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heiayen · 9 months

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in danger, sinking deeper in your arms neuvillette x gn!reader

summary: Everyone in Fontaine is talking about the sudden arrest of a member of the worldwide crime organization, praising everyone involved for their hard work, not knowing the truth behind the trial. But you do, and soon you are thrown into another mysterious case, where this time, the safety of people you care the most about is on line.

tags: PART 1. modern au, neuvillette is a judge and you are a detective! enstablished relationship, it is kind-of-a murder mystery and injuries are mentioned but nothing too graphic + mentioned blood, a small reference to a fontaine world quest. ft furina cameo

notes: happy new years happy christmas december was not my month BUT I MANAGED to finish this fic anyway <;3 @theother-victoria hello. im your @favonius-library secret santa although a late one. first of all i am sorry that this fic took so long but unfortunately... life happened. and i wish i finished it faster, but </3 i decided to split this into two parts also because... you know to rush a fic with some actual plot would just ruin the quality and i didnt want that </3 please don't eat me up for any inaccurate things regarding law because this is fontaine. and my fic /j anyways whew! i shall now pass out. this is also my second time writing neuvie so uhadgdds goodnight!

“A member of the biggest worldwide crime organization, known as Fatui, has been sentenced to jail in Fontaine’s court”, said the big, bold letters on the first page of The Steambird.

It was the biggest sensation of the month– no, one could say of the year in the nation of justice, and only now it has been revealed to the public light. Everyone has been working in the shadows for the past weeks, trying their hardest to find any clues, evidence, and pointers, ultimately succeeding none of this would have happened if not for the group effort of the police and the amazing prosecution team, namely the lead prosecutor, ms. Furina. Judge Neuvillette, the greatest judge this place saw in its entire existence, has made the sentence, and many started to believe that with this trial, a new era would start and an end would be brought upon the horrible crimes of Fatui.

The jailed man— whose name they didn’t publish— would spend his nearest days in the Fortress of Meropide, where after finishing his sentence for the crimes he committed in Fontaine, he would be sent to Snezhnaya, to answer for his other crimes. before the judge of his homeland.

That was what people believed, and they had no reason to not. No one would lie to them about such thing, after all, and Judge Neuvillette was known for fair sentences, they all trusted him.

How unfortunate it was, that so much about this trial, the biggest sensation of the year was… simply not real. Fabricated for the public, and the harsh truth was under the rug, just waiting to be uncovered by some curious eye.

You were a detective, working specially for the Court of Fontaine. Your agency was personally picked by Neuvillette to work with him, ensure the security of the court members, and help with more stubborn cases that needed more special force to be solved.

It seemed crazy to you when you first joined, to work with the most known judge in Fontaine… and it still was crazy that you got blessed with such a chance from the universe, yet complained none.

Your agency was asked to help the police with the case of arresting Ajax— codename Tartaglia— and while you weren’t the main detective for this particular case, you heard and saw enough and none of this was as pretty as they tried to portray it to the public.

Because no one really knew if he was guilty.

The evidence, yes, pointed toward him, but then so many things pointed to the possibility that the evidence was false, put by someone wanting to frame Tartaglia. You were the first to reject this theory, not believing that anyone was even able to frame a criminal like him. And even if so, you were sure he would get an amazing attorney that would defend him with even more fabricated evidence, or that someone would just bail him out of jail, but—

None of this happened. Worse, the lead prosecutor, ms. Furina, received a threat to get a guilty sentence for the man, no matter what it would take.

Disobedience would be punished, the letter said. It was decided to do as the letter asked, both for the sake of everyone and most importantly, Furina’s safety, but also to shut down the blackmailer’s alertness.

Everything was carefully arranged by someone, and you all were just actors in someone’s biggest play of their life.

It was… gods. Terrible, to say the least. The blackmailer’s identity stayed unknown, as they disguised their letter as a government official one and made sure to not be found, and your team still was debating on the credibility of the evidence you all found. Everything pointed toward that it was fabricated, but nothing proved that it was, and if someone was genuinely just playing a stupid joke to cast the shadow of doubt, or mess with your investigation, then they were doing an amazing job.

Even Furina seemed a little off in your eyes, the smallest spark of her confidence gone when she herself wasn’t sure if anything she presented in court was real.

(Not to mention that Tartaglia shouldn’t be put on trial here, but in Snezhnaya. Something, something about international laws.)

There was nothing left for you than to wait for any move in the case, for any possible hint toward the mastermind and truth.

Just for how long you would have to wait?

It was early morning when you woke up to your phone ringing, a bit before your regular wake-up hour. Still half-asleep, you grabbed the device and, not even checking who it was calling, you picked up the call and was greeted by your co-worker’s voice bordering on screaming.

“[Name]! For gods’ sake, finally!” She half-screamed into your ear and you winced.

“‘nd no good morning even?” you mumbled, your brain foggy with sleep. Why was she even screaming so early?

“This is the third time I called so no, no good morning to you,” Came her quick reply, “Get up, someone found a corpse right at the courthouse’s doorstep.”

That woke you up instantly.

You jumped on your bed, throwing away your duvet and scrambling to get up, “Whose?! And— why on earth is there a corpse in the first place?!”

The order of your questions seemed a little out of place, but you barely cared. You walked quickly to your closet, grabbing the first pants and shirt you found under your hand.

“Good questions, I was about to ask you the same,” Your friend deadpanned and you could already imagine the judgemental raise of her eyebrows, “We can't... exactly recognize the victim. Whoever killed them had quite the fun with it..."

You gulped at the mental image alone of what was waiting for you. “This is fucking shit. Who found the corpse?”

“Ms. Furina found the body, called for sir Neuvillette, he called for me and I called for the rest, so police. And you, because I don’t want to deal with this case alone.”

You stopped buttoning up your shirt for a moment.

“...and for that, you are getting your ass moving and picking me up,” You said lightly to your phone. If not for your godsdamned friend, you still would be resting in bed! Maybe preparing to get out of it, but in bed nonetheless.

Still, another part of you was happy that she called you out of all people.

“No?!” Your friend retorted, “Don’t you have a car?”

“At mechanics.”

“Call a cab, then?”

“At this hour?”

There was a moment of silence before you heard from your friend something that sounded like a tired groan and something like ‘yes, whatever, I’ll pick you up’.

“You’re so nice, love you!” you cooed into the phone and ended the call.

Now dressed, you went to the kitchen to at least eat something, because you weren’t even sure if you would have enough time to get anything to drink.

A corpse was found under the courthouse’s doors, barely a few days after the trial ended. Who could possibly do it?

The blackmailer, as you all started calling the author of the letter only spoke about punishment in case Tartaglia was found innocent, and he wasn’t. Neuvillette and Furina did as they were asked.

A thought appeared in your mind that maybe the corpse was just a message some kind of, or a warning— but from who?

You stood in the kitchen, lazily chewing the sandwich (if you could call it) as you thought.

If not from the letter sender, then from who? And was it a warning message in the first place? Or maybe it was just a coincidence, although in that you would not believe, no matter what?

Whatever the answer was, you would find it.

You arrived at the crime scene fifteen minutes later, in your friend’s car. She filled you up on any details she missed on the phone, but she didn’t know much either.

Around the corpse were people already, so you could run first into asking around what happened. Neuvillette and Furina were standing a little away from the group, the woman visibly unsettled, despite the act she was putting on. Neuvillette had a firm hand on her shoulder, in the gesture of comfort.

You fought down a smile and walked up to them.

“Hello.” You nodded shortly to them, “Are you two alright?”

You winced internally at your own question. Furina didn’t look alright, of course she was not.

“Yes, we are alright.” Came Neuvillette’s answer, saving Furina from having to talk.

There was something about Neuvillette that not everyone knew. A little secret between you two that no one else knew.

“Mhm, that’s good to hear… Miss Furina, you were the one to find the body, yes?”

“Yes!” she exclaimed, “I came here and saw a man lying under the doors, and when I walked closer…”

She trailed off, covering her mouth with her hand. You didn’t look at the body, but… from your friend’s description and Furina’s reaction, it must have been a terrible, view.

“I can imagine it must have been quite the shock for you,” you sighed, internally shivering at the mental image in your head.

You asked her some more questions, noting everything in your mind. You kept them short, before letting her walk away from the crime place.

She saw no one around when she arrived, too panicked to look for anyone. It wasn’t a problem though, because you clearly remembered that there was a surveillance camera and the front doors were in its range. Someone would just have to check the recordings.

The police that arrived here were busy, your friend was talking with Furina and it was just you and Neuvillette. You gave him a quick glance before looking away.

“...how is Furina?” you asked, voice a tad quieter, a tad softer, now that you two were alone. You were close enough with Furina to drop the formalities and chat over cake and tea in your free time.

“She’s shaken, but well,” Neuvillette said, “She hid in her car upon discovering the body and called for me.”

“Smart,” you mumbled to yourself. She had no way to know if the murderer was still there, after all. You only wondered why she called Neuvillette instead of the police, but you figured that was just… her being herself.

Actually, you wondered about two things.

“...it isn’t in her style to be this early, though.” You looked at Neuvillette to see him give you a short nod.

“She said that she wanted to work on paperwork and cut the topic short.”

“Huh.” You furrowed your eyebrows slightly. That sounded unlike her, actually, “Do you really believe she would wake up this early to fill out some documents?”

You admired her greatly, but after working for so long alongside her and Neuvillette, you knew it was uncommon for her to act like that.

“It is unlike her, yes. I decided not to press further, not wanting to overwhelm her. She was already stressed enough because of discovering the body.”

You nodded and hummed to yourself.

“Do you… maybe have any idea why this all happened?” You raised your eyebrows at him, “Or, well, a theory?”

“I do not wish to jump into assumptions, but I believe this might be related to Fatui themselves. An important member of their organization got sentenced to jail, after all."

It was one of your theories, too. No one else fit the murder as much as the organization did.

"Could it be some sort of a warning?" you suggested. It wouldn’t be the first time Fatui did something so… unnecessarily violent to show a message. You hoped it wasn’t the case.

Neuvillette stayed silent for a moment, deep in thought before replying solemnly.

"I fear yes.”

You let out a heavy sigh. That… that was complicating everything so much. None of you was yet sure if it was Fatui’s doing, but if yes…

“If this… murder is related to Tartaglia’s case, then protecting Furina should be one of our priorities,” you said after a moment, the softness of your voice disappearing, letting firmness take its place, “She was the lead prosecutor for this case after all. It won’t hurt to take precautions, no matter who really stands behind this.”

Since everyone was still busy with their jobs, you reached out your hand to grab Neuvillette’s and give him a quick squeeze, dropping it right after.

“But I’m sure she’ll be fine either way, don’t worry.” You smiled warmly, lowering your voice and his own lips curled into a smile after a moment.

“...thank you,” he replied, also lowering his voice to keep this moment between you two.

The secret you shared was a warm feeling between you two, adoration and love shyly blooming in your hearts.

It started as stolen glances, unsure if you were even allowed to look at him like that. But then you once caught his own glance on you, and from that on, something started to bloom between you two.y Yet because of your jobs, you both had to be careful.

Neuvillette was adored by many, of course, you sometimes joked to yourself that you were dating a fontainian celebrity, but so he was hated by the people that he gave a guilty verdict to.

Not all, but enough, and while you didn't have actual enemies like he did, your job as the detective was still putting you at risk.

The glances stayed stolen, but with newfound fondness and warmth.

You opened your mouth to add something, but suddenly your friend called you over. You mouthed an apology to Neuvillette and walked to her.

She was talking with a police officer that was… holding a little, plastic bag, covered in blood. You swallowed.

There was something inside.

Your friend looked at you, a frown on her face.

"The man is missing his tongue and had… this," She pointed at the bag, "shoved in his mouth."

You felt chills appears on your back as you stared at the little bag.

A missing tongue and a plastic bag in its place, with a piece of paper inside it.

That couldn't promise anything good.

You still remembered a certain case from a little ago. You were lucky to usually work on rather… pleasant cases, as in not as brutal and violent as your co-workers would sometimes deal with, but that day, you stumbled upon a certain case. A messy contract with a criminal organization that ended with a man, a lowly The Steambird editor, who not only completely lost his mind, but also… his tongue.

Just like the man from the current case.

All the evidence that you found on the previous man, pointed out that he had an unfortunate deal with Fatui that ended with… well, not his death, but a part of you wondered if it wouldn’t be a better end for him.

You let out a deep breath, groaned, and layed your head on your desk, already tired of today. You truly had quite the luck lately! Curse you and whatever deity was watching over you.

The piece of paper found in the man’s mouth was, obviously, a very nice and kind message, with threats hidden between the lines. That could mean only one thing and it was that the Fatui indeed had a hand in this murder because of the entire Tartaglia case.

You were sure of it, since you had no other pointers and this seemed like the most likely case.

But it also meant that whoever was behind the first letter, was someone entirely else. You didn’t think anyone from Fatui would set up one of them, especially since you heard… surprisingly a lot about Tartaglia. He didn’t seem like someone so easy to throw out and replace.

Who, then?

Assuming it was true that he was framed, who could be powerful enough to frame someone like him? And do it behind Fatui’s back?

Maybe there was a missing part? Well, no, you obviously missed a lot yet. The camera recordings showed a pair of people bringing the man’s corpse under the courthouse’s doors, and then walking away, going inside a car and driving away, their little gift left on the doorsteps.

The victim still had to be identified, the pair of men too and they were vital to the case— you didn’t think they would willingly tell police who ordered them the murder (or if they killed the victim at all!), but maybe…

Assuming they were still alive, that is. You heard enough to let your imagination go wild at what could possibly happen.

…maybe too wild, when sudden anxiety started to blossom in your mind. The current situation was rather unpredictable, in you way you could tell what would happen next, and even with extra protection arranged for Neuvillette and Furina, you couldn’t help but worry about them.

But especially about Neuvillette. You loved him, after all. You didn’t know what would you do if anything ever happened to him.

You looked at your phone. You had currently… some kind of a break. Everything that just happened started to hit you only now, tiredness gnawing at your bones.

You needed some coffee. Something sweet to eat. A moment to collect your thoughts and continue worrying about the case and your lover later.

You took up your phone, and the receiver picked up the call a moment later.

“Neuvillette? Hello?”

“Hello, [name]. Is something the matter?”

Just hearing his voice seemed to raise your spirits a little.

“No, I just wanted to call you…” You smiled sheepishly to yourself and then added, with slight laughter in your voice, "I would invite you for dinner, but with all that happened earlier…"

Although you were planning to ask him out for dinner for some time now, just an evening spent together at your place, there was no time for such things now. It was a great shame, but you hoped that after all this, you two would find a moment of peace together.

For now, a phone conversation had to be enough.

To be honest, you called for no actual reason, more to just listen to his voice and maybe calm your mind a little, so for a moment, you two found yourselves in a comfortable silence.

There was a movie you watched a week ago. It was late when you watched it, you were planning to go to bed but while you were mindlessly switching channels, you saw a movie interesting enough to keep you up for the next hour. By now you forgot the name, but you told him about it either way.

He listened to all your words, even when you stumbled over the plot a few times, backtracking and trailing off when a part of the scene you were describing reminded you of something else.

He had a few of his own comments regarding the plot and certain scenes, like not understanding why people found a certain scene funny— to which you just… shrugged, not knowing either. The scene he mentioned was stupid, really, and yet it made you laugh so much when you first watched it, that even when describing it to him again you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh.

A charm of questionable but funny scenes, maybe.

Minutes passed on simply talking, smiling at your phone and laughing. Just talking with him seemed enough to help you recharge, but it also made you a little sad.

With you busy and the worry, already preparing itself to take a longer stay in mind, calls were probably the only way to spend time together like this. It wasn’t enough. You finished talking about the movie, ran out of thoughts to share, a moment passed.

"...you know, you have to be careful too,” you murmured, "I worry someone might try to attack either you or Furina, although I'm not sure if there would be anyone stupid enough to do that…"

You rolled your eyes at your own words. No one would, for sure, but…

"Point is, I still worry."

How could you not?

"You need not to worry, love.” You smiled at his words and soft tone and a part of you could swear he smiled. You hoped he did.

You heard him breathe, preparing to say something else, but at the same moment you heard someone calling out his name in the background, “...my apologies, it appears I am needed somewhere. I will call you later.”

“Sure, take care. I think my break is ending soon anyway,” you sighed, trying your hardest to now show disappointment in your tone.

The call ended after it, and yet you found yourself holding the phone next to your ear for a second, two more before putting it away. Your break was coming to an end anyway, it was about time you got up.

You just hoped that everything would end well.

(And yet soon, you would soon realize that nothing about this case would go well, nowhere close to how you hoped it would, and that your worst thoughts would come true.

But, maybe, just maybe, there still would be a place for a good ending?

You hoped, at least. And you would do everything to bring this case to a good ending.)

taglist: @ryuryuryuyurboat

#astronetwork #favoniuslibrary #・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#genshin impact x reader #neuvillette x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact imagines #neuvillette x you #gender neutral reader #heia's writin'#i wanna pass out not joking even the hell

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vaskianmountains · 4 years

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2020 fics

Back in 2019 when I first came back to writing fic after a couple years break, I made a list with all the fics I’d written that year, so I figured I’d make one for my 2020 fics too! While in other aspects 2020 wasn’t a great year, I do think I did pretty well writing-wise. I wrote eight fics, as well as some smaller ficlets that I only posted here on my tumblr. All of them were Captive Prince fics like last year, because I still can’t let these books or its characters go. I really love all of the fics I wrote, and the response to them was great as well. I really want to thank everyone who left me kudos or comments on AO3, or liked, replied, or reblogged my posts here on tumblr. It always makes me so happy when someone finds a way to let me know that they enjoyed my writing, so thank you! 💖 Below, I’ve listed all of the fics with links to AO3 and/or tumblr. I’ve included summary, rating, word count, and the most important tags. If you wanna know more about them, you can find it in the tags or author’s notes on AO3, or you can send me a message.

Our Unconventional Courtship [AO3] [Tumblr: One, Two, Three]

Rating: G, Word Count: 2089, Tags: Prank War AU

When Damen finds Auguste in the grocery store, he decides that this is the perfect moment to get back at him for the prank he pulled on Damen. Everything goes exactly as Damen planned. Everything except for the fact that the person whose shoes are now covered in raw eggs wasn’t Auguste at all, and that instead Damen now finds himself staring at the most beautiful man he has ever seen. He doesn’t know yet that the man turns out to be Auguste’s little brother Laurent, nor that this will be the beginning of a prank war between them that partially serves to disguise their flirting.

The Truth About Our Marriage [AO3] [Tumblr]

Rating: Not Rated, Word Count: 733, Tags: Oversharing College Professors AU

It was busy at the faculty drinks, much more so than usually. But the news was that Professor Damen might be bringing his sweetheart of a husband with him if they were able to find a babysitter to watch their two children, and Professor Laurent was bringing his husband who he once spent seven hours in bed with.

When their students finally meet their respective husbands, they're in for a surprise.

what never was and never will be [AO3]

Rating: Teen, Word Count: 2433, Tags: Soulmate AU, Warnings: Major Character Death, References to Canon-Typical Themes

As Damianos is whipped in front of him, Laurent can feel his own chest start to bruise. There seems to be some heavy object pressing against it from the inside that is trying but failing to reach out to Damianos. At the same time, neverwere memories are flashing in front of his eyes, showing him a fated life involving both Laurent and Damianos that will no longer come to pass.

Both of these things should not be possible. Not unless Damianos was dying in front of him. More importantly, it would require Damianos to be Laurent’s soulmate.

The Downsides of Having a Teenage Baby Brother [AO3] [Tumblr: One, Two]

Rating: Teen, Word Count: 1841, Tags: Modern AU, Sex Ed

When Auguste first learned that Laurent had found himself a boyfriend, he was overjoyed. But his joy had been quick to turn to dread the moment he realized that teenagers possessed more hormones than sense.

Kastor hadn’t come home for the weekend to deal with Damen and his new boyfriend, but he also didn’t want both of their moms and their dad to be disappointed in him.

Of Soulmates, Books, and Spilled Guacamole [AO3]

Rating: Teen, Word Count: 4131, Tags: Modern AU, Soulmate AU

“You are my soulmate?”

Damen had read those very same words countless of times on his arm and imagined countless of ways they might be said, but he had never thought they would be paired with such disdain.

Or, The first time Damen and Laurent talk is when Damen is over at Auguste’s to watch the game with their friends. Auguste had specifically told them all to stay away from Laurent, who hated drunk people, but Damen just bumped into him in the kitchen, fell on top of him, and spilled all of the guacamole he’d been holding onto both of them as well as the book Laurent had been carrying.

Your Breath in My Lungs [AO3] [Tumblr]

Rating: Not Rated, Word Count: 1073, Tags: Post-Canon

Damen has a nightmare while he is still recovering from his wound, and wakes up with a panic attack. Laurent helps him through it.

Fascinating Reports [AO3]

Rating: Explicit, Word Count: 1356, Tags: PWP

Damen pressed a kiss against the skin right behind Laurent’s ear. “We could do something a lot more interesting than reading reports.” He pulled Laurent’s earlobe into his mouth, softly worried it between his teeth.

“You sound very sure of yourself, but I must say I have my doubts. These reports are very riveting, and I’m not certain your cock would compare well.”

Damen huffed out a breath. “Well,” he said, “if you come with me, I could prove to you that it does.”

Or, Damen tries his best to get Laurent’s attention, while Laurent is ignoring him in favor of some very fascinating reports.

Not Like the Other Blonds [AO3]

Rating: G, Word Count: 1335, Tags: Modern AU, Nurse!Auguste

If Damen ever found out, he would never let Nikandros live it down that he had fallen in love with a blond. Not after Nikandros had complained about Damen’s type for as long as they’d known each other. However, Auguste was nothing like the blonds Damen always fell in love with. Auguste was funny. Auguste was sensible. Auguste was not a bitch. And Auguste had already met the love of his life.

Ficlets

I also wrote some short ficlets here on tumblr that I haven’t cross posted to AO3. You can find those in my tag #ficlet or in my tag #my writing

#captive prince #my writing #mine #i know the secret santa fic only got revealed in the new year #but the event was held for christmas 2020 #and i wrote it in 2020 too #so im counting it as one of my 2020 fics

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science-lings · 3 years

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LU & BOTW Fic/ WIP List

UPDATED 11/5/2022

Of Dubious Sophistication: 6/? posted chapters, Wild meets the chain on a day where he has to act like a person and decides to fuck with their misconceptions of him.

Another Second Chance: 2/? classic Wild gets pulled into the AOC timeline and is tasked to help prevent the calamity. But he looks different enough from his counterpart that he doesn’t reveal his true identity. He accidentally parallels Astor in the whole mysterious sorcerer/ seer vibes as he both knows the future and popped out of nowhere in a dramatic cape and ancient technology. Lots of interaction between Wild and the champions and there is both angst and hijinks. There’s also stuff about the new champions as most of it follows the plot of AOC. Also Wolfie is there because I thought it would be funny for him to bop around the baby egg guardian.

The Silence of the Knight: BOTW pre-calamity fic that’s mostly an introspective fic about why Link went silent and how everyone around him reacts to his lack of outward emotions. I just saw the concept of people seeing him as not quite human because of his refusal to show any emotions and wanting to catch a glimpse of how/ if he reacts when tragedy strikes, just to see if he has the ability to feel anything at all.

Heavy in Your Arms: Wild hated getting his memories back. They could be triggered by seemingly anything, they forced the entire group to stop or have someone stay with him until he got over it, which mostly ended up being Twilight, and he tended to end up feeling terrible. Even the good ones were bittersweet, when he saw glimpses of a family that was long gone or a fleeting moment when his life wasn’t destined to be a nightmare, only to open his eyes a century later having lost everything.He knew it was starting to become a hindrance on their quest and the last thing he wanted to be was a burden. (part of a series focused on the Wolf Trio)

I’ve Seen Hell (But This is a Bit More My Style): BOTW Fem!Link fic focused on how being the first female incarnation of the Heroes Spirit would be treated with a little bit of Zelink as a forbidden relationship. Link is angry and all of her past lives are just as pissed as she is. She’s seen as a harbinger of the calamity rather than the hero sent to stop it. And she’s seen as a mistake of the goddess and proof that the 10,000 years of peace was now at an end. General woman problems you know? (Sequel incorporating LU in progress) also please mind the tags.

Swordcrossed Lovers: Fluffy oneshot of the above au, Link and Zelda go to Gerudo Town and flirt while sword fighting. Zelink Week 2022 prompt: Sparring.

Champions Possessing Wild Oneshot Collection: The champions possess Wild sometimes, it leads to some shenanigans

The Unironic Magical Properties of True Love: totk role swap, Zelda find where Link has been hiding since being stuck in the past.

Requests/ short oneshots:

The Idiots of the Wind: Wind makes friends with the spirit of Revali and they team up to mess with Wild, mildly traumatizing him in the process.

A Waste of Pretty Faces: Wild and Warriors bond over something they didn’t expect (mind the warnings and tags)

To Kill What’s Already Dead: Set after sunset pt.7, Wild deals with not being allowed to see Twilight and with the very real possibility that his mentor is dying.

A Mosaic of Broken Glass: Link has a lot of scars, they don’t like them very much. Zelda is determined to help them work on loving themself. Non-Binary BOTW Link and I accidentally made Zelda asexual.

On Top Of The World: Day 1 prompt for Zelink week 2022- One Last Look, Link and Zelda reunite after the final battle with the calamity. Idk what to say it’s just pure fluff.

Frightful & Delightful: Wintery LU fic that is Hyrule-centric for a secret santa. Hurt/comfort, but mostly fluff.

3 Sentence Fics: Lots of short fics in one place, including LU, botw Zelink, and my own AUs!

The Many Duties of the Princesses Appointed Knight: Fluffy pre-calamity zelink hair braiding, not me basing a whole fic off of a vague idea...

The Caretaker of Holy Things: OC fic made for a zelda creators collab, the Priestess of the Temple of Time remains at the great plateau while the calamity rages around her, unfortunately, she’s due to have visitors.

Whumptober 2022:

Prompt 2: Nowhere to Run: Aryll from my priestesses AU meets the Fierce Deity for the first time.

Prompt 5: Hypothermia: Link and Zelda from my Golden Priestesses AU journey up to the Temple of Nayru to the spring of wisdom.

Prompt 9: Caught in the Storm: Zelda spends one hundred years fighting the calamity, even though he’s slumbering in the shrine of resurrection, Link still finds a way to help her keep her head above water.

Prompt 10: Whipping: Wild from my Fem!Wild AU has to reveal some things about her past after having a panic attack post-battle. Kind of a rewrite of part of the comic where Wild throws himself in front of Wind during a fight, you know the one.

Prompt 15: Emotional Damage/ New Scars: Wild visits the forgotten temple after the events of LU, he mourns.

Zelink Week 2023:

Day 1: Yearning: All In Good Time: Fem! Zelink AU during the events of LU, Wild misses her Princess.

Day 2: Forbidden: The Ballad of Frost and Flames: Fem!Zelink AU, pre-calamity while Link is still in hiding, they meet at a masquerade ball.

Day 4: Hand in Hand: The Fable of the Dragon and the Phoenix: MAJOR TOTK SPOILERS, Zelda makes and eternal choice and Link learns to rise from the ashes.

Unpublished fics under the cut, please let me know if any of them interest you so I can prioritize what I should focus on writing!

Free to Hide: Zelda and Link attend a festival in disguises unbeknownst to each other and they end up spending the whole time together without knowing that there are eyes in the darkness watching them. Spy thriller/ romcom vibes. Also there’s gender stuff because Link wears a dress and Zelda is almost exclusively referred to with neutral pronouns.

The Last Champion: Wild gets all the champions abilities after their spirits move on, but in a more similar way to how they used them, mostly just Hyrule and him becoming magic buddies and Wild learns how to use his new magic abilities.

Between the Doors of Death: A mix of both LU and BOTW as it takes place while Wild is dead and he hangs out with his ghostly incarnations and dead family members. Lot’s of family headcanons and an appearance from the 10k hero.

No Goodbye is Forever: How the last day with the chain happens and everything after. Meeting up in the afterlife and a little bit of keeping Wild company during BOTW2.

Tainted Blood: Time, Twilight, and Wild are related. How they find out and how the magic that they used affects the bloodline. Malon as Malanya because I love the idea that she just turns into an eccentric horse god and was waiting for a child she had already met.

Son of the Storm: BOTW fic centered around Urbosa and Link because I love her and her mom energy is perfect. Definitely some gender stuff and found family vibes. Link deserves a mom and Urbosa saw this short blond child and didn’t even ask if anyone else was going to adopt him she just did it.

Hylia’s Chosen Children: BOTW Link and Zelda catch up on being shitty kids after the Calamity and preparing for it stole their childhoods from them. Pure fluff, let them be kids please. Lots of pranks and sleepovers with Riju and stuff like that. They’re both trying to learn how to be regular people without absolutely massive responsibilities.

The Bloodline of the Wolf: Similar to the one before as it’s focused on Time, Twilight, and Wild and how they’re biologically related but this one is more about their canon relationships and answering questions that the comic gave me. Like why only Twilight and Time know about Wild’s memories despite how we are to assume that the entire chain kind of came together at once, why them and all that.

When You Can’t Die: Wild and his strange relationship with death, as someone who has been resurrected countless times and literally cannot die. He still has the champions abilities and kind of forgets that it is very much not normal to die as much as he does.

What was Killed for Good: Wild and his struggle to be human, the shrine took more from him than his memories and replaced them with something else. He’s just very odd and the people around him notice more than he does. He doesn’t know what’s normal and he feels alienated because of how people react to him. He just wants to vibe in the woods and ride bears.

Breaking, Broken: You know how all the weapons in BOTW break and it’s super annoying? What if that was a curse and also applied to people? Anyway, Wild is touch starved and desperate not to accidentally hurt his friends. Fortunately, magic has loopholes.

A Strange Kind of Self Reflection: Wild has identity issues and gets stuck in beast form after catching Twilight’s Shadow crystal. I have the perfect idea for what animal he would be and you guys are not ready.

The Heroes Before: Pre-Calamity Link learns about his predecessors through artifacts and very old records in his attempt to prepare for Ganon’s return.

Damaged: Literally every Link is a little fucked up and this fic is an exploration about how it manifests.

Some Kind of Sauce: Wild Genderfluid fic featuring Lullaby/Sheik and sexism.

Age of Heroes: AOC but with the entire chain, idk, I don’t have much for this one other than wanting to have my own take on the trope.

Untitled fics ideas:

Kid!Wild series- Giving the child champions powers and accidentally touching the shadow crystal

Modern with magic AU

Wild gets sick and mistakes Four to be his long forgotten little sister

Pride fic

Gerudo Town fic

Masquerade Ball fic

Soulmate/ Soulmark fic

Cursed Animal fic

Superhero AU

Once Upon a Time AU (mostly in the way that it’s a mixture of a modern au and a fantasy world kind of thing)

Indiana Jones/ the Mummy AU: Zelink but Zelda is an archeologist and Link is an Adventurer/ Explorer type and they need each other but go from reluctant allies to lovers due to plot

BOTW roleswap AU: Prince Link and Champion Zelda, maybe I’ll add some trans vibes but who knows, not me

#it won't let me edit my og post so I guess im going to have to make a new post every time #thats annoying #anyeay #my fics #fic list #wip list

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lozzypoz321 · 4 years

Text

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: I’m so sorry I haven’t posted in so long!!! But I am quite surprised that my current 200 followers (wow) haven’t unfollowed by now but this is my 200 celebration fic even though I’m a bit late- also I’m sorry if this sucks I just haven’t written in ages! Please bare with me! Kindly proofread by @canadianhufflepuffavenger 💗

Warnings: angst, past break up

Your real dad

Steve tightened his grip around your draw-string bag that he had convinced you to part ways with, as you, him and your mother made your way into the tower. He was dreading the reunion with Bucky after not seeing the team for about 2 weeks. You were practically bouncing on your feet to see your real dad. While Steve was there watching you treat your dad like a hero but not even spare him a glance.

Your family relationship was complicated yet simple at the same time: you hated your mom but tolerated her, loved your dad with all your heart, hated your stepdad as much as he tried, treated Peter like your brother and Thor exactly like your uncle.

Why did you hate your stepdad so much?

Well, first of all, he pretended like he was your real dad and tried to do all of the things with you that you and Bucky did together. Second, he always stole all your moms attention and made you feel like you were alone (whether he meant it or not)

The elevator door dinged, indicating that the three of you had reached your floor where currently Bucky, Thor, Tony, Natasha and Sam were hanging out, waiting for your “family”. The others were in the kitchen, trying to get a sneak taste of the food that had been ordered.

“Dad!” You yelled and raced up to the super soldier, he broke out into a grin and picked you up off the ground to invade you into a bone-breakinghug. “Hiya doll face.”

You grinned back at him and got down from his arms briefly to run across the room to retrieve your drawstring back so you could show your dad your new spiderman action figure that had been bought by your cousin Peter.

“Look! Look!”

He smirked slightly at your excited demeanour as you held up the toy as high as you could while jumping up and down for him to see. Once he’d figured out who the character was, you had already gone running off to see what Wanda and Vision had baked in one of the many kitchens.

“Hey Buck” Steve acknowledged as friendly as he could, it wasn’t that the two ‘friends’ hated each other, but there was definitely some tension in the room as the two sat parallel. Tony cleared his throat and mentioned something about having a cough as he quickly left the room.

“I better see where he got off to” Natasha and your mother said at exactly the same time, not wanting to experience what they thought was about to go down.

“Hi Steve” the older soldier greeted back, not sure what the intentions of the conversation were exactly. In the tower, the history between both soldiers and your mother was known but not really spoke of- Bucky dated your mother for quite a while (almost four entire years), and got her pregnant with you, but- as everybody was sure to know- all good things must come to an end- and the two broke up on good terms. That was before Steve Rogers himself got involved at a certain billionaire’s party when they realized they were (and this is in your mother's words) “meant for each other.”

“I’m erm, here to speak to you about something.” As if the awkwardness present in the room was no longer enough before, by now it was almost too much. Thor and Sam took the most obvious hint and left the room in search of something else to occupy their time.

“Well, you’re free to speak-“ Bucky was interrupted by the loud sound of laughing from behind the wooden door and almost instantly after a hushing sound. The two men had completely different reactions to this, Steve was utmostly confused, both eyebrows scrunching together, while Bucky’s face held a small smile. He knew exactly who was trying to eavesdrop and it just proved how much Steve did not know his stepdaughter from the fact he didn’t immediately know. “(Y/N),” he called out, the humour evident in his voice, “Parker, we know you're out there.”

“Awww, Peter you gave our secret identities up!”

By now Steve had caught on to the two of you and laughed lightly, trying to cover up the fact that his only chance to ask Bucky his question alone, was interrupted.

The wooden door creaked open, revealing Peter, dressed up in his spiderman suit for dramatic effect and you with a bandana on, which you thought made you look like a ninja and you held your action figure tightly in your left hand.

“(Y/N), you know it’s rude to eavesdrop” Steve scolded you, trying to be firm. You ignored him and shrugged your shoulders before going to follow the scent of Chinese food.

“Doll,” your dad stopped you “don’t ignore people, you know not to do that” he stood up from his spot on the sofa and began to also make his way to the kitchen, you right beside him muttering a small “okay dad.”

Steve tried not to let his heart sink as his best friend walked away. He would just have to try and get Bucky alone at another point in the night. If he didn’t get an answer, then he would have no use for the small box that was sitting in his trouser pocket.

“Bonjour,” Clint greeted the two of you as you both arrived for food, the island set up with enough plastic plates for everyone (Tony couldn’t be bothered with hiring people to wash normal, expensive ones multiple times a day)

Your mother smiled at you from the other side of the kitchen, but she was immediately confused when you didn’t smile back. The reason you had not, is because you had a feeling you knew exactly what question your stepdad had for Bucky and did not at all like the sound of it.

“Fries?” Bruce offered, tilting the box of food towards you. You nodded gratefully and grabbed a handful. The conversations at the table were mixed; Thor ranting passionately about the food at his home planet, Tony mumbling something about not even being hungry anyway (you thought he was just being salty since he didn’t get his Shawarma), Bucky and Sam having a silent argument across the table, and Peter was busy singing Christmas songs in his best Santa Claus voice.

“Have a holly jolly Christmas, and in case you didn’t seeeee” Natasha rolled her eyes dramatically at the teenager making everyone laugh.

“Hey don’t get annoyed at me! Everyone loves Christmas!”

You used to love Christmas before your parents separated and you weren’t allowed to spend the holiday with your dad.

“I don’t like Christmas,” your dad shrugged half mindedly while taking a sip of his soda. Peter looked at him like he had two heads and exclaimed in shock, “that impossible!”

“It ain’t kid,” Bucky chuckled while your mother shifted in her seat uncomfortably, realizing the reasoning.

While you worked your way through the pile of noodles, Thor’s incessant ranting came to an end, and the teenager had seemingly run out of songs, the group of superheroes decided to hang out in the living room and watch a movie before you, Steve and your mother had to go home.

“Which one?” Nat asked the room while holding up two movies, the nightmare before Christmas and the corpse bride. Both Halloween movies, neither particularly scary.

“How could one have a nightmare on the day before Christmas? Surely that is against the rules of the Holiday Christmas, that is based on happiness?” Thor asked, earning a quizzical look from you. “Stop tryna act like Shakespeare big man” Tony laughed while grabbing a handful of popcorn and shoving it all into his mouth.

Steve ignored the billionaire, and while no one seemed to be paying attention he directed his attention to Bucky, swallowing nervously. “Hey Buck, can I speak to you for a sec outside?”

Confusion spread over the soldier’s face for a split second before complying and getting up from the couch with Steve as discreetly as possible as to not raise suspicion from the rest of the team and you.

“What’s up?” He asked once they’d reached the hallway outside, he didn’t know what was up with the younger man but he could easily tell that he’d been acting nervous around himself and your mom.

“Um, I have a question, you don’t have to say yes or no or anything-“

“Your ranting.”

He stopped and thought for a second, wondering how to put it. “I know it’s been complicated recently, and I know this might make it worse with all your history with (Y/M/N) and (Y/N) but I really do love both of them and since (Y/M/N)’s parents passed a while ago, there’s no one to really ask for their blessing so I guess I’m here to ask you, can I have your blessing to propose to (Y/M/N)?”

Bucky stood emotionless for a second, not knowing how to react. He wasn’t sure whether to be happy for Steve and support him or to be angry. He had both reasonable attributes for each option but was cut short when he heard the sound of a door banging against its hinges on the floor above.

Both of your dad’s eyebrows scrunched together, who was that? Everyone in the tower knew not to do it because Tony despised it, and everyone with a brain knew that when Tony got annoyed, bad things happened.

Then almost instantly after the door entering the living room revealing an awkward Loki “I’m sorry to interrupt this conversation but your daughter slash stepdaughter, just ran upstairs in tears so if you could quickly wrap this little moment up, it would be greatly appreciated”

Bucky’s heart stopped, why were you crying?

He and Steve completely forgot about their previous conversation and quickly headed upstairs, nearly running Peter over in the process coming from the toilet. But just as they reached the door where you normally stayed when you came for sleepovers, Bucky stopped and put a finger to his lips.

“I think I should go in.” Instead of arguing, and saying that it would be good ‘bonding time’ to get you to like him, Steve silently agreed and let your dad go in.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he gently closed the door behind himself, instantly catching sight of you sat on the carpeted floor, furiously wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your hoodie.

“Hey, hey, don’t hurt yourself,” he took ahold of both of your wrists and set them down on your lap, “why’re you crying doll?”

Tears continued to stream unapologetically down your cheeks, you didn’t know how to tell him. That you had snuck out of the living room to see where the two had gone and then eavesdropped into their conversation, and once hearing your stepdad (who you did not like at all) was going to become a permanent part of your life, ran off crying.

“I don’t wanna talk about it” you shook your head, making him sigh. “Please tell me, I wanna know why. You trust me right (Y/N)?”

The simple nod was all he needed, yet his heart still ached. Seeing his only daughter in tears and didn’t trust him enough to tell him why? It was heartbreaking for him. “I don’t want him to marry mom,” you quietly admitted, “the only reason I’m still allowed to see you is because she thinks I still need a father figure, so now he’s gonna be here forever I won’t be- I won’t be able to see you anymore.”

He sighed deeply, trying to find a way to comfort you. “You will, I promise. I’ll always be apart of your life doll. No one can ever take you away from me because you're my daughter and I love you so so much, m’kay?”

You sniffled and wiped the final tears from your cheeks. “Okay.”

Before you could both get up and return downstairs to finish the movie, Bucky stopped you and lifted you up to whisper something to you.

Once he had finished you pulled back and nodded hesitantly, realizing that you should put your grudge behind you and face a fear.

Your dad and you returned outside, Steve waiting patiently while resting on the wall, gently smiling at you to make sure you were okay.

“Go on doll,” Bucky quietly urged, making you take a deep breath and just go for it.

“I give you my blessing to marry mom.” Steve’s heart skipped multiple beats as his brain tried to process what you had said. You’d finally accepted him into your life?

He broke out into a grin, trying to form words to thank you without seeming like this meant the absolute world to him. “Thank you (Y/N). I appreciate it so much.”

Bucky was proud of you for taking a leap and letting Steve into your life when you were scared. He realized at that moment that even if you did have a dad and a stepdad at the same time, he’d fulfilled his role already.

Taglist: @marvel-ous-hobbit @snarky--starky @rae-is-typing @stargazingfangirl18 @canadianhufflepuffavenger @herecomesthewriterwitch @every-marveler-ever @hera-the-writer @lovers-in-japan-reign-of-love @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @rooskaya-yelena @deephideoutmilkshake @kidney9-9 @js3639 @am3l1a-24 @bonkybarnes107 @ilovemarvel-andcats @sapphireplums @deannawallacee @keenmarvellover @garbage-potato @mollbt @spookybooisa

#dad!bucky #bucky x daughter!reader #bucky x child!reader #steve x child!reader #steve rogers x daughter!reader #bucky barnes x daughter!reader #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #Steve Rogers #avengers x child!reader #avengers x platonic!reader #bucky x y/n

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joheun-saram · 4 years

Text

Whenever, Wherever (jhs)

Summary- Hoseok is a time traveller but that’s not the strangest thing that has happened to him. The strangest thing is when he meets a girl he’s never seen and she tells him he’s her best friend.

word count- 6.7k

pairing- timetraveler!Hoseok x Reader

rating- R

genre- angst, fluff, smut

warnings- car accident, mention of parental death, mention of miscarriage, major character death, description of gun shot wound (but not gory), explicit smut (unprotected lovey dovey sex), hoseok pukes a lot (soz babe ily)

a.n- Ahhh I finally finished my Secret Santa fic for @thebtswritersclub! I’m so excited to reveal that I’m indeed @baepsaetan‘s secret santa 🎅🏼Day did you guess I was your ss? Did you like me subtly asking you questions about this during our sprints? hehehe! Happy new year, love! 💕

For people who can guess, this was inspired by the Doctor, River relationship and is loosely based on the Time Traveller’s Wife (eventhough I straight up have never seen the movie and literally only read the wiki page 🥴)

A huge thank you to Bella @hobisbeautifulass for beta reading for me! I’m sorry I made you cry at work!

As always feedback appreciated, a reblog and a like goes a far way. Send me an ask! 💌

The day his mother passed away was when Hoseok discovered his gift.

Stranded by himself in a large suburban park in the middle of the night, there was an eeriness surrounding the dark expanse of road. There were no cars, no streetlights, and no solace to be found on the edge of the wooded trail he stood before. His heart was still racing, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he remembered seeing the blinding lights of the trailer in front of him just moments ago, his mother’s voice ricocheting through his head. He didn’t understand how he got here, and how the loud honks and screeches of tires had fallen to give way to this deafening silence.In the distance, he hears footsteps. The crackle of crushed leaves echoing in the air as he sees a man with dark hair, dressed in a large black sweater and a pair of blue ripped jeans, step forward. In the eight years he had lived thus far he had never been as terrified. The man lifted his arm as if to reach out towards him, and Hoseok closed his eyes tight, wishing he could run away.

Before he knew what happened, he was lying in his bed under his warm, colorful duvet. He rubbed his eyes, his heart still pounding and feeling an overwhelming urge to vomit. He thought it was a dream till his father entered with a tear-streaked face to let him know about his mother’s fatal accident.

That was the first time he time traveled, but it wouldn’t be the last. He didn’t know why he could do it. He didn’t know how he could control it. All he knew was that he was drawn to certain places, certain times. It was never when he wanted, like the first time when he wished he could go back to a few hours and not be greedy for ice cream so his mother would not have to drive him. Or the time he wished he could go back to tell his grandmother he loved her. Or the time in university where he wished he had never got caught cheating and lost his scholarship.

For being a time-traveler Hoseok’s life was full of regrets but the one thing he would never regret was meeting her.

-----------

For most people time is linear. There is the past, the present, and the future. But for Hoseok, time is a tangled mess, a convoluted web of events that he can only watch unfold. Never having the power to control where he ends up, Hoseok felt helpless, like his life was a punchline for the universe. All through his life, he would wind up at weird places at weird times. He would never know how long he would be there before being zapped back to whenever he came from.

Hoseok was twenty-five, he was single, he was a music producer, but most of all, he was tired. Lately, his time jumps were too frequent, going from happening once a year or so to once every few weeks. He would find himself in odd places at odd times, sometimes it was a quaint suburban street at dawn, other times a posh private school at midnight. All to stay there for seconds before zapping in his bed, as usual, his entire day lost, nausea bitting at his throat.

“Hoseok? Oh my god! It’s really you!” The new barista at his favorite coffee shop squealed when he made it to the front of the line, jarring him from his thoughts as he aimlessly scrolled through his Instagram, trying to decipher if he missed out on anything important. He looked at her, dressed cutely in a yellow sundress with the establishment's blue and gold apron on her waist. Her hair was loose around her face, her smile brilliant, as she looked at him with excitement. She was beautiful and it took Hoseok a few moments to stop himself from his shameless ogling.

“I’m sorry, do we know each other?” he asked, confused. He would have remembered if he ever saw her. She looked pretty unforgettable. Maybe she was one of Yoongi's friends, although something tells him Yoongi would find her sunshine persona offputting.

“Yeah! You’re my best friend!” She pointed at him, as his mouth dropped. Okay, so she was crazy. Great...

“Uh…” Hoseok didn't really know how to answer that, so he decided to follow his gut and just ignore her comment. “I’m sorry. Can I just order?”

“Vanilla latte, no whip, half sugar coming right up!” She beamed as she wrote on the cup, leaving him dumbfounded.

“How did you…?”

“Told you! You’re my best friend!” She pranced away to make his drink, as he stood there confused. When she returned, she handed him a drink and Hoseok could do nothing more than smile half-heartedly as he walked away. Did he have a stalker?

He decided not to visit that coffee shop again. Better not give this crazy person any more ideas.

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

Hoseok stood in someone's home, someone's living room, dark other than the moonlight that filtered through the windows. It was a modest room, resembling one of those he would see on television. In the center of the room, there was a bright yellow rug flanked on three sides by a couch set facing a television hooked to the wall above a fireplace. It seemed cozy, somewhere he would have liked to live.

He had no idea where he was and he cursed his gift once again. This was getting ridiculous. This was the first time he had appeared inside someone's home. He shook his head as he looked at the clock placed on one of the small tables next to the big couch.

3 am. Great. He was trespassing in the middle of the night.

He decided to escape before the owners caught wind of him. As he made his way towards the door, a family portrait caught his eye. It hung right next to the front door, framed by a beautiful gold frame.

His mouth dropped. It was him. He looked a little older, the lines next to his eyes a little deeper as he sat smiling on a grassy field, his arms around a beautiful woman in a yellow sundress holding a small infant wrapped in green blankets.

He felt his heartbeat pick up. He knew her. It was the random barista girl. The one who insisted she knew him. What the fuck?

Before Hoseok could spiral any further he heard a noise behind him. Turning he saw her, dressed in flannel pajamas, walking down the stairs. She looked around her mid-thirties, nothing like the chipper twenty-something he'd seen last week.

He stood there blinking at her as she came closer, awe on her features that quickly morphed into sorrow. She touched his face gently as if in disbelief that he was there as her eyes glistened in the moonlight.

"Hobi?" She spoke, her voice was hoarse as a tear slipped down her cheek. Hoseok didn't know why but he felt his heart lurch at her tears. He had no idea who she was but he felt this innate pull towards her. He wanted to hold her, wipe her tears, and most fucked up of all, he wanted to kiss her.

"I- who are you?" He asked softly, his hand coming to hold hers as if he couldn't help himself, leaning slightly into her touch.

"We haven't met yet?" Her voice was wet with tears as she sniffled, moving closer to him. She hugged him, wrapping her arms around him tightly as if to feel if he was really there. He stood silently as she squeezed him close, and wrapped his arms around her when she started sobbing into his chest. He held her tight as she cried, his eyes brimming with sympathetic tears.

"I missed you so much Hoseok," she said as she looked up at him. He had never seen a more beautiful woman in his life. Before he could think, he was leaning down to capture her lips with his own, his heart in his throat. She tasted like strawberries and mint, and he felt his head turn into a haze. Before he could deepen the kiss, he felt the familiar feeling in the pit of his stomach. He pulled apart as he saw her fade slowly, trying his hardest to hold on to her as she did the same.

All too soon, the familiar sight of his bedroom materialized as he stood there alone, her last words ringing in his head.

"No! Please! It's too soon!"

He didn't know when he started crying, but soon he was kneeling on his floor sobbing for a girl he didn't even know the name of.

-----------

Hoseok didn't know when he fell asleep, but he woke up on the floor of his bedroom, his face puffy and back sore. Without a second thought, he rose from his position, grabbed his keys, and bolted out of his apartment. He had to find her.

It took him six days to meet her again. Six days of anxiety, amped up from the coffees he chugged as he visited the coffee shop at different hours. He couldn't even describe her properly, every time he went to the cashier to tell them how she looked they gave him an odd look. Maybe it was because by the third day he looked like a deranged stalker, describing her height and her build to anyone who worked there. He was surprised they hadn't banned him yet.

On the sixth day, she waltzed in and sat across from him, not a care in the world. Her smile was wide, a juxtaposition to the sad, older version of her he was fixated on. She wore a polka-dotted dress which hitched up a little as she crossed her legs. Hoseok was speechless as he almost choked on his coffee.

"You told me to meet you earlier but honestly, I just wanted to annoy you a little." She giggled, her hand coming up to cover her mouth, her eyes lit with mirth, and the stress of finding her hit him like a ton of bricks. Hoseok jumped out of his seat, his arms around her shaking as he tried to control his breathing. His mind was fuzzy, he had no reason to react this way, but he couldn't help himself. He didn't know her but he missed her. His heart was beating a mile a minute as he held her tighter.

"What took you so long?" He asked his voice a little hoarse from not speaking all day, his breath coming out in puffs against her neck. She hummed a little apology as her hand reached his hair, stroking his scalp in a way that made him instantly relax. He melted into her, her sweet floral scent a balm to his anxious nerves.

"Do you even know my name yet?" She spoke, her voice light and airy, as he finally let go of her. He cleared his throat in embarrassment, the tips of his ears turning as red as the beanie atop his head. He settled back in his chair awkwardly staring at her, fiddling with the string of his sweatpants that laid on his thigh. He looked up at her smiling face, as she put her hand on top of his. "It's Y/N. It's nice to finally meet you, Hoseok."

Her words were simple but their effect was anything but. Hoseok felt like everything in his world made sense, that all those times he had puked after a shitty trip down the stitch of time was worth it. Her hand was so soft, skin so perfectly smooth as her thumb stroked his hand, that Hoseok had a hard time finding words to express how he was feeling.

He looked at her shyly, not knowing where his nerves were coming from, as he smiled, meeting her warm eyes.

"It's nice to finally meet you too, Y/N."

----------

Hoseok sighed in annoyance as he walked down the path of the familiar suburban neighborhood. The sun shone brightly, and all he wanted to do was to be zapped out of here so he could end up in bed next to his girlfriend. It had been barely thirty seconds since he saw her, her soft skin molded against his as she slept next to him, her hair tickling his nose as he spooned her. He missed her already. This wasn't fair. Why did he have to walk around this stupid cul-de-sac when he could be wrapped in her warmth?

Ever since the coffee shop, things with her had progressed extremely fast. He couldn't help himself. He never felt as close to someone as instantly before. Granted, he knew they were going to get married and have a beautiful child together, but that didn't mean he knew how fast he was going to fall for her.

The day he first learned her name, he couldn't wipe the giddy smile off his face. She was different than any other woman he had met. She was outgoing and optimistic, and brave. Much braver than him. While he stuttered to ask her for her number, she leaned across the table grabbed his phone, unlocking it as if by magic, and added her phone number in. While he wrote and rewrote eighteen different texts, pacing in his living room, she beat him to it with a casual "Stop overthinking, dummy. It's only me!"

How could he stop overthinking? It was her. His dream girl gift-wrapped and sent to him by fate. He never thought his gift would be good for anything, but she was here and all his previous suffering finally made sense.

As he walked along the sidewalk, biding his time, he approached a bus stop. It was cute, and definitely not from his decade. A janky blue bus stopped, and out she walked, making Hoseok miss his step and almost trip. She was dressed in a school uniform, a crisp white shirt with a plaid skirt, a cute flower-shaped backpack on her shoulders, and her hands full of college pamphlets. Hoseok couldn't help the smile that overtook his features. He wanted to run up to her but he realized even if she was his girlfriend now, it was still a crime to approach a minor. His gift was so stupid.

He stood there, averting his stare and looking at his shoes instead, as she walked closer to him. He promised himself not to be a creep and try to talk to her but her voice makes him break his resolve.

"Ew. Can you not get a hint? Get away from me, you creep!" she yelled and Hoseok's head snapped up. He felt his face flare with rage as he watched a kid around her age try to put his arm around her as she tried to shove him off. The kid was relentless, throwing cheesy pickup lines her way as she continuously rejected him. He wanted to beat that little shit to a pulp.

Clearing his throat, he approached the two. "Dude, she said no. Get off her," he spoke through gritted teeth.

"What's it to you, old man?" The boy rolled his eyes, his hand still wrapped around her as she pleaded at Hoseok with her eyes. Hoseok wasn't old! He wasn't even thirty yet! He hated this kid.

"It's not nice to forego consent, kid," he sneered, schooling his face into the coldest expression he could muster. It seemed to have worked because one look at Hoseok's face and the future sex offender had his hand to himself before he walked off with a huff. Hoseok glared at him as he disappeared in the opposite direction. Good riddance.

"Thank you so much!" Her voice was higher than it was now, a little spring to it that only comes from innocence as she looked at him with round eyes. "You're like my own personal superhero!"

Hoseok felt awkward. He never wanted to talk to her here. Running his hands through his hair, he smiled at her, throwing an awkward "Any time!" as he rushed away. The feeling in his gut was back and he had never been happier to want to throw up. The afternoon sun faded as he stood in his own room, blinded and running to where he knew his trash can was.

As he vomited into the plastic can, he felt a hand rub soothingly down his back. She handed him a water bottle when he sat up next to the bin, his head aching.

"Welcome back, babe. When did you go this time?" She giggled at her own joke. God, Hoseok loved that laugh.

----------

Hoseok was nervous. He hadn't been this nervous in a really long time. Surrounded by all his friends dressed in custom tuxedos, he fidgeted with his bowtie, and scrutinizing his reflection in the mirror he fixed the lapels of the blood-red jacket he was wearing. Who convinced him this gaudy suit was perfect for the occasion? Oh yeah, his bride.

Jung Hoseok thought he'd accomplish a lot of things by the time he was thirty-one. He thought he would have signed to a major label as an in-house producer (he did), he thought he would be living in a beautifully decorated apartment downtown (he does), he thought he would have a cute little dog to welcome him home (Mickey is adorable, in case you were wondering), but he never thought he would be waiting at the end of the aisle for someone who would want to share their life with him.

Ever since she came into his life, Hoseok felt like it was filled with sunshine. She brightened every aspect of it. The first time he kissed her, really kissed her, it felt like happiness was resonating through his entire skeleton - like she was the one thing missing in his world. The first time he told her he loved her he almost threw up from the nerves knotting in his stomach.

He promised himself he wouldn't cry, but he couldn't help himself as she walked in. She had foregone the usual white gown, quoting something about the patriarchy, as she walked towards him in a dress, equally as red as his suit.

Her smile was wide and he was in awe of her beauty. He sniffled through his vows and she winked at him through hers, a simple gesture that made him chuckle and relaxed the emotions brewing in him. She could always do that with the simplest of things, be it a touch or a look. He kissed her with passion as their friends and family cheered. He hoped she didn't mind how much he was blubbering. He promised himself he wouldn't cry.

Their wedding was one of the best moments of his entire life. Dancing to cheesy music, cheek to cheek, the couple in red stood out amongst others in black. Hoseok was so in love that he didn't even mind when at the end of the night he felt the familiar buzz in his ears. He was slightly upset that he abandoned his new wife on his wedding night, but is it abandonment when the hotel lobby fades into what he knows now is his future home?

He saw her there, sitting on the couch, a frown on her face as she seemingly stared into space, dressed in a set of comfy pajamas and he couldn't control himself. Whispering her name so as not to startle her, he moved towards her when she smiled up at him. Sitting next to her on the couch, he pulled her to him with a grin. She giggled as she settles herself on his lap, running her hands over his jacket, before soothingly scratching his scalp. Hoseok couldn't help but lean into her touch, a goofy grin on his face. He was sickeningly in love.

"If it isn't my handsome new husband. I've been waiting for my wedding night for years." She joked as she pulled his face to hers, kissing him deeply. Hoseok's heart lurched in his chest as a little whine escaped him. She isn't surprised in the least to see him there, and why would she be? In the past five years, Hoseok has visited so many different versions of her. In a way, it's part of how he fell in love with her. She may only be thirty-one to him, but he'd seen her at every stage of her life.

As she deepened their kiss, his hands went around her waist squeezing her tight as she ground on him gently. He remembers the different versions of her as he feels his blood rush through his body, each touch sparking electricity under his skin. He remembered when he first laid eyes on her in that small cafe, his nerves on their first date, her tears when he proposed, the first time he had her under him after she invited him for a movie. But he also remembered her at six playing in the sandbox in the park, sixteen and humming to pop songs while she walked home, thirty-six as she cried in his arms, seventy when she looked frayed and weak but still beautiful. He had seen all of her life, moments that he was lucky enough to be brought to more often as he fell more in love with her. He had visited her hundreds of times, and he couldn't wait to do that for the rest of his life.

He kissed down her neck, leaving little bites that he soothed with his tongue as she undressed him, his jacket somewhere on the floor, his shirt mostly buttoned. She moaned as he cupped her breasts, a beautifully airy noise that set his heart on fire.

Soon the two were breathless and naked as he hovered above her on the couch. She arched into him as he entered her, her little whines encouraging him. He latched his lips on her hard nipples, nipping them how he knows she loves. She fit him so perfectly, always so perfect for him. His wife, his soulmate, his Y/N.

"I love you, wife," he whispered and placed his forehead on hers, his hips thrusting into her heat, as he relished the connection between them. He kissed her deep, almost overwhelmed by how perfectly their lips slotted together. He could kiss her forever.

"I love you, husband," she whispered into his mouth, and his pace increased, a hand coming down to rub at her clit. She writhed under him as he pushes her off the edge. Her legs shaking around him, her heels poking into his back, as he savored the way her walls pulled him in. He was panting when he came, filling her up and babbling a chant of her name.

He pecked her face about a thousand times as they both laid on the couch boneless and giggling. When he, inevitably, ends up back on his bedroom floor, he saw her smirking at his naked body on the floor, dressed in his t-shirt, her hair still wet from her shower. She squatted next to him.

"And where is your suit?" she chided, her lips lifting, even when she tries to pretend she's mad.

"We'll get it back in a few years." Hoseok shrugged as he pulled her into a kiss, missing her body next to him already.

----------

The bar Hoseok sat at is loud, too loud for the conversation Yoongi keeps trying to have with him, and that's precisely why he chose it. Next to their table is a bachelorette party, a gaggle of women dressed in feather boas and plastic tiaras, sloshing drinks on themselves as they excitedly laugh. It's an odd contrast to the way he's feeling, the atmosphere on his own table somber.

"So what? You're going to leave your wife at home and get wasted here? Is that what you do now, Hobi?" Yoongi scolded his friend but Hoseok was already too far gone, having had a few bottles of beers before even inviting Yoongi out. He knew he was an asshole, he didn't need Yoongi to remind him, but he needed to escape.

His once happy marriage was becoming tumultuous, and, no it wasn't because they didn't love each other anymore, but quite the opposite. The past two years had really shown him that even if they were fighting and yelling, they still loved each other. Even when they were mad they crawled into bed together at the end of the day and held each other, not being able to sleep otherwise.

Their marriage started off great. There were cuddles in the kitchen, dance parties in the living room, vacations in Rome, and a night where they both sat next to each other on the floor by the bathroom holding hands as they waited with a little blue stick. They made love on that floor when it showed two lines, but that wasn't a surprise - Hoseok had seen his child in that photo the first time he kissed her.

The surprise was when she woke him up in the middle of the night, thirteen weeks into the pregnancy clutching her stomach, tears running down her face. He had never felt as scared as he did at that moment, breaking all the traffic laws he could get away with to get her to the emergency room. He held her hand through the ultrasound, through the exam where she winced, and through the doctor solemnly telling them they had had a miscarriage. He didn't let himself cry in front of her, always wanting to be brave, but he sobbed when she slept, knowing that he had a child but gaining little solace from the fact as he mourned.

The second time the two lines showed up, they were careful. He waited on her hand and foot, working from home, ensuring she got the proper nutrients. The result was another trip to the emergency room and another night of tears holding each other. By the fourth time, they stopped being surprised, just two zombies driving calmly to the hospital, before returning home. She went to the bedroom, while Hoseok drank himself into a stupor, before asking Yoongi to meet him here.

Hoseok knew he had a child, but he felt hopeless, drowning in the undercurrent of hurt and apathy. He loved his wife, loved her more than anything in the world but he couldn't bear to look at her tonight, couldn't bear to convince her once again that he had seen their child. Maybe they adopted he thought bitterly as he switched from beer to shots.

He walked home in a drunken haze despite Yoongi's worried insistence that he take a cab. Somewhere during his walk, he had started crying, tears painting his face and sending shivers down his body as they cooled in the evening chill. He wished he could fix it for her, she was always so brave, always so supportive of his stupid ideas and moods. Every time they had a fight, she was the first to apologize, a smile on her face as she cracked a joke and tickled him till all his worries were forgotten.

Drowning in self-pity, he barely noticed the buzz in his ears as he entered his house. Stumbling into the living room he saw her sitting on the couch with a cup of tea. He stared at her as he realized he was in the future, her hair greying, and her skin wrinkled. He didn't know how to react, but the tears returned as he rushed to her falling on his knees as he held onto her legs.

"I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so sorry." He apologized again and again. He didn't care that this version of her wasn't the one that needed to hear him, but he felt like a terrible husband, a terrible partner, as he kissed her knees. She stroked his hair and shushed him with a soft smile.

"What happened, Hobi?" she asked, her voice gentle, and he felt all his walls come down as he told her things he was sure already knew. He felt exhausted, every cell in his body aching. He laid on the couch, head in her lap as she listened to him, consoling him with the wisdom of a life lived.

After he had fallen silent, sober, and unable to convey any more emotions, she spoke.

"Hobi. You have to be nicer to yourself. You were the perfect husband. The perfect soulmate." Her words were meant to be soothing, but as soon as he heard them he felt like ice was running through his veins. He sat up immediately, looking at her with wide eyes.

"Were?"

"I shouldn't have said anything..." She looked guilty, hurt crossing across her features, as she ran her hands up and down his arms.

"No! Y/N... I die?" His voice was small, almost timid towards the end of the sentence, as he held her hands to ground himself.

"I'm sorry, baby." Her eyes glistened as she cupped one of his cheeks, looking at him sadly.

"When?"

"I'm not telling you. You'll go insane." She was firm in her resolution, her tone taking cadence that she always used with him when declaring the end of a conversation. But Hoseok couldn't help himself. He was going to die, he was going to leave her. He felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest.

"I'm already going insane! You have to tell me. What if I can stop it? We can be together. I don't want to leave you!" He pleaded, his eyes wide in panic.

"Hobi... You've never left me. You visit so often." She spoke with a small smile, seemingly reminiscing.

"Please! Please or else I'll go every day knowing it's my last with you. I - I can't do that. Please." He was almost whining at his point and he didn't care how desperate he sounded. He just wanted to know how much time he had with her. He was so stupid, how could he leave to get drunk while she waited for him at home. He didn't deserve the way this version of her was looking at him with such love.

"I barely even remember when it happened." He knew she was lying, could see it from the way her gaze averted his. Hesitantly she continued. "I'll... I'll just tell you. It's the day after you see yourself for the first time."

"See myself?" He repeated, his brain running through his memories. He would have remembered if he saw himself. It would be hard to forget, but he came up empty, tears of frustration lining his eyes as he ran his hand through his hair.

"That's all you told me. That you saw yourself and you felt bad for not being able to give yourself advice."

"I won't ever leave you. I promise. I'll come back. As much as I can." He kissed her at that, repeatedly, her lips soft under his. She knew he couldn't control his ability, but she smiled at him anyway, agreeing with his promise, telling him she'll see him soon, even if she had no idea if that was true.

When he was transported back to his room, he couldn't help himself from heaving on the floor, the contents of his stomach painting the hardwood. As always, she rushed to him, wiping his tears and walking him to the bathroom. She helped him change, before cleaning up after him, despite his protests, as she glared at him every time he tried to sit up from the bed.

When she returned from putting the cleaning supplies away, she shut the door to their bedroom, and there, on the hook behind it, hung his wedding suit, the crimson a bright splash of color amongst the white. She followed his eyes, giggling a little.

"You already made up for being an ass, don't worry," she joked, fingers poking at his side to tickle him gently.

Hoseok had missed her laugh. Missed it so much. He cut her off before she could say anything else, whispering apologies against her lips. He was never going to leave her.

---------

He was in a park, the trees throwing looming shadows under the moonlight as he walked around. He recognized this park, it was the one near her childhood home. She had taken him there during their first Christmas together, and he still remembered the silly grin on her face as she showed him the sandbox where she used to spend all her days as a kid, making sandcastles. He smiled at the memory. It was the first time in a while that his time travels hadn't taken him straight to her and he missed not being able to see which part of her life he was visiting.

He walked about reminiscing about his day. It was his daughter's third birthday and he felt a little bad leaving his wife to clean up the mess. He couldn't believe Soojin was three already. He pulled out his phone, scrolling through photographs as he waltzed down memory lane. He smiled softly at the photo from the day she was born. She was so tiny then, her little, pink heart-shaped lips in a pout as she stretched, her eyes almost disappearing beneath her chubby cheeks.

He kept his eyes glued to his phone, looking at photo after photo. There was one of her covered in mushed peas and he remembered how long it took him to get the mess out of the living room rug. There was one of her dressed as spiderman who she had declared her favorite recently after watching the cartoon on Netflix, doing the signature web-shooting pose. There was one of holding on to her mom as she walked for the first time. Hoseok's heart felt full, and he couldn't wait to get back home.

He decided to keep up with the tradition of seeing his wife every time he skipped through time and started walking towards her house, deciding to take the shortcut she had shown him. Humming a little, he placed his hands in his pockets as he strolled along, thinking about the delicious cake he had custom ordered for the party. He could probably eat the whole thing. Would it taste as good after it's been in the fridge?

His musings came to a quick stop however as he looked into the distance, just at the exit of the wooded path. There, dressed in a yellow sweatshirt with a giant dog on the front and jeans that didn't quite reach the ankles, was an eight-year-old boy. He walked closer and his heart stopped as he saw himself for the first time. He was crying, sniffling in the air, and as Hoseok approached his younger self, he vanished into the air.

He felt the air leave his lungs as he stumbled in his steps, falling on to the ground.

"That's all you told me. That you saw yourself and you felt bad for not being able to give yourself advice."

No. It's too soon. He couldn't collect his thoughts as they rushed through his head barely leaving a trace. When he had that conversation four years ago he thought he had more time. Soojin was just three years old. He thought he would have years, that he would see graduations and intimidate boyfriends, and walk her down the aisle. It's too soon.

He could feel himself hyperventilating, his breaths short and his ears echoing with his heartbeat, as he tried to collect himself. He looked at his hands shaking in his lap and his eyes focused on his outfit. How could he have forgotten what the man in his memory was wearing? He put on these ripped jeans this morning, the same jeans that haunted him for the first sixteen years of his life. How could he have not realized that he was the creepy old man he had nightmares about as a kid?

Trying to control his breathing, he started to formulate a plan. He didn't want Y/N to know, he didn't want her to go through the emotions he was going through right now, because she would go through so much worse when he was gone. He sat in the park and let himself cry, hoping that he wouldn't have to leave soon because leaving meant saying goodbye and he was not ready yet. It's too soon.

---------

Hoseok awoke with a sinking feeling in his heart and a lump in his throat. It was the day he had been dreading since before he learned her name. He hated that he didn't have enough time. Enough time to hold her, enough time to watch his daughter grow up, enough time to build a bigger family.

He found the other side of the bed empty and standing up with a groan, he moved to the room next door. He stroked his daughter's cheek a tear spilling out his eye that he quickly wiped. Bending down, he kissed her little cheek, sniffing her calming scent.

"Daddy loves you, baby. Daddy will always love you. Please be good for your mommy okay?"

She only moved a little at his words, sighing before continuing to snooze. Hoseok ran his hands over his face, his heartbeat accelerating. He looked at the mirror in the corner and practiced his smile a few times. He had to be brave. He had to be brave for her, for both of them.

He walked into the kitchen, schooling his expression into one of bliss, as he saw her standing in her underwear and one of his t-shirts, and his heart felt hollow. He loved her so much. He hated that he had to leave this way, but that was his fate from the beginning, wasn't it? Their whole relationship, everything, started from and led to this moment. Padding over to her, he put his arms around her squeezing her tight, his chest molding perfectly to her back as it always did.

She giggled as she leaned into him, softly caressing his arms and making him nuzzle further into her neck. He took in her delicate scent and tried to control his breathing. He could not break.

"Someone's cuddly this morning," she commented, turning around with a grin.

"I just love you, that's all."

She cooed as he brought his lips to hers. What he intended to be a gently good morning kiss, turned into so much more as he lost control of his emotions. He kissed her like he would forget her taste, but it wasn't him who would be dwelling on this moment for years to come.

When the two broke apart, he cupped her cheek as he felt the familiar buzz in his ears.

"You know I love you more than anything in the world right?" He whispered before he started to see his kitchen fade away.

Her voice echoed as he was teleported into a dark room, momentarily blinded.

"Aww, I love you too, my Hobi!"

He fumbled around a little and then he heard it - a loud gunshot, shattering his eardrums. The sound hurt more than the sudden sharp pain in his chest, he thought, as he gasped for air, stumbling to the ground. The lights in the room turned on then and he saw the younger version of his father in law, demanding something, his voice inaudible.

She never told him details about this moment, but kind of fitting that it was in the hands of her father. He never did like Hoseok much anyway. His breaths felt shallow as he chuckled at the irony. Or was it justice? Karma? He didn't know. Nevermind, his chest hurt far more than his eardrums. Fuck, being shot is a bitch.

He felt the nauseous pull for the last time as he dropped into his bedroom. The last thing he saw was his wife rushing over to him. Oh, she was so beautiful, he was so lucky she chose him.

For being a time-traveler Hoseok’s life was full of regrets but the one thing he would never regret was meeting her, even if that was the reason he lost her.

—

I hope you liked this super sad angst piece, for more fics of mine check out my masterlist

#thebtswritersclub #houseofddaeng #jhope angst #hoseok angst #hoseok fanfic #hoseok smut #hoseok fluff #jhope fluff #jhope imagines #jhope smut #jhope x reader #bts fic #bts fanfiction #btsnoonanet #purplearmynet #hoseok x reader

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i-love-you-all · 3 years

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Holiday themed ideas - Valorant

I got this ask that I thought was requesting something. In case it wasn’t and you just wanted a list of prompts that I’d request from someone, sorry for blowing you off the first time, and this is a list of holiday fic ideas that I played with but won’t write this year... (anyone can feel free to do something with them but please @ me so I can enjoy)

Non-Shippy stuff:

Sparring session where instead of Brimstone planning who’s paired with who, ppl who walk under the mistlefoe at the same time get paired. KJ gets paired w Breach and (maybe) beats him? Sage going off on someone :p

Decorating the meeting rooms. Brimstone is the tired father figure trying to run a working operation and his adult kids are going wild with lights and baked treats. (Sugar rush Jett anyone?) meanwhile Sova is confused because he would normally celebrate Christmas in January (Plus new years?? hello?? :p)

Snowball fight. Reyna didn’t want to join at first because she hates the cold, but then she gets too into it and makes everyone miserable/scared.

Secret Santa. :p that’s all I had to say...

Building a snowman. Breach is surprisingly good at it because he’s tall enough and strong enough to help stack the snow. He does so begrudgingly because he doesn’t want ppl to know he secretly enjoys it.

The agents have commissioned Omen throughout the year to knit them their personally designed Christmas sweaters. It’s the morning of now, and the agents reveal to each other what they asked for. The older ones/more serious ones just requested boring things like scarves and hats. They get store bought really ugly sweaters instead.

Omen doesn’t like singing in front of others but instead quietly sings carols to Skye’s summons instead.

Reyna goes Christmas shopping but doesn’t tell anyone who it’s for. All the agents suggest random items because they each think it’s for someone different. Maybe her mom? Her dad? An old flame? Viper is the only one who knows who it’s for, and suggests a popular art kit for kids. Reyna thinks her sister would’ve loved it, and it now sits on her gravestone.

Clashing Christmas traditions. Different foods the agents think should be on the table, different activities they want to do, different decorations. But at the end, it is a bonding experience.

Or, if Valorant can afford it, small drabbles of what each of the agents do in the week or so that they have off. They can go home for a couple days, and it’s a small glimpse into their lives around this wintery season. Some have families, some have their memories.

Breach/Sova shippy stuff (I mean this is my main ship LOL):

Scene of sharing a dinner together. A delicious ham prepared by Breach, and all the sides by Sova. Breach is not impressed but some of the things, and Sova doesn’t know what he’s talking abt. Aspic anyone? Mayo dressed salads? (I’m sorry for picking on Russian foods btw)

Sova doesn’t really go “home” for Christmas. His traditions center around going on outdoor camping trips with his father figure/mentor and celebrating with that group. Breach asks to go along this year and Sova has to suffer a miserable Breach who’s really trying his best to be a good sport... but Sova can tell he’s not having fun. Comfort ending with some snuggles in civilization after the countdown ends and the new year begins.

Lazy Christmas morning snowed in with each other, stores are closed and it’s near impossible to even walk around the streets.

Breach choosing a Christmas tree and taking it super seriously. Sova finds it cute, but doesn’t understand why it’s such a big deal.

#valorant #idk i'm not one for christmas #and i like angsty christmas fics #something about hurting when you know you should be celebrating gets me #but yeah do tag me if you find something that fits into these prompts #:))#and sorry again for blowing you off anon the first time

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anothertimdrakestan · 4 years

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Damijon Christmas Present!

FOR THE DAMIJON SECRET SANTA I HAD... @nymph-patt

dear nymph:

hi love! i haven’t written in a fat minute and i’m a little rusty so bear with me hehehe. i hope you have a wonderful holiday season! all my love -elle!

I’ve got a fluff christmas fic and a lil headcanon for ya!

Merry Stress-mas

“You can’t plan Christmas like a battle strategy Dami,” Jon groaned as Damian wheeled a whiteboard into their living room. “Actually, I’ve found it to be quite similar. Pay attention Kent, I know sticking to the plan has never been your strong suit.” Damian’s foot was tapping like crazy, Jon noted his clear anxiousness- needless to say Damian wasn’t the holiday type. Makes it a million times harder when it’s your first Christmas together as a couple.

*super-couple.

Jon gasped as Damian flipped the whiteboard like a school teacher, revealing meticulously drawn out plans mapped in expo-marker. “We start with my family, we stay until Jason is ten shots in, after that Christmas always becomes a nightmare so we head out. With your super speed it’ll be only an 14 minutes 37 second trip to your family where we stay for the majority of the night. At the end you rush us back to Gotham to console Dick after Bat-Christmas fails as always. Our emergency word is tyrannosaurus should anything go wrong at the drop we flee. Any questions?” Damian was flying through the plans, pointing at bulleted lists and analyzing possible flaws.

Jon took a deep breath, a smile creeping over his face. “I didn’t think you’d care so much about our first Christmas together with our families, it’s kind of sweet.” Lazily he reached for Damian, clinging to his back while Dami shook his head, mumbling as he edited the board. “Not really our first Christmas Kent and I definitely do not care about family tt,” Jon didn’t reply, he just smiled into the crook of Damian’s neck.

“Our suits bring down our aerodynamic potential so I’ve taken the liberty of adjusting our arrival time to 15 minutes 43 seconds. Does that sound accurate?” Jon hummed in response as he straightened Damian’s tie, it was already perfect but he’d take any excuse to get closer to Dami. “Ready my love?” Jon glanced at Damian who was checking his watch. “Yes.” Damian responded, absent mindedly clasping Jon’s hand as they made their way to the mansion.

“DAMI’S HERE!” Steph’s screech announced. She was hanging off the banister as she stole popcorn pieces from the massive tree. “Wonderful- Miss Brown I must ask you don’t eat the decorations tonight, have some festivity,” Alfred shook his head as he made his way to Jon. “Magnificent of you to join us Master Kent, I assume you will also be heading to your family’s festivities as well?” Jon opened his mouth but Damian answered first. “Yes Pennyworth, we plan on just saying for hors devours,” his curt reply brought a knowing smile to Alfred’s lips. “Always planned with you Master Damian,” his accent was playful making Jon chuckle.

Dick descended the stairs, Damian groaned at his bright green and red striped suit, Jon couldn’t help but laugh either. “Hellllooo super boyfriends! Are-You-Readyyyy-For-Tonight!” Dick practically skipped towards the two, pulling them into a tight hug before Damian could slip away. “We won’t be long Grayson we must attend the Kent family Christmas too,” Damian nodded curtly, shifting closer to Jon who got the message and moved forward into the living room.

“Actually, where are all the bat-siblings? And where did Steph run off to?” Jon noticed no one was around but Alfred who was preparing something delicious in the kitchen. Dick began chuckling, a devilish smile spreading across his face. “Oh, everyone is down in the batcave. C’mon.” Damian looked taken-aback but Jon was never to shocked by batfamily-antics.

The two followed Dick to the secret door. “Now, we heard from a little super birdy [Dick winked at Jon who was now openly grinning] that you were a little nervous about having to deal with two Christmas’ this year, so we felt it’d be easier for everyone if we just-” Dick popped open the door to a winter wonderland of a batcave. A large table was put out, filled with their family members. “Merry Christmas!” A chorus of laughter broke out as Damian’s jaw dropped.

At the table were the batfam, Kents, and even a couple speedsters littered around. All were laughing and smiling at one another. It was the biggest family gathering Jon has seen ever. “No need for crazy plans my love, just enjoy tonight with everyone,” Jon whispered to Damian as he scanned the room. “I- How did you- Thank you,” Damian settled on the last words of praise for the wonderful man who made every single day better. “No need for thanks, I’d get you the world if you wanted it, but for now let’s have a very Merry Christmas!” Jon took off towards his family and Damian would help but feel the corners of his lips betray him with a smile. Heart full he made his way down to his family.

“JASON DO NOT FLIRT WITH KARA SHE’S OFF LIMITS!”

“WALLY DID YOU EAT ALL THE COOKIES ALREADY?”

“BRUCE, CLARK, STOP FIGHTING OVER WHO GOT THE OTHER THE BETTER GIFT. YOU’RE BOTH RICH!”

very merry indeed.

Okay so I haven’t absorbed much batfam content at all for weeks so hopefully my spin on the HC is still cute : )

I don’t think Jon gets enough credit for how observant he is.

Too often Jon is forgotten, the second super boy, the sidekick, the boyfriend, the man who left everyone for space.

It’s true, technically. But Jon is so keen at reading those around him, especially the un-readable Damian Wayne that I would argue it’s a super skill in of itself.

He gets it from his mother you know, Superman was always a little dense, but, though no one believes it, he always had Lois to help him out. Too often the quieter, smarter, more analytical side gets forgotten and that’s no different with Jon. His friends don’t see the way he checks up on them, taking in their facial expressions and reading them to know the right thing to say at the right time to help them out. They don’t realize he spent whole days memorizing their heart beats and their breaths to know if they’re ever in peril. And they don’t see the way he looks at them so fondly, beyond grateful they’re in his life.

Lois sees it.

She saw it when Jon met Damian.

A young boy mesmerized by the wittiness and strength in the human boy. The greatest irony, the Superboy more human than the murder weapon now called “Robin”. But the two hit it off almost instantly- though Damian may not agree to that last bit.

Lois knew Jon adored Damian, every deep red was “Robin Red” every Wayne Ent. building they walked past brought up stories of his adventures with the youngest Wayne, every Justice League trip meant begging for his dad to send him to Gotham for the weekend while he was out. He was young, but Lois knew a pair of soulmates when she saw them.

There were these nights when they were teens. Jon would burst out of bed and rush to his mother. He never needed to say anything. There was this look in his eyes, Damian needs me. “Go” she’d always whisper, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead thinking back to when Clark would do the same for her.

She remembers the frantic December weeks Jon spent toiling on Damian’s Christmas gift. “What do I give a trillionaire who has the world?” Jon would whine and mope around the house for any semblance of inspiration.

Your heart Jon, all he wants is your love. Lois always thought to herself, she was quite aware of the two boy’s growing infatuation with each other, her husband was always slower in the “feelings” department and if he was slow she imagined Bruce was a damn sloth. So, she let the boys feel safe in her presence. Damian slowly spent more time at her home when Clark was out, she grew to have a sort of friendship with Damian. He’d comment on whatever news article she recently wrote, endure a three second reply and be on his way. She was always astounded at how up to date he was on all her pieces.

Lois was always proud of the love Jon showed Damian. She’d be the first to tell Bruce he needed to hug his damn kids, but there was a special kind of caring Jon held only for Damian. A love woven only for the two of them. Like an invisible string linking them no matter where in the universe the other was at, there was a friendship, a kindness, a passion, a love.

Overtime, Jon’s analysis of Damian led him to his own feelings. And over an even longer period of time Damian discovered his own. Jon never stopped caring, he never stopped worrying, and he never stopped loving.

Those, are the parts of Superman that Damian, and the world, need most.

Merry Christmas! <3

#damijon #jondami #shoutout whelm for putting this together u rock #damian wayne #jon kent #damian wayne x jon #damian x jon #damian wayne x jon kent #batfam #batfam christmas #batboys #batboys christmas #lois lane #superboy #superboy headcanon #damijon headcanon #jon kent headcanon

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cajunquandary · 4 years

Text

Hands that Heal

Link: (coming soon to Ao3)

Summary: Sometimes all you need is a little push the right direction...

Created for: @negans-lucille-tblr SPN Secret Santa Fic Exchange

Rating: 18+ only

Pairing: Dean x OFC (Jay)

Warnings: Jealous Dean, fluff, smut, smidge of angst, medical IV (briefly), unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap the willy)

Wordcount: 3.8k

A/N: Happy Holidays, @jay-and-dean! I was so ecstatic to have received your name and hope that my ramblings make you smile a little.

It’s a funny thing, the way everyone goes on about the eyes being windows to the soul. Of course, they can be very telling, and if you ever catch yourself getting lost in those of the Winchesters, how could you believe anything else? Or perhaps you are more like Jay.

Jay has been with the Winchesters for quite some time. She’s been lost in those eyes. And she’s been found. The pure green folds of Dean’s have scooped her up, swaddled her, saved her. So have Sam’s hazel, but not in quite the same way. Not that either brother knows. Only Cas.

Cas has seen the way her deep brown eyes linger just a little longer than they ought to, can feel the ache in her chest. There are times when Jay meets the angel’s gaze just afterwards but looks away just as quickly. They both know, but they won’t talk about it. And that’s okay.

But for Jay, she can see beyond the green. Beyond the freckles and blushing pensive lips, the curve of his jaw, the gently rolling hills of his chest and arms. She traces the majestic waves and ripples beneath his warm skin with only her eyes and her heart. They come to rest just past strong wrists and fall like weighted feathers upon Dean’s weathered hands.

You see, that’s where the soul really reveals itself closest to visible flesh. Each scar and busted knuckle tell a story. The pattern of freckles and tan lines speak of years in the sun. The calluses of his palm and fingertips disclose a rough life, a tough job. They are toned with skill, accurate in all things. They can field strip a gun and put it back together in the blink of an eye, tie complicated knots with dexterity, bait a hook and cast a line without hesitation, and even mold and create custom parts for Baby as they fix her up.

And yet, the skin between those marks is soft, no longer as elastic as it once was, but still full of life and love. The very muscles that hold together the bone and sinew have the capacity to both take life, and give it. Jay has watched them rip apart monsters and gently caress and hold victims within the same minute.

Such an extreme duality shouldn’t be so neatly wrapped up in one man, but it was. It was both Dean’s light and his curse. Jay shivered as she hesitated just a moment too long on the fantasy of those thick muscled, deadly, yet oh-so-gentle hands, imagining how they might tickle as they might glide over her smooth skin. Of course, Dean notices.

“There’s no way you’re cold, Jay. It’s a hundred friggin degrees outside!”

Right. Jay had to remind herself that they were on a case. No distractions. “Yeah, I-I’m good. Just got a chill because, ya know, we’re next to human refrigerators.” She swallowed hard and clenched her teeth to help ground herself back to reality.

It really was hotter than a witch’s tit out there and not much cooler inside the mortuary. Dean continued to read silently from some forms on the coroner’s clipboard before licking his thumb and index finger to turn the page. Heat washed over Jay, spreading like drunken honey from her scalp all the way to her toes. She tried to steady her breathing, remain in persona as a stoney FBI agent, but the hot red of her cheeks was giving her away.

She tore her gaze away to inspect the body. Not that anything she made mental note of would stick at this point. Dean cleared his throat and pulled the clipboard closer to his face before setting his thumbnail between his teeth the way he always did when he was laser-focused on something. She only caught a glimpse out of the corner of her eye, but it was the final bit to break her.

With a huff, Jay exclaimed a little too loudly, “There’s nothing here for us, Dean. I’ll be in the car.” Her legs carried her much too quickly out the swinging doors and up the stairs.

“Um, okay?” Dean grumbled to himself before setting the paperwork back in its place and following Jay. “What the hell got into her?”

Jay was glad to leave Texas. Mid-July heat drained her, along with every plant and tree scorched under the unrelenting and searing white sun. The world around them was bleached and bathed in the almost-eerie too-bright light. Well, everything except what existed in the shadows of the Impala. The sparse countryside rolled away mile by mile as time ticked by with every song on Dean’s favorite cassette.

The air conditioning just couldn’t keep up, so Dean rolled down the windows. Jay tied up her locks in frustration, leaving a messy excuse for a bun resting on top of her head. The leather seats did nothing to help as she sweat through her shorts until she was nearly sliding off the seat.

“How much longer until Oklahoma?” She sighed. For the third time that hour.

Dean shot a glare in her direction before settling his attention back on the highway. The heat was getting to him too, and even with sunglasses on, spots were gathering in his vision and impairing him with every piercing flash of the sun off of the windshields of passing cars. “Jay, I swear if you ask me ‘are we there yet’ one more time, I’m going to friggin pull over.”

“Ugh, FINE.” Jay wished to be nearly anywhere but here. Resignation set in and she slumped in the seat and let her bare feet hang out the window, crossing her arms.

Dean turned the music louder, trying to drown out his own misery rather than her. He began to belt out slightly off-key to “Dazed and Confused.”

Jay cracked a half smile but hid it from Dean.

He rapped out the solos on the steering wheel, his hands keeping perfect time as they danced upon the taught leather.

Maybe pulling over wouldn’t be a half-bad idea, Jay thought.

She closed her eyes, allowing the steady rumble of the engine to echo through her as hot wind whipped through the cab. She cracked them open again just long enough to witness the stretch of tight skin over Dean’s knuckles, the way the washed out wilderness blurred past behind them and accentuated the tan he’d gained from driving.

The image was burned into her mind. To help pass the time, Jay granted herself permission to linger on it, explore it. Despite the heat outside, a new, different heat grew steadily in her core, stirring somewhere deep between her heart and soul.

Not too long after, the Impala slowed and turned into a run down gas station--the first one in an hour. As Dean filled up, Jay took the opportunity to find shelter in some air conditioning and hopefully an ice-cold drink. Inside the store was no better. In fact, it was worse. The air was still and thick with humidity from the cooler, which buzzed and whirred as if it were possessed.

“Sorry, Miss. Cooler is out. Hot drinks only,” a disheveled and sweat-drenched employee slouched over the register.

“Thanks… got any pie?” Jay decided that if they had to drink hot water, they may as well have some comfort food.

“Whatever we got is over there.” The clerk motioned with his eyes, no strength to even lift a finger.

Jay stalked back to the car empty handed and more pissed than ever. If the summer heat was something tangible, she could just strangle it. Kick it, punch it. Anything to fight it.

Dean finished up just in time, careful not to touch the scorching black paint and chrome on the car. “What, you go pee and come out with nothing? I’m dyin’ here!”

Jay snapped. “NO DRINKS. NO PIE. NOTHING. K?!”

Dean was taken aback by the outburst. It was then he noticed the sunken look and dark circles under her eyes and the red sheen over her face and neck. She was getting pale and wasn’t sweating anymore.

“Okay, you’re right. I’m sorry.” His brows knit as he drove slowly through the town, hoping for a decent motel to rest at for a while. Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait but a few blocks before The Moonlight Motel came into view.

Pay by the hour may not be the greatest, but at least it was cheap and would likely be empty this time of day.

Jay was losing touch and the following events were a blur. The next thing she truly could grasp and remember was lying mostly clothed in a cold shower. Dean sat facing her atop the closed toilet seat, a worried face perched upon clasped hands. Still a bit out of it, Jay relaxed into the cool water as it slowly washed the fever down the drain. The world slipped away, replaced by a gentle, dark nothing.

When Jay stirred, the room was too dim to still be day and shadows were held at bay by only a small lamp on the far side of the dingy room. She couldn’t remember how she got there at first, but as she woke, things gradually came back to her.

Dean had practically carried her to the room. He’d carefully set her in the bathtub and removed her belt, overshirt and boots. He’d turned on the cold water and at first, she’d protested, but slipped in and out of consciousness. He’d retrieved ice from the machine down the hall and poured it over her as he constantly monitored her vitals and temperature.

He’d withdrawn her, a soaking wet dead weight, stripped away the sopping clothes while careful not to look where it would make her uncomfortable, and buttoned her up in the softest flannel he had.

Jay glanced down at her right hand, as it felt stiff and sore. A needle was taped there, no longer hooked to the empty bag of saline, taped down and left in place just in case. Jay wiggled slightly when she realized that her other arm had gone quite numb beneath her and--Dean?

His soft snores disrupted as she shifted, equally mortified and elated to be nestled into the crook of his arm. Dean woke and rubbed his eyes, as if pretending he’d been awake the whole time. His voice was low and gravely from sleep.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” He looked down at her, so small in his arms, furious with himself for not taking better care of her.

“M-good,” Jay choked out, completely entranced by being so close to the hunter. Close enough for their breath to mix and his cologne to shroud her senses. Close enough to see the flecks of golds and blues and dark greens in the folds of his irises. Her breath caught and she shivered. Again. Jay mentally kicked herself for that tell. “Thank you… Sorry I was being a brat.”

“No. No, this is on me. You were sun-sick. I’m sorry. I should’ve--”

Jay put a finger to his parted lips with only the intention to stop Dean from blaming himself (like always,) but the touch sent electric pulses through her fingertips and set fire to every nerve in her body. They were impossibly soft and warm.

Dean caught her hand tenderly in his before she could pull away and planted a slow kiss on her knuckles. He watched anxiously as her pupils dilated and her breathing became more shallow. Pulling their hands out of the way, Dean leaned forward just slightly and planted a firm, reassuring kiss to her forehead.

Jay’s mind was a mess. This was more than familial. Were they crossing a line? Or maybe it just meant that Dean was comfortable with her, and concerned. But even as the thoughts swirled, her lips had a mind of their own. As Dean traced his nose down hers until their heads were pressed together, Jay angled upward to meet him.

When their lips locked, there was no more question. Jay loved Dean, and he knew and he loved her back. It was soft and sweet, with their eyes shut tight, just exploring and tasting and sucking gently.

The remainder of the trip back to the bunker was spent with Dean humming, a stupid smile plastered on his face, and Jay resting across the front seat, her head in his lap. Dean stroked her soft, brown hair adoringly. The night was much cooler and comfortably dark with only dim, scattered stars to blanket the hunters.

Everything was different after the motel. The kiss.

Almost six months had gone by and for the most part, they’d been wonderful. Jay spent more time in Dean’s room than her own, and the hunts had been good so far, like old times.

Until this one.

Jay, Sam, and Dean were doing a bit of recon at a local bar to dig up some answers, or at the very least, a lead. Jay had dressed to stun, as usual. (After all, men’s lips tended to be a bit more loose around a pretty girl.)

Dean was hovering. Everytime Jay got close to some useful information, Dean would scare off the burly locals with a death glare.

Until this one.

This man was built like a tank. He towered even over Sam by a few inches and dwarfed Jay in comparison. Sam eyed her uncomfortably from a few tables over, but he always got like that when someone was bigger than him. Dean didn’t adjust his tactics at all, and when the big guy had enough of Dean dancing around him and bumping his chair with an insincere, “sorry, man,” the guy stood up and puffed out his chest. Dean moved to both protect Jay and get in a prime fighting position, but Jay yanked him away by the collar of his jacket faster than he could complain.

She didn’t stop until they were completely outside the bar, then shoved him into the soot-covered brick wall. Dean opened his mouth to spout something pigheaded, but stopped himself as he felt the chill of her glare more than the chill of the snow flurries swirling around them.

“Would you just trust me to do my job? What is your problem?”

“I do! I just--” Dean waved in a flustered motion, unable to find the words. All he knew was that when she got a little too... comfortable... with anyone, he saw red.

Still, Jay seemed to understand. She reached up and held his face firmly between her palms, forcing him to maintain eye contact.

“I’m yours. I know that you worry, what you fear. I’m not going to leave you. Ever. No one can ever take me from you, either, because I’ll haunt your ass and you know it.”

Dean’s bottom lips quivered just barely, and he quickly bit it back. “Don’t you even joke about that,” his voice broke.

“De- I’m right here, okay?”

He nodded and leaned into her until his face was buried in her neck. He squeezed his arms around her, never wanting to know what it would feel like to have to let go.

A muffled “let’s go back to the motel” emanated from somewhere within Jay’s scarf and she nodded in response.

Dean grasped her hand as they walked the short distance back to the rented room. Jay stopped dead in her tracks, eyes wide and pointing over to the edge of the woods. A startled “Dean!” escaped her, and Dean dropped her hand and withdrew his gun, ready for a fight. His plumes of hot breath on the air slowed to nearly nothing as he steadied himself and visually searched the area.

What had she seen?

Before he could ask, something hard, round and icey struck the back of his shoulder with decent force. He spun on his heels and lowered his weapon to find Jay wide-mouthed and laughing, another snowball forming in her hands.

“Son of a bitch! You want to play dirty, huh?” Dean howled. He holstered the pistol and raced to close the distance between them. With a squeal and a grunt, the two ended up in a heap in the wet, mushy snow.

Jay managed to end up on top of him and leaned in for a deep kiss. She could feel the smile on his lips as his tongue graced across hers. When at last they came up for air, Dean was moving his arms and legs haphazardly.

“A slush-angel?” Jay giggled at the sorry creation.

“What, my art not good enough for you?” Dean retorted while wearing a shit-eating grin. “And no, actually, it’s a Yeti.”

The wet chill began to sink into their bones, so they hurried onward. Dean fiddled with the key card but the lock gave him fits.

“C’mon, Dean! I’m freezing to death!”

“Yeah, yeah, me too. Hold your horses.”

At last, the door swung open and Jay rushed inside, leaving Dean to close and lock the door behind them. She’d already started stripping off the wet outer layers when Dean approached. With every step bringing him closer, his heartbeat rose and he wrestled out of his own layers.

Jay moved to lift off her shirt, but Dean covered her hands with his, intertwining their fingers. He stood against her, and in one swift move, wrapped both of her wrists in a single firm grip behind her, and with the other, pressed an open palm against her belly.

Jay gasped, her knees going weak with what she knew was coming next. Despite the weather, his touch was toasty. Coarse skin slid over her soft flesh, causing a friction that left Jay needing more. Heat flushed her cheeks and pooled deep in her stomach. Dean melted with every shuttered breath of hers as he stroked up and down beneath the fabric of her shirt, making sure to linger over the more sensitive areas as she twitched and bit down on her lip.

Dean massaged her breasts with skilled fingers for a few moments, but a sensual twist of her nipple sent Jay reeling backwards, supported only by Dean’s other arm. With her head tilted back, Dean took the opportunity to kiss and suck and nip zig-zagged lines over the most delicate parts of her neck and along her collarbone.

Jay squirmed and panted with lust-blown pupils and a cry just on the tip of her tongue. Dean’s grasp only steadied her against him more until he found himself grinding into her, faint moans already filling the air. The growing bulge in his pants drove Jay mad. She wanted to be covered by him, skin on skin, needed him inside her.

“D-Dean please, please…” Jay whimpered and attempted to wiggle out of his hold once more to no avail.

“Please, what, pretty girl? Tell me what you want.” Dean breathed against her ear, just above a whisper. He sucked and nibbled in the hollow behind it.

A shudder wracked Jay, but this time, she didn’t mind the tell. She had him. He was hers. But right then, she needed more and she knew he was holding back. “Unnghh, please… need you, now,” she managed.

“Okay, Baby,” Dean crashed his lips to hers and shifted until Jay was suspended in the air and straddling him as he walked them towards the bed. He dropped her playfully and they scrambled to see who could lose their remaining clothes the fastest.

In a fray of scattered clothing, Dean climbed on top of her, comfortably crushing Jay into the lumpy mattress. He let his full weight rest upon her.

“Stop it,” she giggled as his scruff tickled her cheek.

“Why don’t you make me?” Dean grinned between planting kisses everywhere he could reach.

Before he could react, Jay had him rolled onto the floor. She straddled him and tried to concentrate despite his hard cock resting perfectly between her hot, dripping folds. Her hair created a curtain around their faces, blocking out everything but that moment and the sensations it was riddled with. Dean’s eyes closed and mouth opened like a fish out of water. His breaths were shallow and shaky. Jay fought the urge to lift her hips just so, knowing that if she did, and she came back down upon him, his throbbing dick would line up just perfectly… and they’d end up on the floor for the remainder of their romp.

She rose to her feet, grasping his hand and pulling him up with her. Dean’s eyes were full of question, longing. His cheeks were flushed and hot to the touch. He was melting at every touch and could do nothing about it but wait for her.

Jay led him over to the chair and pushed him into it. He nearly tripped on his way down. That stupid smile she loved so much spread across his face again as he dug his fingers into her hips and pulled her onto him. She let out a yelp as the broad head of his large cock spread her entrance, dripping with precum, and buried itself deep inside until her walls stretched almost uncomfortably. The shock of his size was something she’d never get used to. Each time was like the first, the same butterflies swarming in her stomach, the same jolts of pure lust burning through her veins.

Dean gasped and held her close to him, trembling hands roaming her back and squeezing her ass. Jay carded her hands through his hair and pulled just slightly at the nape of his neck as he whined in approval. Those laments made her head swim and her limbs weak. Drunk on Dean, she adjusted her position until he was sunk deep into the spot that was just right, then began to move back and forth, slow and steady. Dean’s breaths stuttered and his head fell back, leaving his neck open for Jay to take into her mouth.

“Fuck--Baby you feel s-so good,” he stammered between increasing moans and grunts. She could see in his eyes that he was losing control.

Jay cried out as he began to fight her movements with his own, pounding up in all the right spots. She arched her back as the coil wound tighter… higher… tighter… higher... until she shattered in his arms, his name and curses spilling from her gaping mouth.

He held her through it and chased his own orgasm, sucking a mark onto her chest before he spilled into her. Everyone would know she was his, and only his. Her walls clenched in waves and he pulsed within them, his delicious sounds filling her ears as she came down.

Jay crashed her lips into his, and he returned with fervor until they were both completely breathless. Wrapped there in Dean’s arms, Jay was home.

No, nothing was ever the same after that first kiss. And that was okay. It was amazing.

WAYWARD PEEPS:

@carryonmywaywardcaptain @manawhaat @supernatural-jackles @jensen-jarpad @wheresthekillswitch @bummblebeeblue @nothin-after-79-blog @docharleythegeekqueen @fangirl-writing-fiction @taste-of-dean @impala-dreamer @arryn-nyxx @idk-life01 @attorneyl @deathtonormalcy56 @xwing-baby @wonder-cole @itsangelpie @thinkinghardhardlythinking

ANGST BABES:

@trexrambling @abbessolute @emptywithout

ALL ABOUT THAT DEAN:

@akshi8278 @will-winchester

@waywardbaby* the smut was heavily inspired by The Scene. Tagged as promised lol

Tag List now open!

#spnsecretsantaficexchange #hands that heal #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean x ofc #dean x jay #fluff #smut #supernatural

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thegirlfromoverthepond · 4 years

Text

Jingle Bells

Hello !

Here’s a little piece I wrote for @talesofpanem‘s Everlark Holiday Bingo...

I think I tick D2 (thank you @xerxia31) ... Plus, can you spot the sentence that was a challenge to put in the story ? (Evil grin)

Oh, and this fic is totally based on this K-mart ad. Just saying.

I want to thank @hutchhitched and @xerxia31 for the organization. Might I had this story wouldn’t be there without @xerxia31‘s stellar betaing skills. Enough talking ....

JINGLE BELLS

“I can’t even believe they’re doing this. I mean… I can believe Finn is doing it, but Darius? Gale? PEETA? I mean, into what universe have we fallen?”

I chuckle at Madge’s words. Because I truly have no idea why my best friend, my friends and my secret boyfriend will be the next ones on stage, jingling bells to raise money for the food bank.

They could have picked anything. Last year, Peeta was Santa, taking pictures with the kids, and Annie and I were his devoted little helpers. That’s when I discovered there was much more to Peeta than met the eyes. He wasn’t only the perfect American poster boy, he had layers that I didn’t expect, and damn was he an awesome kisser. And lover.

That’s also the year Gale finally decided to ask Madge out, the rest is now history. They are talking about moving together, seeing as she spends almost every night at his place, instead of in her bedroom in the apartment we share.

Which is totally okay by me, since Peeta can come over quite often too.

“Did I miss anything?” Annie, Finnick’s girlfriend has finally arrived. She works on the other side of Panem, and was afraid to be late for the show.

“Well, apart from Glimmer trying to prove she can sing, no.”

“Again?”

I nod at Annie’s words. We all know, well, the whole world knows Glimmer can’t sing to save her own life. She’s the only one totally oblivious to it. So, every single year, she graces us with the worst ever rendition of “All I want for Christmas”.

“Did Jo perform?” Annie asks, taking her phone from her jeans pocket.

I laugh at her question.

“Effie forbade Jo to perform.”

“Why?”

I turn to look at Annie, startled she doesn’t know. Madge is the first to talk, barely hiding her smile.

“You weren’t there last year?” Madge asks. That’s when I remember Annie was sick with Covid for last year’s Christmas Charity Concert. “Let’s say Jo did quite an unbelievable number, finishing completely nude.”

“Oh my God, no wonder Effie didn’t want her back.” Annie laughs, before looking at her phone. “Why is Finn sending me a picture of boxer briefs?”

I look at Madge, who seems unaware of what’s happening with the boys. We both look at the picture Annie shows us, and indeed, it’s a pair of blue boxer briefs, with Christmas ornaments on it. A sleigh, Santa, tinsel, every Christmas cliché seems to be there.

“Seems like Finn wants to play Santa to Mrs Claus tonight” Madge replies, amused, as her own phone beeps too. She quickly looks at it, before turning her phone to us.

On the screen there’s a pair of red boxers, also adorned with Christmas ornaments.

“Must be a joke of theirs,” I shrug, as I feel my own phone vibrate. Thank god I put it on silent. ”Or it’s a message for you to really go buy some Mrs Claus outfits!”

“Didn’t Gale tell you? He’s your cousin!” Madge looks at me as if I had a clue of what’s going on.

“You think I talk to Gale about his choice of boxer briefs? I have no idea what’s going on, Madge!”

“Sorry, I just thought they were pranking us or something.”

“Well, they must be pranking us,” I agree, as my phone vibrates again. I take it out of my pocket as Madge turns towards Annie, the both of them staring at the pictures they received minutes ago. I smile when I see Peeta has sent me two texts.

Two pictures of a green pair of boxer briefs, adorned with christmas ornaments too.

What the hell are they doing? I ask myself, as I look at the pictures.

“That’s the question, right? You got one too? Who sent it to you?” Madge can be a phenomenal investigator when she puts her mind to it.

I am literally saved by the bell. A concert of bells. When the curtain opens we see five men, waving the bells they are holding in their hands, in a concert of ho-ho-hos.

Of course Finnick is in the center, winking at Annie as soon as he sees her. Those two are so sweet it hurts my teeth. Gale and Peeta are at his side, adjusting their tux jackets while talking with their respective neighbours, Darius and Thresh.

Needless to say, five handsome men in tuxedos on a stage radiating confidence provokes quite an uproar from the crowd of women around me.

They start to whistle and shout as soon as Finnick starts paying attention to them.

“Are we ready, ladies?” Finnick says. That’s when I realize they all have mics. I sincerely hope they won’t sing because one thing is for sure: he’s my boyfriend and I might-kinda be in love with him, but Peeta can’t carry a tune.

The crowd echoes with shouts. I always wonder how he can turn women on like that. I mean, of course, he’s handsome, all lean muscles and bronze hair, green eyes shining, but he’s … too much for me. I do prefer my own stocky built man, with his luminous blue eyes and his mop of curly blonde hair. He’s so cute when he’s smiling.

“It’s starting!” Madge pulls me out of my thoughts of Peeta’s cuteness to bring me back to the view of my boyfriend in a tuxedo with bells in his hands.

Winking.At.Me.

The bastard.

We both agreed to go slow with this relationship as we both don’t have stellar history in that field.

“Who is Peeta winking at?” Of course, Madge notices. Remember what I told you about her being a star investigator?

“No clue.” I shrug, as I try not to falter under her staring eyes. She’s perceptive, and I think she guessed that something is going on.

I look back at the stage when I hear the bells jingling.

It’s surprisingly short. They just bell “sleep in heavenly peace”, then put the bells down.

I am not alone wondering what’s going on when the table in front of the men moves away revealing … oh my …

The five men on the stage are wearing tuxedo jackets… but not pants. The five of them are adorned in boxer briefs of different shades, all Christmas-y themed. Red, blue, green, grey and yellow.

I guess that explains the pictures we received, right? I can’t help but look at Peeta’s legs, covered in blonde hair, muscular from years of wrestling and lifting heavy bags of flour at his parents’ bakery. I know exactly where the scar from his torn ACL is. Know exactly which place to touch to elicit moaning.

I’m not willing to share him with the horde of women now shouting.

I’m about to walk up and show them he’s mine when the boys line up again. Finnick calls the room to attention.

“Ladies ,we would like to introduce you to a totally new, never seen before rendition of Jingle Bells.” He turns towards someone, nods once, and the lights dim. The boys stretch out their hands, before linking them behind their heads.

Peeta’s tuxedo jacket rises a little. I recognize the trail of hair on his stomach, the hair I play with when we lay together in bed.

I am so focused on his stomach that I would have missed their choreography if it hadn’t been centered on their hips.

It starts with Finnick, of course. He’s always the first when there are crazy things to do. He starts thrusting his groin along with the sound of the bells.

One after the other the guys start to jingle their bells on the stage. Along to the music.

“Can you believe this?” Madge asks as they take their bows, large grins on their faces.

“Alas, I can, as I’ve seen it. I am very frightened for next year, they might call Johanna back,” I say, as I feel my phone vibrate again.

“I’m going to ask Gale for a private performance tonight!”

“Oh, I’m definitely doing the same with Finnick!” Annie says, as she looks at the crowd of women surrounding the guys.

“TMI, TMI!” Why do they feel the need to share such private information with me ? “You’re not going in for a rescue?” I ask as I watch hints of red bloom on Madge’s cheeks.

“Yeah, you’re right, I should. Won’t you go help Peeta?”

“Why would I go help Peeta?” I hastily reply.

Madge shrugs. “Isn’t it what you two usually do? Protect each other?”

I sigh, before taking my phone out of my pocket and typing a quick message to Peeta.

“Here. Are you happy, Margaret?”

She quickly reads the text and shows it to Annie, before giving me my phone back.

“Katniss, you’re going to need to improve your sexting skills. I doubt ‘ Do I need to send in the SWAT team?’ is considered flirting, you know?”

I take back my phone and send it before smiling at my friends.

“Who said I needed help? Your men, on the other end…” I point out the group of women still in front of the stage, and happily see my two friends walking towards their men.

My phone buzzes in my hand. I smile as I read Peeta’s text.

No need to. But be ready to jingle my bells tonight.

I already am.

_____________________________________

That’s it ! Let me know what you think and Merry 2020 Christmas! May the odds be in your favor !

#everlark holiday bingo #tales of panem #everlark #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark

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kandoesfanfics-writes · 5 years

Text

Maribat Secret Santa 2019

@eve-valution, here’s your gift!!! I really hope you enjoy it! :)

Warning: There is a scene of physical assault later in the fic.

Marinette could feel her heart thudding against her chest as her anxiety began to claw at her throat. She knew that objectively that she looked perfect. Her dress had no noticeable flaws. Her makeup was on point, including her waterproof mascara and eyeliner. There wasn't a hair out of place. Her mask was flawless. Her hotel mirror didn’t lie. There wasn’t a single thing out of place with her outfit

So why did she feel so on edge?

It couldn't be because of her class.

While it was true that they would be attending the Wayne Christmas Gala, thanks to Bruce Wayne himself, Marinette wouldn’t be going with the class. She was going with Jagged Stone as his special guest and personal designer. No one in the class had seen her dress or her mask (as it was a masquerade theme with a midnight reveal) beforehand, so she should be unrecognizable. She would be able to enjoy the party without having to dodge her would-be tormentors.

"Calm down, Marinette! You look gorgeous. I'm sure you'll have fun at the gala. You're sure to turn heads!" a cheerful voice gently reminded her charge.

The little red and black Kwami was gently patting her cheek, trying not to smear her makeup. Tikki just knew Marinette would have an excellent time at the gala. She couldn't tell exactly why, but the Goddess of Creation learned a long time ago that she could trust her gut. Marinette would have a wonderful time with or without her class. Preferably without...

"Thanks, Tikki," Marinette sighed. "It’s just...tonight’s a big night. Uncle Jagged’s officially introducing me to the world. People will know I’m his designer...and it’s a lot.”

Tikki nodded sagely. She knew what her chosen meant. While Marinette felt very honored, and in Tikki’s opinion had rightfully earned everything, she still felt nervous about facing the rest of the world. Marinette knew there would be critics, there always were, but this was something entirely new. The unknown was frightening, and Tikki felt proud of Marinette for deciding to jump headfirst into this.

Marinette adjusted the silky black gloves on her arms again before looking at her heart. The little pink heart smiled at Marinette before floating over to sit on her shoulder. It was still cracked quite badly, but it had regained some color thanks to her platonic soulmates. She was nervous to have her heart come along with her, but she’d been reassured by Tikki several times that everything would be perfectly fine. Her little heart would be happier staying with Marinette rather than sitting back in the hotel room. Marinette would be happier too.

Tikki knew that humans could be separated from their hearts, but that it wasn’t healthy for them. Their hearts were the representation of their souls. To lock one’s heart away or be separated from it had potentially devastating consequences. While she knew Marinette would be okay away from her heart for a few hours, Marinette’s mood would surely tank the longer she was separated from her heart. Tikki wanted to make sure that Marinette had the best time at this gala.

Marinette looked at the clock before rushing to put on her black heels and grab her black clutch. Jagged and Penny would be there soon. Marinette looked at her phone to see Penny had texted her that they were almost at the hotel and to meet them in the lobby. Marinette’s class wouldn’t be leaving for another hour and were currently at dinner. There should be no one to see her sneak out.

There should have been no one to see her sneak out.

Unfortunately for her, there was one classmate that was not at dinner.

Adrien hadn’t felt like having Lila draped all over him during dinner, so he’d lied to Ms. Bustier. He told the redheaded woman that he wasn’t feeling well, and she’d let him go without a fight. The blond had seen Marinette leaving the hotel, eyes glued to her as long as she was in sight. He felt his heart pound as he wrestled internally.

“I don’t love Marinette! I love Ladybug, and only Ladybug...but Marinette sure looked amazing in that dress. Maybe Kagami was right though… maybe it's time I change my target.”

The blond knew their friendship had been rocky since the whole Lila thing, but if there was one thing Adrien knew, it was that Marinette was the most kind person he'd every ever met. She'd surely forgive him once he explained everything! And who knows… maybe she could be his soulmate. Ladybug was supposed to be his other half, but Adrien knew that there were more than one type of soulmate. Perhaps Ladybug wasn’t his romantic soulmate after all.

Adrien had never touched Marinette's heart before. He had been expressly forbidden by his father to touch other people's hearts because 'it could complicate or sour business relations'. Adrien had broken that rule only a few times.

Chloe and Nino were the only two people aside from his family whose hearts he'd come into contact with. Nino was silver, defining him as a platonic soulmate. Chloe's bond had been a metallic blue, signaling her as a sibling bond. Had because Adrien wasn't sure if it had remained the same. He hadn't touched Chloe's heart since Lila joined their class.

Who knows?

Maybe Marinette was destined to be his golden match.

If there was one thing Damian Wayne despised, it was these vapid charity galas his father forced him to attend.

There was nothing enjoyable about standing around while rich people faked basic social skills. It happened every year without fail. Bruce would show up with select members of his brood. Ladies would flaunt their jewelry, dresses, and wealth at them, trying to flirt. Women would surround Bruce, and he’d be lost until one of his investors or someone else came to speak with him. Women would also come and gather around the Wayne boys, and if Cass showed up, there would be some men too.

This year Jason and Cass were on patrol along with Stephanie and Kate. Red Hood, Black Bat, Spoiler, and Batwoman would be on the move throughout Gotham. This would leave Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian to attend the gala. Dick was going to be the only one safe from the clutches of the rich socialites. He was attending the gala with his wife and husband. No one would DARE hit on Dick while Kor’i and Wally were nearby…well so long as Kor'i was nearby.

Tim was flying solo for now. Time would only tell if Conner would show up to see him. However, Damian also knew that Tim would be more than preoccupied with the investors and other people inquiring about the company. Women would still throw themselves at Tim, but it wouldn’t be the same. Tim would easily be able to divert his attention to the business aspect while he would have to suffer like his father.

Since Damian was only sixteen, and had no real stake in the company just yet, there wasn’t much to talk about aside from his classes at Gotham Academy. The girls wouldn’t care about his schooling, so they would coo and clamor for his attention. They would tell him all about them and ask if he was dating anyone. It made Damian want to vomit.

He looked in irritation at his father before Damian demanded to know if he could go on patrol as well. Bruce shook his head before saying, “You know the deal, Damian. It’s your turn this year. Besides, you might have fun. Jared’s coming with his wife and his new designer. Apparently, his designer is a young lady your age.”

Damian rolled his eyes at that. Sure, he’d have a great time with some snooty designer. He wasn’t expecting her to be any different than the designers he’d met before. He was almost positive she would be full of herself, brag about her many accomplishments, and try to woo her way into the family. Just like all the others before her, this girl would get on Damian’s last nerve. He’d then be in trouble for insulting a lady’s sensitivities, and Bruce would pretend to apologize.

“I saw that, Damian. Jared, or as he’s now known Jagged, doesn’t hang around just anyone. He’s the only one allowed to be a primadonna, so the people around him are usually very down to earth,” Bruce said. “Give her a chance, please? Jagged said she’s never been to an event like this before. Besides, with masks on, no one should know who we are until midnight. Then you only have about an hour or two of the ladies trying to woo you.”

The youngest Wayne gave a deep sigh before telling his father he’d give the girl a chance. If she’d never been to one of these events before, perhaps there was still hope for her yet. Maybe if Damian kept her all to himself, she might be a bearable gala partner. He pulled on his overcoat before walking to the limo with his brothers, brother-in-law, and sister-in-law.

There was no getting around it, so Damian might as well try and have fun. Besides, Bruce had a point. Since this year’s theme was a masquerade, perhaps he could avoid the annoying ladies until the end of the party. He could walk around incognito to everyone but his family, and perhaps he could actually enjoy himself for once.

Well, Damian thought, what could it hurt to hope? ———————————————————————— The second Penny saw her, the pink haired woman cooed over Marinette.

“Oh, my little star! Look how gorgeous you are! I love the design! Jagged, isn’t she just the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?”

Jagged smiled widely at Marinette before giving her a thumbs up.

“Rockin’ outfit, Nettie! They’re sure to go wild for it!” Jagged said with a grin. “I’m lovin’ that mask.”

Marinette smiled before looking over Penny and Jagged.

“Everything fits, right? No one had any wardrobe malfunctions?” she asked, tense in her seat.

Penny laughed before telling her everything was perfect. Her mask was white with black around the eyes, decorated with pink lightning bolts made of rhinestones. Her dress was a mermaid style with ombre fabric. It started off at pink at the top that faded into black at the bottom. She was wearing the pink diamond necklace Jagged had gotten her as along with the pink diamond ring when he proposed to her. She had iridescent music notes sewn into her dress with translucent thread.

Jagged’s suit was an ombre as well except for instead of pink, it was purple that faded into black. His suit had similar music note designs. His mask was solid black with flames on it. Jagged wanted him and Penny to have similar designs as this would be the first event they would be attending as husband and wife. He was holding Penny close as he smiled brightly at Marinette.

“When we get there I’ll introduce you to my old pal, Bruce Wayne,” Jagged told her. “We went to school together when we were boys, and he was really the only one who thought me being a musician was a perfect fit for me. I’m positive he’ll commission you the second he sees your amazing work.”

“It’s really-”

“Now, little star,” Penny began, her tone warning. “We’ve talked about this; no more talking yourself down! You’re brilliant, Marinette. You’ve earned your place here with your amazing designs.”

Their hearts nodded eagerly from their spots on the couple’s shoulder. Jagged’s royal purple heart was holding onto Penny’s raspberry pink heart. Both were smiling at Marinette, reflecting their owners pride and affection for the young lady.

“Okay,” Marinette responded softly. “It is amazing...but do you really think Bruce Wayne will like it?”

“Of course, Nettie! Little star, that man can be surprisingly rock ‘n roll for a bigshot,” Jagged said with a grin. “Besides, you’re way too awesome for him not to like!”

The driver chose then to let them know they had arrived. Marinette looked out at the crowd as her anxiety skyrocketed. That was a lot of people...and a lot of cameras. She felt her heart burrow into the safety of her dress. She touched her face anxiously to make sure that her mask was still firmly in place. Reassured that it was, Marinette followed Jagged and Penny out of the car.

Only for her to be swept away by the lights and cameras. ——————————————————————— The press was there and were making a nuisance of themselves.

Fantastic.

Damian forgot how much he hated the press until there were cameras being shoved in his face. Even with his green cat shaped mask, most of the press immediately parted to let him through. He figured it was what Jason called his ‘murderous aura’ that made people move away from him, even though they had no way of knowing he was Damian Wayne. He had almost reached the door when his heart tugged his hair, making him look to his left. He spotted someone shaking in terror as microphones were shoved in her face.

She looked to be only about five foot, maybe five foot one in her heels. She was wearing a gorgeous sleeveless qipao that reached just above her ankles. It was black with the most intricate embroidery that Damian had ever seen. The bright red thread swirled into delicate flowers...and what appeared to be ladybugs on closer inspection. Her hair was in a bun with two delicate gold hair sticks as her accessory.

Damian could tell she was freezing, clearly not being prepared to be outside with the press for as long as she’d been. She had her arms crossed, rubbing her gloved hands against her bare skin. She was trying to answer one question until another reporter asked her something else, distracting and overwhelming her.

His jade green heart kept tugging aggressively on his hair, eventually flitting down to his sleeve. It tugged and tugged until Damian began walking towards her. His heart flew back under his suit coat the closer he got to the cameras. He took off his coat, strolling over casually to the young woman. He gently draped his coat over her shoulders, before smiling stiffly at the press.

“Enough with your rudeness,” Damian said as politely as possible. “Miss, why don’t I escort you inside? And please, keep the jacket until you warm up.”

The young lady looked up at him in shock, and Damian nearly felt his throat close. True, he couldn’t see half her face, but what he could see were two absolutely breathtaking blue eyes. Her mask was solid black, much like her dress, embroidered with the same red thread and design as her dress. She looked at him timidly as he gently guided her into the building.

“Are you all right, Miss? The press can be animals,” he said, arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders. “Are you here with anyone? Maybe I can help you find-”

Damian paused as his heart peeked out from behind his suit jacket. His green eyes widened as his cracked and bruised heart gently pressed against the young lady’s bare cheek. His throat went dry as his heart shimmered gold. He saw her blue eyes go wide as well as she reached up to cradle the heart in her silk covered hands.

“Oh..OH!” she said in clear shock.

Her heart peeked out from inside her clutch, still trembling. Damian figured her heart was probably still stressed from the previous situation with the press. He gently held out his hand and watched as the pale pink heart warily floated into his hand. The moment it touched Damian’s fingers, it shimmered gold as well.

“Hello there,” Damian said softly. “It’s very nice to meet you, my golden match.” —————————————————————— Marinette felt like she was going to panic.

Jagged and Penny were nowhere in sight. They’d gotten separated when the paparazzi started swarming around her. She had cameras shoved in her face as people asked her a million questions at once. She could feel her heart trembling in her clutch as she tried to navigate the cameras and questions.

She could barely hear what they were asking her over the pounding of her heart. How in Kwami’s name was this supposed to be fun?! Marinette was freezing now since she couldn’t get inside. The camera crews were blocking her path, and she was struggling to make her way through. Marinette started to shake as she became overwhelmed and nauseous.

Then she felt a weight on her shoulders and felt warmth surround her. She looked up just in time to watch a handsome young man tell the press off. He had dark black hair that was spiked up and beautiful jade eyes. His mask was a dark green color, cat shaped with pale gold thread making a beautiful looping design on it. He had a strong jaw, and gorgeously tanned skin. He was built, and Marinette felt much safer with his arm around her protectively. He led her into the building without hesitation, taking her away from the flashes of the cameras.

She felt her heartbeat in her throat as the man told her to keep the jacket until she was warm. Marinette couldn’t help but feel touched when the man asked her if she was okay. He genuinely seemed concerned for her and was about to offer his assistance until a gorgeous jade color heart popped out of his suit jacket. Marinette nearly bit the inside of her cheek as she looked at the heart.

It was badly cracked and bruised, much like her own heart. Marinette felt it press gently against her cheek and watched the young man’s green eyes widen. Why were his eyes widening? Unless...unless his heart was reacting to her? Was it? Could they be soulmates?!

Marinette’s eyes widened as she reached up to touch the heart. She looked down at the heart, still a brilliant gold color, resting in her hands.

“Oh...OH!” she said shocked.

She watched her own heart peek out from her clutch. The little pink heart was still trembling, though Marinette couldn’t blame it. She was still rather shaken up after the whole incident with the press. The only thing keeping her grounded was the golden heart in her hands, and the arm that anchored her to the present.

She watched as the man held out his free hand towards her heart. Marinette was surprised to see her heart actually float towards him. It was watching him warily, but the second it touched his fingers, it turned a brilliant gold. She looked up at him, only feel her knees go weak at the expression on his face.

Those green eyes were locked onto her with the gentlest expression Marinette had ever seen. He was smiling at her broadly before saying, “Hello there. It’s nice to meet you, my golden match.”

Marinette flushed a brilliant red color before looking down at her shoes. Why was he looking at her like that?! He didn’t know anything about her! So what if they were romantic soulmates? That didn’t mean she’d fall in love with a complete stranger just like that! She looked back up at him to see he was looking at her with concern.

“I-I-I’m not go-go-going to fal-fall for you just be-be-because we’re golden hearts!” Marinette stammered, her accent coming in thick. “I-I don’t kn-know you!”

She braced herself for the anger that would come with her response. Chat Noir had always gotten angry at Ladybug for telling him that she would not fall in love with him. He would scream at her that they were meant to be and that she did really love him. He would grab her wrists and shake her, telling her to stop being so stubborn and accept fate. Chat had also gotten very cross with her for not letting him see her heart.

She’d told him several times that if she showed him her heart, then he’d be able to figure out her civilian identity. Chat had told her he didn’t care. They were Ladybug and Chat Noir, two halves of a whole, destined to be together for the rest of their lives. Marinette had responded that she barely knew Chat, and she couldn’t fall in love with a stranger.

“...Miss! Miss! Are you okay? You’re shaking,” a voice broke through. “Do you want me to leave?”

Marinette’s world snapped back into focus. She noticed that know her golden heartmate’s hands were resting on her upper arms. He was leaning over to look her in the eye. The worry was clear in his expression. He smiled at her reassuringly before saying, “It’s okay. That’s perfectly understandable. I’m a complete stranger to you, soulmate or not. If you’d be comfortable, would you like to accompany me? We could talk during the party, but if you’re not comfortable, I’ll take my leave.”

Marinette couldn’t help the look of shock that appeared on her face. He...he didn’t mind? He didn’t mind that Marinette wasn’t in love with him on sight? He-he wanted to talk with her? He wanted to get to know her? He would leave if she asked? Was he really that concerned about her comfort?

“I...could...you really aren’t angry?”

She watched her heartmate’s expression shift into shock.

“Red...why would I be angry? We’re both complete strangers to one another. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted me to leave, or at the very least, wanted me to take off my mask so you can see my face,” he said. “You’re my golden match, but if we aren’t meant to be together at this moment, than I can wait a little longer for you. Besides, not all golden soulmates end up together. Some choose to love others outside their bond...just because we’re golden doesn’t mean we’re trapped in a relationship.”

Marinette almost began to cry in relief. Her eyes watered as she realized this guy wasn’t going to be like Chat. He was giving her a choice. He didn’t look like he wanted to leave her, but he was giving her the chance to walk away. If she said she didn’t want to talk to him, he told her he’d leave. For whatever reason, Marinette believed him when he said it too. There was just a strong feeling in her gut that told her he wasn’t lying to her.

“...would...would you mind escorting me around?” Marinette asked timidly. “I lost the people I came with.”

“Of course, Red,” he replied, holding out his arm. “This way.” ———————————————————— Damian was very concerned about his golden heartmate.

She was terrified after telling him that she wasn’t going to fall in love with him just because they were golden heartmates. She had zoned out after that, her blue eyes staring off into empty space. She had gone extremely pale, and her eyes were haunted. She had even begun to tremble, leading him to grip her upper arms and try to get her attention.

She was clearly thinking of something extremely distressing or trapped in an unpleasant memory. He called to her until she came back to him, distress clear in her body language. He tried to smile reassuringly at her while comforting her. Damian reassured her that he didn’t expect her to fall in love with him on the spot, and that if she wanted him too, he’d leave her alone.

Damian really wanted to get to know his golden heartmate, but clearly she’d been badly hurt by someone. He wouldn’t push her to accompany him around the gala if it was going to hurt her further. He didn’t want to hurt her...not her. He was sorely tempted to grab his katana and run through whoever made her so terrified of establishing boundaries with people.

Just because she was his soulmate didn’t mean she owed him shit! She was her own woman. She was free to do what she wished, with or without him. Damian would very much like it to be with him, but once again, he didn’t own her. If she didn’t wish to, she didn’t have to be with him.

His heart looked sadly at the girl when she asked Damian if he was angry. Damian looked down at her heart, which was holding itself and looking up at him with such trepidation. It made him sad, and his heart reflected that, looking up at her with such sorrow.

Who had hurt her like this?

Damian told her exactly how he felt about everything. They were strangers. He wasn't expecting her to swoon upon seeing him. He'd wait for her. He'd be willing to give her up should that be what she desired. He didn't own her, soulmate or not, and Damian wanted his soulmate to make the choice to be with him.

He'd called her Red on instinct, feeling it would not be wise to ask her name at the present moment. If they decided to separate now, the odds of them knowing who the other was and finding them again would be slim. As much as it hurt, Damian was prepared to leave in order to show his respect for her feelings.

Then she asked if he would take her around, and Damian felt a spark of hope.

“Of course, Red,” he replied, holding out his arm. “This way.”

Red took his arm timidly, but had a firm grip on him. She was looking around anxiously until they stepped into the ballroom. Then Damian watched as Red's eyes went wide, a smile breaking out on her face. She almost immediately released his arm to pull a small sketchbook out of her clutch.

Damian watched as Red flipped to a blank page, noticing the book was full of clothing designs.

"The architecture is very beautiful," Damian said, looking around. "The Waynes have their Christmas Gala here every year. It was a tradition Bruce Wayne's parents started."

"I can see why!" Red said enthusiastically. "It's absolutely gorgeous."

"Getting any good ideas, Red?"

"Oh, I'm getting plenty, Green. I apologize, but if I don't at least write the details out, I'll completely forget what I was thinking."

Damian raised an eyebrow at the nickname. Green? Oh well, Damian figured there were worse things she could call him. At least she was talking to him without fear…

And what a beautiful sight it was.

Red was much more animated now. She was smiling brightly as she sketched away in her little book. She even started to talk about herself a little. She mentioned she was a designer here as someone's special guest. She told him that she'd designed their outfits as well as her own… though admitting that seemed to bring back some anxiety.

"You are very talented," Damian said with a gentle tone. "That qipao looks absolutely divine. You did the embroidery by yourself?"

Red flushed beautifully at his words. Her big blue eyes looked at him with surprise before responding that yes, she had done everything herself. She then asked how on earth he knew it was a qipao.

"My mother," Damian replied with a shrug. "I haven't quite found a passion like you have, Red. I will probably go into business like my father before me."

"Your father's a businessman?" Red asked, slowing her furious pencil strokes.

"Yes, and so is my one brother."

"What about your mother?"

"...we don't talk anymore. She wasn't… she tried, but she wasn't the best mother."

Red looked sad at that before quietly apologizing for asking.

"Red, don't apologize. Believe it or not, that's the nicest way anyone's ever asked about my mother," Damian tried to reassure her.

That seemed to set something off in Red.

"What do you mean? That's the nicest way?! Just what were these people asking?" she demanded, her adorable accent getting thicker.

Damian laughed before quickly trying to change the topic. Red seemed to dislike that until he told her if he gave her an answer, she would be able to figure out who he was easy. Damian pointed out that if she wanted to know the real him, Red would need to talk to him without knowing his name. She seemed confused, so Damian explained.

"Not everyone gets to be themselves in their day to day lives. Celebrities, for example, have an image they need to uphold at all times or it could ruin their careers and damage their reputation. Some people you hear their name and have an immediate idea of who they should be based off their media coverage. Just because that's how you think it should be doesn't make it right."

Red seemed to ponder that for a moment before saying, "No names, no identifying information, but everything else is fair game."

"Sounds reasonable. What does your family do?" Damian asked.

"My parents are bakers. I think Papa was hoping I'd carry on the family business, and I do love baking, but fashion is where my heart is. I don't have any siblings."

"Want some of mine? I have four officially adopted siblings and a gaggle of people who might as well be my siblings. They're around our house often enough."

Red laughed before saying the house must be busy. Damian rolled his eyes and told her she had no idea. He nearly melted at her genuine laughter, finding her rather adorable when she was smiling.

They continued to ask each other questions, and Damian found himself utterly fascinated by the young lady beside him. She was Chinese-French. She was from Paris, and her class was here on a trip. She was sixteen, and in the French equivalent of high school. She had already won a fashion contest and designed for famous individuals. She was an only child, but babysat frequently. She wanted a hamster for a pet but loved other animals as well. She was very excited when Damian told her he had a pet cow.

He had also learned that she was being bullied. She admitted there was a girl in her class who was constantly lying, and despite that, everyone believed her and liked her. This girl had turned their entire class against Red. She’d almost gotten Red expelled, and that was merely the tip of the iceberg. Red continued to tell him about all the nasty things this girl had done to her, and how only one classmate knew the girl was lying and had done nothing to stop her. Red admitted that it was nice to finally be able to vent about the situation, since her class wouldn’t believe her and told him about Hawkmoth as well.

Damian quietly made a mental note to check the Justice League’s database to see if they’d been aware of the situation. If not, he would quickly rectify this mistake. After all, there was a super villain that needed to be stopped.

In return he told her that he wasn't originally from Gotham, but had been living there for the last six years with his father. He told her he was sixteen as well and attended high school. He told her about his pets, especially Batcow upon seeing her excitement. He told her about his day-to-day life, and they made their way over to the food spread.

Damian took turns eating with Red after asking the other a question. He found himself having fun with the young lady beside him. She was very sweet and funny. She took her time answering his question and asked him very thoughtful ones about himself. Red really seemed to want to get to know him, and she really paid attention to Damian’s answers. The fact she looked adorable in his coat didn’t hurt either. She still had it over her shoulders, occasionally pulling it closed like a security blanket.

Their hearts seemed to be content together as well. They had started the evening on one another’s shoulders, but eventually, Red’s pink heart decided to hold hands with Damian’s own jade heart. Damian secretly hoped that Red’s heart trusting his meant that Red was starting to trust him as well.

They were discussing what they’d like to do for college when someone screamed Red’s name. ———————————————————————— Marinette felt a chill creep down her spine as she heard her name.

"Marinette! Marinette! There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you. Why'd you leave so early?"

Adrien.

How did he know it was her? He shouldn't know. How did he know? He. Shouldn't. Know. She didn't show anyone else her gown or her mask. She was wearing Green’s coat! How in God’s name did he know it was her?!

Marinette turned around slowly, pulling Green’s coat closed as her heart darted underneath it. She took several deep breaths before turning to look at the blond boy coming up from behind her. He was wearing a mask similar to Green’s. It was a cat-like mask, but in black. The threading on it made a more geometric pattern and was made with silver threading. His green eyes swept over her body, narrowing once he spotted the coat. His expression at first had been friendly, but it quickly turned into something more sour.

Adrien was followed by the majority of their class. Some of them looked confused, as if they didn’t know she was here, while others looked at her with disdain and scorn. Alya, still recognizable even with her cheap looking orange mask, was the next person to come up to her.

“Funny, I thought we left your worthless ass back at the hotel,” Alya hissed. “You shouldn’t have come, Marinette. You’re just going to ruin this for everyone.”

Marinette’s eyes drifted up and down Alya’s form, taking in the cheap taffeta dress she was wearing. It was a formless dress that really didn’t do her any favors, in Marinette’ opinion, that was a shade of orange. Her hair was pulled up into a ponytail, and she was wearing orange flats.

“Funny, I thought your outfit would have ruined the night,” she said calmly. “It really doesn’t look like it belongs in such a fancy party as this.”

“That’s because you refused to make our dresses! You’ve always made our dresses! Just because you don’t like Lila, doesn’t mean you get to be a bitch about it!” Alya snapped.

Several of the other girls nodded, glaring at her. Now that Marinette could see her classmates, it appeared as if they’d all bought their dresses from the same store. They were all wearing cheap-looking taffeta dresses in different colors with matching flats. Their masks were all rather plain looking, clearly made at the last minute. Marinette almost burst out laughing at how terrible they all looked.

The boys faired only slightly better. Their suits were cheap-looking, but not as terrible as the dresses. They had ties and masks that matched their dates (if they had one), but at least all their shoes were black. They looked uncomfortable with everything, not even really looking at Marinette.

The only one that looked fine was Chloe, who wore a beautiful mermaid style dress that was a pastel yellow. She had her blonde hair down for once and was wearing a diamond necklace and bracelet. Her mask was a pale gold color with the gold becoming darker above her eyes. It was edged with intricate black lace. Clearly her father had given her the outfit (or she’d bought it with his money).

Lila looked downright livid upon seeing Marinette. She was wearing the same thing as Alya, just in a darker shade of orange. She tried to grab Adrien’s arm, but he pulled away from her. Her sickly green eyes glared daggers at Marinette as Adrien walked up to her.

“Marinette...who’s this?” he asked, his expression sour. “It’s not safe to hang around strangers. You should come be with your friends. I even wanted to ask you if you’d like to dance. There’s something I wanted to ask you.”

“This is my friend,” Marinette said flatly. “We were having a good time talking before you showed up. I do not want to dance.”

“As if! You’re just saying that!” Alya sneered. “You’ve been in love with Adrien for years. Tell him Marinette! Tell him how you’re the one who made him all those gifts, like the scarf he thought was from his dad! How it was always you who wanted him to go to stuff. How you were always trying to get together with him!”

Adrien looked shocked as he glanced at Marinette. She had made him that scarf? She was the one who was always trying to arrange things so he could go? She was the one remembering all these important dates? Had Marinette always done things like this, or had he been special? Did she really love him? Did he really have a chance-?

“Not anymore. I used to have a crush on Adrien. It’s true I did a lot for Adrien to get him to notice me. Then I realized that Adrien wasn’t worth it. He was never worth it.”

Marinette had a steely expression as she spoke, holding her head high.

“Lila’s a liar, and Adrien’s been hiding the truth from you. Adrien knows that she lies about things, but he told me not to rock the boat. He told me to ignore Lila in hopes that she’d just go away. When you all told me I was a terrible person, a bully, a freak...when you told me I should...I should just disappear, Adrien did nothing. True friends don’t stand by when their friends need them,” she sighed before holding her hand up to Adrien. “And don’t try to apologize. I won’t accept it. You can have fun with Lila. You two deserve each other.”

Marinette turned back towards Green, not noticing the darkening expression on Adrien’s face.

The boy couldn’t understand why she’d say such terrible things. Why wouldn’t Marinette let him apologize? He wanted to apologize! Adrien felt terrible that Marinette felt so neglected. If she’d just give him a chance, then he could prove himself! He could prove that he could be a good friend to Marinette. He just needed to touch her heart! Surely if he touched her heart, then Marinette would see that they were meant to be together in some way!

Adrien shook off Lila again, grabbing Marinette by the arm.

“Show me your heart!” Adrien demanded, his grip tight despite the coat adding extra cushion. “Show it to me, and I’ll prove to you that we’re meant to be at least friends! I can’t lose you, and Ladybug! Ladybug will never love me, but Marinette could, and I demand to have a chance!”

“No. Let me go!” she hissed. “Let go of my arm, Adrien!”

“Let her go!” Lila pretended to sob. “Adrien, she’s not worth it! Can’t you see that she was just a whore playing with your affections? Please, Adrien! I love you too much to let you go through with this!”

“Yeah, she’s nothing!” Alya joined in. “C’mon, Adrien. It’s almost midnight! That’s when all the masks come off, and Jagged Stone will be unveiling his new designer!”

“Don’t you want to see Jagged’s designer?” Lila said, still pretending to cry. “I worked so hard to help them get there! I need to go see Jagged unveil my creation to the world! Besides, that designer is one of my best friends! I promised I would be there to show my support!”

Adrien just gripped Marinette’s arm harder, causing the black haired girl to let out a whine of pain. Marinette tried freeing herself from his grasp, smacking his arm, and trying to pry his hand off of her. Adrien responded by gripping harder and began to shake her. As Marinette struggled to free herself, Adrien began shouting at her that she needed to let him apologize so they could start over.

When Marinette refused, Adrien swept his leg under hers, causing her to fall to the floor.

They were now drawing attention from the other party-goers, some who rushed to get security and others who watched the whole thing go down.

Adrien tried to get a hold on Marinette again, but got frustrated with her struggling and grabbed her by the hair, ripping her bun out. Marinette struggled to her feet before punching him in the gut. Adrien lashed out, catching Marinette across her right cheek with a loud thud.

Before any of the French teenagers could blink, Adrien was on the floor, his nose profusely bleeding. —————————————————————————————— The punch was the last straw.

Damian didn’t even hesitate before punching the annoying blond in the face, most likely breaking his nose. He had a bad feeling this was who had hurt his soulmate so deeply that she was afraid of Damian’s reaction to her saying she wasn’t in love with him. This pathetic boy had demanded his chance from his golden heartmate as if it was something he was owed! Not only that, but he had hurt Marinette!

Marinette, Damian thought, such a pretty name that fit such a pretty girl.

He thought he’d been pissed off before when the girl, Marinette had called her Alya, was insulting his golden heartmate. The only reason Damian hadn’t stepped in was simply because it appeared like Marinette had had it handled. He didn’t want to fight her battles for her, not when she was clearly able to do so herself. More than likely, Marinette would have just found that insulting as he’d gathered from their talks that she was rather independent.

So, he’d swallowed his rage and allowed her to defend herself. At least until the stupid boy— Adrien— had hit her. Once Adrien was on the floor, he put himself directly in front of Marinette. He glared at the other French teens, daring one of them to try and take him on.

“What the fuck was that for!” Alya screeched. “You broke his nose!”

“He hurt Marinette,” Damian replied, hearing Marinette gasp in shock.

She had probably thought Damian couldn’t understand French One look at her class told him that the others were of a similar mind. They looked at him with shock and fear. Adrien was the only one who didn’t look shocked, just pissed off. The blond got to his feet before snarling, “Who the fuck do you think you are!? Why are you getting in between me and my princess?!”

“Because you brain dead imbecile, Marinette doesn’t belong to you! She doesn’t belong to anyone! Marinette is her own person, and if she doesn’t want to hear your sorry apology, then she doesn’t need to hear it! She doesn’t need to do shit for you!” Damian snarled. “You put your hands on her. You assaulted her. You hurt her. I simply thought it was time for me to step in.”

“So you stepped in after I hit her?” Adrien questioned.

“I stepped in after it was clear that the situation was no longer under control,” Damian responded. “Marinette was handling herself just fine until you hit her. She’s not weak, and she’s most certainly not defenseless. I did not believe she wished for me to fight her battles, so I didn’t.”

Damian could hear security approaching as well as a woman shouting something in French. The red haired woman rushed over to Adrien and began looking over him. She also tried to get the others under control, as they’d all started screaming and yelling at one another. Damian responded to security by yanking his mask off, revealing who he was.

“The blond in the black cat mask with the bloody nose assaulted the young lady behind me,” he said curtly. “I’d like him removed from the gala, and I need to find my father. He’ll be barred from any future Wayne Galas as well.”

“You can’t do that!” Adrien hissed.

“I can,” Damian responded, turning to look at Marinette.

Marinette was shaking again, all the previous courage she had gone. Her mask was off now, having been knocked off during the struggle. Her blue eyes were wide, framed by beautiful black lashes. She had a cute button nose that was splashed with now visible freckles. Her right cheek was already bruising, and her hair was a mess.

Damian knelt down and gently picked up her gold hair sticks from the floor. He held them out to her slowly, not wanting to frighten her, as he stood back up.

“Marinette, do you need my help?” he asked gently.

He waited for the dark haired girl to decide patiently. He knew she probably wasn’t okay, but he also wasn’t sure if she’d want him to touch her. She’d just been assaulted, so perhaps he should find a woman that could be trusted to help Marinette fix herself up. He was relieved when Marinette took the golden sticks from his hands. He was even more relieved when she moved closer to him.

Marinette rested her left cheek on his right shoulder, trying to hide her face in his shoulder. Damian could hear her start to sniffle and wrapped his arms around her. He gently rubbed her back, allowing her to cry while shielding her face. Marinette shook in his arms, and he felt the rage come back...until he felt Marinette’s heart began to nuzzle against his neck and her face, searching for comfort. The rage faded, and Damian focused his thoughts on making sure Adrien couldn’t touch Marinette again.

Damian spotted his father walking towards him, followed by Dick, Kor’i, Wally, and two other people he hadn’t met yet. They were talking with the security guards, and Damian would bet that Tim was probably going over the security footage. His father walked up to him with a serious expression.

“Damian, could you please explain why you punched one of the students from the visiting French class?” he asked sternly.

“He assaulted his classmate,” he said. “He grabbed her and tried to get her to come with him. When she refused, he swept her legs out from under her. He tried to get a grip on her, but got mad and pulled her hair. She got up and punched him in the stomach so he’d let go. Then he punched her, and that’s when I punched him. Show him your face, Marinette.”

Damian gently touched Marinette’s head. She lifted her head up to look at him, and he watched his father’s expression darken. Bruce may have been mad at Damian for possibly starting an international incident, but he knew that his father wouldn’t hold it against him for defending someone else. He noted that several bystanders had come up to defend him, telling Bruce what had transpired before security arrived.

A strange man with black and purple hair rushed over to him, followed by a pink haired woman. Both looked horrified and concerned. The woman actually pulled Marinette from Damian’s hold, but seeing how Marinette immediately latched onto her, he swallowed his displeasure. The woman held Marinette tightly, rocking a little, as she asked what had happened and if Marinette was going to be alright.

Dick chose this time to come in, tapping the man with the purple and black hair on the shoulder.

“Jagged Stone, this is my youngest brother and Bruce’s only biological child, Damian Wayne. Damian, this is Jared “Jagged” Stone. He’s Bruce’s old friend. The woman with the pink hair is his wife, Penny Stone,” Dick said.

“While it’s nice to meet you, Damian, I want to know what the hell happened to Marinette!” Jagged said, glaring at Damian. “We got separated by the paparazzi when we arrived and weren’t able to find her since!”

“She was with me, though I didn’t know who she was,” Damian responded honestly. “I saw her getting harassed by the reporters and stepped in. We’ve spent the last few hours talking to one another until that Adrien boy found us. He tried getting Marinette to come with him, and he didn’t seem too pleased that I was here. He hurt her when she refused to go with him, so I punched him.”

“What?! That little bastard punched my niece! Where is he? I’ll take his damn head off!” Jagged growled, surprising both Dick and Damian with the ferocity behind it. “Penny, watch after our little star! I’ve got a boy to skin.”

“Follow Father. He’ll be the only one with the bloody nose,” Damian supplied helpfully.

Jagged stalked off with Dick behind him as Kor’i and Wally stepped up to the group. Kor’i immediately went to the other two women and asked if Marinette would like to clean up in the bathroom. Penny had looked towards Marinette, and the dark haired girl simply nodded. Kor’i led the way towards the ladies room while Wally stood beside Damian.

“Well this is a mess,” Wally tried to joke.

Damian nodded sullenly. Instead of continuing to try and talk to the boy, Wally settled for watching Bruce and Jagged rip into the boy, his teacher, and the class for trying to defend his actions. Damian felt his anger reach the boiling point when her classmates called her a liar and a bully. He also felt angry when the teacher tried to excuse it away as “teenager stuff”. He almost laughed out loud when Bruce responded that he had raised four teenage boys and that none of them would have thought this was acceptable behavior. Her teacher had almost wilted at that.

But nothing was quite as sweet as when Jagged brought the liar to her knees in front of the class that revered her.

“I can’t believe you people! You’re standing here trying to tell me that my favorite little designer, my little niece is a bully and a liar?! Not rock’n’roll at all! Marinette is the sweetest, most creative little star I’ve ever met. She gets my jagged style, and she’s an extremely hard worker. Marinette didn’t get to be my designer based on lies. She got to be my designer based on her own hard work and skills,” Jagged snapped at the class. “Besides, no one deserves to be assaulted!”

“That’s not true! Lila was the one who set Marinette up with you. If it hadn’t been for Lila, she wouldn’t be your designer at all,” Alya argued. “She was just being an ungrateful bitch!”

“...but Marinette doesn’t like Lila...and Lila said the designer was one of her best friends,” a red haired boy quietly pointed out. “How could Lila have done what she said if Jagged’s telling us that Marinette is his designer?”

“Marinette is my designer! And who is this Lila? Why is she telling lies about my little star?” Jagged demanded to know.

“But Lila saved your kitten! Remember? It was on the runway of the airport! You wrote a song about her too! It’s all over my blog!” Alya asked desperately, not wanting to believe Lila had been lying to her this whole time.

“One, I’ve never owned a cat. Fang’s been my only pet for twenty years. Two, I would never write a song about an underage girl. Three, the only girl I’ve ever written a song for is the superhero known as Ladybug. These are all things any competent reporter would know,” Jagged said.

Damian watched as Alya turned on the brunette with sausage hair and terrible dark orange ensemble. Alya started screaming at her, demanding to know if she was lying about everything else as well. This got Marinette’s whole class involved, as well as Jagged. The class was torn between yelling at Lila and being horrified to find out she was lying. Jagged was busy yelling about how Lila would be hearing from his lawyers for defamation of character.

The Lila girl began crying again, and Damian turned away from them. His instead chose to scan the crowd, waiting for Marinette to return. ————————————————————————————— Marinette was in shock to say the least.

She had expected Adrien to be angry with her. She had expected him to argue with her. She hadn’t been expecting Adrien to put his hands on her though. She honestly never thought that he would hit her like he did. She was frightened to know now that Adrien was not above using force to get what he wanted.

Penny had been fussing over her for since the agent got her hands on Marinette. The beautiful red-headed woman, who led them to the bathroom, stood silently next to the door. She had introduced herself as Kor’i Grayson, wife of Richard and Wally Grayson, and daughter-in-law of Bruce Wayne. She offered to stand guard by the door and ensure that no one else came in while Penny was helping Marinette clean up.

“Marinette, sweetheart, what happened?” Penny asked, gently wiping away the tears from Marinette’s eyes.

“The press...they surrounded me and started asking all these questions. I didn’t even notice you and Uncle Jagged were gone until I looked around. They kept pressing me for answers until Green— I mean Damian— stepped in. He gave me his coat because I was cold and led me inside. He offered to keep me company until I was able to find you and Uncle Jagged,” Marinette began.

“Green?” Kor’i asked with amusement.

“His mask was green. He called me Red first, and then said he wanted to talk to me without names and expectations. He was really nice to me, Penny. I was so scared, but he was nice about it. I didn’t even realize how close to midnight it was, I was having so much fun with him. We were eating when Adrien found us...I don’t know how he knew it was me, Penny. I didn’t show anyone my dress or my mask, so he shouldn’t have known it was me—”

“Breathe, Marinette. It’s okay. He won’t put another hand on you, I swear it!” Penny said, gently rubbing Marinette’s arm.

Marinette took a few deep breaths before continuing.

“Adrien wanted me to go with him. I think he wanted to apologize to me and ask me on a date,” she said, her voice cracking. “I told him no. I didn’t want to hear his apology, and I’m no longer in love with him. He didn’t like that answer. He grabbed my arm. I fought him. He swept my feet out from under me and grabbed my hair. I managed to get up and punched him in the stomach so he’d let go. That was when he punched me...and then Damian punched him back harder.”

Marinette took a few more deep breaths.

“I thought I had it under control. I thought I could handle him without help. Even when he knocked me over...I wasn’t expecting him to punch me. I’m glad Damian punched him...if Adrien had tried to hit me again, I don’t know if I would have been able to fight him off…”

What she didn’t want to admit was that she wasn’t sure she’d be able to shake off the shock quick enough. Marinette knew that she could fight Adrien. She was Ladybug after all, and Adrien hadn’t been akumatized. That was also the other thing she couldn’t admit— being Ladybug. She could have passed it off as self-defense lessons, but Marinette knew it still would have been suspicious.

Marinette chose to tune out Kor’i and Penny as she fixed her hair. She pulled it back into a bun before putting the golden sticks back into her hair. Marinette allowed Penny to fix her makeup, though not much could be done about the bruising on her cheek. At this point, she was just settling for looking like she hadn’t been crying after being assaulted.

Once she was cleaned up, Marinette hugged Penny tightly before asking if they could postpone her reveal. Penny told her that they would of course postpone her reveal. Kor’i promised not to tell anyone that Marinette was Jagged’s designer, but she did congratulate Marinette on her achievement. Marinette had smiled and thanked her in response.

Oddly enough...Marinette wanted to go back to Damian. He had been polite, kind, and absolutely fun to be around all night. He’d reassured her when she was scared. He’d waited for her to come to him after Adrien attacked. He’d held her while she cried until Penny showed up. Marinette didn’t want to label it as love, especially since they were golden heartmates, but she would admit that she wouldn’t mind going on a date with Damian. Perhaps she might follow fate’s lead and fall in love with Damian.

Only time would tell, and Marinette felt safer establishing boundaries with Damian than she did anyone else. He had not tried to push or argue with her about her boundaries. Instead he had respected them without question, something Marinette was immensely grateful for. Thinking about how he’d acted the whole night, Marinette didn’t think falling in love with him would be such a bad thing.

She was smiling as she left the bathroom with Kor’i and Penny. Marinette continued smiling when she noticed Damian looking for her in the crowd. She felt happy when Damian’s face lit up upon seeing her. She hugged him tightly once she was within reach before looking at the chaos that was her class. She raised an eyebrow before Jagged broke in, demanding to know if Marinette knew that the Lila girl was spreading all sorts of nasty lies about them.

“Cat’s out of the bag,” Damian said smugly. “Now they’re all trying to pick up what little dignity they have left.”

Marinette laughed at that, feeling joy in the fact that Lila had finally been revealed. However, she chose to ignore her classmates arguing and pleas for forgiveness to hold out her hand to Damian.

“Let’s try this again. Hi, my name’s Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” she said with a grin. “I had a lot of fun with you, and I would very much like to go on a date so I can get to know my golden heartmate better.”

A wide smile appeared across Damian’s face as he shook her hand.

“Hello, my name is Damian Wayne. I also had a very good time with you and would love to take you on a date,” he responded.

Marinette giggled as his heart darted out to nuzzle her cheek, just barely catching the gasps from the people around her as the heart flashed gold. Her own heart had zipped over to Damian and began nuzzling his cheek as well, also turning gold.

“Would you like to leave now, Marinette?” he asked. “I could have our driver drop you off at your hotel if you’d like. You probably should ice that bruise.”

Marinette looked at both Jagged and Penny to see what they thought. Both of them were smiling at her and nodding, so she turned back towards Damian.

“Thank you, that would be very nice,” she replied.

Damian held out his arm towards her again, and this time, Marinette took it without hesitation. Looking at the handsome, dark haired boy with kind green eyes, she decided there were worse people she could have as her golden heartmate. When he kissed her hand upon dropping her off at the hotel, Marinette made another decision.

She stood on her tiptoes, gently pressing a quick kiss to his lips. Marinette giggled as he flushed, his eyes wide and clearly surprised. Yes, she thought, perhaps having him as a romantic soulmate wouldn’t be the end of the world. Perhaps...perhaps loving him could be the best thing that happened to her.

Little did she know that Damian agreed.

#maribat secret santa #daminette #eve-valuation #maribat #marinette x damian #damian x marinette #im not nice to adrien here #so if you're not here for that don't read #there's some salt here #im not nice to the class either #tiny bit of alya bashing here #soulmate au #soulmate hearts au #i really hope you like it #im sorry it's so long #long post

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even-after-a-millennia · 4 years

Text

Winter Wonders

Hey all! This is my fic for the Andromaquynh Secret Santa exchange! This fic is a gift for @kayivy so I hope that you like it! Happy Holidays!

Read it below or on my ao3 account here.

When Andy and Quynh awoke, the world outside the safe house was blanketed in white. Andy stretched, then pulled Quynh closer to ward off the chill in the air. Quynh hummed, nestling her face deeper into the crook of Andy’s neck.

Andy took a moment to revel in the feel of her love tucked next to her. It had only been a few months since they had been reunited. A fraction of time, compared to their time apart. It still felt so new. Every moment of eye contact, every touch, every kiss, felt like a gift.

They’d had to work through the pain they had both gone through and come to terms with Andy’s mortality. There were still times that Andy jerked awake, reaching for Quynh and half expecting for the bed beside her to be empty. But she was always there, reaching back.

“Hey,” Andy said quietly. “It snowed.”

“Hm?” Quynh murmured, still mostly asleep.

Andy kissed her temple, hoping to entice her to wake. “It snowed last night. The whole world is white out there.”

Quynh’s eyes blinked sleepily open, her brow furrowed at the light coming in from the window. “I’m sure it’s pretty,” she muttered, putting her face back in the safety of Andy’s neck. “But it is far too bright.”

Andy laughed softly. “Take your time.”

“Food would help me wake.”

“Is that a not-so-subtle hint that you would like breakfast in bed?” Andy asked.

Quynh hummed again, seeming to fall back asleep.

Andy carefully maneuvered out of Quynh’s embrace, so as to not disturb her. She threw a sweater over her pajamas and shuffled out to the main room, where Nicky was puttering around the kitchen as Joe sipped a cup of coffee at the table, barely looking awake himself.

“Nile still in bed?” Andy asked.

Joe nodded.

“Why aren’t you still sleeping?” Andy demanded. “You are basically asleep sitting here!”

Joe shrugged and looked over to where Nicky was making him toast. Nicky smiled softly at him, then turned back to the counter.

“Sap,” Andy told him as she got two cups of coffee ready.

Nicky raised an eyebrow at her, looking between her and the two cups without comment.

“Shut up,” she said with a laugh, pushing his shoulder.

Nicky’s eyes went behind Andy, her only warning before Quynh, wrapped in the quilt from their bed, wrapped her arms around Andy’s waist from behind.

“Andromache, it’s too cold in the bed without you…” she whined, pressing her cold nose into the spot right between Andy’s shoulder blades. “Come back.”

Loosening Quynh’s hold on her with one hand, Andy spun around in her arms to face her, cup of coffee in her other hand. “Here, this will warm you.”

Quynh took the coffee and took a sip. “I still like you better.”

Andy laughed. “Good to know I make a better personal heater than coffee.”

Quynh hummed, shuffling towards the table and sitting next to Joe, still cocooned in the blanket. Joe stole a corner of it to wrap around his feet and they sat there together, sipping their coffee with their eyes mostly closed.

Nicky smiled at the scene and revealed the truly prolific amount of toast he had made. Andy began to dig in the cupboards and fridge for toppings, grabbing everyone’s favorite. Strawberry jam for Nicky, apricot jam for Joe, peanut butter with honey for Nile, butter for herself, and Nutella for Quynh. She liked the sweetness and the novelty of it.

They ate in silence, though Andy did notice that Joe and Quynh’s eyes were slowly widening more as time past.

Nile came to the table as the others were finishing and scarfed down her food.

“Any plans for today?” she asked.

Nicky shrugged as Joe shook his head. “Stay somewhere warm,” he added, pulling more of Quynh’s quilt toward himself.

Nile snorted.

“I would like to go out in the snow,” Quynh said resolutely. She looked over at Andy. “Will you come with me?”

“Of course.”

Which is how they found themselves out in the snow covered world outside not much later. Joe had nagged them until they had bundled up. Nile cackled when she saw them and said, still giggling, “I can’t put my arms down!” She waved them away as they looked at her curiously.

Ah, it must be a reference to something.

The moment they stepped outside their warm safe house, Andy was glad of Joe’s aversion to the cold. The only exposed part of her were her eyes and they watered as the cold wind hit them. She glanced at Quynh, wanting to see how she was doing, dealing with the cold. It had been cold at the bottom of the ocean. She still shuddered when the shower’s temperature was too chilly and baths were out of the question.

Quynh’s eyes were crinkled in a way that Andy knew, through thousands of years of memorizing Quynh’s facial expressions, meant that she was grinning hugely underneath her scarf.

“It’s so beautiful!” Quynh exclaimed before charging forward into the snow.

It was deep, almost up to her knees, and every step flung the snow to the side and behind her. But still, she ran on, laughter echoing behind her as she went.

Andy grinned then chased after her.

Their safehouse was in the middle of the woods, so Andy had to dodge trees and be careful of roots hidden under the snow as she ran, but she loved it. She loved the sensation of the cold wind against her cheeks, the cloud that every breath made in the cold air, the crunch of the snow under her feet.

She caught up to Quynh and grabbed her around the waist, twirling her around as she giggled and wiggled in her grasp. Andy put her down only to push her against a tree and dragged down both of their scarves so their mouths could crash together. At first, it was desperate, very fitting after the chase that had preceded it. But in time it slowed. Deepened.

Andy pulled away to breathe, then whispered against Quynh’s jaw, “Anh yêu em nhiều lắm.”

I love you so much.

Quynh brought her in for another, quicker kiss. “I love you, my Andromache.”

Andy saw the shift in Quynh’s eyes from loving to mischievous and had a bare moment to jump away before Quynh was flinging snow where she had just been standing.

“You little shit!” Andy said, laughing.

She had been laughing so much more since Quynh had come back into her life.

Quynh grinned at her and grabbed more snow, creating an arsenal of snowballs in a pile as Andy ducked behind a tree to do the same.

“Ready?” she heard Quynh called. “It will be no fun unless it is a fair match.”

“One more minute!”

“Hurry, then!”

Andy shook her head, grinning, as she made snowball after snowball.

“Ready!”

“First to surrender loses! Three, two, one! GO!” Quynh shouted, immediately firing off a volley of snowballs at Andy.

Andy ducked and blocked most of them, but one did hit her in the shoulder. She threw some back and the fight was on.

The back and forth attacks lasted a good ten minutes more until Quynh rushed towards Andy and tackled her into the snow. They wrestled for a bit, trying to get the upper hand, until Quynh finally got Andy’s hands under her knees as she knelt on top of her. Andy tried to buck her off a few times, but it was no use.

She relaxed into the snow, trying to ignore the huge amount that was now inside her winter clothes and slowly melting against her skin.

“I yield,” she said, gazing up at Quynh.

Quynh grinned, then leaned down to kiss the tip of Andy’s nose.

“I like you like this,” she said, smiling down at her.

“Usually, I would agree, especially if you were seated a bit higher. But I have snow melting down my neck and that is very uncomfortable.”

“Wimp,” Quynh teased, though she did get off Andy and helped pull her to her feet. “Come on, let’s go get warm.”

They held hands as they went back to the cabin, all the way to the bathroom, where they began to strip off their frigid clothing.

“You got me good with one of those snowballs,” Andy said, looking in the mirror to see where she had been hit. She stared at it, trying to reach it.

“...Quynh?”

“What is it, Andromache?”

“It’s healing.”

“What?!” Quynh demanded, whirling around to stare at Andy’s back.

As they watched, the bruise on Andy’s back became green, then yellow, then faded to nothing but smooth, unbruised skin. They turned to stare at each other.

“Do you think-?”

“Maybe?”

“Here,” Quynh pulled out Nicky’s shaving kit. “Just a small cut, my love. I have to be sure.”

“Of course.”

Quynh drew the blade over the tip of Andy’s finger. They watched as the blood welled. Glancing at each other, Quynh reached out to wipe off the blood.

The cut was no longer there.

They stared at each other, stunned. Then, slowly, a smile grew on Quynh’s face even as her eyes welled with tears.

“My beautiful Andromache,” she said, her voice choked with tears, “I think we get to have a bit more time together.”

Andy began smiling too, then laughed. Quynh joined and threw her arms around Andy. Andy buried her face into Quynh’s hair and realized that Quynh’s laughter had turned to sobs.

There was a knock on the door.

“Guys? Everything okay?” Nile asked.

They pulled away from each other and opened the door, both not wearing shirts and not caring a bit.

“She’s healing!” Quynh sobbed, beaming.

“She’s-” Nile’s eyes widened. “Nicky, Joe, get over here!”

They clambered over each other in the haste to get to the bathroom.

“What? What is wrong?” Nicky demanded, eyes darting around, looking for a threat.

“Andy is healing,” Nile stated, still staring at Andy with wide eyes.

Joe and Nicky rounded on her. “WHAT?”

Andy nodded, grabbing the razor again. She dragged it across her fingertip again, put down the razor, and wiped the blood. She had expected for it to not be real, but when she wiped away the blood, the wound was gone.

Her immortality was really back.

She got to have more time.

#andromaquynhsecretsanta #andromaquynh #andy x quynh #fanfic #my fic

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westallenfun · 4 years

Text

Two's Company (1/3)

Westallen secret santa gift

For: Lauren (@backtothestart02) (I hope you like this fic!)

From: Lina (@cheryls-blossomed)

A/N: A special thank you to my beta, Caroline (@ginandweas).

Inspired by Jane Austen’s Emma, and the blissfulness and hardship of tumbling into true love. On the eve of publication of the most important article of her professional career thus far, Iris West realizes that she is head over heels in love with her best friend, Barry Allen, but grapples with revealing her true feelings, for fear of completely ruining their friendship. But a weekend trip to Metropolis sets in motion a series of events, with romantic mishaps and conundrums abound, that may in fact force both Barry and Iris to face some long-awaited, romantic truths.

Rated: T (Warnings: Mild language)

Perhaps the most notable visual extravagance at wedding receptions is the abundance of balloons, flowers, and the chiffon backdrops, draped like curtains, framing the table whereon sat the wedding cake.

Iris is already trying to determine how she might steal away a few balloons, because really, nobody would miss them, and she had, after all, been the one sitting with the wedding planner for days on end, painstakingly selecting a theme for the reception and agonizing over every detail. Surely, after all her efforts, a few balloons going missing at the end of the party would be forgiven, if not unnoticeable. And she would be surreptitious about it too, seeing as how she would wait until the final guests, likely pleasantly drunk on champagne, rosé, and Prosecco, stumbled their way out of the Central City Gold Hotel.

“Nice work, West.” Iris looks up to see her heavily pregnant sister-in-law take a seat next to her, while cradling a rather magnificent sundae in her hands, spoon hanging precariously atop the hazelnut fudge.

“Thanks, but don’t you call my brother ‘West?’ Could get confusing,” Iris says, raising one eyebrow.

“Yeah, but I’m married to Wally. Have been for three years. And so, it doesn’t have the same effect with him anymore. That’s the troublesome thing about marriage.”

“Classic Linda Park logic,” Iris murmurs, before once again focusing on the balloons. They are all the same shade of ivory, which made them particularly functional. For gift-giving purposes, that is. Gift-giving, Iris knows, is all about the presentation.

“No, but seriously, Iris. I’m impressed. Joe and Cecile deserve the best, and this is, honestly, the best.”

“Thanks, Linda. Dad deserves a perfect wedding day. As does Cecile. To be honest, I didn’t expect it to come together as beautifully as it did, but I’m still praying we see this thing to the end without any hiccups. We’ve got…” Iris taps the screen of her phone to check the time, “About three hours, at least, left.”

“And it’s probably especially important to you. You know, because you played matchmaker for Joe and Cecile,” Linda says, while spooning a generous amount of ice cream, topped with fudge and sprinkles and coconut flakes, into her mouth. Iris’s brow furrows,

“I did not ‘match-make’ my dad and Cecile. We’ve been over this Linda…” Linda begins to interrupt, but Iris shakes her head, “I know you seem to think that because I introduced my dad to Cecile that somehow this is my doing, but that’s untrue. To be honest, I didn’t expect them to hit it off so well, let alone date and get married within a year of my introducing them.” Cecile owns an interior design shop, which Iris had visited when she was helping Barry decorate his new apartment— a memory which immediately brings a smile to Iris’s face, for she fondly recalls Barry frantically searching eBay for a bed and a couch, and the way she had persuaded him that that was a terrible idea and instead found her way to Cecile’s trendy furniture boutique, which was also quite affordable. Cecile was so friendly and sweet, and Iris remembered her father struggling to date again, as it had been nearly a decade and a half since her mother had passed away, and so when she had thrown Barry a housewarming party, Iris figured that there was no harm in inviting Cecile, who had become friends with both Barry and Iris after hours spent together at the boutique, and introducing her to her dad. That had been a year ago. Now, they are at Joe West and Cecile Horton’s wedding reception.

“Well, we can debate semantics, but you definitely match-maked Wally and me. You can’t deny that,” Linda says, matter-of-factly, before eating another scoop of her sundae.

“I wouldn’t call it match-making. More like I have a sense for people that I know well and then introduce them, thinking that they may potentially like each other.”

“You set Wally and I up on a blind date six years ago, and now we’re married and have twins on the way. I would say there’s a diabolical matchmaking side to you. Don’t tell me you don’t feel accomplished every time you successfully match-make a couple.”

“Linda, I’ve only successfully match-maked— to use your word, which I still find objectionable, by the way— two couples. One was my brother and you. And you’re my best friend. The other was my dad and Cecile. That’s hardly a track record of successful matchmaking.”

“But it could be. Think about it. This could be a lucrative side hustle.”

“As if I would have time for a match-making side hustle, even if that was something I was interested in doing. I finally got my news site up and running, and The Citizen needs all hands on deck and then some. Besides, a matchmaking business is an exploitative way to make money.”

“Mmm, maybe,” Linda seems to ponder this, momentarily, before changing topics, abruptly, “Speaking of which, I’m your best friend now? Thought that was a privilege exclusively afforded to Barry,” Iris has heard this before and rolls her eyes, exasperated,

“My friendship with Barry is different. You know that.”

“Actually I don’t know that. But I would love to be enlightened about that.” Linda’s response is far too smug for Iris’s liking, but before she can retort, she hears a familiar voice behind her, a voice that unquestionably wraps Iris in a cocoon of warmth, so that she feels instantly home,

“I heard my name.” And although she cannot see him yet, she knows he’s smiling.

“Was wondering where you were, Allen. It’s a rare sight that you and Iris would be separated at any point, when in the same vicinity.” Barry chuckles at Linda’s quip, settling into the chair on Iris’s right and brushing away a few plastic flowers that had come undone from the upholstery. Iris glances up at him, smiling widely, which he’s reciprocating in equal measure. He sets a plate, containing a chocolate fudge brownie topped with mint chocolate chip ice cream, in front of her. Iris’s eyes widen, as she glances from the plate to Barry; her face alight with unadulterated joy.

“My hero,” she gasps, squeezing his hand and then truly taking in the scrumptious display of gooey chocolate and ice cream goodness.

“Always,” he whispers, gazing at her, affectionately, before continuing, “I was wrangling the last brownie from old Mrs. Rogers, who apparently wanted to share it between herself and her cat. Although I don’t know,” Barry pauses for a moment, glancing around the reception hall, “if her cat is even here. Doubtful. Regardless, it took a great deal of speed, stealth, and possibly defying Newton’s first law of physics, because I could have sworn that I willed the brownie in my direction without even touching it, to retrieve this dessert.”

“Don’t lie, Bear,” Iris says, her eyes sparkling with laughter, as she eagerly grabs her dessert fork, “Mrs. Rogers would never argue with you, if you wanted that brownie. She loves you.”

“Yeah, it was just my regular, old charm. And by charm, I mean, because I tutor her grandson, Matt, in chemistry.” (Linda snorts at that.) “Still, I think defying Newton’s first law makes for a better story. But nobody was getting this brownie except for you, Iris. You know, we wouldn’t be sitting here if it wasn’t for you. I mean, just look at this place. It looks fantastic,” he raves, gesturing towards the décor, “The work you put into this is amazing. You’re amazing.”

“Thank you, Barry.” She’s touched, not just because Barry managed to negotiate the last brownie from poor, old Mrs. Rogers with his rather endearing, tripping-over-his-feet-type charm, but also because he is being, as usual, so disarmingly complimentary of her. Barry never expects her to be amazing; he just thinks she’s amazing always, even when she’s at her lowest or when she is mistaken, and when Iris reflects deeply on that, it overwhelms her. It forces her to dwell on feelings untold; on how, whenever she sees him, she can’t help but smile, almost as if by instinct.

But she can’t think about it. She won’t think about it.

“Before you got here, Barry. I was telling Iris how she should really get into a matchmaking side hustle,” Linda says, forcing Iris to focus on the conversation taking place and not on… well, a place where she refuses to go. A place which she cannot explore.

“Matchmaking?” Barry leans back, resting his arm on the back of Iris’s chair. “I don’t think that’s even remotely close to anything Iris-like.” Iris is acutely aware of how close his arm is to the bare skin of her upper back, but she ignores this. Or tries to.

“Exactly. And so I was telling Linda how that’s an awful idea, and how I am pretty sure a matchmaking business, where I have zero actual knowledge about strangers’ interpersonal relationships, could be fraudulent. I can’t possibly claim to be an expert. I mean, no guarantees, right? Seems like a colossal waste of people’s money,” Iris remarks, still trying not to think about Barry’s arm on her chair, right near her back. And how (she thinks she had just imagined it but, no, it was real) he had seemingly shifted his arm, so his fingers are now grazing her skin; his touch is feather-light, equally comforting as it is emboldening.

“That could be the genius of it, though. Enough people want to pay money for a matchmaker, even if it’s probably not going to be any more successful than a dating app. Throw in some good, old Cosmopolitan level astrology knowledge for marketing purposes. And there you have it. A potentially incredibly lucrative endeavor. Maybe I should start it myself,” Linda says, while still enjoying her sundae.

“Why waste money on a matchmaker? Sometimes something incredible is right in front of you, and you just have to tell yourself it’s time to throw caution to the wind. A matchmaker can’t tell you that, only you can know that,” Barry sounds wistful when he says this, and Iris turns to him, abruptly, studying his expression. He’s looking straight ahead, but his gaze is demonstrable of clear desire, and upon hearing such longing in his voice, her stomach drops. Because that’s the face of someone in love. That’s the sound of someone in love. That’s the sound of someone who’s found their someone. But who could her Barry have found? When did he find someone?

Iris is contemplating this, her stomach churning with her every thought, when the conversation shifts to pregnancy, as Linda comments how she’s always hungry and moody thanks to,

“…These two whom Wally impregnated me with.” To which Barry laughs, his fingers still softly grazing Iris’s back, while Iris forces herself to smile along and even joke that Linda had talked her ear off about how much she wanted babies and how maybe she shouldn’t have gotten so ahead of herself. But Iris’s mind is still on Barry potentially having found someone. She knows she should be happy, monumentally happy, because Barry is happy, so she cannot fathom why she feels like she’s about to vomit. Suddenly, she has no appetite for her brownie and ice cream, but she eats to evade suspicion, because Barry would surely know something is wrong if she fails to eat her dessert. But from the way he’s carefully watching her, maybe he does know something is wrong already, and Iris wishes, not for the first time, that they did not know each other’s every fidget and expression, signaling a mood shift, so well.

When the wedding reception is over and after Iris has said goodbye to every guest and promised her father and Cecile that she would be at their house the next day for their family dinner, she manages to take three ivory balloons with her to her car, without a single guest noticing. The decorator who had stayed to help her wrap up tells her that she can take any number of balloons that she would like. Or, perhaps more practically, however many would fit in her car.

More accurately, perhaps, Iris thinks she had not been noticed by anyone, when she’d successfully managed to fit all three balloons in her car two nights ago. She’s standing on line at CC Jitters, the local hub for Central City citizens to get their morning coffee and pastry fix, and holding a basket, which contains baked goods, a carefully wrapped red scarf, and a small, navy blue bag. Tied onto the handle of the basket are the three balloons, still inflated.

“For the boyfriend?”

Iris turns to meet the friendly disposition of a blonde woman she’s never met before. Startled for a moment, Iris realizes, that the stranger is referring to her basket, and she smiles, shaking her head,

“No, for a friend.” Although, given her thoughts lately, friend seems far too simple a word. She feels like she’s perjuring herself by saying friend, but best friend who I’ve known since childhood and with whom I think I might have feelings for, but who is possibly in love with someone else seems far too complicated, especially when Iris is not ready to admit this to herself, let alone to a stranger whom she meets for the first time on the queue for coffee.

“Well, they’re lucky. You clearly put so much work into that. No friend has ever given me a gift like that. Actually nobody’s given me a gift that thoughtful before,” the stranger continues, before visibly cringing, “I’m sorry, I’m oversharing. I’m Patty, by the way.”

“I’m…”

“Iris!” There it is again, that feeling of home settling upon her shoulders, like a velvet cloak, shielding her, protecting her. Barry is walking towards her, holding two mugs of coffee, and when he stops before her, he presses his lips to her forehead briefly, a typical form of greeting between the both of them. But if he could hear the way her heart hammers against her chest whenever she feels the soft brush of his lips on her skin, then surely the ruse would be up. He would know how she feels, and so Iris is grateful, not for the first time, that her heartbeat is inaudible to anyone but her.

“Hey Bear, that for me?” she asks, nodding at one of the two mugs.

“Yep. One Americano with an extra shot. Got here earlier and figured we could beat the line,” Barry grins, and he’s looking at her as if she’s the sun, and it’s almost too intense, perhaps because of all of those pesky feelings that she’s been feeling lately, so Iris breaks their gaze, remembering herself as well and turning back towards Patty.

“Patty, this is my friend, Barry. Barry… Patty. We just met on the line.” Barry nods politely, as Patty says,

“Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Barry responds. “New around here?”

“Is it that obvious? I’m just about to start at CCU as a grad student. And so I’m trying to get used to the city. I’m originally from Midway.”

“Yeah, understandable,” Iris smiles. “Takes awhile to get used to a new place, but CC Jitters is the best, so you’ll never be wanting for good coffee, that’s for sure.” Patty laughs, then,

“Well, I’m glad for that. Anyways, I won’t keep you two. Thank you, Iris, for just chatting with me.”

“Of course.” The three exchange polite goodbyes, and Barry and Iris make a beeline for their favorite booth in the farthest corner from the entrance to the coffee shop; a rather secluded, cozy spot that Iris had first started occupying, when she was a journalism student at Central City University. Barry had been a chemistry major, and they met up every morning for breakfast and would come to study nearly every weekend, armed with cookies, coffee, and blankets. Iris remembers long afternoons spent in this booth, her feet propped up on Barry’s lap, his hands massaging her calves, as they studied in companionable silence.

It was in this booth that Iris had written article after article for The Central Brief, CCU’s university-wide newspaper, including her famed paper on the state of land rights of women, globally, that had won her the Scholastic Student of Journalism Prize and had given her the chance to speak in The Hague at an international conference on human rights. As Iris agonized over her field research, including research accumulated from summers of backpacking, Barry, while studying for his Protein Crystallography final, had been effusive in his support for her. He was constantly breaking from his studies to be her sounding board, should she need one, despite her reminding him time and again that he ought to concentrate on his own finals and not on her. He never listened, though, not that it in any way affected his marks. And so sure was he that her work would be honored that he’d planned a party, months in advance, before she had heard back from the National Committee for Excellence in Student Journalism and before she had been invited to The Hague.

Indeed, it was Barry who had remarked then that Iris ought to consider starting her own news media site after university, stating that she already had the credentials to draw in a large audience and investors.

“How are you feeling? About the exposé, I mean. Today’s the big day and all,” Barry says, as they settle into the booth, referring to what Iris considers to potentially be the most groundbreaking piece of journalism of her career thus far, namely an article exposing the rot of the biotechnology company, McCulloch Technologies. Its CEO, Joseph Carver, has been using the corporation as a front for a highly dangerous and illegal weapons trafficking scheme. The exposé, which is due to be published later today, will be a highly contentious article, no doubt, but Iris had long since decided that she will not rest until she sees justice through and the thousands of innocent people, caught in the crosshairs of Carver’s inhumane crimes, are safe.

“Okay. I’m trying not to think about it, honestly,” Iris replies, and Barry takes her hand for a moment,

“Hey, I get it. It’s hard not to be anxious, especially given the magnitude of the article and the far-reaching consequences it’s going to have. But I am so proud of you. And you should be proud of yourself as well,” he says, running his thumb over her knuckles slowly, before releasing her hand. Iris smiles softly, deeply touched by Barry’s faith in her,

“Thanks, Bear.”

“Of course,” he says, before gesturing towards the gift basket, “So, are you going to tell me who the basket is for?” Iris adopts a playful expression, then.

“Hmmm, it’s for this friend of mine who just submitted his dissertation for his DSc.”

“How did you know I submitted today? I told you my deadline was next week, which it is,” Barry states, apparently incredulous that Iris could have known that he had submitted his paper this morning.

“I have my ways. And by that I mean you drooling on my couch last week and mumbling, half-asleep, that you are definitely submitting your dissertation on Tuesday. Well, today’s Tuesday, Bear,” Iris teases, chuckling at the memory of Barry entering her apartment last week in need of caffeine, which culminated with him staying the night, when he fell asleep on her sofa.

“I really can’t keep anything from you,” Barry sighs in mock frustration. “Although I really wouldn’t want to, anyways.”

“Good. And think about it, now you have this nice surprise.” Barry takes the basket from Iris’s hands, admiring her handiwork, before giving her a sly smile,

“Well, I guess I know why you took those balloons from the reception on Saturday.”

Okay, so apparently she had not gone completely unnoticed. One guest had noticed her attempt to fit three inflated balloons into her car. Unsurprising, she now reflected, given who that guest happened to be.

“What? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, Iris. I may not be able to keep anything from you, but you definitely cannot keep anything from me either.” Are you sure about, Iris thinks momentarily, before banishing the thought immediately. For she will not dwell on those feelings again, not when she stands to lose too much if they start consuming her. When Iris looks up again, Barry is looking through the basket, marveling at the baked cake lollipops and banana bread and brownies (Iris can only bake sweets, and she would never subject Barry to her cooking, although he claims it’s not as bad as she seems to think it is), before he takes the red scarf from the basket. “Iris…” he whispers, her name like a prayer on his lips, and there goes her heartbeat again, pounding against her chest. “You knitted this.” And she knows that he already knows that she did, but it’s the way he’s looking at her now, like there are not any words currently discovered to express to her how much this means to him. She gives him a comforting smile, hoping to diffuse some of the intensity of the emotions that are radiating off of Barry.

“Open the rest,” she encourages, and he’s now holding the small, navy blue bag, and removing a velvet box from it. Encased in the box is a watch, which she’d been saving up for, because all of his watches are for some reason broken, and she can hear his gasp, nearly inaudible, and then he’s looking at her, solemnly, gravely.

“Iris… I don’t know what to say. I don’t… thank you,” he says, his tone soft and tender.

“Of course, Bear. I’m so proud of you, and I don’t think this simple gift basket really can quantify how proud I am of you.”

“It’s not… it’s amazing. You’re amazing,” he says, and there it is again. How definitive it is to him that she’s amazing. And perhaps she forgives herself a little for her feelings then, for how can she not feel as she does when he says things like this to her every single day. He’s already wrapping the scarf on his neck and remarking how comfortable and warm it is. “I couldn’t get better knitted scarves at the store. I’m pretty sure you’re a superhero. You can literally do anything.” She listens to him wax on about her many, unbelievable talents, which she’s sure only he seems to think she possesses, before shaking her head, affectionately,

“The scarf looks good on you. Red is your color.”

“Always has been,” he jokes, although the emotion is still evident in his voice. “Come here,” he says then, reaching his arm towards her. She leaves her side of the booth to come over to his, and the moment she’s at his side, he wraps his arms around her, burying his nose in her hair, breathing deeply. She has one arm around his back, the other clutching his sweater, and her head is tucked into the crook of his neck, and Iris is sure that now he must be able to feel how rapidly her heart is beating. She’s cloaked in warmth and in comfort, and all she can think of is home. And all she can feel is love. The kind of tumbling, head over heels into a field of daisies type of love that Iris’s college friend, Cynthia Reynolds (now a hotshot litigator who works in BigLaw and who also is the Citizen’s unofficial legal counsel), claims is simply mushy, fairy-tale nonsense that couldn’t possibly exist outside of movies. Iris had laughed then, telling Cynthia that maybe she shouldn’t be so cynical. Cynthia had been unmoved, steadfast instead in her sentiment that people can fall in love, but that kind of ‘I want to go gallivanting in a forest somewhere and run towards you in a field, as if this is some damn terrible romantic drama’ love does not and cannot actually exist in real life.

Well, Iris is feeling that mushy, fairy-tale type of love now (a fact which shocks her, despite the fact that she’s very aware of her growing pesky feelings), while wrapped up in Barry’s arms, so clearly, Cynthia had gotten it wrong. Oh fuck.

There are approximately fifteen different photos, capturing different angles of the McCulloch Technologies building, sitting on Iris’s desk when she walks into The Citizen that morning, after saying goodbye to Barry at Jitters, and all Iris can think about is the fact that she’s in love with her best friend. And as if her life could not be more complicated in that very moment, Barry is potentially in love with someone else.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

She cannot think about her feelings nor Barry being in love with some mystery human being right now, though, for she’s on the verge of publishing the explosive piece on Joseph Carver, who has been using his internationally successful technology company to peddle a highly intricate and complex hub-and-spoke conspiracy involving arms trafficking. He had managed to slither under the radar of inquiring agencies by acquiring different sorts of obscure technology, including ballistic software and parts that are often used to construct robots for laser guidance, under the guise of developing cutting-edge bio-technology. When Iris’s source had informed her that Carver’s labs were combining methane and ammonia, she knew that there was an underbelly of weapons-related criminality within the globally recognizable technology company, and armed with her pen, pepper spray, and sheer gumption, she and her photojournalist, Kamilla Hwang, had obtained press passes to Carver’s unveiling of robotic limbs. While there, Iris had asked janitors, low-level software engineers, and other personnel about why Carver’s labs were having methane and ammonia react with oxygen and how this in any way ameliorates existing biomedical technology. Iris and Kamilla eventually obtained access to a private press tour of Carver’s labs, where they noticed how jittery the staff had been, and after Iris had slipped her card to some of the employees, she had found herself, three days later, with nearly fifteen whistleblowers willing to come forward about nefarious activities in the labs.

As it turned out, Carver’s labs had been trying to create and had indeed succeeded in creating a gun that releases hydrocyanic acid, which they are currently selling on the black market. This is the latest of extraordinarily dangerous weapons that Carver sells both domestically and internationally. Indeed, several politicians are in cahoots with Carver; Carver having made them rich men, in exchange for avoiding Congressional inquiries into McCulloch Tech.

Now, Iris stands poised to publish the most explosive exposé of her career thus far, and the thought is both exhilarating and terrifying.

She studies Kamilla’s photos of the McCulloch Tech building, now having to decide which one would accompany the headline that is due to go up right before noon. One photo stood apart among the rest: a shot of McCulloch Tech at night, illuminated by the lights of the city, but with only one floor of the building, the top floor, indicating any activity: the lights of the top floor were on, and the rest of the building was largely camouflaged by the night sky. That top floor contained the only working laboratory at headquarters and is where hydrocyanic acid is processed. This is the photo, Iris thinks, just as she hears a commotion at the door and sees her newest hire, Allegra Garcia, forcefully wrangle open the door, rather dramatically, before slamming it shut.

“Hey, boss,” Allegra says. “We have got to get that door fixed. I’m telling you; it’s trying to kill me every time I arrive.” Iris chuckles fondly at Allegra’s dramatics,

“You’re the only one who seems to be constantly battling the door, Allegra. There are four other people who work here who seem to have no trouble getting in and out of the office.”

“Well, I don’t know, but this door has had it out for me since I began working here. And so… oh! Are those the photos? How much time have we got until noon…?” Allegra pauses momentarily, as she taps her phone, which she was holding in one hand, “Forty minutes. Fantastic.” Iris smiles, watching Allegra race up to her desk, excitedly. Two of the reasons that she had hired Allegra was for her enthusiasm about reporting and for her passion for ethical journalistic integrity, both of which she demonstrated every day on the job.

“This is the one I want to use to accompany the article,” Iris explains, while pushing the photograph towards Allegra, whose eyes widen when she sees the photo.

“Yeah, this is incredible. I know Kamilla must have camped out awhile to get this shot,” she exclaims, before looking up at Iris, “We’re really gonna do this, boss. We’re gonna expose Carver and who knows? You might win a Pulitzer from this.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We have to publish the exposé first, and our legal team has been sending me messages since this morning about how she is obligated to warn us about frivolous defamation suits that Carver might file in the immediate aftermath. But the truth is more important. Let Carver sue us; if he does, he’s going to lose anyways.” Although, to be completely accurate, the Citizen’s unofficial legal team, comprising of one Cynthia Reynolds, whose texts to Iris consisted of, “Carver is definitely going to sue you for defamation, so I’ve got to warn you of that, but screw that guy. Publish and destroy him once and for all,” were certainly more emboldening than averting. Iris is also quite certain that that is technically not sound legal advice, in the least.

The door opens again, and in walks Kamilla, joined by the two other reporters at The Central City Citizen, Kara Danvers and James Olsen. They’re all chatting animatedly about the exposé and the explosive ripple effects its publication might have.

“He’s an absolute monster,” Kara tells James, no doubt referring to Carver. “I mean, hydrocyanic acid? The sheer inhumaneness of his crimes just to fill his coffers…”

“Evil folks will do absolutely anything to satisfy their greed, including murdering people,” James observes, and Iris knows this is perhaps a fundamental truth of which every investigative journalist must be aware. Kamilla walks up to Iris’s desk and grins when she sees Iris scanning the chosen photo onto her computer,

“That’s the one, isn’t it? When I captured it, I knew I had gotten it. It took me, I think, nearly five hours of camping out, and it was 2:45 AM yesterday when I finally had managed to take that photo.”

“It’s incredible, Kamilla,” Iris praises. “All your photos are great, but this one is fantastic. It captures exactly what we need to accompany the article.” When Iris had taken this on by herself, she had been wary about putting any of her reporters in danger, but Kamilla had insisted that she accompany Iris in order to take photographs. In hindsight, Iris is incredibly grateful to have had Kamilla by her side through it all, for her calm, steady demeanor was vital amidst the insanity of taking on Joseph Carver. Kara and James, who have caught up to the others, both make approving noises, congratulating Kamilla on her photography, as Iris continues to work to format the article.

When she is satisfied with the formatting, she taps her phone, seeing that there is roughly twenty minutes remaining until the deadline, and while her reporters are chattering excitedly, the door opens once more, and Iris is greeted by the sight of Wally carrying two champagne bottles in one hand and precariously balancing a few glasses in his other hand. On his heels is Barry, who is carrying a large white box with the words ‘Zulma’s Pastries’ emblazoned on the top, and Iris is flooded with that fairy-tale, gallivanting in a field of daisies feeling again, to which she now finds she is already getting accustomed, which is a somewhat terrifying thought.

While Iris has some idea as to why both of them are in her office, she is also aware that Dr. Wally West is supposed to be at work at Central City Hospital, and Barry is supposed to be meeting the Dean of Graduate Studies at CCU about a potential professorship.

“What are you two doing here?” Iris asks, smiling nonetheless, for she is touched that they likely took time out of their busy days to celebrate the publication of the exposé. She had not mentioned the details of the publication to them, in an effort to protect her sources, but Linda had let it slip to Wally that Iris is publishing the article on Tuesday at the wedding on Saturday, and Barry… well, Barry knows everything about Iris, just the way she knows everything about him, so his appearance in her office twenty minutes before she is meant to publish the most important exposé of her professional career is even less surprising than Wally’s.

“I can’t believe you thought we weren’t going to come and crash this… pathetic party, quite frankly,” Wally says, frowning as he takes in the Citizen office, which while buzzing with the excitement of determined reporters, is not exactly set up for any sort of impending celebration. “You have nothing here to celebrate, Iris. No food, no drinks, nothing.”

“We haven’t even published, and we have no idea of the repercussions of a piece like this, Wally. I think our sheer grit as reporters is celebratory enough.”

“We knew you were going to say that,” Barry chuckles, placing the box on a desk adjacent to Iris’s, and then helping Wally with the champagne glasses. “But Linda and I wanted this to be a surprise. We managed to get Wally to help, which is good…”

“Linda’s not feeling well,” Wally cuts in. “She was having awful morning sickness, and I told her I didn’t want to go and that Barry could do the heavy-lifting, but she threatened me and sent me away with two of our best champagne bottles.” Iris begins to protest, but Wally continues on, “And honestly, Iris, before you say anything, I’d rather get an earful from you about leaving Linda at home for this— and by the way, she’s feeling much better, thanks to the fact that I’ve finally perfected the art of making a ginger and mint smoothie— than defy her orders.”

“Glad to see your theatrics are still in top form,” Iris deadpans, before turning to Barry, pointedly, “Thank you, Barry. You and Linda really didn’t have to do all of this. I haven’t even published it yet.”

“Excuse me, I helped!” Wally interjects, and Barry is laughing now as Iris reaches up to give him a quick hug, which he returns immediately. As they break apart, Barry’s hand lingers on her arm.

“You’re welcome,” he says. “I wanted this to be a surprise and that’s why I didn’t mention earlier coming by later on. And I knew you could have used a distraction this morning from thinking about the exposé.”

“I did need a distraction,” Iris smiles, still keenly aware of his fingers slowly brushing against her arm, gently, tenderly.

“I imagine you did. But to reiterate what I said earlier this morning, I’m so proud of you. So, so proud of you.” He cups her face with one hand, gently caressing his thumb against her cheek, and he’s gazing at her with so much emotion in his eyes, and she knows that the same intensity that had radiated off of him when she’d gifted him the basket earlier this day is emanating from him now, and she cannot help but wonder if he feels what she feels, because in these moments, she’s sure he must be.

Wally clears his throat loudly, while pouring out the champagne, and both Barry and Iris break away from each other quickly. When Iris looks up at Wally, he’s giving her that same look Linda had given her at the wedding reception on Saturday, when she had clarified that her friendship with Barry was different. Unwilling to entertain the idea that Wally and Linda have discussed her feelings for Barry, she turns to her reporters, who were already opening Barry’s box of sweets.

“Brownies!” Kara yelps, eyeing the chocolate chip, fudge brownies and quickly grabbing paper plates from the Citizen’s supply cupboard.

“Thank you, Barry! We really needed this,” James agrees, while Kamilla and Allegra join their colleagues in helping themselves to the scrumptious sweets and expressing their gratitude.

“We’re not going to get any work done today, but it’s fine. Thanks, Bear,” Iris laughs, as Barry hands her a glass of champagne. They clink their glasses together, before sipping their respective drinks.

“The Citizen can use a break. Especially you,” Barry says after a few moments, giving Iris a pointed look. “You’ve had countless sleepless nights over the research for this, and now it’s ready for the public to read. You deserve a whole week long break, at least.”

“The news doesn’t stop for me to catch up on sleep, unfortunately. I have three upcoming potential stories, including the ways in which exam software companies have violated the privacy of examinees.”

“Sounds like you’re about to become the hero of every university student everywhere. I can’t believe the vagueness of some of those disclaimers that exam software companies put out, as if students have any choice but to use them, when they have examinations online.”

“Yeah, exactly. And if nobody holds their feet to the fire, they think that they can get away with anything. That’s why I’ve got to do it.”

“Iris West saves the world yet again. That should be a headline. Maybe I should pitch it to Central City Picture News. Think Scott Evans would run a headline on his biggest rival?”

“Scott would definitely do it, if it brings CCPN good business. Besides, our rivalry is more friendly than anything else. That said, ‘Iris West Saves the World Yet Again’ sounds more like I’m saving the world with superpowers, not the power of a pen and a public audience. I think you might be overselling me just a little bit.”

“Absolutely not,” Barry says, affronted. “Iris West is my hero, and she always has been, so I think you’re underestimating her. She’s a total superhero.”

“Doubtful.”

“Don’t try to tell me that you’re not a superhero, Iris. You’re definitely not going to win this argument.”

“Fine, I’ll level with you. Because you know what they say, right? Every superhero has her own hero? Well, if I am a superhero, then I have a confession to make: my hero happens to be this guy I know… superheroes need strength to be invincible, right? So yeah, this guy is my constant strength. Maybe you know him? Name’s Barry Allen?” Barry blushes furiously at that, ducking his head bashfully, and Iris thinks, Success! She knows she’s rendered him flustered, and he’s so adorably handsome, as he fidgets with his hands, as if searching for something to hold. But even despite his flustered state, he remembers the ongoing debate, and he manages a,

“Alright, alright. You win, Iris.” Iris smiles at him, radiantly and triumphantly, just as Wally makes his way over to them, holding a champagne glass of his own, and he’s got a rather sheepish look on his face, which immediately makes Iris suspicious.

“I know that face, Wall. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Not every expression of mine means something,” Wally says, immediately defensive. “Although, I do have to ask you a small favor. But really, it’s not a favor, because it’s actually going to be great for you. So it’s technically a favor, but a favor that you’ll enjoy.”

“Of course you think so. What is it?” Iris asks, tiredly, knowing immediately that she probably was not going to enjoy this favor as much as Wally seems to think.

“Okay, so you know Cecile’s godson, Eddie Thawne? He couldn’t come to the wedding, because he was away on an emergency business trip?”

“Yeah, I know Eddie,” Iris responds, confused as to what he had to do with whatever Wally was asking of her. Eddie Thawne was the son of Cecile’s best friend, a wealthy hotelier, and he’d been friendly enough in the few interactions that Iris had had with him, but she could not claim to know him all that well.

“Right, so he’s hosting this gala in Metropolis for dad and Cecile this Saturday. It’s very last minute, found out last night, actually… and well, I’d told dad I was going to go, because you know, one of us should go, right? Technically, both of us should, but dad didn’t want to trouble you, because you’ve been so busy with work, and it’s not a big deal. In fact, I think dad didn’t want you to know, because he thought you might get the wrong idea and think that this gala was going to upstage all the work you put in for the actual wedding and reception, which I kept insisting to him you wouldn’t think at all. And I don’t want to leave Linda, even for the weekend. She keeps telling me she’ll be fine, and I know she’s not due for another two months, but I’m not comfortable going.”

“So, you want me to go,” Iris says, knowing exactly what her brother was asking of her. On the one hand, traveling to Metropolis for the weekend for a gala made Iris nervous, because she did not want to leave Central City for at least a week after the McCulloch Tech article was published, but on the other hand, Wally could not be expected to attend, and it would be wrong if both of them missed a gala that was being held for their dad and Cecile.

Wally is apparently under the impression that Iris might need some more coaxing, so he puts his champagne glass down and reaches into his coat pocket, brandishing four plane tickets.

“Here, the flight tickets are on me. Eddie is putting people up in rooms at his family’s hotel, and he apparently booked four rooms between the two of us, so we could each bring some guests. With Linda and I not going, you’ll have at least three rooms to fill.”

“It’s fine, Wally. I’ll go. You’re right; we should go for dad and Cecile, and you honestly cannot and should not go. I just have to find people who can take a trip with me, last minute…” Iris knows whom she would want to invite, and so she turns to Barry, immediately. “Look, Bear, I know it’s short notice, but…”

“Yeah, I’ll come,” Barry agrees quickly, before she can even finish posing the question, and Iris notices that he has a slightly agitated expression, which worries her. His hand clenches the edge of her desk, rather forcefully, and so she places her own hand over his, reassuringly, and this seems to relax him, at least momentarily, as she can feel some of the tension in his muscles evaporate slowly. He smiles, then, perhaps trying to mask his sudden agitation, “My weekend’s free, and we were just talking about how you could use a break, Iris. This’ll be good, as it’s a vacation of sorts.”

“Thanks, Barry. I’ll also ask Cynthia; she could always use a break, and Bear, why don’t you invite someone?”

“I’ll ask Cisco.” Iris glances up at Barry, and they both share a knowing look: they had been trying to get Cynthia and Barry’s old college roommate and engineering genius extraordinaire, Cisco Ramon, to meet for ages (So much for swearing off match-making, Iris thinks then), but they had not had the chance to introduce the two of them yet. This trip might just provide the long-awaited golden opportunity.

“Perfect,” Wally says, considerably relieved, but before Iris can respond, she finds herself surrounded by her fellow reporters who are telling her that it’s just before noon. She nods, waiting until everyone is gathered around her, and Barry’s arm comes around her shoulders, providing her with both comfort and strength. And while a sudden, rather dignified silence, perhaps to mark the solemnity of this publication, descends upon the Citizen, Iris can feel the soundless excitement of Kamilla and of Allegra and of Kara and of James, as she publishes the exposé on the Citizen’s website.

Thus, late that Friday afternoon, Iris finds herself boarding a plane with Barry, Cynthia, and Cisco, in tow, and she’s only half paying attention to Cisco’s exuberance in describing his latest inventive feat at S.T.A.R. Labs, the product technology company he works for, because Barry is acting… odd. He has been acting odd since he had accepted her invitation to come along to Metropolis, and she cannot fathom what it is about this trip that has him so on edge. He is fidgeting so much, and every time he notices that she notices, he gives her a forced smile, as if to divert her suspicions away from his agitation, but that only serves to increase her worries. Whatever is bothering him so much is something that he apparently is unwilling to share with her.

“…It’s insane. I mean, if we get this right, we will be revolutionizing tablet computers and robotic interpreters,” Cisco is saying, and Iris is sure that if Cisco is put to the task, he and his team certainly would get it done, for she had witnessed his genius first hand before, when, during a birthday party for his best friend, Caitlin Snow, a few years back, the power had blown and there had been no backup generator, and Cisco had managed to create a temporary power source seemingly out of thin air. Iris is sure that there were numerous devices at Cisco’s disposal, and he’d had the aid of Caitlin’s then boyfriend now husband, Ronnie, also an engineer, but it was the sheer ingenuity of Cisco’s engineering ability and the sheer determination to get this done and to ensure Caitlin had the party that she deserved that was so impressive.

“If anyone can get it done, though, it’s Cisco Ramon,” Iris voices her thoughts, and Cisco smiles proudly,

“Thanks, Iris. It’s definitely going to be a lot of work, but I definitely think we’re headed in the right direction. Hopefully.”

“Hmmm, it all sounds impressive, but what are the patenting ramifications that come with such a unique project. Surely, you’re worried about somebody trying to build upon your product once it’s out in the market. How stringent is your patent going to be?” Cynthia, ever the cynic, adds, eyeing Cisco.

“I don’t want to hog all the spotlight, honestly. We want other people and companies to be able to build on our findings and develop even better tech. There’ll be a patent, but it’s not going to be exclusive.”

“You’re way too nice.”

“I’m just here to improve tech. Being nice isn’t a crime, I hope,” Cisco laughs, and Cynthia shakes her head fondly, clearly believing Cisco to be naive, but apparently endeared to his naiveté nonetheless. Cisco and Cynthia, still playfully arguing about the stringency of a future patent, take their seats in the middle row, and Iris and Barry, the latter who is still distracted, sit by the window across the aisle.

“Bear, what’s going on?” Iris sighs, finally, turning to him, once they’ve taken their seats. Barry looks up at her, startled and guilty, and immediately starts deflecting,

“Nothing. I’m fine, Iris, really. I’m sorry, I’ve been a bit out of it. Just… I don’t know, I’m fine.” Iris can tell that he’s not going to be forthcoming with her, no matter how persistent she is, but she is not ready to drop the issue entirely.

“I’m not going to press you, but you know that if something is bothering you, I’m always here, if you want to talk. You know that, right?”

“Of course I know that. Of course I do,” Barry says, his voice tender. “And I’m the luckiest guy in the world for it. I’m sorry that I’ve been out of it the last couple of days, I just… I don’t want you to worry about me. That’s the last thing I want.” Iris can tell he’s struggling between telling her and being evasive, so she takes his hand in her own, their fingers interlocking almost instinctively. She squeezes his hand, as his thumb brushes against her knuckles.

“I’m going to worry, because it’s you, and so I can’t not worry, but I don’t want you to tell me anything when you’re not ready to.” Barry’s free hand comes to cup her chin, as he brings her closer to him, and she basks in the warmth of his hand against her skin. When his lips meet her forehead, she closes her eyes and relishes in his lingering kiss, and she knows… she knows that she’s unequivocally in love with him, and she’s sure that she has been for quite some time, and all she wants to do is lift her face and coax his lips to hers, but she can’t. She knows that she can’t. She can’t ruin their equilibrium, because if she were to admit her feelings and lose Barry’s friendship completely… that is a possibility that she cannot risk.

“I know how deeply you care. And I love you for it,” he whispers against her forehead. And I love you for it.

He’s told her he loves her so many times over the two decades that they’ve known one another, and she knows that he means it platonically, as he always has, but that doesn’t stop her from imagining that he loves her in the same way that she loves him.

And when Barry falls asleep, after the plane takes off, and drops his head, so it rests comfortably on her shoulder, his face turned into the crook of her neck, so that she can feel his steady breaths fanning against her skin, Iris leans her head against his, and she thinks that this is what true tranquility feels like.

And I love you for it.

#westallen #westallen secret santa #submission

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troped-fanfic-challenge · 4 years

Text

Chopped: Holiday Trope Exchange 2020 Masterlist!

A huge thanks to every person who signed up for our fic exchange, we got 21 really wonderful fics! We’re sorry it took us so long to get this out to you all! For anyone who isn’t sure what this was all about, this was a double blind gift exchange where each of our twenty-one (21!!!) writers were assigned four tropes from an anonymous recipient, and were tasked with writing a fic that fit our holiday theme, and included all the tropes. The only guidance from their recipient were a couple of brief notes they included during the sign up, and both the writer and recipient were revealed when we shared all the fics! A big thanks to the Tropesters who stepped up to write a second fic when we needed them! These fics, as with all our TROPED fics, were creative and unique, and found ways to utilise tropes that may seem so simple but were transformed in really spectacular ways! Please enjoy these wonderful holiday fics!

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roots in my dreamland (my house of stone, your ivy grows) (Rated M) [Bellarke]

Written by @captaindaddykru for @thelittlefanpire. The four assigned tropes were 1) Doppelgängers, 2) one character is a dancer, 3) first snow, and 4) kissing to keep a cover/a secret.

Summary: Clarke really wants it to work out with Bellamy, but as an A-list Hollywood actress there’s a lot of contractual obligations she can hide behind instead of confronting her own insecurities and past mistakes. Luckily, this Christmas she’s lucked out, and her stand-in Josie is more than willing to (completely selflessly of course) take her place.

Now comes the hard part.

brighter than moonbeams (Rated T) [Memori]

Written by @the-most-beautiful-broom for @thedefinitionofendgame. The four assigned tropes were 1) The characters play a game,2) Secret Santa, 3) Exes to Lovers, and 4) Surprise kiss.

Summary: Murphy and Emori fall in love fast, and then talk themselves out of it. Years later, their paths will cross again, and they realize that their might be parts of their story that are yet to be written.

What a way to start the year (Rated T) [Bellarke]

Written by @bellarkeshoe for @bellamysgriffin. The four assigned tropes were 1) Law enforcement partners, 2) Character gets BADLY injured and they hide it somehow only to reveal later that they are mortally wounded, 3) Characters hugging after they’ve been through hell, and 4) Kissing in the snow.

Summary: It’s New Years Eve, and Bellamy and Clarke got stuck working.

It’s Alright, It’s Okay (Rated M) [Clurphy]

Written by @sailawaymayday for @wwjacksparrowd. The four assigned tropes were 1) Found Family, 2) Groundhog Day/timeloop, 3) Character gets shot/stabbed/BADLY injured and hides the wound somehow, only to accidentally (someone else touches them and their bleeding, they collapse, etc.) reveal later that they are mortally wounded, and 4) Hurt/Comfort.

Summary: Clarke makes it onto the Ring with the rest of Spacekru. What happens when New Years Eve keeps repeating itself? And what does Murphy have to do with it?

Dancing in Graveyards: An Arkadia Anthology (Rated T) [Gen Fic]

Written by @justbecauseyoubelievesomething for @kinetic-elaboration. The four assigned tropes were 1) Small town gothic, 2) Christmas Lights, 3) First snow, and 4) Sneaking someone in/out of your window.

Summary: Three small town gothic stories intertwine as old friends reunite and try to make the best out of their lives. Raven returns home after her foster father’s death and is pulled like a magnet to her enigmatic highschool sweetheart. Jasper seeks solace from a tragedy and desperately attempts to outrun the ghosts of the past. Bellamy battles his inner demons and prays not to tear himself and his loved ones apart in the process. And all of them come to realize that they belong together, even if the place they call home is shadowed by sorrow.

do or die, you’ll never make me (because the world will never take my heart) (Rated T) [Bellarke]

Written by @shen-gong-oops for @probably-voldemort. The four assigned tropes were 1) Fake dating, 2) Amnesia AU, 3) Enemies to Friends to Lovers, and 4) Superhero AU.

Summary: As the youngest member of the Guard and the daughter of the Guard former leader, there are high expectations set for Clarke. The Marketing and PR teams at Ark expecting her to be prim and proper during any conferences, while simultaneously performing their well-rehearsed fight choreography to a T.

But when four unknown supes challenge the juggernaut that is Ark Industries, Clarke wonders if herodom isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

Merry Christmas, Lovebirds (Rated G) [Murven]

Written by @kinetic-elaboration for @shen-gong-oops. The four assigned tropes were 1) One character cautiously says “i’m going to kiss you now, okay?” or some variation of that, 2) Mutual pining, 3) A misunderstanding, and 4) Tattoos.

Summary: There’s never snow for Christmas on the beach, Murphy is a culinary genius, Raven has a boyfriend, and other presumed facts, too obvious to mention.

Once Upon Our Story (Rated G) [Bellarke]

Written by @andthelightbulbclicks for @bellamythology. The four assigned tropes were 1) break-up/make-up, 2) Did they or didn’t they, 3) Extremely biased flashbacks of the same event, and 4) Bookstore or library AU.

Summary: Bellamy returns with as much fanfare as one can imagine when driving a school bus decorated as Santa Claus through town, leaving Clarke shocked and all of their friends confused given he hasn’t been home in months.

(Or: Six months ago, Bellamy left Arkadia.

Six months ago, Clarke didn’t.

Six months ago, their friends knew the relationship ended, even came up with their own versions of what really happened. But the question that they all want to know for certain– is why?)

Dream A Little Dream of Me (Rated T) [Clurphy]

Written by @queenemori for @vmreed. The four assigned tropes were 1) One character has a child, 2) Protectiveness, 3) Only one bed, and 4) Soulmates.

Summary: It was just Murphy’s luck that right as he was starting to enjoy Earth, he had to leave. But he’d rather that than succumb to a fiery death wave. He and the other residents of the Ring remembered Clarke every year during their New Year’s Eve celebration. But even when they weren’t celebrating Clarke, Murphy couldn’t seem to get her off his mind. He wished his brain would stop playing tricks on him by making him think she was alive. Clarke was dead. Wasn’t she?

i don’t wanna burn out, so wont you please set me on fire again? (Rated M) [Murven]

Written by @kuklash for @sparklyfairymira. The four assigned tropes were 1) Protectiveness, 2) Exes and Lovers, 3) Small Town AU, and 4) Characters fall on each other and have a moment.

Summary: The wind nipped at Murphy’s nose as he stood in the doorway of the gas station on the edge of town. Work was slow, as it always was after sundown, especially in the mid-December cold, but someone had to make sure the good townsfolk of Arkadia could get their milk and gas after the small general store closed. All 800 of them. He watched the cars drive by throughout the day, recognizing each and everyone of them. Bellamy’s beat up truck he worked all highschool to afford, Clarke’s clean new sedan, even that jerk Finn’s loud ass motorcycle. He watched them all pass one by one, his old classmates returning home after another semester of college at the University of Polis. The only sign that time was passing at all.

The phone inside rang, breaking him out of his melancholy, at least for now.

“Great,” he thought, sarcastically. “A phone call 10 minutes before we close.”

He walked back inside and put on the most cheerful customer service voice he could muster.

“Dropship Gas, this is Murphy. How can I he-”

A familiar female voice cut him off, leaving him cold.

“Murphy? Thank god!”

It was his ex.

Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you (Rated M) [Bellarke]

Written by @sparklyfairymira for @captaindaddykru. The four assigned tropes were 1) Celebrity AU, 2) Meet Ugly, 3) Characters must share something, and 4) Characters aren’t together but are mistaken to be.

Summary: Bellamy Blake and Clarke Griffin are household names thanks to their music. They belong to the same label so they often work together on duets—even though they can’t stand one another. Their first meeting is disastrous and six years later they still can’t get along.

toward brighter days (Rated T) [Sea Mechanic]

Written by @reggieshamster for @/ashplana. The four assigned tropes were 1) Apocalyptic Log, 2) bed sharing, 3) road trip au, and 4) mythical creatures.

Summary: Dear Harper,

I am ridiculously out of it this morning. Last night, when we reached the campsite, Luna suggested we give Echo her own bedroll, since she gave hers up the night before.

Which meant Luna was sleeping with me.

Beside me.

Excerpts from Raven’s journal as she travels to Polis for the Winter Solstice Festival

three words, two hearts, one maybe (Rated G) [Bellarke]

Written by @bellamysgriffin for @bellarkeshoe. The four assigned tropes were 1) Youtuber AU, 2) best friend’s sibling, 3) frikdreina, and 4) miscommunication.

Summary: After an accident blinds Clarke, Octavia’s been encouraging her best friend to keep up with her artwork. In order to inspire her, she recruits the help of her older brother, Bellamy, who’s recently launched a new exhibition at his museum, to feature her work. Bellamy likes Clarke’s work, and he’s more than happy to help. But when she doesn’t show on the big day, he takes matters into his own hands. With an old video camera, he records people’s reactions to Clarke’s artwork so that she’ll know just how talented she is. But when he sends it to his sister, he doesn’t expect her to upload it to YouTube. And he definitely doesn’t expect to go viral.

Something Beautiful, Simple, and Bright (Rated T) [Clurphy]

Written by @wwjacksparrowd for @queenemori. The four assigned tropes were 1) Friends with Benefits AU, 2) Prank war, 3) characters are not together but are mistaken for a couple, and 4) Based on a Song.

Summary: Six months after Wonkru and Eligius manage to establish peace and divide Eden between themselves (with a little slice shaved off for Spacekru, of course), Clarke has a mission: plan a New Year’s Eve party for fifteen hundred people within three weeks.

Murphy’s mission? Stop her from burning out in the process. Oh, and if he could just get Monty to quit it with the freaking noisemakers, that would be great, too.

(…Okay, yeah, he’d also like to date Clarke for real instead of just sleeping with her. But that’s a pipe dream, right?)

put your faith in the devil and the deep blue sea (Rated M) [Clurphy]

Written by @probably-voldemort for @kuklash. The four assigned tropes were 1) Time Loop AU, 2) Characters fall on top of one another and have a “moment”, 3) Enemies to Lovers, and 4) Superhero AU.

Summary: Twenty years ago, when the clocks changed from 11:59pm on December 31st, 1999, to 12:00am on January 1st, 2000, the world ended, exactly as the doomsdayers had predicted. Now, there are only a few livable months left on Earth, and the privileged are evacuating for a life in space, abandoning the planet.

But not everyone has given up.

Clarke was only three when the world ended, and she’s spent most of her life in her mother’s lab. Now, as the last space ships are preparing to leave, her mother’s machine is finally ready, and Clarke and her mother are heading back in time to try to stop the apocalypse from happening in the first place.

An attack on the lab leads to Clarke heading back to 1995 on her own, and the past isn’t quite how Clarke’s vague memories from the beginning of her life paint it. Clarke soon discovers that not only did the machine do more than just send her back in time, but she wasn’t, in fact, sent back alone.

Will she be able to stop the apocalypse before the clock strikes midnight? Or are some parts of history unchangeable?

All I Want For Christmas (Rated T) [Memori]

Written by @thedefinitionofendgame for @the-most-beautiful-broom. The four assigned tropes were 1) Fake dating, 2) Joke kiss turned real kiss, 3) One character is sleeping and the other character is watching them totally in love, and 4) Blanket fort.

Summary: Tired of being single, Murphy decides to take matters into his own hands and get himself a girlfriend before the annual Christmas Day dinner with his friends. Having had bad luck in the past with girls - all twenty four of them - Murphy is determined to make the twenty-fifth, the “Christmas Day” number, his forever.

Of course, this is easier said than done. When his fellow coworker, Emori, seems to be having similar problems and suggests them being each other’s “fake dates” to their Christmas parties in December, Murphy jumps at the chance. Fake dating is better than being totally alone, right? It appears that way, at least until Murphy starts to catch feelings; the ones that make you question everything you think you know. As their “fake feelings” start to become more real, Murphy realizes that Emori’s the one he wants for Christmas. But she’s got walls up and even though his heart doesn’t stand a chance, Murphy’s determined to break them down and show her what falling in love really means, maybe with the help of a little December magic thrown in.

As long as we’re together, no I can’t get much higher (Rated T) [Murven]

Written by @dylanobrienisbatman for @andthelightbulbclicks. The four assigned tropes were 1) Zookeeper AU, 2) Treasure Hunt, 3) secret places, and 4) Secret Santa.

Summary: Murphy has only known Raven for a little while, but the longer he spends getting to know her, the more he realises that there’s no hope of him not falling in love with her.

So when he gets her for Secret Santa, he makes it his mission to nail it.

before i knew you (Rated G) [Clexa]

Written by @dylanobrienisbatman for @sailawaymayday. The four assigned tropes were: (1) Pen Pals, (2) 3+1, 4+1, 5+1, etc., (3) surprise kiss, and (4) character meets another characters ex.

Summary: What do you do when your penpal, the person you know the best in the world, who you love, turns out to be the rather rude (if also rather pretty) sales girl from downstairs? Lexa is about to find out. or - 3 times lexa and clarke meet without knowing they’ve been penpals since childhood, and the 1 time Lexa figures it out.

when life gives you shit, you make kool-aid (Rated M) [Becho]

Written by @reggieshamster for @dylanobrienisbatman. The four assigned tropes were: (1) Bodyguard AU, (2) Bed Sharing, (3) Kissing to Keep Cover/a Secret, and (4) a Character gets shot/stabbed/badly injured and they collapse, being caught by their loved one.

Summary: Bellamy used to have it all, and then one screw-up cost him his career and his fancy life. Now, working as a bodyguard for alcoholic businessmen and their families, he gets a call from his sister for a job… escorting a hitwoman to testify against a man convicted of crimes against humanity. What could possibly go wrong?

and left the secret at the grave (Rated T) [Clurphy]

Written by @probably-voldemort for @justbecauseyoubelievesomething. The four assigned tropes were: (1) Murder Mystery, (2) Partners in Crime, (3) Exes to Lovers, and (4) Snowed In.

Summary: At 8:57 on the morning of December 23rd, eight year old Jordan Green discovered the body of Skybox Inn owner Vera Kane on the floor of the lobby. His screams woke up the other guests of the inn, as well as the live-in butler.

The discovery of the body was followed shortly by two more discoveries. The first was that the storm the night before had knocked out the phones and the internet, and the second was that the inn was completely snowed in with no hopes of escape anytime soon.

Thirteen people trapped in an inn.

Uncountable secrets.

One murderer.

One question.

Who killed Vera Kane?

what a tangled string of Christmas lights we weave (Rated T) [Linctavia]

Written by @thelittlefanpire for @reggieshamster. The four assigned tropes were: (1) Royalty AU, (2) Cyrano AU, (3) Characters fall and end up landing on top of each other and have a “moment”, and (4) Hair brushing and/or braiding.

Summary: When the royal family loses their beloved Prince Wells, the future king of Arkadia, all eyes are on them. The Queen remains as stoic as ever, the Spare grapples with his new responsibilities, the Princess drowns in her grief, and the King is threatening to abolish the monarchy forever.

At Christmastime, as tensions in the palace rise with the vicious tabloids outside, the royal family makes an escape to a castle in the mountains, hoping to find solace and reconcile with their loss.

Princess Octavia will try to mend her broken heart back together as she becomes entranced with the letters sent back and forth between herself and another. But when it’s revealed who the true penman is, will she rise above her sorrow or sink further into it?

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Take a read! Leave a kudos/comment! Our Tropesters worked so hard on creating some unique, festive fun fics from all the amazing tropes that were sent in. Thanks again!

#TROPED: masterlist #chopped: holiday gift exchange #chopped: holiday trope exchange #chte 2.0 #chte2020 #masterlist #the 100 fanfiction

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