breaking it wide open. But she needed to remember she only just met this girl, who would soon be her teammate. Maybe save that for another day. 

“Well, Lindholm. As long as you stay clear of my mech, I don’t see a reason we should have problems working together. What’s your specialty?”

Brigitte perked up at the change of subject.

“Support. Both base level engineering support and in the field. I've got my bachelor’s degree in mechanical engineering, and I’ve been working on Reinhardt’s gear for over a year now. Angela - I mean, Dr. Ziegler, is training me to be certified as a field medic.” 

“Tough job. Think you can handle the gore?”

A wry smile pulled at Brigitte’s lips, her head shaking back and forth in a small, bemused gesture as she placed her hands on her hips. 

“You don’t pull any punches do you, Lieutenant Song?”

D.Va crossed her arms, holding eye contact with Brigitte who matched her gaze with amusement. 

“The best shot caller in the world is just a loud piece of shit if her team isn’t up to the same standard. So yeah, I like to know who has my back and if she can handle herself.”

Brigitte regarded D.Va for a moment, her jaw working back and forth as if chewing on the approach she wanted to take in response.

“I’ve been patching up Reinhardt for a while now. If I’m honest though, I’m scared it’s not going to be enough one day. But that’s not what I need to focus on, and instead I’ll do the best I can to support the people here.”

The plain way Brigitte shared her apprehensions left Hana uncomfortable. She couldn’t imagine telling someone out loud she was afraid, especially on her first day. Though in truth, she herself felt scared shitless half the time while doing this work.

Brigitte’s smile was back. Did it ever leave that pretty face? It did suit her though, framed by the freckles and warm brown eyes. If this girl wasn’t built like a literal tank of 6 foot something muscle, Hana might have more apprehension about sending her out to fight Omnics and Talon. 

“Well Lieutenant Song, I think I’ve taken up enough of your time with my intrusion. Fareeha and Winston will be missing me very shortly for the rest of their planned orientation schedule,” Brigitte said as she carefully placed the ratchet she previously picked up back on the workstation, breaking the spell of awkward silence.

D.Va smirked, feeling tension leave her shoulders to match Brigitte’s playful demeanor. 

“Mmm, well now I understand why you were hiding down here.”

“Yes they are indeed quite enthusiastic and thorough with their material.”

She gave a wink and started to walk away, turning briefly to call over her shoulder.

“I noticed there was a small coolant leak under the left fusion cannon. Might get a bit sticky on the left hand.”

“Bye Brigitte, enjoy your 300 page orientation manual quiz.”

Brigitte waved once more and turned around, already so sure and familiar with the layout of the hangar and the base.

She’s just another Overwatch kid, and just another nosey engineer trying to get in my mech.

Hana lingered by her workstation, picking up the ratchet Brigitte had been fiddling with and thinking over their brief encounter again. 

Would this girl be a liability on the battlefield? Brigitte looked strong on the exterior, but then, so did Tokki. If you took away the mecha armor, inside was just a squishy human target bullets and fire could cut through like paper the second she was exposed and vulnerable.

Hana took a deep breath.

She walked around to the left fusion cannon and did indeed see the signs that a coolant leak was backing up inside the casing. Pretty subtle to spot with minimal visible damage to the exterior. 

Not bad, Lindholm.

D.Va pulled her headphones on, turning to her latest loop of pop songs to blast while she went to work removing the panels on the cannon to replace the broken coolant line. The task felt good, and helped her mind drift to thoughts other than her conversation in the hangar.

---

Hana didn’t see much of Brigitte the next few weeks. The new recruit was busy with training and learning mission protocols expected of field agents in addition to shifts with Mercy in the clinic to  fulfill the certifications Brigitte was required to complete. Hana would see her sometimes at dinner, often in a spirited conversation with Reinhardt or Lena. It seemed to take Brigitte no time at all to fit in amongst the old guard, but it seemed that’s what being the favorite niece of pretty much every person here would get you. 

Hana would half listen to their stories, always feeling awkward and out of place amongst their banter. Overwatch was like a family, but she was more like the stranger invited as someone’s plus one. Everyone seemed to have an ingrained familiarity with each other. A single word could trigger a whole series of anecdotes every person around had some personal insight to add on to. 

Remember this! 

Oh how is so and so?  

Damn, that was 5 years ago already? 

Even on her squad in Korea, she never had what they people here seemed to have. Dae-hyun was a close childhood friend and followed her into the MEKA squad, but the other pilots were a different story. There was always a bit of friction and distance with the rest of her teammates because of their history as pro-gamer competitors forced into an arrangement as teammates. It never really gelled beyond cordial coworker relationships. Hana’s celebrity status didn’t help either, only adding another barrier between herself and the others. The fame of D.Va closed her off in access to most people unless they were on the other side of a screen, and then they only saw a polished up version of herself. 

Not exactly the best way to get close to people.

Sometimes she was curious to learn more when she heard the Overwatch stories, but she always stopped herself before saying anything. It was easier to pull out her phone and queue up a game. Easy to pull back and ignore them, and usually they left her alone to do it.

She was okay with that. She was okay with keeping Hana and D.Va separate. She was okay with only polite greetings and trite platitudes. She didn’t need to know about the times from before, or what her Overwatch teammates did on the weekends. She just needed them to listen to her in the field and leave her room to make her plays. Like every time she started a new game, she didn’t have to focus on the past, or what others thought, she just had to focus on the objective in front of her. It’s what got the job done and what kept her alive.

---

Brigitte kept her word to stay out of Hana’s mech. She set up her own work station on the other side of the hangar where she worked on Reinhardt’s gear as well as her own. Hana would sometimes see the blue flash of a shield out of the corner of her eye over the hum of diagnostic scans or smell the burn of sparks from welding. 

One day curiosity got the best of her when she heard the loud, repetitive pounding of a hammer on metal and she wandered across the hangar. 

“You’re doing that by hand?”

Brigitte stopped working when she heard the voice behind her, the deafening echo silenced on the metal shoulder guard she was beating against.

“On this armor I do. Reinhardt’s gear is special from the time it was made. It has to be maintained with some older techniques.”

“Why?”

Brigitte looked at her surprised for a moment then laughed, loud and warm. 

“You know, I wondered the same at first. It’s a bit of the way this armor is made, modern techniques can be too harsh on it, interestingly enough. Too precise and it becomes too fragile.”

“That doesn’t sound true,” D.va said.

“Oh, questioning my methods huh? Well, maybe the truth is more I didn’t originally have the right gear out in the field, and Reinhardt didn’t have much modern tech either, so the only way to do it was by hand. But it’s nice actually to keep doing it this way, I like getting my hands dirty with it. Helps me relax.”

“See that I believe.”

“Well, I’m glad I have your approval, Lieutenant Song.”

D.Va rolled her eyes, but smiled a little.

“I told you before, you can just call me Hana. Although, I do like the respect of authority.”

“Lieutenant suits you.”

Hana smirked a little at the complement, turning to pick something up on a nearby table. She picked up one of Brigitte’s gauntlets, slipping it on her hand. Her arm sagged under the weight, the glove coming up well above her elbow.

“Is it exhausting wearing all this armor? How do you run around with it on? I can barely lift this thing.”

“There’s movement assist when the unit is turned on. But I mean, I think I can handle it.” 

Brigitte smirked as she made a show of flexing her well defined arms, and Hana couldn’t help but gawk a bit before she turned back to fiddling with the glove. 

“Um, yeah I uh, noticed you seem to be in good shape.”

“Oh yeah?” Brigitte was smirking, clearly enjoying the slight fluster she was causing in her new teammate. Hana put the glove back on the table and gave Brigitte a light shove on the arm.

“Oh give me a break, you know you’re buff. Do you even own a shirt with sleeves?”

“I’m very familiar with OW 2.0’s handbook, and the dress code is quite lax about on-base personal attire. But, mostly I just like hearing you complement me.”

Hana rolled her eyes. “Well, I’m glad you’re strong enough to move your ass around in this armor so you can protect my blindspots while I’m doing all the real heavy lifting.”

Brigitte laughed again. Hana couldn’t help but smile too at the warm sound. Brigitte’s whole face lit up, and her eyes crinkled around the edges. No wonder she was the favorite niece.

“Fair. I’ve seen your battle footage and some news clips when you were back in Korea. You’re so strong, I doubt you even need me.”

“Ah, another fan of D.Va. Well, who can blame you,” Hana said with a flick of her hair. She continued to walk around Brigitte’s workstation, picking up random pieces of armor. Brigitte didn’t seem to mind.

“Actually Reinhardt was the real die hard D.Va fan. We used to always have a stash of the instant noodles with your face on them in our rig. Great shelf life. I’m surprised he hasn’t asked you for an autograph yet.”

“Well he’s one to talk! Did you know, when I was a kid there was a Reinhardt special edition line of noodles? I remember I tried them once and they had such a weird flavor. It was like ketchup and curry powder or something. He had a pretty big fanbase in Korea actually.”

“Hah! I didn’t know that, but I’d believe it. There’s been so much Overwatch merchandise over the years, I’ve lost track. They were such celebrities back in the day.”

“Yeah.”

Hana knew a thing or two about having her image used for propaganda. She wondered for a moment what it was like for Brigitte, growing up amongst the same environment, but removed from the center of it. An image of her laughing in the cafeteria with the old guard flashed through her mind. She decided it must have not been too bad, and refrained from asking the question.

“Okay well, I’ll leave you to your meditative, hammer time. I need to get back to my mech anyway, I’ve got a mission tomorrow morning,” Hana said, turning to leave. Brigitte let out a long sigh, slumping into a chair. 

“Oh, it must be nice to leave the base.”

Hana stopped in her tracks, curious again, hearing such an outburst from Brigitte. She turned around and poked one of Brigitte’s large muscles near her shoulder.

“Oh come on, don’t be dramatic. You’ll be done with your training block soon. Fareeha is just, really particular before she lets anyone out on a mission. It took almost two months, and me breaking every score in the simulators for her to let me out in the field.”

“I know, I know. It just sucks sometimes feeling like everyone is being overprotective of me. I can handle myself, I’m not a little kid.”

Hana couldn’t help but give a little hmphf sound, her lips pulling down at the corners. 

“Yeah, I get that feeling. You can’t speed up time though, you just have to grind it out.”

Hana wasn’t normally one for listening to whining, but she thought Brigitte looked quite cute while she pouted, her arms crossed tight against her torso and her lip jutted out. It was hard not to laugh at the sight a bit, but Hana held her tongue. She really did know how it felt to want to prove yourself.

“Hey come on, there’s plenty of work you’re doing here that’s valuable. And when you’re ready, you’ll get called up and out there with the rest of us.”

Brigitte took a deep breath, seeming to blow out the negative feelings in one dramatic sigh. When she straightened up in her chair she seemed to be in better spirits, smiling at Hana again.

“You probably know better than anyone how to do that. Thanks Lieutenant, I’ll try. Let me know if my hammering gets too distracting. I can always go find something else to do.”

“It’s fine. I hardly noticed.”

“Well in that case, I’ll just be over here until dinner time.”

---

A few days later Hana almost threw her computer across the hangar. 

“Why is this piece of shit so useless!”

The MEKA diagnostic program she used to keep Tokki up to date was crashing every five minutes when she tried to run a scan of the system. It had slowly been degrading the last few weeks and after the latest mission it apparently decided it had enough. She tried every trick she knew, both from working on the mech for years and everything she could think of on her personal gaming rig, but she only had rudimentary coding skills and was vastly out of her depth.

“Everything okay?”

Brigitte’s gentle voice called out from a few feet away as she had stopped her own work to come see D.Va’s meltdown.

“Everything’s fine. Except I’m going to have to go throw this piece of crap, and then myself, in the ocean.”

“Sounds like a costly solution. What’s going on?”

“It’s fine. I’m fine, I don’t need anyone’s help.”

She could feel Brigitte’s sympathetic look burning into her cheek and hated it.

“Okay no problem. I’m around though, just let me know if you want an extra set of eyes.”

Hana stared at the email she had sent to Dae-Hyun the day before that still had no response. She knew her mech’s hardware inside and out, but he was the one who really handled all the intense computer program internals. She was out of her depth here and needed him to call her so she could get this thing working again, but he wasn’t answering. Maybe he was deployed somewhere or too busy with a social life now that she was gone. 

She had decided to come here for Overwatch. So maybe she should trust Overwatch.

“Brigitte, wait a minute.”

The other girl paused and turned, only having walked a few feet away from D.Va’s workstation.

“I could probably use some help here, if you’re still offering?”

Brigitte smiled, but it was more muted than her usual mega watt grin. Hana appreciated that she wasn’t making a big deal about it. 

God, why is this girl so nice.

“Definitely.”

Brigitte walked around the workbench where Hana set up her computer station and listened to the general description of the problems. As Hana started clicking through screens to show the protocol she usual ran, Brigitte held up a hand to make her stop.

“I understand what you’re saying, but looking at the text, I can’t read Korean. Does it have a translation setting?” “I doubt it. This thing was only meant to be used by the Korean MEKA squad.��� Hana felt her stomach drop at how quick her hopes of getting this programming running were already dashed.

“Well lucky for us, Overwatch has some very robust translation tech we can utilize.” “Really? It’s not the AI is it? I’ve been so resistant to letting her in my computer.”

“That would be one possibility, but there are some more localized options we have. I’ve had to do this once or twice on one of my papa’s projects.”

“How long will it take?” “Don’t know! Could take a while, I’m not going to lie to you, especially with your program already acting buggy. But don’t worry Lieutenant, we’ll sort you out.”

Hana groaned, already having major doubts about letting Brigitte mess with her tech. But she didn’t have a lot of options, and this was probably the least embarrassing choice on the table at the moment. 

Brigitte moved back and forth between D.Va’s workstation and her own across the hangar, gathering cables and a laptop she would use to debug the system. Hana watched over Brigitte’s shoulder for a while, monitoring her work to get the translation program working on the MEKA diagnostic software. 

“Where’d you learn to do this type of thing?”

“Back in college. I had to learn a certain amount of coding for my major, but I helped out Winston some in his lab on campus and he taught me a lot of tricks too.”

“Jesus, is there literally anyone on this fucking base you don’t have some personal connection with?” 

Hana stepped away from the computer and dropped down into an empty chair with a huff, spinning the chair on its axis in erratic circles.

Brigitte stopped typing and watched Hana’s tantrum. “It bothers you that I’ve got a close connection to Overwatch?”

Hana did not reply, but crossed her arms and let out a frustrated sigh. Brigitte’s gaze held her for a moment but eventually shifted back to the computer screen as she seemed to weigh her thoughts on how to respond.

“Why did you leave the MEKA squad to join Overwatch?” she asked finally. “It doesn’t have the best history as an organization, you know.”

Hana stopped spinning to look at the side of Brigitte’s face, who’s eyes were still trained on the laptop screen. “Well it’s better to actually be in a fight than on the sidelines.”

Brigitte stopped what she was doing and turned to face D.va. “You’re the best pilot in the MEKA program. Why would you be sidelined?”

Hana let out a bitter laugh. “Best pilot? I was more than that. I was the face of the fucking Korean army! Which eventually meant I was too valuable to be an actual soldier.” Hana stood up walking to the end of the workbench, reaching out to touch one of her mecha’s guns. She couldn’t see Brigitte, but she could feel the other girl watching her.

“I got real banged up in a fight with the Gwishin. Like, probably should have died kind of banged up. I was out of action for months. After that, the army realized they couldn’t let the poster girl for their success stories die in an actual fight. So they moved me off the Busan base and deployed me to lead baby fights happening inland, but whose sole purpose was really just a photo op.”

Hana balled her fist in anger at her side, remembering how awful it hurt seeing images of herself on television in all those epic battle sequences, reporters singing praises of heroism, only to know the real truth that it was all a fabricated lie. She couldn’t stand it.

“So when Winston and Lena came to my apartment and asked me to join the new Overwatch, it was a no brainer. My piloting skills are too valuable to just be sidelined in a studio with a green screen.”

The MEKA squad team was fairly understanding when she told them. The same couldn’t be said for her commanding officers, but as D.Va, the amount of influence and money at her disposal proved sufficient for a smooth enough transition.

“I believed this was my shot to get back in the fight. So even if there’s some bad history there, this is a new chance for me, and I am ready to deal with any fallout.” 

Text whizzed by in the background of the computer screen as the console spat out a continuous stream of logs from the program Brigitte fired off as she listened in silence. 

“I never liked Overwatch. I still don’t,” Brigitte finally said.

Hana turned to face her, very confused. 

“Really? But, you’re like, one of the legacy kids.”

“All that means is I know more of the gritty details and seen firsthand the way people I love were chewed up by this place.”

Hana’s brow furrowed in thought, crossing her arms as she focused on Brigitte. Hana had been so taken in by all the happy scenes in the mess hall and around the base, she hadn’t even thought about the implications and complications that must have been a part of Brigitte’s life. She was so good at always putting on a bright face, how could she have known? 

Brigitte took a deep breath, looking weary as she took a moment to gather her thoughts. 

“When I was a kid, it was like I was one of those audience members you talked about. I was told all the best stories about heroes and villains, and it so happened that my family were literally starring as those heroes. But when I was a little older, I started learning more about history, and the other side of things. The PETRAS act. In fighting and war crimes. Blackwatch. Angela’s medical tech weaponized against her wishes, by my own father it turns out. Winston and Tracer buried under so much red tape, I’m honestly surprised they were ever allowed to leave a military base of their own free will. And Reinhardt... He’s a lot like you, I think. Brave, loyal, too stubborn to be just the face of a movement without putting his own skin on the line. Not when there’s something bigger than himself he believes in.”

A deep sigh, and an almost painful expression crossed her face.

“So no, I don’t like Overwatch. But I also can’t sit on the sidelines while they risk their lives, knowing I can help them. They’re my family. So here I am. Family can be complicated, ya know?” 

Before Hana could come up with something to say, the computer dinged behind them. Brigitte tapped on the keys, reading quickly when a smile crossed her lips. 

“Look at that, perfectly legible Swedish.”

“It’s fixed?” Hana hurried over to look at the computer screen.

“Well, the translation program is running. Now I need to actually debug your diagnostics program.”

“Ughhhh, I’m never going to leave this place.”

Brigitte chuckled. “Don’t worry, we’ll get it done. Feel free to go get some dinner if you want. This will take a while.”

“No way I’m going to leave you here all alone!”

“I promise I won’t touch Tokki.”

“It’s not...it’s not that, Brigitte. I just don’t feel right strolling off to dinner while you’re stuck here fixing my shit.”

Brigitte smiled.

“Okay. I definitely don’t mind the company.”

---

Hana tried to keep up with what Brigitte was talking about as she debugged the code. And she could follow along, for a while. Eventually she was way too lost to feel useful, and didn’t want to distract Brigitte while she was fixing the issues, so she retreated to a nearby futon against a wall. It was well past midnight, and Hana’s eyes were starting to droop. Brigitte drank one of the Dva branded nano cola energy drinks a while ago and seemed to be completely in the zone. 

The next thing Hana knew there was a strip of bright light in her eyes as the sun started to stream in through a window in the hangar. Hana stretched to pull out the discomfort her back protested with from not being in her bed, but it was really not that unfamiliar, considering some of the positions she’d fallen asleep at her gaming computer before. A blanket was draped across her body she didn’t remember picking up when laid down on the futon. She was all alone in the hangar and her watch told her it was just after 5am. 

“Brigitte?”

No one answered.

She sat up, noticing an unopened water bottle and energy bar laid out on the ground beside her futon with a little sticky note.

“Give it a go, Lt - Brig”

Hana scooped up the rations and dropped in front of the dark screen of her laptop. When she started up the terminal screen, her diagnostic programming kicked off like it normally did. All in Korean. 

The screen showed exactly where an electric circuit was tripping in the defense matrix grid of the mech, which had been glitching in the field the last few days. Hana noticed the parts and tools needed to complete the fix laid out on the workbench neatly, but when she poked her head in the mech, it remained untouched.

She smiled to herself.

“Kept her word to stay out of Tokki. These Overwatch kids are too much sometimes.”

D.Va pulled the panel off her mech and got to work.

----

At dinner that night, Hana spotted Brigitte in the mess hall with Reinhardt, Tracer and Winston. Brigitte gave her a wink when she noticed her. Hana got her meal and sat beside her, leaving her phone in her pocket for once.

“Thanks for the help with Tokki, Brigitte. Works like a charm now.”

“It was my pleasure, Lieutenant Song.” Brigitte’s smile was kind, her expression gentle and warm. Hana noticed this close up Brigitte’s eyes were lighter around the edges, and she had a few more freckles on her left cheek than the right.

“Did I just ‘ear you call ‘ana Lieutenant?” Lena cut in. “She’s ‘Lieutenant’, but I can’ get none of you to call me Captain? Double standards round ‘ere, I tell ya what.”.

“Well, Hana was a more recent officer in her respective position, while you have been discharged from the RAF for several years now.”

“Who’s side you on Win!? Those ranks don’t expire!”

Brigitte chuckled, whipping her head around to look at Tracer’s shaking her hand dramatically in the air, eyes downcast in an over acted, scandalized look. Hana also let out a small giggle.

“Your rank on the flight simulator scoreboard sure did,” Hana said, poking her tongue out with a playful smirk at Tracer. Brigitte, Reinhardt and Winston all laughed.

“She’s got you there, Lena,” Brigitte said.

“The youth of today. Ruthless.” Tracer grabbed a fist over her heart as if shot in the chest by a bullet.

“You know, back in my days of Overwatch…”

Reinhardt started in on one of his specially tailored stories for whatever situation was at hand, this case a very detailed recount of the first time he granted a field promotion in the Crusaders. Brigitte sighed, correcting inaccuracies she heard along the way, giving a wink to Hana when Brigitte’s presence in the story was pulled into the story much later on.

Lena took up the torch after that, remembering a time she accidentally flew into restricted airspace and managed to sweet talk her way out of being shot down. They all took turns sharing more elaborate one ups from their time before Overwatch. Hana even volunteered a story, sharing the time she convinced Dae-hyun to set Tokki up to stream a battle with the omnics. She broke her single day subscriber count in under one hour.

They all laughed well into the night, and for the first time Hana really started to feel like part of the team.

---

Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment if you enjoyed!

[hlizr50]

Update: The Raven and the Songbird

Chapter 8 (It's a long one, y'all)

A choice, a conversation, and a question

Read on AO3

Azriel’s body was perfect.

Anyone who disagreed was surely blind.

Gwyn had been watching him for the better part of half an hour, choosing to sit in silence when he hadn’t acknowledged her presence. There was no possible way he didn’t know she was there – he would have scented her at the very least. Azriel was one of the most accomplished warriors in the history of Prythian, after all, and no-one could ever enter his sphere without notice. She had only managed a handful of times, and she had a sneaking suspicion that his shadows had been responsible.

Those shadows were coiled tightly to their master tonight, looking like they might snap from even the slightest brush of a finger. They mirrored the tension that rippled over the shadowsinger’s bare back. Gwyn smirked to herself as she silently cursed the Illyrian for focusing his frustration solely on the post in front of him, facing away from her and cruelly limiting her ogling. He’d opted for punches and kicks, no doubt requiring impact and pain to relieve whatever it was that had weighed on him today. She would have quite enjoyed the sight of that gloriously elaborate eight-pointed star, appreciating how the sweat would bead and trickle down his spine or between the muscled ridges of his stomach.

Mother above, he was beautiful.

Both of the Illyrians in her life were impossibly tall and built of solid muscle. They were the definition of power. But Cassian and Azriel were so utterly different. The general was brute force, hulking muscle, arrogant. The spymaster, though… He was leaner, strength hidden underneath an unfair amount of grace for a male of his stature. Gwyn had seen him shirtless many times, but rarely did she have the chance to appreciate the vision that he truly was. She wanted to memorize the tangled strokes of the tattoos that waterfalled down his neck and over his shoulders. She marveled at the ease with which he moved, even with his long legs and arms. His wings were magnificent, even as silver ribbons of scars streamed over the thin skin. She’d heard Nesta, Cassian, and Emerie talk about wingspan and how it related to other parts. That wasn’t particularly important to her, but it had still made her blush.

And his hands.

She knew Azriel was determined to hide and hate them, just as much as she was to love them and prove to him how special they were. She nearly crumpled in tears every time she recalled the cruelty that had marked them, fire and torment melting the flesh as quickly as it could be woven back together. The story of his childhood had shattered her heart, and she was even more awed that he had somehow grown into someone so considerate, noble, and kind. Gwyn longed to hold those hands, to trace her thumbs over the mottled flesh and make him feel her adoration for them. But she wanted them to adore her, as well. To feel those graceful calloused fingers gliding over her skin…

She felt warmth coil deep in her belly as it crept into her cheeks. Gwyn blinked away the haze in her eyes and chided herself. There was no reason to think things like that – she shouldn’t get ahead of herself.

The priestess scowled as she saw blotches of red blossoming over the strips of cloth wrapped around his hands. Enough was enough. She pushed herself up off the stone and strode over to where the Illyrian continued to batter the post, shadows still taut around his rippling shoulders and incredible wings.

“What’s wrong?” she called, making sure he could hear her over the echoing thunder of his fists against the padded wood. Azriel paused but didn’t turn to face her.

“Nothing.” He squared his shoulders again, but she would not have it.

“You’re a liar, Shadowsinger.” He straightened but didn’t respond. So Gwyn continued. “You were tense during training this morning and you skipped dinner. And I can only assume you were here instead because, violent and powerful as you are, it would take you longer than the last half hour or so to beat your hands to a bloody pulp.” She crossed her arms, the billowing blue of her robes tucking under her wrists. Gwyn bore into his back with her eyes, willing him to turn around and face her. She’d be damned if she let him shut her out, not after things had been going so well. She could feel her heart beating in time with his measured breaths, those toned shoulders shimmering as they rose and fell in the moonlight. She was so entranced by his breathing that she jumped when he flared his wings.

He finally turned around. His shadows had loosened, if only slightly. But it was a start. Gwyn shot him a grin, daring him to tell her that she was wrong – to deny that something was eating at him.

“It appears I’m caught, then.” Azriel’s voice was quiet and measured. Most wouldn’t understand how it differed from his usual tone, but it set the priestess on edge. She looked into the dark gaze of the spymaster, and somehow the angles of his face had sharpened. “Interesting training attire.” Gwyn ignored the lightning that seared through her as his eyes swept over her body, even though she knew there wasn’t much to see thanks to those robes.

“I didn’t come here to train.” She rolled her eyes. The shadowsinger’s cold stare flickered for a moment, a crack in that practiced stoic expression.

“Then why –“

“I came out here to make sure you were alright, Azriel.” Cauldron, he could be so dense. She cocked her head, watching his face relax as her words sank into him. And she might have heaved a relieved sigh as his shadows started twirling like candle smoke and hazel gleamed back at her in his widened eyes. Satisfied that she had been able to reach through his veil of detachment she strode toward him. Gwyn did not move her eyes from his, even as she stopped in front of him and pulled at one of his battered hands. She cradled it in both of hers, allowing her fingertips to caress the whorls of skin and blood-soaked rags. “Why don’t we go inside. I’ll take care of these and you can tell me what’s bothering you.” She kept her hold on him gentle, though she couldn’t help but tighten her fingers around his for fear that he might pull away. The priestess studied his tanned face, trying desperately to read any hint of where his silence was leading them. The spymaster mask had slipped, but aside from the pooling light in his hazel gaze and the easy wafting of the shadows there was no breath of what he was thinking.

Gwyn lowered her gaze, frustrated that he was still so reserved. But she would not give up – that was not her way. So she sighed as contentedly as she could muster and focused on his hand. She drew her fingers softly over his knuckles, surely cracked and stinging under the crimson stains she traced. Her fingers followed the paler lines of scars to the end of one finger, then the next, until she had attended to every piece of exposed skin she could find. Then she folded his fingers into his palm and raised his hand to her chest. She dared a glance up at him and found it difficult not to cower away from the intensity in his visage – burning liquid pools of hazel seemed to pierce straight into her soul. But she gathered her courage – from where she did not know – and stared back, lowering her chin and brushing her lips over his knuckles. Gwyn felt his intake of breath, even though his lips barely parted and his face betrayed nothing. The air around them grew thin and taut and she waited, once again, for him to pull away.

When his hand squeezed one of hers, she knew her cheeks had flushed a deep crimson. Mother, she was sure her face looked giddy with child-like hope, but she smiled up at that perfect face when she squeezed back. She earned a soft crooked grin in return.

“Lead the way, priestess.”

~~~

Azriel kept his wings tucked close as he was silently led through the house. It had not gone unnoticed by him that Gwyn had not released his mangled hand, choosing to keep those long fingers of moonlight tangled loosely with his own. He couldn’t quell the warmth that spread through him, and he couldn’t stop shadowy tendrils from circling down his arm and looping around the contact. If the priestess noticed she didn’t show it as she pushed open the door to the library.

“The library?” He raised his eyebrows, but his question was soft. He had assumed she would guide him to his room, but realized as soon as he’d voiced his surprise that it was a ridiculous assumption to make. Being alone together in his room would feel extremely intimate, and she was likely not ready for that.

“Is that alright?” Gwyn asked him as she turned to him with that lovely hand still grasping his own. “We could have gone to your room, but I know your privacy and space are important to you. I didn’t want to intrude on that.” Her head cocked as she blinked toward the ceiling, freckled nose scrunching in thought. Azriel felt the corner of his mouth quirk, unable to suppress his fondness for how expressive her features were. The warmth inside him took root as her words registered. She’d been thinking of him. Of his comfort and not her own. Irreverent and spontaneous as she was, her consideration for those she cared for was thorough and thoughtful. As surprising as she always was with her candor, Azriel was floored by the depth of her compassion.

“Actually, I’m not even sure I know where your room is so,” she shrugged and tugged him over to the settee, “the library will have to do. Now sit.” The spymaster dropped onto the cushions as if his body were unable to resist her command for even a moment, though she let go of him when he did so. The absence of her gentle touch left him aching and he looked up at her gleaming teal eyes. “I need some things to tend to your hands. Promise you won’t leave?” His heart pinched at the earnest plea as he tried to understand the emotions churning in that ocean-deep gaze.

“You have my word, Gwyn.” He hadn’t meant for his voice to be so rough, thick with other promises he wanted the priestess to ask of him. But he was inwardly smug as he watched the blush stain her freckle-painted cheeks.

“I’ll be right back,” she whispered and scurried out into the hallway.

Azriel allowed himself a chuckle at her reaction, running a hand through his dark locks. Then his mirth settled, a weight in his gut replacing the contentment he had felt only seconds before. He didn’t want to talk to anyone about his distaste for Illyria, least of all Gwyn. He didn’t want to see her eyes darken from his own sorrow, and he couldn’t bear for her to realize that just by being Illyrian he was a potential danger to her – a monster.

But, Mother above, this was Gwyn. He’d promised that he wouldn’t pull away, that he wouldn’t decide how she would react instead of giving her a chance. And somehow that beautiful warrior would not see the same things he did. Something inside him just felt it. So he would be brave and he would lay himself bare to her. Again. And he knew, terrifying as it was, that he would do it over and over – she need only pin him with that hopeful, caring gaze.

A clinkinterrupted his reverie, and he saw a porcelain bowl sitting on the coffee table, the water still rippling from its sudden appearance – no doubt a request to the house from Gwyn. As if on cue Azriel shifted his attention to the door and found the lovely copper-haired priestess pulling it closed behind her, a basket in her hands. He allowed himself a grin and let his gaze follow her as she crossed the room and placed the basket next to the bowl of water. Then she hiked up the waterfalls of blue robes and sat – somewhat unceremoniously – facing him on the couch. She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, surveying her supplies and formulating her strategy, and the shadowsinger could feel the heat coil low in his stomach at the sight. It was a small mercy that she gestured for his hand and released that lip from her teeth.

With less trepidation than he expected, Azriel placed his scarred hand in Gwyn’s alabaster grip, but kept his focus planted on where they touched. Her long fingers were nimble as they worked against knots to unwrap the crimson-stained rags. As he might have expected, the wounds had already closed, his Illyrian blood providing swift healing. When the priestess scowled playfully, nose scrunched, he couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

“I suspect I might not have required your medical expertise, Berdara.” But the priestess just shrugged a shoulder, unaffected by the turn of events.

“It was only an excuse to get you to stop and talk to me,” Gwyn admitted before looking up at him, beaming that her ruse had succeeded. “So I’ll wash off the blood and make sure everything is fine. And you’ll start talking.”

Azriel just stared at her for a moment, shadows flaring in his periphery at her unabashed statement. Her hair shone like flames in the fae light as it fell over her shoulders, her focus firmly on his hand. She had dipped a cloth in the water bowl and started dragging it gently across his knuckles, cleaning the red stains from his mottled skin.

“I’m waiting, Shadowsinger,” she cooed.

“I have to go to Illyria. Tomorrow. With Cassian and Rhys,” Azriel sighed, and had his hand been free he might have flopped dramatically into the back of the settee. When the priestess remained silent he whispered venomously. “I hate it there.” Gwyn still didn’t look back up at him, and he wondered if she did that purposefully, as well, so as not to make him feel more pressure than the anxiety that already gnawed into his chest.

“You don’t lead the armies. Why do you have to go?”

Cauldron, if she only knew how many times he’d asked the same damned question.

“For… status checks such as these my primary purpose is intimidation.” He let his eyes wander over the rainbows of book spines filling the shelves on the end wall, once-vibrant hues dulled by time and dust. “We present a united front, the leadership of the Night Court and their forces.” Azriel felt the warm cloth on his hand pause and he turned his attention back to the Valkyrie who now looked up at him, head tilted in curiosity.

“So you, Cassian, and the High Lord?”

Azriel nodded. “I believe the High Lady will be joining us, as well. Sometimes Mor accompanies us, as a representative of the Hewn City. We’ve tried a few different strategies regarding who makes these visits.” He couldn’t hide the contempt in his words. “But we’ve found a strong female presence is… rarely helpful. Even though it is proof of the point that Rhys and Cassian are trying to make.”

“Rhys and Cassian, but not you?” The shadowsinger inwardly cringed at the implication that he may not share his brothers’ beliefs about the value and potential of Illyrian females, but the priestess before him held no judgment in the depth of those teal pools. Azriel ran his free hand through his hair.

“My brothers have been quite insistent that Illyrian females have the opportunity to train, should they choose, as well as putting a stop to some of their more barbaric traditions and practices.” He stifled a gasp as Gwyn’s fingers traced over his now-clean knuckles, examining them for any remaining injury. Apparently satisfied, she set that hand in his lap before lifting her gaze.

“But you don’t include yourself in that effort?” Her eyes narrowed, but her lips lifted in a wry grin. “I know firsthand that you also believe that females should be trained and can be capable in battle –“

“More than capable, priestess, as you have proven.”

Gwyn’s smile widened. “So why is it that you separate yourself from them?”

“Of course I share their beliefs, and I would love nothing more for wing clipping to be a figment of a dead past and for camp leaders to stop insisting that weapons must be buried once females touch them. I just don’t have faith that the Illyrians will ever change.” He loved his brothers. They were the best males he’d ever known, their hearts and minds full of so much hope. But Illyria would always be a cesspool of brutality and carnage.

“You believe so little in their potential?” Gwyn’s face had softened, no lines crinkling her nose or the corners of her eyes, swirling orbs of concern. His shadows held tight to him, unmoving with his bitterness. Not a single tendril reached for the warrior who gingerly grasped his other hand and pulled it into her lap. “You and Cassian and the High Lord are all Illyrian, and the three of you have grown into quite exemplary males.” After that soft statement she turned her attention to the bloody wraps, sighing contentedly. He watched the top of her copper-tressed head.

“Cassian and Rhysand are the best of us. I’m not –“

“Azriel.”

His throat bobbed at the quiet reprimand in her voice. Gwyn’s grip on his hand had tightened considerably and the rest of her body had tensed. Silence thickened the air and it fell over him like a blanket, urging the shadows closer to him, to safety. When she looked up at him again his mouth nearly fell open at the intensity of her expression.

“Why do you do that?” He was taken aback by the roughness in her voice, usually a sweet, soothing song. “You are one of them. You are. Their hearts and souls are no more pure and precious than yours. And even if we spoke only of you, what about being Illyrian would damn you so?”

The shadowsinger gaped, and Gwyn’s bright eyes challenged him to prove her wrong. Just like he knew she would. But, no matter how many times she proved to him the depth of her empathy and understanding, he still felt the pang of shock simmer through him. His fingers tingled in her grasp.

“Tell me, Azriel,” she whispered her near-silent plea.

“Gwyn, you know how the Illyrians are. You’ve seen it with your own eyes and experienced it.” Azriel took a breath and shifted his gaze to their hands, still entwined in her lap. “Illyrians are bred to be brutal in all areas of their lives, violent and entitled and possessive and selfish. They take what they want without thought or regret. They… indulge themselves freely, taking females for their own pleasure with or without consent. And that is the heritage I share. I was created there, just like the other brutes, to be a monster. Powerful, yes, and lucky as fuck to have found myself under the care of Rhysand’s mother. But a monster, nonetheless.”

The spymaster kept his lidded attention on his bloodied hand and Gwyn’s delicate pale fingers tightened impossibly further around it. He focused on the contrasts – his darkened, ruined skin under the freckle-spattered moonstone of hers; her two hands unable to wrap completely around his much larger one.

“You’re not a monster. You’re not a brute. And no matter what happens, I will always be here to remind you of that.” Azriel closed his eyes, shuddering at her conviction. He felt her hands moving again but kept his eyes closed, unsure of how to continue. He felt the wet cloth against his skin and knew his priestess had resumed her ministrations, washing away the stains of his frustration and contempt.

Minutes passed in silence as he focused on the dampness against his skin and the soft, comforting breaths of the incredible female in front of him. Then the cloth was gone, his fingers guided to fold around her hand, and then he felt two fingers lifting his chin. Azriel took a breath to gather his courage and lifted his gaze, finding full lips in a soft smile, constellations of freckles dusting pink cheeks, and the most incredible, impossibly expressive teal eyes shining with emotion. The fingers left his chin but he barely noticed, lost in that ocean.

“When you go to Illyria, I want you to remember what I’m about to say.” He gave a nod when she paused, waiting for him. “Nobody is just one thing, Azriel. Being Illyrian does not doom you to a life of committing atrocities and causing pain. There is hope there. Remember Balthazar? He aided Nesta and Emerie during the Blood Rite. I know there aren’t many, but they are there. Think of Cassian and Rhysand, who you say are the best of males. They have far outshone the picture of damnation that you’ve painted.” Gwyn squeezed his hand and he squeezed back. His eyes must have been playing tricks on him, as he swore he saw a fine line of silver on her lower lashes.

“But what I really want you to think about is you. You’ve shared your history with me, Azriel. You have experienced pain and loneliness and darkness greater than most can even imagine, and your power is some of the greatest that Prythian has ever known. You had every reason and every opportunity to become a monster. If anyone could have become the most fearsome, brutal male it could have easily been you. But you didn’t.” Azriel felt pinpricks in his eyes, and the way the priestess smiled at him… that light seemed to breach his very soul. “You are here, a dedicated servant to your court. You do the things you must, to protect your family and your home. You are thoughtful and kind and more generous than you probably realize. You are not a monster, but you areIllyrian. And you are sitting here with me, holding my hand. Being Illyrian has not defined who you are. And there are likely others out there who are the same. Try to remember that.”

Azriel let out a disbelieving huff, but he felt his lips curl into the slightest grin. This warrior priestess was going to be the death of him – a certain death of broken-down walls and encouragement and fierce rebuttal of the self-loathing that had been with him far longer than he could truly remember. It was uncomfortable, and he almost didn’t know who he would be without it. But the way Gwyn looked at him, the way she saw him. Maybe he could find himself there.

“Well,” she patted his hand and gave it back to him. “Your wounds are healed, the blood is gone, and hopefully now you can get some rest.” She hopped up and began cleaning up her rags and water, only to give a soft ‘squeak’ as the house vanished them away. He snickered, earning a withering glare, which only made him laugh harder.

“I’m going to bed,” she huffed, sticking out her tongue at him before stalking to the door. Azriel rose quickly to stop her.

“Gwyn,” he called, halting her at the door. She turned to look at him, an expectant eyebrow raised. He reached for the back of his neck, suddenly nervous. “Thank you. For listening. And… and for your encouraging words.” Watching her expression change was like magic, like watching the sun transform the sky as it breached the horizon. The irreverence and playfulness fell away, replaced with that delicate gentle smile and burning compassion in her ocean depths.

“Thank you, Azriel. For trusting me. I am so grateful that you didn’t pull away from me.” She paused before turning back to the door. “Be safe, Shadowsinger.” And then she was gone.

Azriel just stared at the empty doorway, confounded and delighted and… awestruck. And there was nobody to hear his quiet vow when he finally spoke.

“Anything for you, Berdara.”

~~~

He was all but running down the ramp to one of the lower levels of the library. His long legs loped, carrying him closer to his goal – the sweet voice echoing a lilting melody through the stacks. Azriel kept his wings tucked close, knowing that if he unfurled them even a little he may be tempted to fly.

He was sure Clotho and the other priestesses would not appreciate such brazenness.

He didn’t think he would ever describe a visit to Illyria as pleasant, but even he couldn’t deny the optimism that had somehow permeated his soul. It had helped him open his eyes beyond his own bitterness. She had helped him. Of course he had been every bit the feared spymaster that he was required to be, but he had surprised Rhys and Cassian when he had joined them for every meeting and observation, choosing to utilize those few moments of downtime to execute his more covert tasks. They were to debrief immediately with the rest of the Inner Circle – given only enough time to wash before they were required at the River House. But as soon as he had smelled the air of Velaris all he could think about was the lovely Valkyrie priestess who seemed to be a balm to his scars.

He was breathing hard when he spotted her, shadows flitting at the enchanting picture before him.

“Gwyn.”

Her singing stopped as her head whipped to face him, face splitting into the brightest smile. “Shadowsinger! Welcome home!” If their relationship were different ��� if it were further along – he might have run to her, gathered her up and swung her around in his arms. Gods knew he wanted to. But he had to keep himself in check, at least for now. So he settled for a grin and walked briskly toward her. Her eyes darkened in question. “Do you need something? When did you get back?”

“A few minutes ago. I don’t have much time – we’re supposed to go debrief at the River House with Amren and Mor. But I do need something.” Gwyn’s smile had softened but she giggled.

“Alright, well I’ll do whatever I can –“

Her voice halted when she noticed that Azriel had extended his hands to her in silent question. He could never just grab her, but he prayed to the Cauldron, the Mother, to all the gods above that she would take his scarred hands in hers. Confusion fluttered over her features, but he grinned, hoping she was encouraged. He released the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding when she cautiously lifted those robed arms, placing her palms in his open ones.

“Az?”

“I do need something. I need to ask you… if you would join me for dinner tomorrow?” For once he could be smug, seeing the surprise light in her eyes and knowing this wasn’t what she expected. He was emboldened. By her. So he brushed his thumbs over her knuckles as he continued. “I know it’s only been a few weeks. And I’m sure I haven’t done nearly enough to prove myself, but I just –“

“Yes.”

His eyes had to be wide as saucers, and his breath seemed to have escaped his chest. But he didn’t need it. Not when Gwyneth Berdara, hands still safe in his own, smiled at him that way – corners of her eyes crinkling above flushing cheeks.

“You came straight here – knowing you were needed immediately by the High Lord – just to ask me to dinner?” Gwyn snickered but it caught in her throat, betraying emotions that stormed in her beautiful eyes. He released one of her hands, only to grasp the other with his scarred fingers.

“Yes,” he breathed, lifting that pale hand and brushing his lips lightly over the soft skin of her fingers. A shadow twirled down his arm and danced where they touched, but Azriel’s focus was pinned to her face. He was relieved to see no sign of discomfort, but a furious blush had painted her cheeks and the points of her ears. And he chuckled. She could not be more lovely. “I want to see what comes next, Berdara.” She shook her head.

“We need to work on your priorities, Shadowsinger.” She scrunched her nose and then gave him an easy shove with their tangled hands. “Go, you’re going to be late.” He kept ahold of her, jerking her forward lightly. Smirking, he kissed her knuckles again before letting her go.

“I’ll see you in the morning, priestess. I hope you haven’t been slacking in my absence.” Azriel winked at her – Mother above the things she made him do – and turned on his heel, moving much more slowly to leave than he had to find her.

“You’re going to wish we had!” she threatened. And he laughed, throwing his head back, reveling in the joy he felt. Whatever was next, he was ready to face it. And he wanted to face it with Gwyneth Berdara.

Tag List: @trashforazriel @tealnymph24 @secretlovelybeauty @meher-sumedha @imsointobooks @flora-shadowshine @positivewitch @tanvee1231 @imwritingthesewords @camreadsum @vikingmagic33 @katiebellf @shisingh @gwynrielsupremacist @sagureads @deedz-thrillerkilller16 @sv0430

[mitsukui]

put your lips like this | f.w.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader.

Summary: there is a secret buried inside your heart that is keeping you from going to the Yule Ball. However, Fred decides to be the greatest of friends and  teach you one thing or two.

Word Count: 2.1k - oops...

Warnings: none! Just a whole lot of fluff! ✨ Oh, there is a curse word towards the ending.

Disclaimer: none of the pictures used in the edit below belong to me; I simply put them together.

A/N: HAPPY HOLIDAYS, BABIES! *aggressively listens to ‘My Boo’, by Usher and Alicia Keys*. Not to be dramatic, but James Phelps with long hair could punch me right in the face, and I would thank him. Please, leave me some feedback if you feel like it! My askbox is open for your opinions, thoughts and requests. Thank you so much for your time and attention!  ♡

Masterlist!

“You know I’m good at keeping secrets, so just tell me already! C’mon, tell me why you don’t want to go to the Yule Ball.”

A heavy and utterly annoyed sigh left your lips. Fred Weasley – that prick! – had been tormenting you the entire day. You knew he was a curious soul, but you had never imagined he would try so hard to make you spill one of your secrets out.

It was not something you fancied sharing; actually, it was something that made you feel rather pathetic and embarrassed. How could you tell your friend, whom you had unexpectedly developed feelings for, that you had never been kissed?

Curiosity and anticipation were emanating from his figure as he whispered soft ‘tell me’s, and moved anxiously on his chair. You fidgeted with the quill in your hand before you sighed once more. It did not seem like he was going to give up on solving that mystery any time soon. “Alright, fine. I will tell you. But only if you promise you will act as if nothing had ever happened.”

“Pinky promise!” He immediately dropped his own quill and extended his right hand towards you, his little finger waiting up to be intertwined with yours. Your eyes studied his hand, and you did not fail to notice how big and veiny they were.

Oh, Godric, the voice that took form of your consciousness echoed in your head, this boy is going to be the death of me.

Reluctantly, you closed your textbook and put your quill down on the wooden table, these two actions being followed by the connection between your fingers. His tongue poked the inside of his cheek, the similarity to a little boy that he carried in his behavior causing you to chuckle. However, your good spirits soon vanished away when you came to the realization you now had to tell him the truth. You had never been good at lying, for all it mattered.

He beamed widely at you, and he had his ears ready to capture all the words that were about to slip from your lips. But nothing was coming out of them, and a slight impatience resulted in his eyebrows being furrowed together. Fred went back to whispering words to hurry you into opening up, and the situation just overwhelmed your inexperienced heart.

It was all too much: you could not bear with the fact that he was staring so intensely at you, nor with the fact that you were about to tell him you saw yourself as a ridiculously stupid teenager who had never felt a pair of lips brushing against their own.

“I don’t really know how to do the whole…kissing thing. And I refuse to go to the Yule Ball because of it, given that chances of being kissed by your date are high.”

Your confession came out as a train losing its track – fast, unruly and through gritted teeth. Although you were deeply ashamed of that part of you, his face expressed the total opposite of any of your feelings.

His eyebrows were still furrowed together, but now scoff dripped from his words. “Yeah, right. And George is more handsome than me.”

You could swear your heart skipped a beat at that moment. Blinking in the rawest surprise your body could internally gather, you stared at him and waited for him to say anything else. You were lost for words. How could he not believe you?

“I mean, you’re incredibly beautiful. And I know you have a few people interested in you.” When you raised an eyebrow at his latter words, he was quick to snap back at you. “I’ve noticed how that Ravenclaw boy looks at you.”

Even though there was an inconspicuous blush tainting your face due to his compliments, you waved his words off and laughed shyly. He probably was just acting nice towards you. That was a huge characteristic of the Weasley family – being raised by an amazing woman like Molly herself made such a thing come out naturally.

You remained quiet for a few moments, your heart beating fast in your chest and your eyes staring out the library windows. You still had a hard time believing you had just confessed your deepest secret to your love interest, but it was of no use crying over spilt milk. If he were one to keep his promises, one of your rare studying sessions with Fred Weasley would soon return to normal.

But what if he started pitying you for it? Or what if he stopped talking to you, once he concluded your universes did not collide? He surely was vastly experienced when it came down to kissing. Kissing Fred Weasley would probably be the biggest honor of your life.

Unconsciously, your eyes left the windows and roamed the surroundings until they reached his lips. It was almost as if the whole world had stopped.

Fred had thin lips, but they seemed to be astonishingly soft for someone who caused as much trouble as he did. His upper lip was subtly curved, and you were mesmerized by every single little detail you could visually grasp. That moment would haunt your thoughts for a long time, once it was pure cruelty how you had fallen out of love – the one you loved did not love you back.

But you were terribly wrong about that. Fred had been experiencing some shifts on his feelings towards you lately. He had watched you blossom into a charming young girl, and there was something about you hitting hard on his heart. And, frankly speaking, after he caught you looking at his lips, he would be in heaven if he ever got the chance to kiss you.

“Come on. Let’s get out of here.” He helped you gather all of your belongings with a gentle smile hanging on his lips and, once more, you swore your heart was melting away over everything he did.

As you walked out of the library together, dipped in a somewhat agonizing silence, you felt his fingers brushing against yours, which caused you to instantly look at him. “Can I hold your hand while we walk?”

Holy moly, what did he just say? Your consciousness was again alarmed at the scenario taking place right in front of your eyes. Okay. Keep calm. Don’t freak out.

“Y-Yeah, I guess.”

He did not waste any time on ending the ridiculously small distance between your hands. However, he did not simply hold your hand in his; he intertwined your fingers together, and gave your hand a light squeeze. His eyes fell upon you, and his gorgeous smile grew wider. You could not help but smile along.

You continued on walking together in silence, the only tangible thing between you and Fred being the tiny circles his thumb drew on your skin. If it were possible to describe your feelings, one would choose the talk about fireworks, or waves violently crashing on rocks on a breathtaking beach.

He unquestionably would be the death of you.

He tugged on your hand once you stopped in a deserted hallway. There was something astounding about the fact that he was able to find a calm and quiet place on Hogwarts, but he had always been like a box full of surprises to you. And he was also really good at knowing all the best places in the castle.

You smiled at him, the riddle he was presenting filling your chest with amusement. “What are we doing here?” All of the terrors you felt earlier returned to you, and you felt like withdrawing. “Wait. We are not here so you can lecture me on kissing, right?! Because, if we are, I would very much like to lea-“

Fred abruptly shushed you, stepping closer to your body and gently pushing your back against a wall. His eyes darted up and down your face, and he grinned cunningly down at you. He was so much taller than you, and the sight of him towering over you was quite intimidating.

“I’m gonna be your kissing instructor.”

Bitch, said what?! Your eyes widened in shock, his fingers reached out to place a lock of hair behind your ear, and your biggest wish was to evaporate. With your head shaking vigorously, and your lips being pressed together in a disappearing line, you exclaimed you would never accept that.

You could never allow physical intimacy to destroy your friendship with Fred Weasley. It was better to have him as a friend than not having him at all.

He found your actions to be absolutely adorable, the desire to consume your innocence growing bigger and bigger each second. “I’m only trying to help you out, y’know. If that Ravenclaw boy is not willing to claim these luscious lips, I sure am.”

Your cheeks erupted in a dark red shade, and you looked away from him, unable to take it for any longer. He was now evidently playing with your feelings, and you did not know how to deal with his attitude.

You were torn apart between accepting his kiss and pushing him away. It could go two ways: you would either kiss him and dismiss all of your feelings and expectations, or you would fall even harder for him. You were not exactly leaning towards neither option.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while now.” He murmured his confession as he briefly dodged his eyes from your face as well. It was unusual to see the great Fred Weasley embarrassed but, apparently, it was happening right in your face. “So, please, let me be your first kiss. I promise I’ll be gentle.”

Your gaze moved back to him and he also had a light pink flush on his cheeks. He looked painfully handsome at that moment, with his freckles splattered all over his skin, and his lips trembling slightly. Your eyes met, and both of you smiled timidly. You were swooning.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” He repeated your monosyllabic answer and nodded a bit, mostly to himself, assuring he would finally feel his lips on his. “I’m gonna put my hands on your hips now.”

And he did. Both of his hands ghosted over your body until they reached your hips. He pulled you a little bit closer to his chest, and his scent tickled your nose. You felt like electrical waves were rushing through your entire body, and you wondered how you had managed not to faint.

“Look, do what I’m doing.” Fred parted his lips slightly and tilted his head to his left side a bit, his eyelashes fluttering until he finally closed his eyes. He looked heavenly, but you could never admit that and put yourself into an even more vulnerable position.

An almost inaudible snicker rang in his ears, and he soon opened his eyes and looked at you. You confessed he looked quite silly like that, but he ignored your comment and ordered you to mimic him again. His voice was low and his warm breath hit your face gently. You finally obeyed, feeling all jittery and anxious.

You looked captivating in his eyes, and he was ready to show you how amazing a tad of intimacy could be.

He leaned down, bringing your lips together in an extremely slow brush against each other. “Put your lips like this.” And, a second time, you did as he told you to, copying all of his actions.

It did not take long for him to finally involve your uneasy lips with his own. He started out by giving small pecks onto your skin, but his hunger got too big and he demanded more.

Your small silhouette was pressed even harder to his body, and he touched your lower lip with his tongue, asking for permission to feel more of you. Your attempts to continue moving according to him went on, and you thought it was a good sign he had not stopped you yet.

Once the velvet-feeling of his tongue came in touch with yours, he groaned against your lips, which caused you to use both of your hands to hold onto his robes tightly.

The kiss went on for a few more moments until you and Fred were breathless, and you had to break away to learn how to cope with oxygen again.

It was difficult to find words to talk about whatever had just happened, but you mumbled a shy ‘thank you’, which he replied to with ‘don’t mention it’.

Kissing was not as horrible as you thought it would be. 

And, after all, maybe going to the Yule Ball could be quite nice if you had enough luck to get Fred Weasley to be your date and kiss you again.

[plant-flwrs]

hii! can i request a fred weasley x reader where they're like in their 4th or 5th year and in a secret relationship? like kind of having to sneak around and stuff like that and thinking people don't notice but theymre really obvious? thank u!!

the map’s findings // fred weasley

masterlist!

a/n: did i insinuate lee x george in this? yes, yes i did. no shame. also, i really like the way this fic turned out. i hope u guys do too :D

summary: Harry and Ron think they’ve discovered a secret relationship between you and Fred. Little do they know, they’ve just been clueless to the obvious romance all around them.

(2.8k)

----------

“Mate,” Harry’s voice was muffled from where his head was tucked under his thick blanket, but Ron turned to him anyways. Ron watched Harry’s black, unruly hair spill from under the covers, followed by the light at the tip of his wand and a folded piece of paper. 

“Hm?” Ron hummed, expecting Harry to have woken him from his light sleep because of another nightmare he had about spiders. Ron didn’t remember these nightmares, but Harry told him all about his sleep talking in the morning. 

“Come look at this.”

Ron wanted to protest the wakeup call, but his eyes focused in the dark and he realized the paper in Harry’s hands was the map. The map. Ron always woke up for the map.

Ron stumbled from under his covers, his feet landing loudly on the ground. Harry widened his eyes, flicking them to Neville and Seamus, both of them still asleep. Ron tread over more carefully, rubbing the remnants of sleep from his eyes.

“What is it?” he whispered, pulling the curtains closed on Harry’s four poster and sitting on the bed by Harry’s knees.

Harry thrusted the map into Ron’s arms, the tip of his wand, still illuminated, showing him where to look.

Ron’s eyes followed, and his face was turned into a grimace of disgust before he could help it.

“No,” he mumbled, holding the map tighter in his pale and freckled hands and bringing it closer to his face, knocking Harry’s wand away by accident. 

“Do you think-” Harry cut himself off, his lips pulled in a sympathetic but worried thin line, his eyes opened in shock beneath his glasses.

“It can’t be,” Ron gasped out in the way Ron gasps when he doesn’t know the answer to something.

“I dunno, mate,” Harry said wistfully, leaning his back against the headboard behind him.

“I’m going to ask George about it tomorrow,” Ron said, standing with dedication but tossing the map back to Harry with hesitation.

On his way back to his bed, Harry heard Ron mumble, “For Merlin’s sake,” and flop into his bed with a new sense of exhaustion.

The next morning, Ron was pleased to wake with no memory of any spider nightmares, and Harry didn’t have the look on his face he usually did when he was about to regale Neville and Seamus with Ron’s asleep ramblings. Harry, however, had a different look on his face. Something mixed with apprehension and excitement. 

“Ready?” Harry asked from the doorway, watching as Ron was neglecting to tuck in his shirt tales and tighten his tie, granted to lose Gryffindor some house points if Snape saw his uniform so out of order. Harry decided to leave it to either Hermione or Snape, whichever got to Ron first.

Ron mumbled something in response, swinging his bag over his shoulder and following Harry down the stairs.

“Still going to ask him?” Harry said, slipping past Ron as he held open the portrait for him.

“Who?” Ron said, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the light let into the hallway by the tall, arching windows. 

“George,” Harry said, eyeing Ron as he walked beside him.

“What do I have to ask George?” Ron said, hopping over the trick step in the stairs and pausing as Harry did too.

“You don’t remember last night? The map?” Harry turned at the sound of his name, and Ron racked his brain as they waited for Hermione to come down the stairs.

Ron’s eyes lit up when Hermione reached the last step, causing her cheeks to flush. Ron punched Harry’s shoulder.

“Yes! Bloody hell, thanks for reminding me!” Ron started to the Great Hall, not casting Hermione or Harry a second glance to make sure they followed.

“Ron!” Hermione called, shifting her overflowing bag on her shoulder, “Fix your uniform!”

Ron continued to walk ahead of his friends, going to the Gryffindor table while his hands worked away at his uniform. 

“What’s got him in such a rush?” Hermione huffed, tightening the hair tie in her hair as she walked with Harry a few paces behind Ron.

“We saw something on the map last night,” Harry mumbled, craning his neck to see over everyone and making sure he didn’t lose sight of the ginger tuft of hair he was following.

Hermione rolled her eyes, refusing to give into the rumors Harry and Ron would be creating today based on something they thought they saw on an enchanted map-- a map they had no idea it’s origin, or it’s creators, or it’s purposes.

George was where he usually was, right beside Lee and Fred as the three of them stuffed their faces with eggs and bacon and toast. His eyes flickered to Ron when he approached, then he sat up straighter when Harry slid next to Ron.

“Boys,” he mumbled, his mouth full of eggs. Next to him, Lee looked up and quirked an eyebrow. Fred was still busy stuffing bacon in his mouth, just about to wipe his greasy fingers on his school sweater.

“George,” Ron said, his voice overly curious and polite in an attempt to hide the information he was holding, “could Harry and I speak to you?”

George’s eyes shifted between Harry and Ron, as if trying to read their minds and determine if this was worth cutting his breakfast short for. He looked down at his nearly empty plate and decided it was.

“Sure,” George stood, wiping his hands on a napkin, and slung his bag onto his shoulder.

“Where ya going?” Fred asked, looking up at George as he stood behind him.

“Ron and Harry want to talk to me, I’ll see you in Minnie’s class.”

Fred chuckled, seeming satisfied with his brother’s response and paid no more attention to it. Harry watched him as they walked back out of the hall, noticing him leaning over to say something into your ear. You flushed, hitting Fred’s shoulder jokingly, and turned back to your friends, ignoring Fred’s burning gaze on the back of your head. Harry turned away, feeling more confident in deciding to skip breakfast for this conversation.

Along the way, Ron slotted himself in an empty part of the table, picking up a stack of toast and eating it as he walked along the aisle.

“Alright,” George said, stuffing his hands into his pants pockets and rocking on his heels, “what’s up?”

“The map-” Harry started, but George stopped him, alarm in his eyes.

“Is something wrong with it?” George asked, lowering his voice and stepping closer to Harry, “What happened?”

“No,” Ron said, stepping closer to George and Harry as he finished off his last piece of toast, “No, we saw something on it.”

George relaxed and leaned away, propping himself against the stone wall in the hallway.

“That’s to be expected,” he said, smirking.

“Yes, we know,” Harry answered, avoiding Ron’s annoyed huff.

“We saw something in your dorm last night,” Ron said, his tone harsh and hurried.

George didn’t answer, only narrowed his eyes and waited for the younger boys to continue.

“Y/n was in your dorm last night,” Harry said slowly, then glanced at Ron, who nodded him on, “in Fred’s four poster.”

George let out a surprised laugh that echoed in the hallway like a cackle. Harry adjusted his glasses awkwardly and Ron shifted his weight between his feet as they waited for George to calm down.

“He’s such an idiot!” George managed in his laughter, bringing his hand to his face to either smother the sound or wipe his tears, “I knew it was only a matter of time!”

Harry glanced at Ron, both of them holding a look of curiosity and slight worry in their brows. The boys had thought they had unearthed a scandalous secret, and in Harry’s secret wishes, he had drifted off to sleep imagining a scenario in which George would be so pleased with Harry and Ron for telling him that he’d enlist them to help him prank Fred. Harry saw that secret wish drifting out of his grasp as George’s laughter failed to subside.

“George!” Ron finally groaned, stomping his foot a little.

“You two,” George said with an admiring tone before he swiped a hand over his now pink face. 

George was too overcome with laughter to pay any mind to the boys, so he simply walked back into the hall, pleased to see food was still being served. He had worked up quite the appetite with all that laughing.

“What’d they want?” Lee asked as George slipped beside him.

“Tell ya later,” George managed before suffocating his laughter with a forkful of eggs. 

Fred had paid his twin no mind, once again, his gaze still on you. You had been hiding your face from him since George had left, giggling with your friends in an attempt to avoid Fred’s knowing and painfully flirtatious gaze.

On their way to Transfiguration, Lee walked beside George. Fred trailed behind his friend and brother, walking on the outskirts of the herd of girls you traveled in.

George lowered his head, his mouth close to Lee’s ear so they could talk in a more private way.

“Ron and Harry told me something quite interesting,” George said mysteriously, his eyes trained on Lee’s face.

“What?” Lee said, enthused at the idea of a secret.

“Harry said he saw Y/n in our dorm last night, on the map, in Fred’s bed.”

Lee’s reaction was very much similar to George’s when Harry and Ron told him. It gathered Fred’s attention, and he jogged a bit to catch up with the two, leaving your group behind.

“What’s so funny, mate?” Fred slung his arm around Lee’s slightly shorter shoulders, jostling him as he laughed.

“Told him about your prank idea,” George lied easily, “I reckon he likes it.”

Lee nodded at Fred, who smiled smugly. The rest of the short walk to class was spent with Lee falling into fits of giggles every time George looked at him. 

The common room fire crackled loudly, but could not be heard over the bustle of students. With classes let out and the weather outside being dreadful, everyone went to their respective common rooms for the evening. 

George and Lee were spread out on the couch, their legs entangled in the middle with each of their heads perched on the armrests at opposite ends. Lee flipped through a Quidditch magazine while George flipped through the new Zonko's catalogue. Both of them were aware of Fred’s absence.

Harry and Ron came through the portrait hole. Ron was squeezing out his drenched bag, tracking a trail of mud into the room as Harry undid his soggy tie from around his equally soggy shirt collar. 

“I told you-” Hermione said as she came in behind them, seeming to be completely dry.

“Yes, ‘Mione, we know,” Harry cut her off, digging through his bag for his wand.

Hermione cast a cleaning charm at Ron’s feet, then at the rug he had dirited. The drying spell came from her wand just as easily, leaving Harry and Ron with frizzy hair and dry clothes. 

Ron fell onto the floor in front of the couch George and Lee were on, dumping his wet school books onto the coffee table. Harry did the same, though a bit more gracefully. Hermione walked past them and up the stairs to her dorm.

“See anything else interesting on the map today?” Lee snickered, his magazine now resting on his chest as he looked at the boys.

George chuckled, untangling himself from Lee and sitting up. He made no protests when Lee rearranged his legs to fall across George’s lap.

Ron flushed, perhaps in frustration or embarrassment, and scoffed as he riffled through his books.

“Let us in on the joke, George,” Harry pleaded, slumping in his spot on the ground and abandoning his soaked books.

“I dunno...” George teased, resting his warm hands on Lee’s shins as he pretended to be in deep thought, “Should we, Lee?”

Lee perked up, sitting up as his legs stayed in their position on George. He mimicked George’s look before he nodded reluctantly.

“Might as well, everyone else knows,” he flung his legs from George’s, sitting so his shoulder bumped against George’s. George willed his face not to blush. He didn’t think anyone as thick as Ron and Harry would notice, seeing as they still had no idea about you and Fred.

“C’mon!” Ron whined, half at George and half at the smudged ink on his newly written Charms essay. 

“Alright,” George said, “We’ll let you in on the secret.”

George leaned forwards, and Harry and Ron shuffled to the other side of the coffee table, closer to the other boys. They were perched on their knees like children waiting for a bedtime story, expectantly looking to George and Lee.

“Fred and Y/n have been fooling around for a couple of months,” George paused for dramatic effect and waited as Ron and Harry shared blushing faces and smug looks, “They don’t think anyone knows, but practically everyone does.”

“Is that why-” Harry started, his mouth forming into an ‘o’ shape as George began nodding his head.

Harry thought back to all the odd comments people on the Quidditch team had made every time Fred was late for practice. Why Angelina didn’t have him running excruciating drills every time he was late, as she did everyone else. All the sly looks Fred made towards the student section at one particular person. 

“So, the map was right? They were-” Ron cut himself off at George’s nodding, his face distorting into disgust.

“Hello, losers,” Ginny said, coming from the dormitory stairs.

Harry straightened instinctually. George glanced between Harry, Ron, and Ginny, absolutely in awe at how his little brother could be so clueless when it came to romance. George and Lee instinctually moved away from each other, now that they were in the presence of someone with an actual insight to the world.

“Hey, Gin,” Ron said, his voice low as if he had a lot on his mind.

“What are you lot talking about?” She fell into an armchair that had been pulled close to the couch, so they could still all talk in a low voice and hear each other.

Harry and Ron shared a glance, then looked to George and Lee as if they were asking for permission. George shrugged his shoulders, falling deeper into the couch.

“Y/n and Fred,” Harry said, his eyes searching Ginny’s face for a hint as to if what George and Lee had told them was as well known as they said.

Ginny rolled her eyes and chuckled good-naturedly, “Finally.”

George smirked at the look of shock on Ron and Harry’s faces.

The rain fell against the window in a soothing pattern, and you could have watched it for hours. Your eyes fell upon two drops, watching them race to the bottom of the glass before they joined the rushing water sliding off the building. 

Beneath you, Fred’s chest rose and fell in a calming rhythm, a reminder that he was still there when you were too lost in the views of the window.

Fred’s gaze was on your face, as it usually was, and his long fingers were lost somewhere in your hair. You felt his fingertips brush against your ear every once and awhile, also a reminder he was there. 

Fred licked his lips, watching your eyes move up and down towards the window. He watched the way your teeth snagged your bottom lip occasionally, watched the way your cheeks would hollow when you subconsciously pursed your lips in thought. Fred watched his own hands on you, one in your hair and the other wrapped around your waist.

Your chin rested on his chest, laid diagonally across the bed so you could see out of the window and so Fred could see you.

“When do you reckon Lee and George are going to tell us?” you said, breaking the comfortable silence that had been between you two. You shifted your head, resting your cheek against his chest and looking up at him.

“When we tell them we know, I’d guess,” Fred said, looking down at you with lidded eyes.

You hummed in agreeance, closing your eyes and hoping Fred would do the same so you could both nap. He didn’t.

“When should we tell them about us?” he asked, a hint on unease in his voice as he waited for your response.

You didn’t open your eyes, “When they tell us they know.”

Fred’s chest moved with a chuckle that escaped his throat, causing you to bounce slightly beneath him. His fingers brushed away hair that had fallen into your face, and his eyes fell closed.

“That’s fair,” he mumbled, shifting his head on the pillows beneath him and drifting off to sleep.

[robinsdearest]

Quick Enemy Patch Up

Jason Todd x Reader

[Totally and utterly based on this TikTok I saw the other day]

You slump against the brick wall. It’s not as comfortable as you’d hoped it would be, but it’ll have to do for now. One hand attempts to dust off the rest of your costume as the other applies pressure to the ever-quickly bleeding stab wound in your abdomen. 

You thought of yourself as a lowly, blue-collar criminal only good for the occasional museum robbery or as a beneficiary gala jewel thief. You always worked solo, had the occasional police run-in, and more often than not, you were met by other Gotham vigilantes trying to catch you. Nothing could surprise you after being in the game for as long as you had been. At the very least, you should have expected a job gone wrong would have ended with a Black Skull goon tying up loose ends. 

You close your eyes and sigh thinking about what went wrong. The ache in your bones and the pounding in your head stole the thoughts away- everything was getting blurry at this point. Breathing was getting difficult, and you really wondered if someone would find your cold body in the morning.

A slight thud has your eyes shooting open, and your free hand goes to the blade you were carrying. Even though you’re wincing in pain, you lean forward to watch a figure emerge from the blackness of the alley. 

“My, my, what do we have here?” The voice mocks as it makes its way towards you. You slightly relax and drop the knife as the dim light reflects off your company’s helmet.

“Red Hood, I didn’t take you as someone to ask stupid questions.” The two of you had a long history of run-ins. He always seemed to be the one to keep you from obtaining your best items. Most of the time, he’d have you in situations pretty similar to this one. He was your very own public enemy number one. 

The man with the hood laughs again; he’s gotten close enough to where he squats just above your sprawled out legs. He takes a gloved finger to lift your chin and examine your face.

“Looks like someone could use some help.” With the pop of the last word, he flicks your chin down. You wish you had more energy to snap back- you didn’t need his help. The snarl you pull does nothing to deter the man. “I don’t plan on knocking someone while they’re down, sweetheart.” He reaches over with one hand to support your upper back and another to lift up your legs. You attempt to struggle against his hold on you at first, but exhaustion soon takes over- you pass out from blood loss before the two of you can exit the alley.

                                    _________________________

The smell of something cooking has you slowly waking up. Consciousness comes to you all at once; glancing around, you realize you’re on a couch in what appears to be an apartment. Your immediate thought is that it looks like it came right out of 1980’s furniture magazine.

Rising up on your elbows, you notice the TV playing a movie you’ve never seen before, a coffee table littered in medical supplies, and an empty wall where you can hear a radio playing behind it. Inch by inch you move the rest of your body until you’re upright. Your entire body seems to be bandaged- there’s a dull ache where your open wound should have been, and you are definitely in clothes that do not belong to you. You get to your feet by holding yourself up on the couch arm. You limp to the wall where you regain a hold to keep yourself standing. Beyond the wall where the music is playing, there’s a dining table with your costume and cowl. Next to it, a dazzling red helmet.

“Damn, I didn’t expect you to wake up that quickly. I was hoping to finish cooking before you woke.” The man’s voice startles you, and flight instincts have you scan the area for your quickest escape route. Spotting a door, you make a run for it. However, the attempt is pathetic, and the fast movement has you face first in the carpet. You cry out in pain as you feel something along your side tear. You hear a string of curses before strong hands are lifting you. “What in the hell was that for? I just patched you up.”

The man places you in a chair at the dining table. He goes back towards the living room and returns with the medical supplies you saw before. He squats next to you and starts to raise your shirt. He tries to fully take it off of you, so you swat his hands away. You’re met with deep blue eyes, and you finally get a good look at the man trying to help you. You let him pull off your shirt while you continue to take in his features: thick black hair, slight freckles across his nose, broad shoulders, and incredibly large hands that seem to work so delicately. A comfortable silence settles between you as he works to fix the stitches you reopened. He finishes and sets the sutures on the table before he speaks. 

“You were barely conscious and almost dead when I found you. I hope you realize that, darling.”

“You didn’t have to help me, Hood. I was doing fine by myself.” The man scoffs in response.

“Fine? You almost bled out before I even got you back here.” He gestures to the apartment and looks down to your costume. He taps your forehead. “And besides, now I know what you look like behind the mask. And you can say the same for the man behind the hood.”

He walks back to the kitchen to finish the cooking he had started earlier. You attempt to pull the shirt back over your head, but fail. You forgo the shirt, and only an instance later is the Red Hood walking back to you with plates in hand. He sits next to you, hands you a fork, places the plate in front of you, and begins eating. 

“Jason.” It’s simply stated in-between bites. The name seems like it fits well. 

“Y/N,” you reply. He hums, glances at you, and finishes off his plate. Once you finish your food, he takes the plates back into the kitchen. After he returns, he picks you up again to carry you back to the couch. Jason cleans your abdomen wound, and then begins working on your other bandages. He takes off several wrappings of gauze and seems to stall his movements as he stares at your exposed back.

“Who did this to you?” For a moment, you hear a touch of concern in Jason’s voice. The thought invites butterflies to your stomach. 

“Well, most of these are from you, remember?” In your mind, you whack yourself. What kind of flirting was that?

“Ah, yes. That I did.” His breath hits at the top of your ear- he’s so close, you can feel the warmth radiating off his skin. “But I’m not talking about old scars, beautiful. I’m talking about who almost put my favorite thief into the ground tonight.”

You ignore most of his words. “Oh, I’m your favorite thief? I didn’t think you could continue to scar someone you would label as a favorite night after night.” You didn’t mean that to come off as harsh as it did, but Jason only chuckled. His breath continued to tickle your ear.

“Don’t get too defensive on me now. I just want to make sure I’m the only one in Gotham giving you things like this to remember me by.” 

His hands begin to explore your back, landscaping all the muscles and marks he could see. You shiver as Jason traces his finger along a thin, white line right in the center of your back.

“That was from uh- um..” And your voice trails off as his hand continues to roam your body.

Jason chuckles. “You don’t have to remind me, darling. I remember.” 

You grin. “That hurt like a bitch. Took me days to get back to the streets.” You turn around so that you are seated facing him. When you finally get situated, there’s a smile plastered on his face that makes your heart flutter and would have made your knees week.

“Oh you think that one hurt?” Jason’s eyes dart from your own to your lips. He begins to reveal a piece of skin under his shirt. “Take a look at this one.”

You slowly raise your fingers to reached out and trace along the jagged scar that you gave to him months ago. A jagged line across his collarbone that was still raised and pink. You puff out air through your nose humorously. 

“Jason, what have we been doing to ourselves?” He adjusts his shirt and he shrugs. 

“I think it’s called just business.” His lips turn into a smirk as he glances over at your half-naked body. “I’ve never been one to mix work and pleasure.”  

“In your dreams, Red Hood,” you respond, rolling your eyes. 

“How did you know I dream about you?” 

Your face immediately turns red: this guy was too much. His following laugh is whole-body and deep, yet he lets you playfully punch his arm. You can’t help yourself but smile. Your once least favorite vigilante had you in a puddle in his apartment. No masks, no facades, no crime fighting, even if just for a night. Maybe the Red Hood would be your enemy turned ally, or possibly even more.

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

[AN: please please please go back and watch the video linked above. I want to give credit to the one who made the TikTok, but I couldn’t find them on here.]

[narukoibito]

“Am I your lockscreen?” “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

Am I Your Lockscreen?

Summary: Harry misplaces his phone.

AO3 | FF.net

Note: This took absolutely forever (months!), but here it finally is. Thanks for the ridiculous prompt Anon. This is complete, unadulterated fluff. It’s ridiculous, and I just can't. Haha, I hope you enjoy!

*

Harry was in the middle of stifling a yawn when he heard the rumbling downstairs.

Must be Fred and George, he thought, stretching his arms over his head. He let them fall back on the cot, with a content, food coma induced sigh. He was thinking about taking a little kip when Ron stirred on the bed beside him.

“Sounds like Ginny’s home early,” Ron grumbled.

“Ginny’s home?” Harry perked up, only to cough self-consciously at the strange look Ron gave him. Right, best mate’s little sister, he reminded himself. Except she was so much more than that. As if on cue, he heard the tinkling of her laughter below.

“Oh, I guess that’s nice,” Harry said casually, leaning back into the cot and pretending to go back to napping.

After a moment, Harry sneaked a peek. Ron had returned to fiddling with his phone. Texting Hermione probably.

Good save, Potter.

Unable to stop himself, Harry reached into his pocket to protectively touch his phone. Only to come back empty-handed.

His eyes popped open.

He straightened and immediately began to pat the blankets around him, his hands searching with a growing franticness.

“Mate?” Ron asked.

“Have you seen my phone?” Harry looked under his pillow and the sheets, on the verge of panic. He always, always kept his phone with him, especially —

“Er, no?” Ron sat up, confused. “Let me call you.”

Harry waited with bated breath as Ron dialed his number. He glared at the rumpled sheets pooled around him, willing them to start ringing.

Finally, there came his tell-tale ring! Only it was…

Shite. Shite, shite, shite!

It had been a moment of weakness. At her last football game, he had snapped a photo right when she’d made the winning shot. Then, like the idiot he was, couldn’t resist saving it as his lockscreen.

“Harry?” He heard Ron’s cry of surprise behind him as he moved, wrenching open the door. He bolted down the stairs, taking two, then three steps at a time, racing toward the ringing.

Just as he rounded the corner to the kitchen, Harry saw Ginny. Even in the midst of his panic, he couldn’t stop the way his stomach swooped at the sight of her standing there in her football training kit, with her long hair tumbling over her shoulders, her freckled skin that glowed, her pale fingers that he longed to hold.

And then, as if in slow motion, he watched as those very fingers reached toward the dining room table.

Fuck.

“Whose phone—?”

“Argh!” Without thinking, Harry launched himself into the air. 

His fingers triumphantly curled over the phone.

Sweet relief coursed through him as an invisible audience cheered him in his head. Safe! He was safe!

Only of course his foot caught on something, and Harry went tumbling headfirst onto the floor. All those years of football training meant he automatically rolled, protecting his head, even as he crashed against the cupboards.

“Harry! Are you okay?”

He blinked away the spots in his eyes to see Ginny looking down at him, her brown eyes bright with concern. She leaned in, her face tantalizingly close.

“Fine. I’m fine,” he croaked, his face flooding with color and not only because he was upside down.

And he was fine, despite the spinning room, because Ginny was here, smiling down at him. The fluttering in his chest mixed with the squeeze of relief that she wasn’t looking down at him in disgust or, worse, pity at having uncovered his secret.

“I see you haven’t lost your flair for dramatics,” she said wryly.

“Constant vigilance,” Harry said, pleased when she laughed at the reference to that ridiculous counselor from that summer camp their parents had enrolled them in as teens. Counselor Moody used to do all sorts of mad things to scare them, like popping out of the bushes. Harry and Ginny used to catch each other’s eyes and laugh about it back when she was nothing more than his best mate’s little sister.

Harry’s eyes couldn’t help but wander from her face, only to flush and snap his eyes upward. She certainly wasn’t so little anymore.

“Let’s get you right-side up, and then maybe you can explain why you were pulling a Moody.”

His stomach curled into knots at her proximity as she helped him. He tried to think of something charming to say, which was hard when she was dusting him off and unintentionally sending goosebumps up his arm.

“I was testing your reflexes,” Harry blurted. “I’m still faster than you.”

“Oh, like that really counts when you suddenly shout and fling yourself at me.”

Why was it that the challenging look on Ginny’s face only made his heart skip a beat?

“Element of surprise.” He reached up to adjust his crooked glasses, something tickling in the back of his mind like he was forgetting something. Focusing was difficult with the intoxicating scent of flowers short-circuiting his brain.

“Well, for all your bluster…” With a mischievous glint in her eye, Ginny triumphantly raised his phone screen to his line of sight. “You still lose.”

Harry’s heart dropped to the floor. His eyes darted from the phone to her face and back again. He made a wild swipe for it, but Ginny was prepared.

“Whose call were you so eager to answer, hmm?” she taunted as she ducked into the family room.

“No, Ginny!” He followed her frantically, nearly knocking over a vase. “Come on, don’t—!”

“Not Cho, I hope?” She ran around the couch, strategically placing it between them. Her hand waved the phone tauntingly at him.

“No,” Harry said, slowly drawing nearer, adrenaline drumming in his ears. He frantically looked for an opening. “Cho and I aren’t a thing anymore.”

“Then it’s no problem if I check, is it?” Ginny turned the phone toward her, eyes slowing lowering — with his heart lodged in his throat, Harry lunged.

The two of them tumbled to the ground in a mess of limbs.

Harry groaned at the sting from where his head had connected with the floor. Somehow, in the chaos, he had managed to be on the bottom, which was good because Ginny hadn’t felt the brunt of the fall. But as the pain began to recede, he was suddenly very much aware of the soft curves pressing into him, her legs tangled up with his. She moved, wiggling enough to make him yelp.

Oh God, was this it? The only time he would ever get this close?

How pathetic could he get?

“Harry?”

He winced and waited for her to punch him and call him a pervert or something. When it didn’t come, he dared to open a tentative eye. Ginny had lifted herself up, hovering above him, her fiery red hair a curtain around them. Unable to stop himself, he stared up at her, bewitched by her freckles up close, the growing flush on her cheeks that reminded him of a sunset.

“Yeah?” he said, his voice hoarse.

“Am I your lockscreen?”

Harry swallowed hard, his chest twisting painfully. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

Her lips quirked upward. “Planned on keeping it a secret for life?”

“Worth a shot,” he said dryly, even though his pulse was racing. She was smiling — could that possibly mean…?

“Yes, well. Now that the cat’s out of the bag, what are you going to do about it?” Her eyes flashed.

His traitorous hand reached up, lightly brushing her hair back. As his fingers skimmed her cheeks, she released an unsteady breath that whispered against his face. Ginny, his best mate’s little sister, his brilliant friend who could kick his arse, who made him laugh until his cheeks hurt.

“Ginny,” he said, barely able to think over the hammering in his heart, trying to form the words he had been reciting endlessly ever since she and Dean split up. “Will you be my lockscreen?”

Wait. Did he just…?

Mortification surged inside him. Where was a hole to bury himself in when he needed it? He would never be able to show his face around the Weasleys again — how was he going to explain that to Ron? He’d go abroad, Scotland maybe, explore castles or woods, anywhere really, just somewhere far, far away.

A peal of laughter tore him from his runaway thoughts. Ginny gave him such a bright smile, it was hard to look at her straight on. She was leaning closer, her eyes blazing. “Only if you’ll be mine.”

“Fair is fair,” he said, holding her gaze for what seemed like an impossible time, the tension between them making his chest want to burst, and then suddenly they were kissing.

He had imagined this moment many times in the past few months since his feelings had all but clobbered him over the head when he and Ron bumped into Ginny and Dean snogging under the bleachers. He’d replaced Dean with himself, imagined his hands around her waist, his lips fused with hers.

But this — this was so much better than anything he could have imagined. All conscious thoughts were obliterated by a warm sunshine that effused his every nerve.

“Harry,” Ginny breathed heavily when they finally broke apart. The smile she was giving him made him smile what was surely the soppiest smile in existence. “That was…”

“Lockscreen worthy?” he asked like an idiot.

She chuckled, her body shifting against him, turning that sunshine inside him to molten heat. “Might need to double check.”

“Happy to oblige,” he said, as she leaned down and kissed him again. He ached to be closer, his hand tangling into her soft hair, and she pressed closer as if also driven by the same reckless desire. He was so lost in her, he only barely registered the distant noise that was getting closer.

“Where’d you go, Har— oh my God!” Ron’s cry pierced through Harry’s hazy brain. “Get off my sister!”

Fear spiked through Harry. He looked up at his best mate (who was hopefully still his best mate), who looked as if he had been clubbed on the head.

“He can’t get off me, I’m on him!” Ginny replied unhelpfully.

“Oh then… Get off my best mate!”

Ron grabbed her ankles and started pulling her off of Harry, but Ginny, in a fit of rebelliousness, clung onto Harry harder.

Over their bickering about “bro code” and “we don’t need your permission” and “took you both long enough, but no snogging in the family room,” Harry let his head fall back with a thunk against the floor.

Nevermind – Scotland it was.

[sailorhyunjinz]

~ 𝕋𝕒𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕡𝕚𝕔𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦 ~

Part II

© sailorhyunjinz 2021; Rights Reserved

All picture rights to their respective owners.

ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥: Photographer!Hyunjin x fem!model!reader, model!bestfriend!Felix, barista!Seungmin, agedup!straykids, fluff, character driven story, stranger to lovers, summer!au, mentions of death/passing away, mentions of injury, slight angst, mentions of self doubt, mentions of bad economy. 

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 4.6 k 

ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖: lmao if anyone is wondering why the cafe is open at night; it actually exists! most commonly found in korea but hey this fic doesnt have a set place so just imagine that it’s a cafe that works 24/7 ALRIGHTY? 

If you have any feedback I’m more than happy to receive it! <3

Taking pictures of you - MASTERLIST

ONE｜TWO｜THREE

“What do you think this means? Why does he want to contact me?”

You anxiously paced around the living room, Felix sitting on the small grey sofa, his soft brown eyes going from left to right, following your distressed figure.

“Maybe he just wanted to talk to you directly, make it feel more personal you know?”

Felix sounded unsure of his own answer as he tilted his head questioningly, his gaze still glued on you.

“But why does he want to know me personally? Does he do this with every model?” You bit your lip as you thought, stopping hastly before running to the kitchen and grabbing the water bottle from the day of the photoshoot. 

“y/n! What are you even...” Felix abruptly halted his sentence before widening his eyes at your intentions.

“Surely you’re not actually gonna call him?” he asked in surprise.

“I should at least find out what his motive is! I can’t just ignore the poor boy can I?” you held the water bottle tightly in your hand, removing the plastic wrapper with the number scribbled on and observed his delicate handwriting.

“He seems...strange, to say the least. He rarely talks to people during events and is only ever interested in anything that involves his work.” 

Felix knew since he himself was a model. The two of you met during a casting in the earlier years of your career, both being youthful teenagers with dreams and slightly puffy cheeks, babyfat that eventually got away and revealed your hidden features. The day of the casting Felix injured his foot causing him to fall when walking in front of the hawk-eyed judges. Your heart ached when you saw his desperate figure on the cold floor, he was just like everyone else in that frigid casting room, just a youngster with a dream. You passed the audition, smiling as you accepted a blue clipboard with papers from the judges, feeling everyone’s eyes drilling into your back with jealousy. Moments later, after night had fallen over the big city, you found Felix hunched over a small step of stairs meant for the fire escape. 

“H-hey,,,uhm, are you fine?”

You hestitated speaking to the quivering boy, his hands covering his face as tears dripped of his chin. 

“W-what do you care?!” he spat towards you, his attitude making you want to leave but you felt to guilty to do that, after all he was simply upset and not actually mad. 

You inched closer to his cowered body and sat down next to him on the hard stone steps. You looked at him in guilt. You had passed the audition but how were you any better than him? Softly, you put your hand on his shoulder, patting it a couple of times and letting the dark haired boy cry out, his sobs echoing in the dark stairway. He leaned into your touch and you ended up hugging him in silence for what seemed like hours. 

Times change and here he is. Signed to a highly respectable agency and catching flights left to right. Nothing more made you prouder than knowing that he didn’t give up on his dream.

“Felix! He’s not strange... maybe he’s just shy?” you tried to defend Hyunjin but realised how defensive you got over somebody you barely knew.

“Shy? In this line of work?” he furrowed his eyebrows, glancing at the white wrapper in your hands. “I’m not sure...what if he’s interested in you in that way?”

Your heart almost jumped out of your chest upon hearing Felix’s words. 

“You mean r-romantically?” you cleared your throat, feeling butterflies in the depths of your stomach. 

“Well...that will never happen, don’t wanna ruin your career, right y/n?”

Your gaze fell onto the white wrapper in your hand as your heart started beating faster. 

“R-right y/n?” He coughed as you grabbed your phone and started typing in the digits, glancing over at the wrapper and pressing accordingly. 

“Y/n, are you crazy? What if he actually has romatic interests in you? That could ruin both of your careers especially since he’s a world famous photographer that has every girl wrapped around his finger because of his looks.” Felix spoke bitterly, looking at your phone screen and then back at you with heightened eyebrows. 

“I’ll guess I’ll have to find out, Felix” 

“Ok but do that after I leave, I don’t want to hear you talk about him anymore and also be careful. You never know whats brewing on the inside in people like him” he said while rolling his eyes.

“What you wanna eat then bestie?” you laughed as you threw your phone onto the couch and made your way to the pantry. 

♡ 

Hours later Felix was waveing at your from the other of the door, you waved back at the freckled boy, smiling at him. 

“Be careful with that dude!” he yelled as he walked down to the flight of stairs, his voice echoing in the old apartment complex. 

“I will, mom!” you laughed at his cute consideration before shutting the heavy door. 

Silence broke out once the door shut, leaving you alone in the apartment yet again. You dragged your feet on the light laminated floor, making your way to the couch where your phone was buried underneath a multitude of pillows. 

“Where did I put that number”. You searched for it, finding your phone and the wrapper wedged between two seat cushions. Sitting down, you landed with a thump on the soft couch, the blue light from your phone emitting onto your face as you typed in the number yet again. A big lump was situated in your throat, your hands shaking as you sent a message to the number. 

[y/n] Hi! It’s y/n, it was a pleasure working with you. 

You stared at the message you sent before cursing to yourself. 

“Why the fuck did I write that? He’s gonna think that I’m some sort of weirdo, can I ever do anything ri-”

A pling from your phone erupted in the living room, catching you off guard. It’s probably not him, why would he reply so fast?

You were wrong, it was him.

[Hyunjin] Hello! It’s Hyunjin, hope you weren’t too surprised at me leaving my number. I’m just happy that you decided to reply. 

You gulped as you typed. It didn’t seem like he’d ever done something like this before. 

[y/n] No, not at all! Did the pictures turn out well?

[Hyunjin] Oh, you haven’t seen them? 

[y/n] My manager usually shows them on the date of the release...

[Hyunjin] How about this, we meet up and I’ll show you the pictures beforehand. We’ll keep it a secret from your company. 

M-meet up? This soon? A million thoughts passed through your mind in an instant, your mind zoning out while your eyes were glued on the well-lit screen that displayed the messages. You were curious about the photos but also about him. Wanting to know more about the blond boy and his abrupt ways you replied back, fingers shaking while moving over the keyboard.

[y/n] Sure, when and where?

You didn’t have any work to do anyways so why not solve the mystery called Hwang Hyunjin?

[Hyunjin] 2 PM, tomorrow

An adress was attached to the message which led to cafe you used to work at, not to far from your place. You placed your phone beside you and looked up at the white ceiling, sighing heavily. Maybe Felix was right, it’s strange to meet someone you’ve only met once, especially since he’s met countless of models just like you if not even better. The thoughts consumed too much of your energy and you ended up falling asleep on the couch, chest heaving peacefully. 

♡ 

The sudden vibration of your phone woke you up, the sun shining through the window as you grabbed your phone, light straining your eyes. 

[Felix] I’m 100% sure that you messaged that dude, right?

You laughed before typing through squinting eyes, laying down on your back.

[y/n] What if I did? 

[Felix] You’re insane 

[y/n] That’s my charm, Lixie~

Putting the phone away you slowly sat up, looking around the sunlit living room as if you’d never seen it before. Rubbing your weary eyes, you yawned before thinking ‘breakfast!’

Without even taking one step to the kitchen your phone vibrated once again. You lifted your eyebrow at the signal but ignored it for the time being, thinking that’s it’s Felix pestering you about your desicion to talk to Hyunjin. After you made a bowl of porridge and quickly washed up in the bathroom you grabbed the phone, wanting to scroll through your socials but what you saw on your home screen made the spoon of porridge that was on it’s way towards your mouth stop.

[Hyunjin] Slept well?

You’ve met him once and he’s already asking such a question? But something made you believe that this isn’t how he normally is. He’s hiding a type of shyness underneath those bold messages and actions. This Hyunjin isn’t the one that you’ve been described, this is a different Hyunjin. 

Your mind was blank. What do you even reply to that? In search for answers you texted Felix, knowing he wouldn’t give you a good answer but at least some emotional support. 

[y/n] Lixie, what does one reply to the question “Slept well?”

[Felix] You don’t, you pack up your things and you leave.

[y/n] You dickhead

[Felix] That’s my charm y/n~

If you could punch someone through the screen you would punch Felix. Returning back to the message that Hyunjin sent you, you quickly typed something down and sent it. 

[y/n] Yeah, fine! Everything well with you?

[Hyunjin] Yes, it’s fine. See you later then, y/n

The porridge infront of you had cooled down, now being a sloppy mess of oats with a spoon slowly sinking into the substance. You stared at the message before your gaze returned to the breakfast bowl. This wasn’t going to be an easy day. 

♡ 

The clock ticked as your stomach was filling up with butterflies, one by one. 

“This is a casual meeting not a date, y/n” you mumbled as you tapped your foot, standing infront of the multiple racks of clothing in your slightly stuffy walk-in closet. You rarely wore even half of the clothes. Most of the pieces were sent by companies or given to you after photoshoots, this being both a blessing and a curse. 

Your hand gravitated towards a white blouse with puffy sleeves because it reminded you of him. You shook your head wanting to get the thought out of your head. You hated that you cared so much about him but at the same time you knew why. Because he ignited a feeling of longing. A feeling called love. 

Snatching the blouse from it’s hanger you digged through your drawers and fished up a pair of beige colored wide pants. You glanced at the brown watch on your wrist as you stepped into the pants, pulling off your pyjama top in one swift motion before putting on the flowy blouse. You looked in the mirror, combing through your hair with your fingers and reaching for a pair of pearl earrings that rested in a small tray infront of the mirror. Turning around, you observed the shelf that displayed the dozens of shoes in your possession, all while tilting your head and putting on the small pearls. Varnished heels would be good, right? Stretching out your arm to grab the heels, your gaze feel on your watch. As usual, you were going to be late and you hoped with every bit of your mind that Hyunjin wouldn’t find you rude. With the heels on you grabbed your purse, throwing in your keys that were decorated with keychains off all shapes and sizes as you staggered out the door. 

The breeze hit your face as you made your way down the street, the heels clicked against the broad stone sidewalk making both women and men turn their heads. Lucky for you, Hyunjin chose the cafe where you happened to know somebody working at. 

That somebody being your friend Seungmin. 

You see, when you were just starting your career money was an issue. Your family wasn’t well off and when you set out to find your calling in the big city without a stable job your family was worried to say the least. You moved into a small apartment that more looked like a mouse burrow than an apartment. Holding a bag of trash you went down to the lobby of the apartment complex, the trashcan reeking as you lifted the lid and quickly threw in the bag, bending your spine backwards with a disgusted look on your face. Walking back you accidentally knocked down a paper that was resting on a corkboard by just how fast you walked passed. The light yellow paper landed infront of your feet, halting your movements. You picked it up.

« Searching for barista assistent »

The pay wasn’t too bad and neither were the working hours and so you folded the paper and went back into the apartment, smiling as you thought that this was the moment when everything changed. 

And it did. Seungmin became one of your first friends in the city, right after Felix came into your life. You have very fond memories of that cafe. Working late nights with Seungmin, drinking coffee to stay awake through the late hours. 

“What’s your dream, y/n?” Seungmin asked on one of the first days, still not knowing who you were and what your goals in this big city was.

“I-i want to become a model” you muttered underneath your breath, scared that he was going to belittle you and crush your dreams into nothing but fine powder.

“I believe in you, y/n” he said in a low voice, wiping the counter, not making eye contact as you stood on the other side. 

Silence overtook the empty cafe, the low humming of cars on the road being the only noise that was heard before you cleared your throat, looking down at your shoes and leaning against the counter.

“Thank you Seungmin, that means a lot” you said before the silence took over again. 

You swore you could’ve cried right then and there. Hearing those words when being in such a vulnerable situation really did mean a lot to you. His words stuck with you and in every interview where the interviewer asked about what you want to tell to aspiring models you always said those words. “I believe in you.”

The neon pink open sign in the window was brightly lit, the silhouette of people sipping on their lattes and chatting could be seen from the outside of the reminiscent building that was covered in hops. You stepped in, your heels making a loud clicking noise on the dark walnut colored wood flooring.

“How can I hel- y/n!!” Seungmin looked up at you, standing infront of the espresso machine as steam was billowing out. The other co-workers gave you a glance before returning to their tasks. 

“y/n! I haven’t seen you in so long, how are you?” he asked, you had contact on the phone but didn’t meet each other too much due to different schedules. 

“Minnie! I’ve missed you!” you squealed out as he walked through the low wooden gate that seperated the working area from the rest of the cafe. Seungmin pulled you into a hug, warmness emitting onto you as your bodies touched. 

“I’ve been good!” you continue, smiling as you pulled away from the hug seeing Seungmins waist defined by the strings of the apron wrapping around him, a kitchen towel hanging from his shoulder. 

“But I have to tell you something, Seungmin” you say quietly making the dark haired boy tilt his head in question. 

“I’m meeting Hwang Hyunjin here in about 5″ you say with a smirk, knowing Seungmin would be jealous.

“Wait,,, the Hwang Hyunjin?!” he said a bit too loudly, alerting the customers before he turned to them with a embarrassed smile, bowing his head in an apology. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“He was the one that suggested it, I couldn’t help it” you answered to which Seungmin’s eyes widened.

“H-he knows about this place?” He was stunned as he looked into your warm eyes.

“Yeah? Such a coincidence right? I was sur-” Your sentence was cut short as Seungmin’s breath hitched and a cold breeze hit your back. You turned back and there he was. 

Hyunjin. 

His presence shined in the relativly small rustic cafe. A white t-shirt and black slacks decorated his well toned body, a long leather coat draping over his shoulders as his black boots shined perfectly. Multiple silver chains hanged around his neck and the rings from last time were boldly placed on his lanky fingers. The blonde boy is tightly gripping what looks to be brown leather computer clutch. 

He waved awkwardly and you smiled sweetly his way, playfully hitting Seungmin whose mouth was wide open, looking at the dashing boy. Hyunjin walked over to you, the other guests staring and some of them already picking up their phones to capture this moment. He looked oddly stiff, mannerisms totally different from how you saw him last. 

“Hi Hyunjin! uhm,,, this is my friend Seungmin, he works here.” you said, trying to initiate a conversation but only earning a wide eyed expression from Seungmin before Hyunjin spoke. 

“Nice to meet you!” he smiled, his eyes forming into half-moons.

Seungmin snapped back to reality before bowing slightly, his eyes twinkling and his ruffled hair landing infront of his deep brown eyes.

“It’s an honor to meet you, mr Hwang” 

Hyunjin chuckles slightly at his cute gesture.

“Your cafe seemed charming” was the only thing he could response before looking at you and blushing. 

“2 americanos, Minnie” you said, momentarily glancing at Hyunjin before staring down at your heels. 

“It’s on me” Seungmin leaned in to whisper in your ear to which you giggled and looked at Hyunjin’s confused expression. You pointed at a table in the corner of the cafe with your chin, signaling to sit down.

As you walked over to the cedar table you couldn’t help but to wonder about his duality. He seemed so comfortale last time, talking to you with no problem and being as bold as to leave his number but now he seemed like a young school boy that wanted to ask his crush out. You started to understand what Felix meant by “people like him”. 

You sat down on one of the wooden chairs with steel details, the only thing seperating you from Hyunjin being the light ash table. He pulls out his computer, clicking away as you observe his perfect features. His concentrated eyes were fierce but had a soft gaze, his plush pink lips being soft, perfect for kissing you thought as your eyes drifted to his adams apple that bobbed everytime he swallowed.

Before Hyunjin could show you his screen Seungmin came over, shyly placing the drinks on the table and striking his sweet smile your way to which you laughed inaudibly until he went back behind the counter, observing the action from afar. 

Hyunjin cleared his throath nervously as he turned his computer to show you the colorful photos, looking at your judging gaze in reassurance as he sipped on his americano. 

You were amazed. The photoshoot seemed simple when you modelled but no one could have ever guessed that by just looking at the photo. It had a touch of charisma. The angles, the lighting and the editing made this originally plain photo look dimentional while still having a youthful touch with the pastels.

“W-what do you think?” He said, looking at the screen as his ring finger flicked through the pictures, pressing on the right arrow key on the keyboard. 

“It’s amazing, no wonder you’re so famous” you said while grabbing your americano without lifting your gaze from the enticing photos. Heat rose to Hyunjin’s cheeks upon hearing your words. Sure, he’d heard it before but not from you. Not in that cute, geniune voice that ringed through his ears like music. 

“Thank you y/n” he said, his gaze drifting over to you. He was stunned from how beautiful you looked in the cozy ambiance of the cafe. A wall plant descended down behind you as your eyes twinkled when you caught eye contact with the blond boy. Everything he wanted to do right now was to capture your beauty, make this moment last forever. 

“Earth to Hyunjin” you said, giggling as his gaze froze on you, feeling your heated cheeks get even hotter. 

“Uhm,,, s-sorry, wanna get some sneak peaks from other photoshoots?”

You nodded excitingly, feeling special but also questioning why he treated you so specially. He was shy, theres no doubt about that but it almost seems like he trusts you. You move your chair closer to him, wanting to see the screen properly before you notice Hyunjin shifting awkwardly in his seat, not used to being this close to you. 

“H-here are some I took last week, another one of mr Styliz many projects” he smiled timidly before taking another sip of his beverage. 

Once again you were amazed by his talent but what caught your attention even more was how undressed the female model was, her curvy body being covered by nothing more than a short glittery dress with a plunging neckline, displaying her cleavage. In her hands there was a delicate red bottle, decorated with art deco lines.

“What was the concept?” you asked, curious of this sensual vibe that emitted from this photo. 

“Something along the lines of elegancy. It’s for Aurora Perfumes”

He namedropped the famous brand in the most colloquial fashion, seemingly an everyday occurence for him. 

“Y-you worked for Aurora? That’s,,, wow” you were speechless as Hyunjin quietly giggled at your reacting, waveing his hand in the air in disagreement.

“I don’t like to b-brag about my career so hopefully I don’t come across that way” he said, almost worryingly. 

“No! Not all, it’s really impressive, your entire career is.”

Your sweet voice made his heart flutter, never before had he heard compliments sound this pleasant. 

“Why did you become a photographer?” you asked, your curiosity bubbling over as he looked at you with his penetrating brown eyes. The mood suddenly got cold. Hyunjin took a deep breath, exhaling loudly from his nose as you sipped on your coffee. 

“I’m an only child and therefore I spent a lot of time with my grandparents when I was younger.” 

You knew this was going to be a sad story, you bit the inside of your cheek, regretting asking that question as you thought that it might be too personal but judging from how Hyunjin’s words spilled from his mouth you believed that he felt comfort telling you.

“They had photoalbums stacked up in their attic which I flipped through for hours, observing their youth and innocence and seeing how time fled by. When I got my first camera I was overjoyed, taking pictures of everything around me and putting them up on my wall, acting as if my room was an art gallery.”

He smiled when talking, his voice turning mellow as he reminisced. 

“But when my grandparents passed away,,, I noticed that I didn’t have any photos of them nor of my friends or family which made me feel disappointed. I had spent so much of my time trying to capture beauty when beauty was infront me.”

Shivers ran down your spine as his sugared voice ran through the words. Hyunjin looked nervously down on the table and you did the same, not knowing what to say or how to comfort the blond boy. 

“I-I’m sorry for your loss” 

That was the only sentence you could muster to say but Hyunjin glanced at you, his dimples appearing as he smiled. 

“Why are you sorry? No one usually asks me that question so it feels nice to get it off my chest.”

You nodded shyly as silence erupted in between the two of you. 

“It really was a pleasure working with you y/n, I would like to have you modell for me again” he blurts out, trying to put an end to the painful silence.

“Y-you what? B-but my manager hasn’t told me anything ab-”

“No, just the two of us.”

You went quiet, not believing your ears. A photoshoot, the two of you? Isn’t that practically a confession? Your dazed mind seemed to wander off to places far off, imagining the tension that would be looming over the both of you. Felix sure as hell wasn’t going to like this but you didn’t care. Hyunjin seemed comfortable with you, talking as if he’d known you for years and now he was asking you to modell for him? Saying no to this opportunity would be a crime.

“S-sure, when were you thinking?”

“You free tomorrow?” Hyunjin says, leaning back in his chair and spreading his legs comfortably, looking up at you through a curtain of blonde. 

“Yeah,,, sounds great!”

A smile crept up on your face as heat rose to your cheeks, feeling everything and nothing all at once. In this moment you didn’t care about the shutter coming from the guests phone cameras. You just cared about him. 

The next half an hour went by in a blur. In that short time you probably covered half of the conversational topics on this earth. Hyunjin laughed as you told him about your childhood.

“That’s so cute y/n”

“Well it wasn’t cute in the moment but now I can laugh at it” you laughed with him, stroking a piece of your hair behind your ear. 

“I think you’re cute y/n” 

“Of course I was cute when I was little” you roll your eyes at him, tears prickling in your eyes from laughter but when you glanced at Hyunjin he wasn’t laughing, he was simply observing you. 

“I think you’re cute now” 

You froze. All these things he’s saying made your heart beat faster than ever, a nervosity that couldn’t be described with words.

“You too” you exclaimed without thinking to which Hyunjin glanced at you with a grin. He coughed before streching his arms.

“Time to head home?” He said, packing up his computer. 

“Yeah, I have something to do” you said looking at your watch, knowing very well that you had absolutely nothing to do for the rest of the day except for anxiously thinking out every potential scenario that could occur tomorrow.

“Meet me at my studio tomorrow at 5 pm”

You nodded carefully, knowing exactly where his famous studio was.

“Don’t tell Bangchan I showed you the photos” he laughed mischievously, looking a bit like a ferret. 

“Alright, alright I won’t even though I really want to tell him how good of a photographer you are” you said cheekily as you stood up. The both of you headed towards the wooden door with glass panes, flashing a wink towards Seungmin that had his eyebrows heightened, amazed from how the little cafe lit up with two attractive people walking side by side. 

Outside the sun beamed, the bustling of the city and high skyscrapers stimulating your senses. 

“Guess I’ll see you tomorrow Hyunjin”

You scratch the back of your neck nervously as you speak before remembering something.

“Oh! Do you have a concept in mind?”

“Wear whatever, I’ll think of a way around it” he said. 

“Mhm! See you tomorrow!”

“Text me when you’re home, ok?” 

That sentence made your heart flutter and before you could embarrass yourself by saying anything stupid he waved, his rings shining in the sunlight. Turning around, you promptly started walking back home.

Your heart thumping, your thoughs scattered, your mind dazed. 

𝕋𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥

@vogueinnie @that-anxious-bisexual @putmetogetheragain13 @hyunsluvv @lawleighette @meow-minho @minaamhh @ohmysparkle @hwangi @rindomo​ @fleeingreality @nycol-ie​ @jisungsplatforms @p0t4t0don14ll

[coldflame96]

Wrapped up in you

Summary: Sharing a scarf with your girl when you don’t like things around your neck is something that can be so personal..

Rating: T

Also found on AO3 and FF.net

Based off that picture in the very last scene with Kyoru sharing a scarf <3

“Wow!" He heard her gasp. "It's snowing!" But then she furrowed her brow. "But it was so mild this morning."

Neither of them had brought coats with them, but Tohru brought her scarf with the pom poms. She really loved that thing and it was cute.

"Kyo-kun," she grabbed his hand. "Are you cold?"

He didn't think he could ever truly be cold as long as she was around.

But he did shiver a bit. "A little. The temperature really dropped."

"Well here!" She took her scarf off, handing it to him. "Maybe this will help."

He knocked her head gently. "Then you'll get cold, dummy."

"I'll be okay!" She waved her arms. "I don't want you to get sick!"

He could tell this was gonna go nowhere fast. He rolled his eyes fondly and grabbed the scarf. She looked at him expectantly and he got an idea. It was cheesy, but knowing her, she'd probably love it.

He pulled her in closer, wrapping one end of the scarf around her neck, and the other end very loosely around his own.

"There." He said triumphantly, breath visible, "now neither of us have to be cold." He punctuated with a gentle whack with one of the poms and she giggled. He paused and then whacked her again. "Huh, this is kinda fun."

He was met with a whack on his own cheek with his girlfriend grinning impishly. "You're right, it is."

He gently whacked her again, this time pressing the pom right on top of her nose, shaking it as she tried to bat it away.

She tried to do a little twirl but the scarf wasnt quite long enough for that so she just did an awkward twist. The temperature was dropping by a lot and her nose was starting to turn red.

He leaned over to kiss it and she gave a questioning look.

He shrugged. "It looked cold."

She grabbed his hand, peeking at him from under her lashes. "I think my lips are cold too."

Subtle. He cradled her face and kissed her gently. "Better?"

"Still feels pretty cold."

He hummed, kissing her again. It was something he never really got tired of doing. She fisted her hands in his uniform jacket as he just kissed her slowly, careful to keep it chaste.

"Oi, lovebirds," he jumped when he felt a hand slap his back and saw Uotani to his side. She smirked. "When you're done being gross, you might wanna actually head home before you turn into snowmen." She put her arm over her head like a visor. "It's supposed to snow all night."

"Oh really?" Tohru asked. "I had work tonight."

She grunted. "So did I. But I called off. You should too."

She frowned. "I wouldn't wanna trouble them-"

He'd heard enough. "You're not walking to work in a blizzard. If you don't wanna call off, then just have Momiji do it for you. His dad owns the place."

She bit her lip. "I suppose…"

"Momiji Sohma is quite fond of you," Hanajima came out of nowhere. "I would imagine he wouldn't expect you to risk yourself in such weather."

"C'mon, we should go." Uotani said, wrapping an arm around Tohru's neck. "It's already cold and it’s only supposed to get worse."

She relented and he followed behind her closely, the scarf still hanging off his neck.

"Apparently we're supposed to get 15 cm," he heard Uotani say vaguely.

Tohru clapped her hands in excitement. "Really? Wow. We could play in the snow!"

"We could have a snowball fight." And then Uotani smirked. "Betcha I could beat Kyon."

He rolled his eyes. "Don't start a fight you can't finish, Yankee."

She snorted. "Yeah okay. You know your ‘bad boy’ image is ruined with that scarf around your neck."

He shrugged. It wasn't like he had anything to be embarrassed about.

Tohru was talking to Hanajima now about something, her face lit up. He smiled softly. She was happy and that's all he cared about.

The wind was really picking up and everyone in the group did a full-body shudder. It really was getting freezing and the snow was sinking into his clothes uncomfortably. Tohru was trying to hide it, but she was shivering. How did she manage to wear skirts in this kind of weather?

They parted ways with Uotani and Hanajima and no sooner than they rounded the corner, he wrapped his arms around Tohru's waist from behind.

"Are you cold?" He whispered.

She nodded. "Only a little."

He kissed her temple. "C'mon, let's get home."

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

By the time they got into the doorway, her teeth were chattering and he rubbed her arms to try and warm her up.

"My, my, my," he heard Shigure say from the kitchen door and he looked up to see him standing there, looking way too amused. "I understand you kids are in love, but there is a time and place."

"Piss off," he snapped. "It's snowing and freezing outside."

"Well, that's why coats exist." He said smugly. "Honestly, Kyo-kun, do you not ever check the weather forecasts?

He was gonna punch this asshole. He felt a light tug on his shirt and he brought his attention back to his currently shivering girlfriend.

"D-do y-you m-m-m-mind if I shower first? I...c-can w-wait if you w-want to."

He pushed her back gently towards the bathroom. "Go shower before you get sick."

"O-okay."

It was once he heard the bathwater running that Shigure turned back to him, smirking. "Nice scarf." He gave him a flat look in response, which he took as a cue to continue talking. "Tsk, tsk, you made a rookie mistake just now."

"What are you talking about?" He asked on impulse, and then came to the conclusion that maybe he shouldn't have.

Shigure's grin only grew wider. "When a beautiful woman you're with is going to the shower, it's only natural you offer to join her."

Kyo grabbed him by the collar, growling, "Don’t talk about her like that, you fucking creep. I’ll kill you!”

"Scary~" And then something else seemed to come to him. "Where's Yuki-kun? Don't tell me you left him out there."

"How should I know? He was never even with us."

And that was when the phone rang. Shigure waved, saying "I'll let you handle that” and then went back to his own room, hopefully to die.

He scoffed. He didn't usually answer the phone but he had a good idea who it was.

"Hello?" He sighed out.

"Kyo?" Yuki's voice came through the speaker. He sounded surprised, which was fair.

"Yeah?"

"Where’s Honda-san?"

"In the shower.

"I see. when she gets out, tell her not to save me any dinner. The weather's getting bad so I went home with Kakeru."

"Fine. That it?"

"Yeah."

"Great. See ya."

"Wait."

"What?"

"You and Honda-san are alone...don't do anything stupid."

His face heated up. "Shigure's here, you jackass." He gritted. And probably eavesdropping. "And that's none of your business."

"Oh, he's actually home?"

"Yeah."

"My condolences."

"Whatever. Anything else?"

"No. You can hang up now."

And he was about to do just that but something paused him. "Oi."

"What?"

"You too," he mumbled through gritted teeth because he really didn't wanna think about Yuki doing anything like that. "Don’t do anything stupid."

A pause and then a "Thanks" before the line went dead.

"Oh, was that Yuki-kun?" He heard Tohru behind him, her skin flushed from the steam and her hair still damp. “Is he alright?”

He grunted in affirmation, trying not to look at how a stray water droplet ran down her neck. "He's fine. He's at Manabe's, so don't wait up for him on dinner."

She made to hug him, but then reeled back. "Kyo-kun, you need to get out of those wet clothes! You'll get sick."

If it were just them, he would suggest she help him with that, but Shigure was here and he was not gonna give him the satisfaction of that.

He patted her head. "I'm going."

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

Without work to go to, her and Kyo-kun took the night in. She had already changed into her sleepwear (which consisted of one of his shirts that was way too big on her and a pair of flannel pants).  

He had changed too, in a loose long-sleeve and a pair of sweatpants.

With Shigure-san here, they couldn't exactly do anything more than kiss, so they'd just ended up watching a movie.

He'd fallen asleep halfway through and was currently clinging to her, head on her chest.

She could really admire him without being questioned when he was asleep, how his nose wasn’t set completely straight, the smattering of light freckles on the bridge that were more pronounced in the summer.

She lightly stroked his strong jawline and his arms tightened around her waist.

She smiled to herself. He was such a cute sleeper. She lightly threaded her fingers through his fiery hair, noting how it curled around his ears now.

It's getting so long..

She heard her phone vibrate from the nightstand and strained to reach it without disturbing her sleeping boyfriend.

She saw the message was from Uo-chan and then shot up in alarm at the attachment.

She heard a light groan and saw Kyo-kun blearily blinking his eyes open and she felt a little guilty.

"Wha's goin' on?" He mumbled.

"Uo-chan just sent me something."

He hummed. "'Splains why you woke me up."

She was pretty sure he was being sarcastic based off the grumpy look on his face but paired with the messy hair, it didn't have much of an effect.

"Look at this." She shoved the phone under his nose and watched him squint as he put his own hand over hers.

It was a picture of them, sharing the scarf with snow falling around them. Neither of them were looking at the camera but she was chatting with Hana-chan, though the angle of the photo cut her poor friend off, and Kyo-kun just watched her, looking content.

He normally hated getting pictures taken so it was rare to see him so relaxed in one.

"Was this from today?" He asked.

"Yep! Uo-chan took it." Then she cocked her head. "I wonder how she managed to do it without us noticing."

He stretched, his shirt riding above his waist, which she attempted to steadfastly ignore for her own sanity.  

"Probably because I wasn't looking at her."

He always said things like that so easily and it was a marvel each time.

"I know you hate pictures," she started hesitantly, "but do you mind if I keep this one?"

"I don't mind pictures," he said softly. "Not with you, anyway."

She blushed, smiling to herself. "Right." She put one foot down on the carpet. "I'll go ask Shigure-san if I can borrow his printer."

A warm hand grabbed her wrist. "Do it tomorrow," he said. "It's late." And then he slumped on top of her. "I want my pillow back."

He was actually pouting and it was quite possibly one of the most adorable things she’d ever seen.  

She just stared at the picture of them, smiling softly, Kyo-kun’s chin on her shoulder.

"You look cute," he murmured.

"I look the same as always, don't I?"

"Yeah."

He was warm. Like a steady heater on her back. It made her feel sleepy.

At some point, she’d been gently coaxed on her back again, eyes heavy and her boyfriend a comforting weight on her chest. She managed to text Uo-chan a 'Thank you' through bleary eyes before letting sleep take her.

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

The next day, she bought a frame and added the picture to her shelf next to her mother and Kyo-kun’s beads.

“You’re such a sap,” he’d said when he walked in and saw it.

But he couldn’t hide how his eyes kept softening when they landed on it.

Not from her.

[cringelordlikesplaz]

Strange to be an Eel

Turning into silly putty wasn't the strangest thing that had happened to him, honestly. It’s everything that happened after that which was weird.

"Please! I'm begging you, Jake bailed last minute and we don't have any replacements! This musical is our last chance. If this flops, we'll never be able to keep this place open!" She cried. 'She' being a short woman with desperate tears in her eyes and too many freckles. 

Eel pulled his wrist out of her surprisingly strong grip. He shook his hand off and observed the woman in front of him. She looked stressed, tired, and a general mess. Her name tag read ‘Penny’.

"Well, Penny." He said curtly, "I got things to do. Better things to do than-"

"But you're the perfect fit! You're the right size, you already know all the lines-"

"Seeing a musical five times doesn't mean I've memorized-"

Penny snapped to attention and pointed her finger into the air dramatically. The imaginary audience located in the storeroom fell silent. 

"And if I'm not here to save the day- Then as God as my witness, I'll be here to save the night!"

"-It's 'then as the gods as my witnesses'." Eel pointed out. Penny smiled smugly and Eel shook himself off.

"That doesn't prove anything. And it doesn't change the fact I can't go onstage!" Eel said.

"You'll be wearing makeup and goggles! A hat too! No one will be able to recognize you in costume!" Penny said, suddenly desperate again.

"No! I won't do it!" Eel said in response to her puppy eyes.

"Please! Please, Bruce Wayne's out there and if this goes well the PR will be fantastic!" She said, tears beginning to fall.

Eel looked up at the cracked ceiling and let out a long, long groan.

"I want 100 bucks." Eel said.

"Deal!" Penny said, the tears instantly evaporating. 

Damn actors.

~~~

So, the musical rendition of the hit show 'The Grey Ghost' went pretty damn well, in Eel's opinion. He was skeptical at first, as anyone should be, but he had to admit it, Penny was right. He was an amazing Grey Ghost. 

It helped that Eel had been a fan of the Grey Ghost since he was a boy, and it also maybe helped that he had snuck into the theater to see the practice runs of the play five times. He had thought he was being sneaky, but apparently theater kids could like, smell intruders. Fresh blood, if you would.

He hadn't known what would happen when he was cornered by a very manic little blond lady, but it ended up surprisingly well. He even got paid. 

After he and the other actors had taken their bows or whatever, Eel snuck back to the storeroom. He pried off the grey suit- it was kinda itchy honestly- and began to dig around for his usual clothes. 

He put his suit on. The nice one, that didn't pinch his shoulders and had all his crap in the pockets. He buttoned up the coat and pulled out his glasses. They were black and pretty slick, if he was honest with himself. Which he was. Occasionally.

The temples were wide and helped hide his eyes from the side. They hid his scar even better. They were sunglasses, unfortunately, not the best eyewear to have in Gotham, but he liked them. And that was enough for now. 

They were also expensive as all hell. Some sort of designer brand. He would wear them till they broke for how much they cost him. 

There was a knock on the door.

"I'm decent," Eel said. 

Penny opened the door and held her clipboard to her chest excitedly. Her eyes sparkled. 

"So." She said.

"So?" He asked.

"So! Y'know how Bruce Wayne was in the crowd tonight?" She asked.

"Yup," He said. 

"He liked it! He liked it so much he wants to fund us!" She said, "And he wants to meet you."

Eel blinked. "He what?" 

"He said your performance was incredible! He wants to meet you!"

"No." 

"No?" She asked, her head cocked, "But you've got so much talent! He could get you a job, y'know." 

"No. Just- no." Eel shook his head. He could just hear the sirens now. "I can't, Penny."

She seemed like she wanted to press him- like she did with getting him into the costume. But something on his face made her reconsider, apparently.

"Alright." She said, sighing, "I'll tell him you're not available."

"Thanks, pal." Eel said.

They stood awkwardly.

"I need to go." He said, pointing behind her to the door.

"I- okay." She said. Penny stepped aside and Eel left the storage room, Penny following behind. She led him to the backdoor.

"Um, thank you...?" She said as he stepped out into the alley.

"It's best if you don't know my name." Eel said.

"Will you be back?" 

"Probably not." Eel said, "What with your success here tonight- I think there's going to be too much foot traffic around for a crook like me to be hidden."

She smiled softly, "You weren't very hidden in the first place."

"I'll have you know I've hidden from cops in more obvious spots."

"I think that says more about the GCPD than it does your skill," Penny said.

Eel huffed, mockingly offended.

"Later, miss." He said, turning to leave.

"Goodbye." She said.

Penny waved to his back and waited for him to slink into the shadows before she shut the door.

~~~

"Eel O'brian." A gruff voice called.

Eel grinned and craned his head around to look at a familiar face.

"Matches! Ol' pal, where've you been? It's been ages." Eel said.

Matches Malone slid into the seat next to him at the bar. The bartender wordlessly handed Matches a drink and Matches wordlessly slid a few bills over the counter.

Eel took a sip of his own drink- a cocktail.

"I've heard there's work around." Matches said, taking his match out of his mouth to take a sip of his drink. Whiskey probably.

"I mean, yeah-" Eel said, rolling the cherry around his glass for the hell of it, "But there's always work around."

"Hmm." 

"Yeah yeah, I know what ya mean." Eel said, nodding. "You want the work that won't have you dressed up as a daisy and punched by a furry. I gotcha."

"Hmm."

"I miss the good 'ol days, Matches. Before all these folks in spandex came along and started going nuts all over town-" Eel paused, taking a sip of his cocktail, "-But I do got to admit it; the spandex is pretty hot."

"I need cash." Matches said, ever eloquent. 

"Cheers to that!" Eel laughed. He downed the rest of his drink, swallowing the cherry. 

"Where's the work?" Matches finally asked, and Eel's grin faltered. Always work and no play with this guy.

But Matches seemed to like him well enough, so Eel wouldn't hold it against him.

"So, new boss in the West part of town looking to hire some folks. I think they're hiding something pretty big, but we won't know that 'till we get there, won't we, Matches?" Eel said.

"Hmm."

"Yeah, me too buddy."

~~~

Things at the new job were getting crazy. Like, really really crazy. Like the type of crazy he spent a great amount of his time trying in vain to avoid. Super crazy.

Pun intended.

It started off fairly normal. By Gotham standards anyway. Looting places. Stealing. Scarin' the living daylights out of folks. Keeping out of the limelight. 

But the boss turned out to be working for an even bigger boss- who had a penchant for monologuing- and Eel couldn't help the sinking feeling he had in his gut.

And then the boss- the small boss and not the bigger, monologuing boss- somehow kidnapped Batgirl of all people and decided to drown her. And he did it in this big glass chamber with a valve on the side. 

He stood in front of it, glaring at each of his men accusingly.

He had each of them turn the valve, adding a few inches of water to the chamber, and taking few inches of air away from Batgirl. He was trying to root out a snitch. Or, as he put it, a bat.

Matches didn't even hesitate. Eel wished he had that guy's confidence.

But Eel? He wasn't a big fan of murder. It made him feel icky. It kept him awake at night. He already had enough insomnia, thank you very much.

And Batgirl- She was just a kid. A baby-faced teenager. Up close, she was no longer a force of nature fighting alongside a cryptid. She was a teenager up to her nose in water, her clothes torn and bloody.

Eel went last.

He put his hands on the valve and-

He couldn't do it.

He wouldn't.

A lot of things happened after that.

The boss (the small one) told the rest to shoot him down, and Eel had a half a second to view his terrible life before Matches tackled him to the floor.

The glass of the chamber broke and the room was suddenly flooded with a lot of water and one very mad vigilante. Then a window got busted in, even more glass flying, and then two Robins showed up- There was the young Robin who was grumpy and the other older Robin that wasn't Robin anymore but Eel couldn't really be bothered to remember his name at the moment.

There was fighting, gunfire, blood, and then there was glass in his hands-

And then Matches had somehow manifested them both outside and set Eel on his feet.

"You-" Eel spluttered, "You saved me!" 

Matches looked at Eel. Eel looked at Matches. The street was quiet. Inside the building, it was not.

"Thank you." Eel said softly.

"...You cost me my payment." Matches said at last.

Eel's face fell.

"I just- She's just a kid, Matches. I ain't a monster." Eel said.

Matches shook his head and walked away, leaving Eel on the sidewalk with glass in his hands.

Guess he was wrong about Matches.

~~~

That day wasn't too bad, though. In the middle of the night he was woken up to a knock at his window. His fourth story window in his crappy apartment.

He opened his window and suddenly a basket was shoved into his arms. He fumbled with it for a second, his hands still raw. There was a blur of movement and Eel was left standing half-naked holding a- a gift basket?

He sorted through it- it had cash and cookies and bandages. It also had a plain white card. He opened it and raised a brow in surprise.

"Thanks for not drowning me!" 

It was signed with a little bat drawn in the corner. 

The cookies were delicious.

~~~

The safe was built into the wall. The safe itself wasn't too big, and the wall was only made of plaster. It would be a pain to lug the safe back to base though. And it would cost precious seconds to hack away at the wall to get the safe out-

There was really only one option. The bomb he had was small and wouldn't do much in terms of excavation- but it would absolutely open up that pesky Wayne-Tech lock.

"Alright guys, we need to get back-" Eel didn't hear anyone. He turned- "Guys?"

"It's been a while, O'brian." Batman said, surrounded by the unconscious bodies of his crime buddies. Well, not really buddies- you get the point.

"Batman! Hello! I don't think we've met," Eel said, swinging on his heel and turning to face his doom.

"No, we haven't. But when I didn't hear word from the police of any of your activity for a few months- well." Batman took a silent step closer. "One tends to worry."

"Oh? Me? Lil 'ol me? You shouldn't have." Eel batted his eyelashes, though the effect was diminished as he was wearing his shades.

"You plan these heists well." Batman said slowly, "You waited until the Riddler attacked to go for this safe. You got past the cameras without setting off the alarm. You tipped off the police of where you'd be- on the other side of town."

Eel tried to reach for the detonator on the bomb. If he could just- "You flatter me, Batman really, but I-"

"We could use a man like that on our side, O'brian." Batman said. "A smart man like you could do some real good in the world."

Eel laughed. That was the most wrong thing he'd ever heard. He laughed but it wasn't funny.

He pressed the button and the bomb started counting down from 10.

"I don't think so, Bats. I'm not the hero type." Eel said, and then tried to make a run for it. Batman caught him by the collar.

"It's not about types. There's good in you."

"I really wish I could stay and chat, but I gotta split." Eel said, slipping his arms out of his coat and breaking into a mad sprint.

The bomb let out a single shrieking beep before it detonated. 

Eel didn't turn back to see what happened to Batman.

~~~

A deal went wrong. Unsurprising. They broke his leg. Unsurprising. He was alive. Surprising! Unfortunately, he was still very much crippled and bleeding out from somewhere. 

He limped along the sidewalk at night, always a dumb thing to do. His vision was either going or the lighting in this city was getting worse by the moment. Given that he lived in Gotham, it was likely both.

He limped into a grassy part of the city- a park of some sort. He'd get caught soon. Or maybe he'd bleed out and die. He couldn't manifest the energy to care either way.

He flopped down onto the grass, for lack of any other bright ideas. He couldn't see the stars through the cloud cover. Tragic. 

"Hey." A commanding voice called. He looked around until he spotted a scantily-clad woman. She was green and wearing leaves and had bright red hair and was looking at him like he was a pile of dead slugs.

Oh. Oh crap. Oh crap that's Poison Ivy.

Eel tried to shrink into the ground.

"Hiiiii Poison Ivy, how's the weather?" He asked. He tried to smile charmingly but it was most likely very strained and bloody.

"Why are you bleeding on my flowers?" She asked, a single brow raised.

"Haa, would you believe that blood makes a great fertilizer?" Eel said.

"It does." She said.

"Uh," Eel had lost too much blood for him to come up with a witty remark.

"Please don't kill me." He said.

"Greater men than you have begged for mercy. What makes you better?" She asked, head cocked.

"I can, uh," Eel panicked, "I can give you my grandma's recipe for caramel coffee." 

Poison Ivy's other eyebrow raised. 

They looked at each other for a moment.

Then, a shrill voice called from across the park.

"Ivy! Come on!! What are you even doing?!" 

Eel was fairly certain he was hallucinating now. Blood loss and all that. Because Harley Quinn, wearing a football jersey and sweatpants, came running up to stand besides Poison Ivy.

"We're going to miss the game," Harley pouted, then took notice of Eel, "Who's that mess?"

"Someone who can make caramel coffee, apparently." Poison Ivy said, bemused.

"I like caramel." Harley said.

Poison Ivy shrugged, "We can keep him if you want."

"I also like coffee..." Harley tapped her chin in consideration, "Yeah we'll take him. Come on, Ivy!"

~~~

That was how he ended up getting high with Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy. His leg was propped up on a table, a bong was being passed around, the apparent football game played on the TV in front of them. They were in a greenhouse and the city’s lights shone through the glass almost magically. This was probably not what someone suffering from blood loss should be doing. Eel almost considered making a break for it. 

But Poison Ivy was the Weed Queen of Gotham, and getting this stuff free? Too good to pass up.

Harely had seemingly forgotten about the promised coffee, but since they hadn’t killed him yet and gave him weed, Eel decided he'd write the recipe down for them before he left.

"I don't get why capes dress the way they do," Harely said, "I mean, rogues have the same problem but like, it's more noticeable with the heroes, y'know?"

"Like, the boob windows?" Ivy asked. Harley nodded enthusiastically. 

"Yeah, yeah! The boob windows." Harely said, "Why do all the guys wear kevlar and body armor and the girls got to show off their tits?"

"Maybe the dudes should show off their tits too." Eel said. 

Poison Ivy laughed and Harely nodded even more enthusiastically.

"Yeah! This guy gets it!" 

"See, if I were to go running around in spandex-" Eel gestured to his very much not spandex coated body, "I'd show off my cleavage all the time." 

"Men don't have cleavage," Ivy pointed out.

"Not with that attitude they don't." Harley said, "Say, Eel, if you ever get tits, come over so we can prove Ivy wrong."

Eel cackled, "Sure thing! And if I ever start wearing spandex as a hobby I'll make sure the V-neck plunges all the way down."

"You'd better!" 

Ivy laughed and Eel was handed the bong again.

~~~

Eel wasn't even doing anything. He was in his apartment, minding his own business. Well actually he was trying to sleep but that wasn't going so well.

Then there was a tapping on his window. Feeling a sudden wash of deja-vu, Eel turned around. There was an otherworldly, haunting green glow coming from his window. 

Pausing, and exercising a healthy amount of caution, walked over to the window.

A UFO hovered outside his window. A tiny one.

Eel rubbed his eyes.

The UFO bonked against the glass, seemingly wanting inside.

"uh," Eel said. Against every ounce of common sense, he opened the window. 

The UFO flew inside his room, casting its light oddly through his home. There was a mechanical whir, and suddenly a robotic arm sprung out from the bottom of the ship.

"Uh," Eel said, regretting everything immediately.

The UFO then grabbed Eel by his good ankle, his other leg still in a cast for a few more weeks. He lost balance and hit his head on the floor. The small ship lifted him off the floor by his ankle, and then dragged him out the window. He tried to claw at the windowsill but the ship was too fast.

"UH,"

He dangled dangerously over what was at least a thirty foot drop. The UFO paid no mind to his panicked flailing, and instead began to go higher.

"OH GOD."

~~~

The small UFO took him to a bigger UFO, of course.

A small hole opened in the underside of the ship, and Eel was brought inside. The inside of an alien spaceship looked nearly identical to its outside, apparently. Weird and green.

The smaller ship finally dropped him off in a large circular room. He was set down gently on his back, but he still hissed in surprise. The metal floor was freezing and he was only in his shorts.

"Uh oh uh oh uh oh..." He muttered.

"Hello, human!" A cheery, buzzing voice greeted. 

Eel looked around frantically and finally spotted a small, glowing blue light.

"Uh, hi?" He said to the light. The blue light bobbed up and down- excitedly?

"Human!" It said, "We are the-"

It said something that sounded eldritch to his human ears.

"-and we saw your performance!"

He blinked.

"...my what."

"On February 7th, approximately 11 months ago, you performed in the musical "The Grey Ghost Strikes Back!"." The light said. Several other colorful lights manifested around him.

"...uh huh."

"If you are wondering why you did not see us, the-" [REDACTED] "-in the crowd on the date of your performance, it is because we were not there."

"Ooohh kayyyy...."

"Batman recorded it and sent us a copy!"

Eel blinked. They were speaking alienese, he was certain of it.

"He also sent along with it 307 other forms of human entertainment as a welcome package to Earth!" It said, "And we must say, we really enjoyed your performance."

A red light, hovering just a little lower than the blue one, perked up.

"We especially enjoyed your performance in the third act, and would like to compliment your singing skills." The red light said.

"Thank you?" Eel said.

"If it is not too much trouble, human, we would like what is most commonly known to you as an 'autograph'." The blue light said.

"...alright." 

~~~

The night started off odd, he'd admit it. But it wasn't bad. He signed some stuff. He didn't know what the things he signed were or what exactly he wrote with, but it hardly mattered. They asked him to sing a song from the musical- he did- and they somehow applauded him.

They gave him alien food, and he'd be damned if he didn't accept free food. Even if it was probably radioactive. It tasted like cotton candy. Again, not bad.

They told him a bit about their situation. Their home- somewhere on a different plane of existence- exploded. They were the last of their kind. Batman approached them, because he could do that apparently, and offered them a place on Earth.

"Our culture is based on entertainment. Each piece of what you call 'media' is like a fine work of art to us." They said. 

"Oh, cool. So do you kidnap actors you like in other stuff?" Eel asked, trying to figure out the best way to consume the slime on a stick he'd been given. He decided there was no proper way to do that so he just decided to slurp it off.

"We would like to meet the actors and actresses in other media, but they usually just scream the whole time they are here. We gain the impression that they do not appreciate our hospitality." They said.

Eel shrugged, "I can't imagine why. You guys are great."

"You have taken this whole experience very well, comparatively."

"I mean- I'm a bit desensitized to weirdness." Eel said.

"Is this experience considered 'weird' to other humans?" They asked.

"Nah." Eel said, waving off their concern, and set his slime stick down, "Hey, I'd like to get home now. This has been fun and all, but it's kinda cold in here."

"Of course, human. We wish you fame and fortune for your future."

"Uh, you too?"

They dropped him off on the roof of his apartment building. The sun was beginning to rise. He made his way down the stairs, nearly naked and his leg still in a cast. He slept okay.

~~~

Eel was known for many things. He knew most, if not all, of those things were bad. Hell, all of the things he was known for would be bad to the common man. But to the common crook? Only most of those things would be considered bad.

Some of the things he was known for made him desirable. 

He was a safecracker, he never got caught, he could make a good plan and stick to it. He was good at his job.

But Eel was not... valuable, per-say. He was a tool in most people's eyes. Something to be discarded when the job was done.

Eel knew this. Made his peace with it. He knew when he took this job that the guys he was working with didn't give two shits about him. But he needed their muscle for the security guards, and they needed his skill to crack the safe. They all needed the cash.

They walked into this big facility during a storm. Mr. Freeze was causing havoc in city hall again. The outer parts of the city didn't get the blizzard- they got the freezing rain.

The security guard appeared- he had a gun and he was willing to use it. If the folks he was working with were smart, which they weren't, they would have ran. Don't shoot back, don't have murder put onto your sentence along with theft and arson and everything else. 

But they were stupid, and they shot blindly, and the guard shot Eel in the shoulder. And the bullet tore through his shoulder and into a container of something-

Another shot rang out, the guard fell.

There was a crack and suddenly Eel was soaked in something- it was bright and hot and it burned like the embers of Hell. He screamed, of course.

The people he was working with, his 'pals', stared at him for just a second.

"Eel-!"

"Eel doesn't have the cash, now run!"

Eel got up, and gave chase. His steps faltered and his vision swam.

He made it outside just in time to see them get into the car and book it.

"Adios, Eel!" 

"You putrid punks!" He yelled, his hand clutching his shoulder. Everything burned. Everything throbbed. His pulse beat in his ears, the rain came down like knives, and the bullet hole poured blood like a faucet. But it was oddly thick- was it? The world kept wanting to wobble and spin.

The- the police. They'd be here soon. Maybe. Eventually. He needed to go.

He walked. 

Down the street, down an alley, then another, then another, until the buildings began to spread out and trees and grass began to coat the land.

The rain was softer here. Warmer too. He climbed a shallow hill. Like climbing a mountain. His heart slammed the inside of his skull like a drum. There was a tree on the hill, its branches bare.

He collapsed beneath it.

He didn't have time to see if he could spot any stars before it all went black.

~~~

Eel's life had always, always been strange.

But it apparently that was just the beginning.

[pricetagofficial]

Warning Signs -WW

Warnings: Language, angst, fluff, reasons to yell at me

Pairing: Wally West x Reader

Part Two

Word Count: 2.6K

Tag List: @kishony-the-geek​ @idkmanicantenglish​ @unknowntoanyone​ @subtleappreciation​ @catxsnow​ @nightwcngs​ @screennamealreadyused​ @river-bottom-nightmare​ @woahjaybird​ @bikoncon​

A/N: Thank you to the anon who sent in this request! I hope this is something along the lines of what you wanted, and if no one is yelling at my after reading this are you even human?

Your romance with Wally was anything but slow, but that came with the territory of loving a speedster let alone the fastest person alive. You knew from the moment you met that he was going to be a part of the rest of your life, and you hoped that it would be in a good way. It was no secret that Wally West was famous with the ladies, he was as smooth as he was fast and his words had you stumbling for a response.

What was once just simple flirting, turned into tense training sessions filled to the brim with sexual tension. It got to the point that the rest of the Titans could see your obvious attraction to each other but Dick knew your past.

In fact, he was the only one who knew it.

You had a dark past, one that you weren’t proud of and was actively trying to leave it behind. Deadshot had made you a lethal weapon someone who could shoot a target from hundreds of yards away and hit your mark perfectly. That kind of skill got you noticed, and not in a good way. It was what led the Titans to you in the first place.

Deadshot had brought you along to make you see that the Titans were really just what he said, a bunch of kids who had no idea what they were doing. But to you, they were anything but. He had ordered you to take them out one by one, and that’s what you planned on doing before you were interrupted.

Your first bullet didn’t hit its intended mark, instead, it landed in the shoulder of The Flash because you were knocked over by a blur of blue and black. Nightwing had stopped you from killing his best friend that day, and The Flash never even knew about it.

The mask you wore hid your face from him, so he couldn’t see what you looked like but with one well-placed hit, he caught a glimpse of just how young you were. It stopped him in his tracks, Deadshot had brought a girl no younger than he was to murder them for him.

Nightwing had tried to make you see sense, convince you that Deadshot only had his intentions in mind and cared nothing about you. With how young and naïve you were, you refused to believe him until you were captured and he left you there to take the blame.

For someone you thought you trusted, it hurt when he disappeared from sight as you yelled for him to get you out.

Nightwing gave you an option, you could join them on the team or go to jail. Considering the better of the two options, you joined the team. Dick, as you had come to know him, gave you a new background that you needed to fool the rest of your team into thinking that you were who you said you were.

Now here you were months later passionately in love with the very same speedster that you had almost killed.

Looking over at him while he slept, you could count the freckles that decorated Wally’s face. His brilliant green eyes were hidden by his closed lids with his bright red hair spread out across your pillows. Your naked form was pressed into his side as he held you close to him in his sleep. You had never felt like this about anyone before and it scared you that you cared so much about him.

Deadshot was still out there, and he knew who you were. If you were to run into him again, there was no guarantee that he would not try to ruin the new life you had tried to build for yourself.

Wally rolled and pulled you on top of him with a groan, a soft smile on his lips. Slowly, you leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the not wanting to wake him. But it seemed that he already was.

Feeling your lips on his, Wally’s grip on your waist tightened as he cupped your face and fully kissed you. For someone who was dead asleep only moments ago, he seemed to be very awake with the way he was kissing you.

Your free hand tangled itself into his hair, tugging it every so often causing him to let out soft groans that you loved so much.

“Hey babe, what’s got you up at this hour?” he asked, his voice filled with sleep.

You giggled and looked down at him, your hair framing your face. “I could say the same about you handsome.” You teased, brushing his bangs back.

“I was dreaming about the most beautiful girl I know, only to realize that while I dreamt of her, she was pressed against me in reality. I couldn’t pass that up.” He grinned, holding your waist. “Now, what’s keeping you up beautiful?”

You blushed at his pet name for you. “Just thinking about when Dick-“ you didn’t even get the rest of the sentence out before Wally’s face changed to a dangerous smirk.

“You mean to tell me that you are in bed with me naked, and you are thinking about my best friend?” he asked sliding his hands up your sides.

You scoffed and hit his shoulder with a laugh. “Wallace West! If you let me finish you would know that it was about when Dick brought me here to meet all of you.” You giggled, watching Wally look you over as his hand ran over your bare body.

“I remember that day too, the moment you showed up I knew that I had to have you no matter what.” He started. “It’s weird though, Dick told me that I shouldn’t get involved with you but I couldn’t be gladder that I ignored him.”

Hearing his words, your mood dropped but you refused to let your smile change. Dick didn’t approve of your relationship? That was news to you, but if you were honest with yourself you weren’t surprised. Dick was the only one who knew of your true past, he just wanted to keep his best friend safe. But he had to have known that there was nothing you would ever do to hurt Wally.

Wally noticed that you were quiet for a long minute, and his eyes filled with concern. “Y/N, babe, you alright?” he asked as he forced himself to sit up with you still straddling his lap. His large hands held your hips as he looked you over to make sure that you were alright. “Are you bothered that Dick said that?”

Quickly you shook your head and placed a kiss on his forehead before leaning yours on his shoulder. “it’s not that, I’m just really glad that I met you, Wally.”

He wrapped his arms around you and held you close to comfort you. Laying back down, the two of you drifted off to sleep while you thought of confronting Dick about what he had said to Wally about staying away from you.

The confrontation with Dick didn’t happen for another few days. He was stuck in Blüdhaven working on a case and the day he got back was when there was a threat on Jump City. Within no time, you and the rest of the Titans were suited up and ready to go. Wally gave you one final kiss before he sped out the door to head off your adversary and you ran across the roofs with Dick and Roy. Donna flew above you with Garth taking the waves from the harbor with him.

Dick could tell that there was something off with you but it was placed on the back burner when he was bolts of lightning streak across the city as Wally fended off the city as he waited for the rest of his team.

“Hey Flash, any sign on who it is?” Nightwing asked.

“It’s our favorite sharpshooter here Rob, Deadshot is back in town and he seems pissed.” Flash’s voice sounded through the com system.

The look you and Nightwing shared didn’t ease your nerves at all. Deadshot was back in town, and he was most likely looking for you.

“What’s the plan Nightwing?” Donna asked as she flew above.

“Flash, Garth and Donna, you three distract him so Arsenal, Barrage, and I try and get in close to take him out. If we play this right, we can finally put him away after months of tracking him down.”

There was a murmur of agreement as Donna and Garth shot ahead to give Flash the assistance he needed It didn’t take long for you and the other two to arrive, but the second Deadshot saw you, you swore he smiled.

Pulling out a rifle of your own, you set up in a hidden location so you could try and get a good view and possibly a few good shots in at him. The man who made you a killer was not going to get away with it this time.

The battle raged on for what seemed like hours, but finally, with a combined effort of you, Nightwing and Flash Deadshot was finally down for the count. But that didn’t stop him from talking.

“Barrage you said your name was? You remind me an awful lot about my last partner Deadeye, the last time I saw her was here in this city. Any idea where I could find her?” he asked.

Before the others could ask, you punched him hard enough that his nose broke and a couple of his teeth chipped. Giving the others the signal that you were heading back early, you disappeared down the street leaving a very confused Wally and a frowning Dick.

The second you got back to the tower, you showered and grabbed a snack from the kitchen. Moments after you grabbed a bowl of food, you felt a rush of air beside you. Within seconds, Wally placed a kiss on your lips, took a bite of your food, and promised to “be back in a flash” before zooming off to the shower and dressed.

One by one the others filtered in with Dick being the last one. His gaze went to you immediately and you followed him to the training room. Dick shut the door and stood with his arms crossed as he watched you walk towards him.

“I know you have questions, but I have a few of my own bird brain. First of all, who the fuck gave you permission to tell Wally to stay away from me when I first got here? Isn’t that a choice to be made by us, not you? I would never hurt him like that, you of all people should know this!” you snapped at him, poking him in the chest.

“Yeah, I of all people also know where you really came from. What’s he going to think when he and the others find out that you were Deadeye and almost killed us only a few months ago? I’m thinking of more than just you; I’m thinking about the entire team.” he snapped.

“I left Deadeye behind before I ever fell for him! If I was going to hurt him, I would have done it already. But what about you? How are you going to tell your best friend that you lied to him about his girlfriend? I am not the only one at fault here and if I go down, I am dragging you with me, Richard Grayson.”

You were going to say more but you caught the expression on Dick’s face. He was staring at something behind you, and you had a bad feeling about what it was. Turning on your heel, you saw Wally standing there with a look of shock on his face with the apple he was eating long forgotten about.

“Y/N, Dick, what the hell is going on?” he asked slowly.

“Walls-“ Dick started towards him only for Wally to back away and shake his head.

“Don’t, I want the truth.” He said sternly. “The whole truth.”

You dropped your head and took a deep breath. “I haven’t been exactly honest with you about who I am. I wasn’t always Barrage; I was Deadeye Deadshot’s apprentice.” You said slowly.

Wally’s eyes shifted between you and Dick. “You knew, you both knew and kept it from me?” he asked.

The look on both yours and Dick’s faces said it all. The two people he loved most in the world lied to his face about who you were and it hurt him more than that bullet wound you had apparently given him.

Dick moved to step towards his friend once again only for Wally to shoot him a glare. “I want to hear what she has to say, not you.” He snapped, only for Dick to drop his head and leave the room for the two of you to try and talk things out.

The silence that fell over you was deafening and it seemed that the tension was choking you. You loved Wally, you loved him more than anything but the way he was looking at you broke your heart. He trusted you with everything, including his secret identity only to find out that you had tried to kill them only months before was a shock.

He was the first to break the silence, “How long have you been lying to me?” he asked. The lack of response only told him that it had been from the beginning.

“I wanted to tell you Red, I really did. But I knew that if I was honest about who I was, none of you would have trusted me. Floyd left me on that rooftop knowing what could have happened to me, and Dick decided that I deserved a second chance. So, with his help, I came up with a new past and joined the team.” You explained.

Wally stood there quietly and listened. “So, you thought that lying to a whole team who trusted you was a good idea?” he asked.

“Wally, would you have trusted me if I told the truth? Would we be what we are if I was honest?”

“Dick warned me about this.” He said softly, looking at the floor.

“About what?”

Wally’s green eyes finally met your own after almost ten minutes of avoiding your gaze and you could see the heartbreak hidden behind the traces of his anger and betrayal. “You.”

His words cut you deeply, Wally’s opinion of you was the only one you actually cared about and you could see it changing in front of your eyes.

“Red please,” you begged stepping closer to him. “We can work this out, I don’t want to lose you.”

Wally shook his head, pulling his hands away before you could take them in your own the term for endearment you had for him leaving a bad taste in his mouth. “You and I both know that you lost me the second you decided to lie to me and the rest of the team.” He turned around and quickly walked out of the training room avoiding his best friend that stood right outside the door.

The gravity of the situation was crushing you, what else were you supposed to do? Wally had just broken up with you and was likely going to tell the team that you and Dick had been lying to them. So, you did the only thing left for you to do.

Before Dick could ask questions or express the guilt he felt, you darted out of the training room and ran to yours and packed. Within half an hour your stuff was packed into two duffel bags and you dashed for the elevator.

The last thing you saw before the doors closed was the look on Wally’s face before you left Titans Tower, never wanting to come back.

[meowizard]

irumeno headcanons because help me

himiko has awful posture and is insecure, and whenever miu walks past her she punches her back (gently) to remind her to straighten up

'shoulders back, tits out'

their favourite movie is anastasia

or ponyo

they both quote the 'grRandma, its me. ahnastasia' line frequently and laugh manically every time

himiko cant sleep easily like ever, but she counts mius freckles on her arms while they cuddle and its like click

himiko lets miu play with her hair! she has fun discovering how much she can do with such little hair

and its a surprising amount! miu bought rainbow butterfly clips especially for her

miu's good with hair, she just finds it a hassle to do anything with her own

himiko likes watching miu weld stuff (from a safe distance with all the precautions ofc) bc the sparks look like shes casting a spell :)

they're masters at throwing food in each others mouths

himiko feels insecure without her hat, but since miu will ruffle her hair and give her forehead kisses when shes not wearing it, so she tends to take it off when they're in the same room

they do game nights with kiibo and shuichi