Summary: Jason’s about to win an argument when you bring out the big guns, and defeat him.
Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem! Reader
Word Count: 1.0k
Content Warning: Fluff, kinda suggestive content, established relationship
A/N: THANK YOU AGAIN FOR 300 FOLLOWERS MY LOVELIES!!!! I love you all so much <3 this blurb was for This request ! And as always I hope you enjoy :)
•───────•°•♡•°•───────•
“You know I’m right.”
You hum quietly while he sighs, not quite indicating an agreement, but that you heard him.
Jason was currently leaning against the door frame at the entrance of the kitchen. His arms crossed showing off the biceps that almost made you fold. Practically feeling his famous unimpressed look your sure was plastered across his face, yours remained ahead, unwaveringly steady in a way that would make him sweat. The floral pink gloves he bought you were angrily scrubbing at a dish that had long been cleaned, another unfortunate victim of your rath.
Your fiancée- the light of your life, however, paid no mind to the way you were seething at the sink. He was no virgin to your silent treatment, or in this case, passive aggressive humming. Last night when he returned from his patrols, he freaked out because the window next to your couch was left unlocked. A habit you only developed after he deemed it an acceptable entrance. There were nights where it was easier to leave it unlocked because you wouldn’t wake up to him tapping the glass at three in the morning, or the inevitable slam of the door when he decided to use a proper entrance; and last night was one of them.
And in that moment, at 02:27 in the morning, Jason had the brilliant idea of giving you a safety lesson. There were times when he acted like he was the only Gothamite in the world, the only person unlucky enough to grow up in this crime-ridden city.
Now, you weren’t naïve enough to believe that he was in the wrong, he wasn’t, but you would never admit that. A shot of bleach was more appealing than admitting that you were wrong- or worse,
That Jason Todd was right.
“You need to start locking the window-” Jason began his pestering again, but was quickly cut off by the porcelain dish clattering in the sink.
The ringing of the china echoed off the walls in your shared apartment. A place previously holding domestic moments and love that didn’t fit in confinement of these four walls, was seemingly on the verge of becoming a war zone.
There weren’t many things that frightened the Red Hood, but watching the pink latex gloves that were currently layered over the ring he proposed with curl into a fist, forced him to stop dead in his tracks.
He watched your shoulders rise and fall taking a deep breath. His shoulders squared, defensive, preparing for a fight, but only for a moment before they slumped back down. He started to remind himself that this wasn’t a bad guy, this wasn’t a villain, this wasn’t a fight he needed to win no matter the cost.
This wasn’t both of you against each other, this was you and him against the problem.
In that brief second where he tensed and calmed himself down- like you taught him- your head whipped around. Hair falling in front of your eyes, framing the face he painted to memory every morning when he woke up and kissed every night before bed. Your body was still turned toward the dishes you cleaned thoroughly but remained scrubbing at with indignation. He swallowed heavily when he saw the look in your eye, there was a stubborn frustration he was expecting, but it was clouded over by something he couldn’t place.
It was unnerving. He didn’t recognize it, not when your body slowly turned to in his direction, not when you slowly peeled off the gloves revealing the ruby on your ring finger, not when your fingers teased the hem of the shirt you were wearing.
He only recognized it when his gaze rose from your delicate hands to meet your fiery eyes, and he saw the test he was about to be handed.
Your hands went from resting at your hip fingering the hem of your shirt to a loose grip that flew to your shoulders, raising your shirt with it.
His lips parted and he choked on his breath. Eyes widening before darkening with a lust when they fell upon the swell of your breasts. It was then that he noticed that you weren’t wearing a bra. His eyes were roaming the valley he knew like the back of his hand and his fingers itched to reach forward. This was his ultimate weakness.
He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
He was still frozen like a deer in headlights when your voice snapped him out of his daze.
“Is there anything else you want to say, Mr. Todd?”
The response was instant. “No ma’am.”
“That’s what I thought.” You murmured to yourself with a humble pride before silently dropping your hands and shielding your breasts again. Quietly, you began slipping the gloves back on and began scrubbing mindless circles on the dishes again.
Jason’s feet were still rooted to the floor when he decided to let it go for the night. This was a fight that could be handled later. After all, there were more pressing matters he wanted to have in his hands tonight.
Fueled by the pop quiz he thinks he might have passed, he approaches you apprehensively. His arms sneak around your waist pulling you flush against him. When you relax in his arms, he realized he not only passed, he aced it.
Kisses are being littered on the path of your shoulder, in the crook of your neck, and apple of your cheek. Each kiss had an apology laced into them that he hoped you would accept. And despite your greatest efforts, he notices the smile you were fighting and decides to test his luck.
“I’m still right though, Mrs. Todd”
Had it not been for the way he addressed you at the end of the sentence, you might’ve actually hit him over the head with the plate you were washing.
You’re still considering it when he gives you that playful grin he wears like second skin, but his distraction works while you think to yourself,
‘Mrs. Todd’ has a nice ring to it.
•───────•°•♡•°•───────•
A/N: I hope this was cute because I’m on my period and feel chopped. (I’m not super happy with it but I didn’t wanna make y'all wait)
Jason Todd who doesn't touch you sexually for at least several months into your relationship. He tells you it's because he wants to take things slow
"I want to treat you like you deserve" he said
Jason Todd who gets sweaty palms and shaking hands when you're making out. He blames it on the lazarus pit
"Sorry" he rubs his palms against his jeans, "...side effect." He mumbles with embarrassment
Jason Todd who won't let you sit in his lap when you're kissing because he's already half hard the second your thigh touches his
"I want to be able to see you" he reasons
Jason Todd who brushes his thumbs over your nipples for the first time and thanks you with tears in his eyes. He'll deny the tears if you ever bring it up
"Thank you, thank you, thank you-" he whines "you're perfect, thank you for letting me touch you"
Jason Todd who feels like he needs to go back to church and pray to God for bringing you into his life the first time you do have sex
"Jesus Christ" he grunts "shit you feel so good"
Jason Todd who is only ever gentle with you and almost has an existential crisis when you ask him to choke you during sex
"Baby, what? No, I- these hands-...." He trails off when he sees the pout on your face and hears the whine in your voice
Jason Todd who feels like vomiting when he has his hand around your throat, slowly adding more pressure every time you tell him "harder Jay". His hands have blood on them, he doesn't want to stain you
"Like that?" "Is this okay?" "Am I hurting you?"
Jason Todd who feels like a monster when he gets turned on by the flutter of your eyes and the way you gasp against his palm
"What the fuck is wrong with me?" He thinks to himself as his stomach churns with arousal and shame
Jason Todd who, after you've gone to sleep that night, retches until his stomach empty and he's dry heaving
honestly the impact of frustration is seriously underestimated. like as an emotion i think it's not seen as intense as anger or despair or even joy or excitement. and yet being frustrated is the quickest route to meltdown. for me at least. there's something about how it's just got nowhere to go that makes it so overwhelming and unpleasant. and it gives you just contradictory responses to the situation can do you keep trying, do you get angry, do you cry and get upset do you throw up like what
My teachers called frustration "a mild term for anger and helplessness combined." Those are not minor feelings on their own, I'm not sure why people speak as though they soften each other when it's more of a coke and mentos situation.
perhaps i gravitate away from dick grayson because in all the ways that matter i AM dick grayson and if there is one thing dick grayson is incapable of it's truly loving himself
“I’m not saying modern science isn’t useful for magic. I’m saying you’re focusing too much on what’s ‘physically possible’ and it’s preventing you from casting some very useful spells.”
sure! maybe the u.s. lied about and/or caused mass death in japan, china, korea, the ussr, guatemala, indonesia, cuba, congo, peru, laos, vietnam, cambodia, grenada, lebanon, libya, el salvador, nicaragua, iran, panama, iraq, kuwait, somalia, bosnia, sudan, afghanistan, pakistan, bulgaria, macedonia, bahamas, cuba again, south africa, bolivia, marshall islands, greece, portugal, philippines, ecuador, albania, argentina, angola, jamaica, indonesia, seychelles, haiti, guyana, chad, thailand, algeria, brazil, dominican republic, ghana, mexico, uruguay, colombia, chile, russia, venezuela, yugoslavia, palestine, yemen, cuba again, the u.s. itself........ but! ....and hear me out here..... maybe this time they're telling the truth & they really have the interests of people and democracy at heart :)
still thinking about the brainrot that fast fashion has caused in people, like i made this pair of pants that are black and white with a cool flowery design, and an acquaintance saw them and said "wow i'd pay like 20 dollars for you to make me a pair" and i could barely think with how utterly horrified i was at that; i told them that 20 dollars wouldn't even cover the materials, let alone the hours of work that went into cutting, sewing, ironing, hemming, altering, etc. they just had this look on their face when i told them that, when i said i wouldn't make them a pair for even 100 dollars because that was still way too low of an amount, a look that said "you're crazy for thinking that those cost 100 dollars" and maybe i am crazy but holy shit, 20 dollars for a pair of handmade, durable, lined pants fitted specifically to your measurements? 20 dollars for upwards of 60 hours of work? 20 dollars for several yards of high-quality fabric, thread, and buttons? 20 dollars???
don't let your skill in writing deter you. publishers look for the storyline, not always excellent writing. many of the greatest books came from mediocre writers—and also excellent and terrible ones.
keep writing even when it sucks. you don't know how to write this battle scene yet? skip ahead. write [battle scene here] and continue. in the end, you'll still have a book—and you can fill in the blanks later.
find your motivation. whether it's constantly updating That One Friend or posting your progress, motivation is key.
write everything down. everything. you had the perfect plot appear to you in a dream? scribble down everything you can remember as so as you can. I like to keep cue cards on my nightstand just in case.
play with words. titles, sentences, whatever. a lot of it will probably change either way, so this is the perfect opportunity to try out a new turn of phrase—or move along on one you're not quite sure clicks yet.
explain why, don't tell me. if something is the most beautiful thing a character's ever laid eyes on, describe it—don't just say "it's beautiful".
ask for critique. you will always be partial to your writing. getting others to read it will almost always provide feedback to help you write even better.
stick to the book—until they snap. write a character who is disciplined, courteous, and kind. make every interaction to reinforce the reader's view as such. but when they're left alone, when their closest friend betrays them, when the world falls to their feet...make them finally break.
magic. has. limits. there is no "infinite well" for everyone to draw from, nor "infinite spells" that have been discovered. magic has a price. magic has a limit. it takes a toll on the user—otherwise why can't they simply snap their fingers and make everything go their way?
read, read, read. reading is the source of inspiration.
first drafts suck. and that's putting it gently. ignoring all the typos, unfinished sentences, and blatant breaking of each and every grammar rules, there's still a lot of terrible. the point of drafts is to progress and make it better: it's the sketch beneath an oil painting. it's okay to say it's not great—but that won't mean the ideas and inspiration are not there. first drafts suck, and that's how you get better.
write every day. get into the habit—one sentence more, or one hundred pages, both will train you to improve.
more is the key to improvement. more writing, more reading, more feedback, and you can only get better. writing is a skill, not a talent, and it's something that grows with you.
follow the rules but also scrap them completely. as barbossa wisely says in PotC, "the code is more what you'd call 'guidelines' than actual rules". none of this is by the book, as ironic as that may be.
write for yourself. I cannot stress this enough. if what you do is not something you enjoy, it will only get harder. push yourself, but know your limits. know when you need to take a break, and when you need to try again. write for yourself, and you will put out your best work.
You tell me that it's just me alone and suddenly I'm 18 again and dad is leaving and I don't know if I'll see him after that but you don't exist yet and I can't mourn your loss and I'll have to wait 2 more years before losing you too kills me
Summary: On a warm summer day, you sit on the lawn of the Little Palace with your friends, and become distracted by the sight of the General.
My Masterlist
»»---------------------►
The sun casts a comfortable glow over your skin as you run your fingers through the neatly trimmed grass beneath you. Genya had offered you a place next to her on the picnic blanket, but you’ve always loved sitting in the grass on a sunny day. It reminded you of summers in Keramzin, when there was enough daylight for you to spend nearly the entire day outside and avoid the rest of the orphanage.
Nadia turns the page of her book, her brows crinkled with confusion as she reads the words in front of her. She asks a question and Marie attempts to answer her. Nadia has her Advanced Grisha History test coming up, and History has never been a strong point for either of the girls. You can’t suppress the fond smile on your face as they mix up a variety of different events and dates.
Genya lifts a hand to shield her eyes from the sun, and glances over the lawn of the Little Palace to look at the small group attempting to clear some of the trees and bushes near the entrance.
Her eyes are mostly focused on David, as he attempts to explain to Ivan how to use the new garden blades he had designed. With the increasing heat, and the steadily rising afternoon sun, the majority of those working on the gardens have abandoned their keftas in a few small piles dotted around.
A bright smile fills your features as you spot Fedoyr jogging over to you. He’s not wearing his kefta, and his once white shirt is now covered in several smudges of dirt and grass stains. He even has a leaf stuck in his hair.
Fedoyr flops dramatically onto the ground beside you with a heaving sigh. He rests his head in your lap, as the girls around you chorus their greetings to him.
“Having fun?” You ask him with a smile, which he returns with his usual cheery expression.
“A lot more now.” He remarks, lifting his head up to look back across the lawn. You follow his gaze, and see Ivan wiping the sweat from his brow as he talks with David. Ivan’s frown is deeper than usual, so he’s no doubt confused by David’s explanations, which brings a smile to your face.
“Not that I’m eyeing your husband, but I see your point.” You tease with a small laugh, to which Fedoyr grins up at you.
You pick the leaf out of his hair, and Genya asks him how the work is progressing.
“It’s going well so far. It was good of the General to help us out.”
You lift your head up immediately, eyes searching through the group for Aleksander. You’re so busy looking for him, that you miss the look shared between your friends.
Then you spot him.
He’s abandoned both his kefta and tunic, so he’s dressed the same as everyone else. His shirt hangs loose, despite the breeches settled on his shoulders. His hair is messy, as it always is when he’s been running his fingers through it. You watch him lift a large piece of tree trunk onto the back of a nearby cart, and for some reason his strength surprises you.
“Your heart’s beating faster.” Fedoyr observes, and you shoot a sharp look at him. Marie and Nadia giggle at your reaction, and your cheeks feel hot regardless of the summer heat.
Shyly, your gaze returns to Aleksander, only to find him already looking in your direction. Even from this distance, you can see the corner of his lips quirk in a smile. Fedoyr raises a brow at you, no doubt in reaction to the flutter of your heart, as Aleksander begins to approach your group.
Everyone greets him politely as he stands in front of you all. He asks Nadia about her studying, and Marie about her extra combat sessions. He talks to Genya about her upcoming trip to Balakirev, and tells Fedoyr that his other half was wanting him, to which Fedoyr sits up from his position in your lap.
Then Aleksander’s eyes settle on you, and he says your name softly.
“I’m taking a walk around the lake. Would you care to join me?”
“I’d love to.”
You smile at your friends, before taking Aleksander’s arm and heading along the path that leads to the lake. Your group continues to watch the two of you for a long moment.
“Have they admitted it yet?” Nadia asks. Marie looks at her with a small frown,
“Admitted what?”
“That they’re in love with each other.”
“Oh, I don’t think so.”
Genya shakes her head,
“We would know if they had.” To which Fedoyr nods in agreeement.
“It will happen soon enough. Just look at them.”
Genya hums as the rest of them watch you, tucked into Aleksander’s side despite the heat. Even from such a distance, they can all see how relaxed their General seems, with a wide smile on his face as he looks at you.
“Almost as bad as you and Ivan.” She teases, and it’s Fedoyr’s turn to blush.
Marie sighs, resting her chin on her knees as she watches you and the General as you near the lake, and she admires the romantic silhouette the two of you make.
Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Sun Summoner!Reader
Summary: When you claim the final amplifier, everything begins to fall apart. The Fold collapses, you lose your power, and Aleksander is rumoured to be dead.
Warnings: canon level violence, poor treatment of prisoner (Aleksander), mentions of death, wasting sickness.
A/N: a very quick fic that I wrote within a couple of hours so sorry if it doesn’t make much sense
My Masterlist
»»---------------------►
Mal’s blood has dried on your skin. Even as Fedoyr begins to scrub at it, the redness lingers in the grooves of your fingertips and the lines on the flat of your palms.
A tear traces its way down your cheek and drops down into the bath water you’re sitting in. Fedoyr shares a look with Genya, who’s sitting opposite him on the other side of the bath tub.
Their interaction goes unnoticed by you, gazing off into the distance as the events of the day continue to wreak havoc on your emotions.
The loss of your power, even if it was only for a few minutes, had shaken you to your core.
When you had killed Mal, your power had disappeared, leaving a gaping hole inside you. The look on Aleksander’s face as he realised what had happened, that your power was gone, brings more tears to your eyes.
He had been devastated. You know it. He had felt your pain - the loss of the part of you that ran deeper than your soul.
Frantically, you had carved out Mal’s bones, demanding for a fabrikator to create another amplifier. Aleksander had knelt down beside you, helping you hold the pieces around your wrist as David fixed them into place.
All around you, the Fold was collapsing, destroyed by the involuntary blaze of light that had burst from your body when your knife sunk into Mal’s chest.
The stag’s antlers and the sea whip’s scales were still intact, and you could see the hope on Aleksander’s face. That expression had faded quickly when the sound of enemy soldiers approaching reached his ears.
Mind fogging from the shock and fear, you could barely understand what was happening, but you can still remember Aleksander’s final order.
“Ivan, get them out of here.”
You heard the message hidden underneath. Of course, Aleksander would always protect his people, but you were his priority. He wanted you away from the fighting, especially in the state you were in.
Fedoyr had helped you up off the dark sand of the Unsea and when you had struggled against him, trying to help Aleksander, Ivan had put you to sleep and carried you away.
Back in the safety of your camp, the news of the Darkling’s death reaches you not long after you wake. For hours you had sat on the floor, back tucked against the bed you had shared with Aleksander only two nights ago.
Several hours later, Genya came to check on you, which led to her and Fedoyr guiding you into the bath. They had used Aleksander’s soap, which helps to ground you but the smell makes your chest sting with anguish.
Aleksander is gone.
»»---------------------►
Aleksander is cold.
His muscles ache and there’s a stiffness in his bones that urges him to move and ease the discomfort.
A cough rattles at his lungs as he takes a shaking breath, and a vial of liquid is pressed against his lips. Too weak to worry about whatever it is sliding down his throat, he drinks eagerly.
It’s warm and soothing with an underlying sweetness. It reminds him of sunlight. It reminds him of you.
Then he remembers the knife in his chest, the heat of the blood spilling out of him, stealing away the warmth from his body as he lay still on the ground with the boy prince standing over him with wicked grin. Prince Nikolai.
Aleksander blinks and he’s relieved to find himself in semidarkness. Dark stone walls surround him on three sides, with metal bars and a padlocked door making up the last wall.
Had he died? It had felt like dying when he was bleeding out. But then how was he still here? And where exactly was he? Where were you? Had Ivan taken you back to the camp? Are you safe? Had your powers returned?
There’s a hollowness in Aleksander’s chest when he attempts to reach for you through the tether.
As he realises he isn’t alone, Aleksander also realises he’s too weak to sit up let alone fight. Luckily the young man sitting beside him doesn’t look like he’s going to be posing a threat.
The boy introduces himself as Yuri and begins to explain everything.
Aleksander had been dead for almost a minute, revived by healers on the Queen’s orders. That had confused Aleksander - why would the Queen want him alive? Then Yuri tells him that King Nikolai and Queen Zoya now rule over Ravka and intended on keeping Aleksander as their prisoner to pay for his crimes.
As the days pass by, Aleksander regains some of his strength. He’s able to sit up and walk a little by himself, though there isn’t much room in his cell. His hands are bound, preventing him from summoning, though he fears his near-death experience had stole his power from him.
He has two meagre meals a day - usually cold porridge and either the dregs of a broth or leftover soup. Being unable to summon means that his meals are beginning to lose their taste, as the wasting sickness settles in.
There’s short periods of time where Yuri doesn’t visit him, but the boy keeps him updated on the outside world.
Aleksander learns that you’re still alive, gathering support for the rebellion against the Ravkan Crown.
Plenty of Grisha stand beside you, as well as followers of the Sun Saint. Yuri mentions that Aleksander also has his own followers that had joined you - claiming their loyalty to the martyred Starless Saint.
There’s an ache in his chest as he thinks of you fighting this war alone. Aleksander has been fighting alone for centuries and he hates the thought of not being by your side as you stand against the regime. He also hates the thought of you mourning him.
»»---------------------►
“How is he doing?”
Yuri looks down for a moment as he considers your question, studying the grooves of the wooden table that sits in the centre of your war tent.
“Well enough.”
You raise a brow.
“But?”
“There’s been talk by the Queen, of revealing the Starless One’s imprisonment and making a public example of him.”
It’s still strange, hearing one of Aleksander’s followers refer to him as the Starless One, but at present your focus remains on the concern in the young man’s eyes.
“How?”
“Keeping him bound in the throne room during court days for all the people to see.”
The muscle in your jaw twinges as anger flares in your chest.
“Thank you for your report, Yuri. I expect to see you here the same time next month. That will be all.”
He bows deeply before he leaves the tent.
Humiliation on behalf of Aleksander prickles over your skin, and you run a hand over your hair, adjusting your black and gold kefta as you pace beside the table.
“She’s trying to provoke you into attacking,” Ivan warns you. Tension seizes your shoulders as you nod.
“I know.”
In the presence of only your most trusted Grisha, you slump down onto Aleksander’s chair by the war table, fiddling with one of the markers that represents your troops in the south.
“I’m scared of waiting too long, every day he isn’t summoning his condition will worsen.”
Fedoyr nods in understanding as he takes the seat beside you.
“The General is strong. You yourself lived with the wasting sickness for years.”
“And it was hell.”
“But you’re still alive, yes?”
You hum in reluctant agreement, running a hand over your face before you manage to pull yourself together. Sitting up properly, you straighten your shoulders and look over the maps in front of you.
“Shall we run through our plan for Wednesday’s attack?”
»»---------------------►
Aleksander’s knees hurt.
The marble floor of the throne room is hard and unrelenting against the tender skin of his bony knees. With his limited meals, all his bones seemed sharper, making contact with anything more painful then usual.
Yuri is the one to bring him his meals and he can see the empathy in the young man’s eyes but Aleksander understands that he isn’t in any sort of position to help him. He’s kind enough to provide him with some pleasant company during the evenings when the throne room is empty.
During the mornings, Nikolai and Zoya conduct their meetings in the throne room. At first, Aleksander had hoarded any information he could pick up from these meetings and attempt to figure out what everyone’s next move would be.
Now that every day is accompanied by a fierce headache, he tunes out the majority of their voices. The only thing that captures his attention is the mention of your name. It reminds him that you’re still out there, fighting for your shared cause.
In the afternoon, the throne room is open to selected members of the public, allowing them to bring their concerns to their beloved monarchs to assist in solving. The first time this had happened Aleksander held a tiny glimmer of hope in his chest, that someone might try to help him. That hope was long gone now.
He keeps his head down during those long hours, sweat running down his back at the intense heat of so many people crammed into the room. The heat doesn’t help with his headaches.
Night is the only time he receives any semblance of comfort. The marble beneath him chills his burning skin and he presses his forehead against the floor in an attempt to soothe the throbbing in his skull.
His sleep is fitful, the hard floor making every angle he tries more painful than the last.
Aleksander aches for the comfort of your arms, falling asleep safe in a plush bed, your sunlight glowing close by so that he doesn’t have to sleep in the dark.
The next morning Aleksander wakes with the sun rising.
Yuri brings him some lukewarm porridge that he struggles to eat more than three mouthfuls of. He nods gratefully at the young man, offering him a weak smile when he sees the uneasiness in his eyes.
Then the doors open and Yuri hurries away.
Zoya and Nikolai take their seats on the throne and the people arrive for the monthly court day, where the any member of the public could speak to the monarchs.
Aleksander keeps his head down as usual, not wanting to look at any of them. Then Yuri appears by his side. He frowns but the boy doesn’t react at all, his gaze bouncing anxiously over the crowd.
Curiosity piqued, Aleksander lifts his gaze to look over the sea of faces. He’s surprised by how many there are. There’s a huge variety of people: nobles, peasants, farmers, some Grisha that he doesn’t recognise.
Then he spots a familiar face.
Fedoyr.
He catches the heartrender’s gaze and Aleksander’s heart stops. Are you here? Have you come for him?
King Nikolai’s words echo slightly as they bounce over the ornate ceiling above.
“We welcome criticism and encourage our people to share there concerns. It is the only way that Ravka can truly prosper.”
At that, a voice rings out over the crowd.
“If our beloved Queen is Grisha, why are we still considered property of the Crown?”
Aleksander’s stomach flips at the sound of your voice. The crowd parts as you walk forwards, lowering the hood of your dark cloak and regarding the man on the dais with a look of disgust.
“Why is the man who has been fighting for this country for longer than any of you have been alive, suffering an unjust imprisonment?”
“Aside from the regicide?” Nikolai snaps, looking down at you as he stands from his throne. You shrug lightly.
“Alleged regicide.”
His face twists with fury.
“Guards!”
A small smirk tugs at your lips.
“Oh that won’t work. It appears I’ve failed to mention that this is coup.”
Over half the crowd discard their robes and cloaks, revealing keftas or dark uniforms decorated with the symbol of the sun.
Aleksander can’t take his eyes from you as you drop your cloak, revealing the black and gold kefta that you had refused when you first arrived at the Little Palace.
»»---------------------►
Heart pounding, you keep your head held high with confidence in your eyes. A few royalists put up a fight for their monarchs, and your people step into action. Tactically you are at an advantage over them both, but they have Aleksander.
He looks thin and tired, but there’s hope sparkling in his eyes that eases some of the tension evident in his body. Everything inside you wants to curl your arms around him and keep him safe from the rest of the world.
Zoya seems to follow your line of thought, striding down from the dais towards Aleksander. Pulling a dagger from her belt, she grasps a fistful of his hair, bearing his throat and holding the blade against his pulse.
Panic fills you.
Bending the light around your body, you disappear from view as you rush towards Nikolai. Grabbing his hair, you tug back hard, summoning a sliver of light to rest against his throat, mirroring Zoya’s threat on Aleksander.
At the sudden reappearance of your body, Zoya’s eyes widen.
“You take mine, I take yours,” you snarl at her.
Just as you expected, Zoya releases Aleksander and steps forward, intending on fighting you herself.
Instantly, you bend the light around Aleksander, keeping him invisible from Zoya’s angle but hopefully Yuri will be able to find him and unlock his shackles.
Zoya gestures backwards with her dagger.
“If you harm a hair on his head, I will take his head clean off.”
A smirk flickers over your features, nodding in the direction of where Aleksander had been.
“Good luck with that.”
She turns backwards, a frown on her face. When she realises Aleksander is gone she turns back towards you.
At that moment, you slide your blade of light against Nikolai’s throat, releasing your hold on him.
He crumples to the floor, blood pooling around his body as he twitches. Zoya’s eyes widen, her lips parted in distress as he dies before she can even begin to reach for him.
As her shock turns to horror you become invisible once again, allowing you to step away as her anger takes over. You move towards Yuri, who’s only just managed to unlock the shackles around Aleksander’s wrists.
Aleksander looks at you in surprise as you materialise in front of him. He winces as the shackles fall and he rubs the red marks on his wrists. There’s nothing you want more than to kiss them better.
Instead you step closer and ask him.
“Can you stand?”
He nods, attempting to stand until his legs give way and he grasps onto your waist to steady himself. You grip onto him tightly, hating how fragile he feels in your arms.
“Ana!” you call out.
The healer in question hurries over, immediately getting to work on healing the worst of Aleksander’s ailments so that he can be taken to safety.
His gaze is slightly unfocused as he cups your face in his hand, for a moment you allow yourself to enjoy his tender touch.
“You came for me,” he rasps.
“Of course I did.”
“Isn’t that sweet?” Zoya sneers.
Aleksander sees your eyes darken as you turn in her direction, and you only let go of him once you know the healer can hold his weight.
Then you step towards her.
You’re reminded of your first training session at the Little Palace, when Zoya had humiliated you in front of everyone, before she used her powers to knock you out when you had managed to gain the upper hand.
Her face twists with unrestrained fury, but you’ve been furious from the moment you woke up without Aleksander. That anger has been festering under your skin, burning through your body with every report from Yuri.
She throws a punch at you, which you dodge swiftly and continue to advance towards her. Throwing your own punch, you manage to graze her cheekbone as she also dodges.
She weaves away from you, throwing punch after punch that you deflect. Casting her hand out, wind rushes against Aleksander, knocking his weak legs out from under him. She smirks.
Outrage floods through your body, and you barrel into her with enough force to send you both sprawling over the hard marble floor. You scramble against one another, throwing uncoordinated punches and kicking your legs wildly.
She hits you square in the face and you feel your lip split. Pinning her down between your legs, you grasp hold of her hair and slam her head down onto the floor - once, twice, three times.
When she tugs her head free her movements are sluggish and disorientated as she writhes beneath you. Your fingers lock around her throat, unrelenting even when she scratches at your face and neck. Her nails dig into the still healing scar on your chin and you hiss in pain.
She bats weakly at you, but you hold strong, pushing all your weight into stopping her airflow. Even when she goes still, you squeeze harder. After a long moment, you release her and slump weakly down on the floor.
Exhaustion fills you. Now that the fighting is over you realise how much everything aches.
Lifting your head up, you spot Aleksander sitting on some steps as Ana the healer tends to him. He winces, shifting uncomfortably as her hands hover over his skin.
His eyes meet yours and instantly you’re standing and making your way over to him.
The healer steps back, allowing you a moment together. Aleksander curls an arm around your waist pulling your body flush against his. He buries his face into your chest, breathing in deeply.
His entire body relaxes as you sink your fingers into his hair. The locks are a little matted, and you know the length of his hair will be bothering him. He tilts his head back, lifting his gaze to find your eyes.
Leaning down, you press your lips against his, uncaring towards anyone who might be looking. He smiles into the kiss, a sigh of relief heaving at his shoulders as you brush your thumb over his cheek.
Then Fedoyr’s voice pulls you away.
“Moi sovereigni?”
You and Aleksander both answer simultaneously.
“Yes?”
Fedoyr’s eyes bounce between you and Aleksander, unsure about who he should be reporting to. Aleksander is still technically his commander, but you had been in charge of the rebel Grisha for so long that you had reluctantly accepted Aleksander’s title.
When you glance back at Aleksander he’s smiling softly, and nods at you in encouragement. He should be resting, not commanding an army.
You answer Fedoyr’s questions regarding the remaining guards in the palace, and issue some orders for your troops to establish your position as ruler of Ravka.
By the time evening arrives, you’re settling in one of the royal suites in the Grand Palace.
Aleksander had been a little self conscious at your offer of bathing him, he knows his body isn’t what you remember it as. But he’s still struggling to walk unaided and isn’t certain he has the strength to wash himself. So he accepts your offer.
“How bad is it?” he asks as you finish cleaning the remaining suds of shampoo away from the nape of his neck.
You had closed the door leading to the study when the healers had explained Aleksander’s condition to you, and he had been too tired to stand up and listen through the wood.
“You need a minimum of nine hours sleep every night and regular but small meals with high fat and nutrients. Light exercise daily and limited stress.”
He nods slowly, taking it all in.
Sitting down on the stool beside him, you trace your fingers over the ripples of soap that float over the surface of the water before you whisper,
“I should have come for you sooner.”
He shakes his head.
“I understand why you didn’t.”
He reaches towards your hand, holding it between both of his. Even his hands feel different than before and your heart breaks even further.
“That doesn’t excuse the fact that I knew you were suffering and I didn’t help you.”
“But you did. You saved me. I’m alright now.”
“Sasha, you are not alright.”
He pauses. He can’t argue with that. Not when standing too quickly makes him dizzy and he’s tired all the time.
“I will be. Because of you.”
Tears fill your eyes as you lift your gaze to meet his own dark eyes, and your voice cracks as you say,
“I’ve missed you.”
He brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a tender kiss there.
“I’ve missed you so much.”
»»---------------------►
marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch
Aleksander M Tag List: @nyctophiliiiiaaa @jazmin2211
BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia @weallhaveadestiny
Hi! I am answering two similar requests that were sent my way a few weeks ago. Anons requested that Ben and Reader would get caught while making out by the Shadow and Bone cast.
The fic was a little short when I wrote only what you had requested, so I’ve added a cute domestic scene at the beginning. I hope you don’t mind!
Thank you for all your sweet messages anon, they made me very happy!!! I hope you like this piece I wrote for you! Tell me what you think about it :)
****
Pairing: Ben Barnes x reader
Warning: fluff, tooth-rooting fluff even, some making out but no nsfw content
Summary: You and Ben are happy to be reunited when you come visit him on set in Budapest, while he’s shooting Shadow and Bone. Maybe, you’re even a little too happy, and you get caught by the cast being a little too… passionate.
Word Count: 2882
There is something awfully lovely about mornings.
Or, to be more precise… there was something awfully lovely about this particular morning.
It wasn’t about the scenery, though. It wasn’t about the young sun coming up, still shy and yet already promising a warm day; nor was it about the glistening rooftops of Budapest. It wasn’t about the delicate light coming in your bedroom that painted the walls golden, and it wasn’t about the beautiful architecture of the town.
It wasn’t about the hour either. It was barely 6 am. You could have wished for a little more rest. The covers were warm and soft on your skin, the mattress comfortable, you could have been reluctant to get up. You could have played the infamous five-more-minutes game. No, it wasn’t about all of this.
Actually, it was about that smell of coffee that filled the apartment. It was about the soft humming you could hear, coming from the kitchen, in a deep and warm voice. It was about the quiet rummaging, the scraping of a spoon against glass, and the rhythmic hit of a knife against a plate. You smiled before opening your eyes.
It was about the man who was preparing breakfast for the two of you.
You let out a yawn before finally opening your eyes. His side of the bed was empty already, but it was alright. You knew he was there. You could hear him in the kitchen.
You still let your hand roam across the empty space by your side, out of habits. After two months being separated by thousands of miles, it was normal to feel like all this was a dream.
It wasn’t though. You truly were in Hungary, you had arrived the previous evening. Ben had come to pick you up at the airport despite his busy schedule. Shooting a Netflix TV show was, after all, a lot of work. Still, he took time to be with you. He always did…
You had flown across the world to join him on the set of Shadow and Bone, and would stay for a couple of weeks. These were your vacations, and you couldn’t be more satisfied about them.
You picked up some clothes on your way out of the room, and soon headed to the kitchen to find Ben cutting fruits and preparing toasts, a warm cup of coffee by his side on the counter. He kept on humming and swaying as he cut an apple in slices, setting the pieces in two different plates. You noticed that he was wearing his earphones, thus not noticing you as you approached. It gave you a moment to lean against the doorframe, and enjoy the sight of your boyfriend standing there, in the kitchen bathed in early-morning light. He was wearing his sweatpants but no shirt or t-shirt, and you took your time to admire his back and shoulders, study the muscles of his arms moving with each fall and rise of the knife. You took in the sight of his dishevelled hair, and his naked feet, and the pure intimacy of the scene. There was something gentle in this domestic moment, outrageously simple, and you reckoned that was what made it all beautiful.
He was surprised when you wrapped your arms around him, pressing your chest against his naked back and dropping a kiss on his shoulder.
He winced, taking off his earbuds.
“Your hands are freezing!” he cried with a laugh.
You pulled away a little, unfolding your arms so your hands wouldn’t touch his chest anymore.
“Sorry,” you apologized with a bright smile and a small voice.
But Ben was merely laughing, and he took one of your hands in his.
“That’s okay. I don’t mind.”
He brought your hand against his lips to drop a sweet kiss on your knuckles. But when you touched him with your free hand again, he jumped and pulled away completely, fleeing.
“Ha! No, okay… I do mind. I do mind, you’re too cold. That shouldn’t be allowed, at this point,” he protested, laughing more than ever.
You were struggling not to laugh as well, and tried to pout instead.
“I can’t even touch you!” you protested.
He handed you your cup of coffee as an answer. You were finally facing him, and you noticed the dark bags under his eyes, the way his eyelids fell more than usual on his black eyes. He was not fully awake yet. But then, he didn’t seem to have taken a shower for now, which explained his drowsy look.
“Warm your icy fingers first. Then you can touch me all you want, but no more ice cubes!”
You accepted the cup of coffee, the warm porcelain burning your skin. You let Ben stand before the counter again, before teasing him.
“I can touch you… all I want?” you asked with a flirtatious smile, bumping your hip into his.
You saw his cheeks reddening, and the way he was biting back a large grin. He picked up the knife again, and resumed his cutting.
“Now… that could be arranged.”
You let out a giggle, before kissing his cheek. He turned to kiss your lips.
“But not before tonight. No time for shenanigans this morning.”
“Really?” you pouted again.
“Don’t give me that look,” he chuckled, trying to ignore you, but miserably failing to do so. “We just have time to eat some breakfast, get a shower, and then we are needed on set. Or well… I am needed on set. You’ll just spend your day distracting me.”
“A shower?”
“Don’t. Start. Besides… I thought last night was enough to get us through at least twelve hours without you giving me that look again.”
It was your time to shy away, and Ben’s turn to smile contently as he tortured you.
“Right… you’re right.”
“Now, I’ve made breakfast. Let’s hurry! Besides, everyone is asking about you, and when you’re joining us on set, and they keep on repeating how they miss you… bla bla bla,” he pulled a ridiculous face, full of disgust, and you couldn’t help but laugh.
“Ha yes… that must be so annoying that your colleagues love me more than they love you,” you chimed, and Ben gave you his best villain stare.
“I do not find it funny.”
But it made you laugh even more, and he broke out of character in a mere second.
You took another sip of coffee while Ben was wiping his hands and putting the knife down on the table. You tentatively touch his arm with just the tip of one of your fingers.
“Too cold still?” you asked, making your voice shy.
Ben shook his head, his smile still on his lips.
“No, it’s fine now.”
“YEEEEEES!” you cried, rushing to hug him and almost tackling him to the ground. He was back at laughing like crazy.
You held him tightly, releasing him just for a second so he could get comfortable and wrap his arms around you as well.
“Thank you for making breakfast,” you mumbled against the skin of his bare shoulder.
“You’re welcome, darling.”
He dropped a soft kiss on the top of your head.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” he whispered, holding you tight.
You smiled, pressing your cheek harder against his shoulder blade.
“Me too. I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too.”
“Or well… actually, I’ve missed your shirts. Like this one I’m wearing… they’re very comfy.”
“I hate you…”
“Y/N!”
Three steps.
You only needed to take three steps on set for everyone to be aware of your presence, apparently. You could thank Jessie and her happy cry for that.
She rushed to hug you, and you welcomed her embrace with a bright laugh.
“Hi! It’s so good to see you!”
“Ben kept you away from us for way too long!” Kit added, giving you a hug as well.
“I did not!” Ben defended himself. “She’s the one who didn’t want to see any of you.”
“Now, we know that’s not true!” Jessie replied, sticking out her tongue.
“I was just busy with work,” you explained. “I couldn’t go on vacation before now.”
“Excuses, excuses…” Freddy shook his head.
It was strange to see everyone in full costume again. You spent your morning chatting with your friends, depending on who was waiting for a scene. Ben left you with the Crows to get ready, and you didn’t see him again before lunchtime. Or well, you did see him when you watched him from afar while he was working on a scene but you remained unnoticed, to avoid bothering him.
He fell on a chair by your side for lunch, heaving a tired sigh. It was a merry time, full of laughs and joy and stupid jokes. Jessie took several pictures of you and Ben, and you looked at them fondly on your phone after she shared them with the whole group. Ben leaned closer to look at the screen too.
“You look adorable,” he admitted as he stared at your bright smile.
“I’m not sure how I feel about these scars of yours though,” you teased, pointing at the large marks that had been added across his face.
“It’s to show how much of a bad guy I am. I am tough. Tough guys have scars, you know?”
“Sure,” you laughed. “The Darkling, for sure, is a very bad guy. You, on the other hand, are probably the cutest person I’ve ever met. You’re the opposite of a bad boy.”
He heaved a dramatic sigh, shaking his head slightly as he stared at nothing.
“And then… all my sex-appeal was gone for good…”
You laughed at him, and the mere sound brought a smile to his lips, the kinds he couldn’t refrain.
“I wouldn’t say that, now. We still have some plans for tonight, remember?”
“Plans? Us?”
You looked around quickly, but no one was paying attention to your conversation with Ben. You leaned closer to whisper in his ear.
“You did promise that I would touch you all I want…”
Despite his make-up, you saw his ears and cheeks redden fiercely.
“True… I won’t have the scars anymore by then though. I won’t look like a bad boy anymore.”
“I’ve always preferred kind souls, anyway,” you replied with a grin, before you would drop a peck on his lips.
You rested your head on his shoulder while you listened to Danielle and Amita chat happily, and were disappointed when it was time for him to go back to work.
You walked with him across the main building, hand in hand, accompanying him to the set. He rubbed circles against the back of your hand, the gesture tender and soothing. It was quiet in this corridor, everyone either finishing their lunch or going on set as well. People were busy. Meanwhile, you took slow steps while Ben was rambling about some movie he had watched that week. You forgot for a moment where you were: in a foreign country, in a building you didn’t know, where people created fantastic worlds out of their imagination. Only when you looked at Ben and saw him in full costume, with dark marks across his face, did you remember that he was at work. It was strange, really… the way he always made you forget everything else in the world whenever he was near.
“You’re alright?” he asked with a frown. “Am I being boring?”
“No, of course not. I’m sorry, I was just… thinking.”
“A penny for your thoughts?”
“It’s just… I’m just happy you’re here.”
Ben offered you a tender smile, slowing down his steps until the two of you came to a stop. The corridor was empty, silent. You could hear the distant whisper of busy rooms, but the air around you was still. Ben raised his hand to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing tender patterns across your warm skin.
“I’m happy you’re here too. Even if… you’ve abandoned me all morning.”
You laughed at his teasing, and he did the same.
“Now… again… it’s not my fault if I’m everyone’s favourite!”
“I highly doubt you are, darling. But if it makes you happy…”
You stuck out your tongue.
“I can assure you though that you are someone’s favourite,” Ben added through a chuckle, “if not everyone’s.”
“Whose?”
He let go of your hand to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you closer to him.
“You are my favourite.”
You let out a bright laugh.
“Considering that I’m your girlfriend… I do hope so.”
“It was a tough competition though…”
“Do you really want to sleep on the couch tonight, my love?”
He rested his forehead against yours as he laughed.
“What about that plan of yours, huh? I thought you had planned some very sinful activities…”
He bumped his nose against yours a couple of times, until it would make you smile.
“Well… for now all I have are plans. Nothing more.”
He hummed, and you closed your eyes. Because you could feel the way he held you tighter against him, the way his fingers were caressing your cheek, his thumb travelling downwards to brush your upper lip. You were so close, your two breaths mingled in the small space between your faces. Your heart had sped up, and so had his.
“We both know those plans will happen though,” he assured you.
“Really?”
But he didn’t answer; he merely closed the gap between your mouths, and you wouldn’t have been able to find any argument against these plans of yours as he did so.
You kissed for a long time, your fingers lost in his hair despite the fact that he was needed on set. And the more time passed by, the more heated your kiss became… lips against lips dancing together, capturing, grabbing, pulling, crashing…
When his lips left your bruised ones to travel down to your neck, you had forgotten how to breathe altogether. He left a trail of goosebumps in his wake as he dropped warm, hungry open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck, all the way to that sensitive spot at the birth of your shoulder. He slipped his hand under your shirt, warm fingers running across your back until he teasingly moved his hand to your ribs, his thumbs rubbing the soft skin. You couldn’t refrain a gasp as his fingers grazed the edge of your bra, and you held tightly on his shoulders for balance, your knees suddenly feeling dangerously weak…
You were, however, in the middle of a corridor, and you were well aware that things couldn’t go further than that. So, you held his face in your palms, pulling him away just enough to kiss him again…
… until you heard some shocked cries from the end of the corridor.
You broke away just enough to see Archie, Freddy, Amita, Kit and Jessie all shouting dramatically and covering their eyes.
“How disgusting!” Archie shouted.
“My eyes! My eyes!” Jessie added.
And all of them added their own cry of despair. Ben rolled his eyes, clenching his jaw in an annoyed gesture that remained filled with fondness. Meanwhile, you were giggling uncontrollably, burying your face in his shoulder to hide your embarrassment.
“Alright, alright, that’s enough!” Ben called, struggling not to laugh, and blushing profusely.
“Can we look now? Have you stopped?” Amita asked, peeking through her fingers.
“They make rooms for that kind of stuff, you know?!” Kit exclaimed.
But soon they were unable to refrain their laughter, Jessie being the first to break out of character.
“Alright, alright… let’s go back to work,” Ben replied, shaking his head playfully while you finally broke your embrace and put a step between you and your boyfriend.
“You might need to go back to get your hair done before going back though, mate,” Archie teased, pointing at Ben’s hair that you had, indeed, turned into a proper mess of dark locks.
It made all of you laugh, but Ben could hardly deny that it was more than necessary.
“All of you are just jealous I have the most wonderful woman on Earth just for myself,” he replied, as your friends started to walk towards the two of you again.
“Absolutely not. We just found your PDAs insufferable,” Freddy replied.
“Really?” Ben asked back, rising an eyebrow.
He looked at you with such a mischievous glint in his dark eyes, you knew he meant trouble…
“Kids, these days… they’re a little prude, aren’t they?” he teased his friends, nodding towards them while still staring at you, making them all laugh and exclaim various excuses and arguments to defend themselves.
“You’re right… but they’re young, that’s why,” you nodded. “They still have much to learn…”
“Why don’t we traumatize them some more, then?” he offered, closing the space between the two of you again.
He wore this shit-eating grin again, and his dark eyes glimmered with mischief and something dangerous…
You nodded.
“Yes, we should…”
You were interrupted by a pair of familiar lips against yours, as he held your face in both his hands…
His castmates started their shenanigans again, but you merely smiled into the kiss this time, unwilling to pull away.
After all… you liked it when Ben was full of this kind of mischief…
headcanons about azriel’s wings because I can’t sleep and they’re all I can think about
- first of all, he definitely has the largest wingspan, but he’s not cocky about it and let’s his brothers think that theirs are bigger
- they twitch when he’s irritated, or pissed off, or even sometimes when he’s turned on
- he’ll shoot one out in front of you so you don’t walk away from him or to prevent you from going any further somewhere else
- he uses them to shield you from things or other people and it has you standing on your tippy toes to try and look over them but they’re so damn huge that you can’t
- he’ll curl one around you to guide you closer to his side
- they flare slightly to show his dominance whenever another male looks at you a little too long for his liking and it always has you rolling your eyes at him
- he’s so needy and when you’re not paying attention to him, he’ll flap them, sending a gust of air in your direction and he smiles when you finally address him, even if it’s just to scold him for ruining your hair
- he drapes one across you while you sleep and it’s just like a second blanket
- you’re the first and only one besides healers he allows to ever touch his wings
- you’ll sit at the edge of the bathtub and clean them for him because “you get all the hard to reach places”
- and don’t even get me started on wingplay…
- the first time you gently stroke a particularly sensitive spot, he whimpers, yes whimpers
- you like to dance your fingertips along the membrane just to see his eyes closed and face scrunched up
- you’ll lean to kiss them because they’re just so beautiful and he’s coming undone within seconds
- there are plenty of times that you’ve made him finish by just playing with his wings
- anyway…
- the first time he comes to your small studio apartment, they bump into everything and you’re giggling as he tries to catch all the things that are falling off counters and shelves
- they slump when you’re upset with him or just sad in general because he hates seeing you like that
- similarly, they perk up whenever he sees you or hears your voice or laughter
- he’ll reach out and gently stroke one down your spine just to let you know he’s there
- he likes to cocoon you in them often, because he says it feels like it’s just you and him in the whole wide world
"Who's the new chick?"
"She looks so pretty!"
"We should go talk to her!"
"Everyone, everyone, before we interact we have to take into account the ultimate test..."
Tadashi heard a collective groan as he emerged from his personal lab into the communal area. He saw his friends recoil from Fred as he held up one of his comic books.
"What does that have to do with making a new friend?!" Wasabi snatched the comic book from Fred's hands.
"If she rolls with comic books, she can roll with anything," Fred smirked.
"Who're we talking about?" Tadashi interrupted, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
"Oh! Hey 'Dashi!" Honey Lemon waved. "There's a new girl here, she's right over-"
"Hi, can you guys help me out? I'm a little lost."
Honey Lemon was interrupted by a voice Tadashi could only describe as similar to angels singing. He turned his head and quickly figured out why.
She stood next to Gogo and Honey Lemon, clutching her books close to her chest. She seemed nervous around the group, although there really wasn't anything to be intimidated about in a group of absolute science nerds.
She turned and made quick eye contact with Tadashi, and his heart skipped a beat upon the lock of her (e/c) eyes with his.
"Yeah, no problem! Where do you need to go?"
"Callahan Hall, 244," she responded to Wasabi, her gaze drifted to the comic book he had dangled above Fred's head. "Oh, is that a Lizard Mutant issue? I loved those when I was a kid!"
"Yes!! Told you guys!! She's cool!" Fred exclaimed, fist pumping the air. Tadashi blinked away from his trance and checked his watch.
"I'm uh.. heading that way in a few minutes, let me grab my book- I mean- my bag.. from my lab.. I'll walk you here- there!"
"Stupid, stupid, stupid," he thought to himself. He jogged back to his lab, grabbed his crossbody bag, then came back to the group. By then, he could tell that the group was up to something, because he saw each and every one of them give him a look. Gogo and Wasabi traded a smirk that led its way to Tadashi, Honey Lemon gave him a big thumbs up, and Fred was too busy distracting the girl with their Lizard Mutant mutual interest.
"Ready?" Tadashi called out to the girl, trying his best to ignore the three that were already onto him. The girl turned and nodded, waving to the group and walking out of the lab with Tadashi.
It was quiet for a while, Tadashi trying to figure out a way to start conversation. As they opened the door to the lab that led outside, Tadashi of course holding it open, he formulated on a topic of conversation.
"So uh..." he started, but quickly realized he was missing a vital piece of information.
He didn't know her name.
Tadashi's breath caught in his throat at the sudden realization. He coughed and took another deep breath, and turned to face the girl.
He was almost certain he would faint.
She was watching him with those (e/c) eyes, curiosity stemmed from his conversation start. Her facial features were absolutely gorgeous, as if sculpted by a Renaissance artist. She tilted her head, and he took notice of her (h/c) hair. The style, the length, the color; perfect.
"I uh...." he muttered out, and her mouth curled into a smile as she giggled. He almost melted right then and there on the sidewalk. Her laugh was gorgeous.
"You know, I never got your name," the girl questioned, taking the words right out of his mouth. That is, if the words would actually formulate. He hadn't even gotten to that step yet.
"Tadashi," he said, relieved it didn't sound abnormal like everything else he had already said.
"Nice to meet you, Tadashi," she smiled wider. "I'm (y/n)."
It was Tadashi's turn to smile. He loved her name. It fit her so well.
"Oh, there it is!"
He snapped out of his trance to realize they had made it to Callahan Hall. The walk wasn't long enough.
"I'll see you around?" she turned back to Tadashi. "I'll probably be back in the lab later!"
Tadashi smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I'll see you later, (y/n)!"
As he turned and made his way to his own class, he sighed.
Maybe he could practice talking to girls with Hiro
