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jxeyhudson · 4 years

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hi! hope you're having a good day! i'm kind of new in the fandom and was wondering if you could recommend me some of your favorite dinah and helena fics? also who are the burps? ive seen them mentioned in tags and the like two fics ive read and it appears you are one so i thought id ask :D

Hi, welcome to the fandom I guess. The Burps are... a tumblr group chat turned discord turned mini family of some super cool ladies and theydies who all want Dinah and Helena to fuck. Not to sound horny on main, but I love them and am soft for all of them.

As for fic recs, here you go (I’m going to stick an asterisk by the fics written by my fellow Burps):

(love is) a hand-me-down brew by ace_verity When Dinah Lance takes Renee's offer of a job at her new cafe, she's only looking for a fresh start.She certainly doesn't expect to fall in love.---Helena Bertinelli is on a quest for vengeance, and she's determined not to let anything distract her from that quest.Except, it seems, the barista at the best cafe in the East End.

This is the coffee shop AU I did not know I need and I get so excited every time I see it has updated.

classic in the right way by @kate-siegel*or, the one in which Dinah is Gotham's favourite florist and Helena is in charge of getting some plants for her father's company.

I just don’t have the words for this fic, and it’s only 3 chapters in so far. I usually don’t care much for the florist x whoever AUs, but this one is making me rethink that. This writer is so good that I’m reading works of hers for fandoms I do not give a shit about just because she is that talented.

knew your love (before i kissed you) by @zxyjxy* Surviving the massacre of your entire family at the age of eight is a pretty impressive feat. Training for fifteen years in Sicily until you can kill a man with one hand and a hairpin is also a pretty impressive feat. Returning to the city where your family was cut down and killing every single person involved in their deaths is maybe the most impressive feat. Somehow, it's never been enough for Helena.

Listen. I firmly believe that every fandom has The Fic. Meaning the one that everyone in the fandom knows about and has read, probably several times. This is The Fic for Helena and Dinah. It’s well-crafted, well-written, and the first one I thought of when I read this ask.

for the first time i had something to lose by @sinand-misery* "You're trembling." // Most nights go according to plan. Tonight, however, is not one of those nights.

I’m pretty sure I’m obligated to include this one since I’m the one who submitted the dialogue prompt it is based off, but even if I weren’t, I would still include it. The writers in this fandom love hurting Helena and then making Dinah take care of her, and this writer does a great job of it.

try a little tenderness (all you gotta do is try) (also) by @kate-siegel*“I feel disgusting,” Dinah says, glancing down at herself and there’s a lilt to her voice that already puts Helena on edge, even before Dinah turns those dark eyes onto her. “I need to shower.” “Okay,” is all she says, because she’s not sure what else to say in response to that, casting an awkward glance around the living room to figure out what she’s supposed to do in this situation. Should she stay and wait, or was that Canary’s subtle way of asking her to leave? “You should join me.”

This fic makes me long to feel things I am not sure I feel capable of. It’s just, like, 3600 words of vulnerability and love. Very grateful for writers who can bring things like this to the table.

Get Used To It by @helenas-crossbow* “I’m...sorry.” Helena says, in her signature somewhat awkward cadence, still looking at the floor. “I just...I guess I’m not used to having to worry about people worrying about me, you know?”

The tenderness? The way Helena’s character comes through so cleanly and perfectly? My heart, dude. I reread this one regularly.

I’ll only hurt you (if you let me) by ThanksForListening"Tears had their purpose, initially, but overall they were counterproductive, and she had a job to do. Crying in the face of pain would do nothing, so she vowed to never do it again, no matter how much she wanted to. And she didn’t.But damn if this didn’t hurt like a bitch."

Another really good fic about Helena getting shot and being taken care of. There are so many good things about this one that it would take me way too long to list them.

sleepover by @cleanquean* It's not like Dinah doesn't realise she's got it bad for Helena; she knows that all too well, thank you very much. The problem is, what the hell do you do about it when it's right there in your face, at work, at home, in your kitchen and in your bed? And how do you keep Harley Quinn from unintentionally ruining all of it?

Some things? Are too good for us to deserve. Sleepover is it. We do not deserve it. I read it when I am feeling soft. No matter what direction this writer takes this fic it will be good and I will scream the whole time I read it, and then I will read it again.

after the afterparty by novoaa1The Canary had let loose a delighted snort at that, as if she found the whole thing somehow laughable.(Which it wasn’t, to be clear—laughable, that is.)“Are y'all seeing this shit?” she’d turned to ask the rest of them, earning a giddy squeal from Harley and a bemused scoff from Montoya even whilst Helena remained stock still in place, dutifully blinding herself with one hand. “Absolutely adorable.”“Shut up,” Helena had hissed back more out of instinct than anything else, though her tone was markedly devoid of any real anger.(And if Helena had felt her cheeks flush ever so slightly beneath her palm at the Canary’s glib assertion, she certainly didn’t let on.)Or: Sionis falls. The rest of them remain.

This was the first Birds of Prey fic I read, and I maintain that it is one of the best. This dialogue is just spot on, and the story itself is absolutely adorable.

With You I’m Briefly Gorgeous by well, me*It’s a soulmate AU and I don’t feel like attaching the description. I honestly do not usually rec my own fics, but given that I am responsible for the only soulmate AU so far I think I am legally required to link it. So there ya go.

#birds of prey #nobody draw attention to my blatant favoritism for the burps #we make up like 1/3 of the fics on ao3 so it is expected

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loathed-love · 4 years

Text

aftermath

AO3: wren_rw Pairing: Colt Kaneko x Reader Warnings: description of injury, language, tw: car crash Words: 2520 Summary: the obligatory “we broke up awhile ago, but you’re still my emergency contact” fic

Notes: started writing this... had a breakdown... bon appetite

“Hey, Vince- did you run the diagnostics on that Nissan?”

A deep voice booms from beneath the hood of a sports car, thick with russian vowels. “On it, Boss. Looks like alternator failure.”

“Oh, great.” Colt hides a smirk behind the rim of his mug, taking a deep swig of coffee. “Have fun with that.”

Vince laughs- a thunderous, mighty sort of sound, and flips his boss the bird.

“You don’t pay us enough to take that lip, sir.” This time, it’s a thin young woman perched on top of the cherry-picker, dark curls piled on top of her head. She’s got the coy sort of demeanor of someone who knows they’re playing with fire.

“I don’t pay you at all, Martinez. You work on commission. You want a raise, go ahead off your ass and get one.”

Laughter and wolf-whistles break out all across the garage, a few hecklers elbowing the woman playfully in the side. She shoves them off, sticking out her tongue in childish defiance.

It’s somewhere around that point that the mechanic wheels himself out from under a new model, pulling a headphone from his ear. “Hey, Boss- sorry to interrupt, but isn’t that your phone?”

Sure enough, the room quiets enough for the ringing to be heard from behind the door to Colt’s office.

The man excuses himself and pulls the door closed behind him, before leaning back against his desk to take the call.

. . .

He’s met with the sound of faded sirens and a woman’s voice, clear and impersonal.

“Is this Colt Kaneko speaking?”

That’s his first premonition that something’s gone wrong. Colt narrows his eyes, rereading the unidentified phone number on his screen before bringing the device back to his ear. “That depends on who’s asking.”

The woman forges on as if she hadn’t heard him, as if she’s speaking from a well-rehearsed script.

“Hello, Mr. Kaneko. I'm calling from the UCLA Medical Center on behalf of Eleanor Wheeler. I’m afraid there’s been an accident...”

Colt’s breath is shot, like he’s just taken a hit to the gut. The sudden roaring in his ears drowns out all coherent thought. Accident. The woman’s still speaking, but her voice is underwater.

Ellie. In an accident. Ellie, who he hasn’t spoken to for months, Ellie, who he hasn’t stopped thinking about since she stormed out of his life, all hell hath no fury.

Just like that, there’s not enough oxygen in all of Los Angeles to fill his lungs. “... Mr. Kaneko? Are you there?”

It’s a miracle when the words finally make their way past the swelling in his throat. “Yeah. How..” Colt can’t make himself form the question, screws his eyes shut against the drumbeat in his skull. “Is she.. ” She’s okay. Tell me she’s okay.

The woman hesitates for a brief, dangerous moment, and Colt can feel himself rocking on a cliff’s edge, a breath from falling hard into cold, dark water.

“She was conscious when she arrived, but you’ll have to get more information on her condition from the-”

The line goes dead before she has the chance to finish her sentence.

“Everything alright, Boss?

Colt doesn’t bother with a helmet as he slings himself over his MT-50R. “Watch the shop. Don’t call until I say so.”

That’s the only explanation that the Mercy Park Crew is offered.

Colt’s bike is roaring past mainstreet the second that the engine kicks to life.

He thunders down the 405, city-lights blurring into vibrant streaks of color. He barely hears the drivers who cuss him out as he swerves through rush-hour traffic, cutting a thirty minute commute into twenty minutes, into fifteen, into ten.

His feet hit the ground before he’s even pulled into a full stop, and the bike connects with the pavement with a sickening crunch.

Colt still feels as if he’s hurtling through space, bracing himself for impact.

He doesn’t lose his momentum until he’s braced against the receptionist’s desk, deaf to the indignant cries of those in line behind him.

The woman must recognize his voice from their phone call, because she doesn’t waste his time. He barely catches wind of the room number before he’s down the hall to emergency care.

111. 112. The roommarkers blur together. Everything is white. The fluorescent lights are nearly blinding. 113. 114. 115. His ears are full of cotton, the only sound in his awareness the thundering of his heart.

Colt finally rounds the corner, and almost misses the door.

116.

The glass pane of the window is cool against his palm. Colt can hardly breathe through the wreckage in his chest.

. . .

Ellie is lying motionless between the starched sheets of her cot, the monitor flashing red in time with every heartbeat. She’s fast asleep, a sight that’s like a memory from another life.

An angel under the white lights, her image is distorted behind the thick pane of glass. She’s never felt farther away.

Then Colt pushes open the door, and it’s just Ellie, his Ellie, in a hospital bed, and everything is suddenly too close.

...

“Fuck.”

The curse falls on deaf ears, Ellie’s chest rising and falling indifferently in her sleep.

Colt somehow holds himself together long enough to make his way across the room. Always falling towards her, helpless to her gravity.

He’s already seated at her bedside by the time he questions if the proximity is a good idea.

Ellie hadn’t asked him here. She just forgot to take his off her emergency contact list.

If it were under different circumstances, if she were conscious- she’d keep as far away from him as possible.

He has no idea how she’ll react to seeing him- and if she still hates his guts as much as she had last time; close proximity probably isn’t the best way to find out.

But her skin is the lightest he’s ever seen, almost white- and the sheets tucked close around her shoulders make her look like a corpse.

Colt has always been taught to trust nothing but his own senses, and the steady beeping of the heart rate monitor just isn’t enough.

Tentatively, as if handling glass, he slips his hand over Ellie’s open palm.

Just to feel the rhythm of her heartbeat against his skin. Just enough to ensure himself that she’s solid, and concrete, and alive.

It was only for a moment, just long enough to calm the racing of his pulse. But then Ellie’s hand just barely tightens around his, and - God. He’s helpless. There’s nothing he could do to stop her.

The minutes bleed into each other, fluid and viscous like honey. Time seems to speed up and slow down, completely resistant to Colt’s effort to keep track of the passing hours. He finds her medical charts locked inside the bedside cupboard, and reads them twice. By the time the morning light starts to filter through the curtains, Colt’s vision is fading

into black.

. . .

He wakes to the faint tapping of a staccato beat against his shoulder.

Colt goes rigid as the night’s events come crashing down on him, replaying over in his head like a film-reel. It takes him a few seconds to register where he is, and he sits up fast, knocking his elbow against the bedframe. “Fuck- Ellie-”

His eyes run over her, searching for some alarming reason that she might have for waking him. He finds nothing of concern- except maybe the fact that she doesn’t look alarmed at all, her eyes soft and golden in the morning light. Colt looks down to find their hands still interlocked.

He looks back up to her face, almost apprehensive, waiting for those brown eyes to go cold- for her to ask him to leave.

The blow never comes. She just tilts her head back, appraising him. “You look tired.”

The sound of her voice sends a wave of relief stuttering through him, so strong that it hurts. He almost laughs with the force of it. “Jesus, Ellie. You’re one to talk.”

The ghost of a smile crosses her face, but her eyes are far away.

Ellie is focused on their hands, fiddling absentmindedly with Colt’s fingers. “They told me you would come.” Her voice is small, as if there were ever reason for doubt, and that’s enough to break Colt open.

“Where else would I be?” His voice is cracked as if he’d been shouting, but he doesn’t care because she has to know. She had to know that he would come.

Ellie starts to respond, she’s interrupted with a coughing fit so harsh that Colt is pressing a glass of water to her mouth before he can fully process the action.

She barely even wets her lips before she’s leaning back against the pillow. “Colt, I have to-”

“Drink.” His tone leaves no room for argument. Ellie rolls her eyes, and it’s all so familiar that it takes Colt a moment to breathe.

Once she’s half-finished the glass, she takes his wrist and guides the glass back to the bedside table.

“I have to tell you something.”

“Tell me later. It can wait.”

It’s selfish, he’s selfish- but whatever Ellie has to say, he’s just not strong enough to hear it yet. Not when it sounds so much like a preface to another goodbye.

There’s a good chance this is the last time he’ll get to see her, and he wants to spend the time he’s got committing every last detail to memory.

His attention can’t help but snag on the bruising beneath her eye, the IV and white bandages strapped across her chest.

“Ellie,” Colt manages, his tone careful, measured. The blood on her lip is seeping into his vision. There’s a familiar creature stirring in his chest, seething in the itching of his fingers, the bitter taste of bloodlust on his tongue. “Who did this to you?”

Ellie must see the stormclouds brewing behind his eyes, because her expression goes stern. “It was just a crash, Colt. It was no one’s fault.”

Her intention is clear. No penance, no revenge. No one pays for this.

The creature rears it’s head in protest, but Colt stifles it down, biting hard against his tongue. “Fine. But if I find out they were fucking around, or drunk-”

“Colt.” Ellie cuts him off like only she can. “Look at me.”

He resists at first, so she resorts to force, bringing her hand up to his chin and pulling him towards her gaze. She speaks slowly, carefully enunciating every word.

“There’s nothing you could have done.”

He can’t help but marvel at how she always cuts to the heart of what he’s really thinking, what he can’t even bring himself to say.

Even when she’s wrong. “I could have been there.”

There’s nothing that she can say to that. Not when he’s the one who cut her out. They sit in silence for a moment, quieted by the burn of wounds that should have closed by now.

Of course she’s the first to take the leap, because she’s always been the bravest of the two of them, the one to look Colt in the eyes and dare him to jump.

“I missed you.”

He jumps in after her- because that’s all he’s ever known, because he’s never had another choice.

“I miss you too.” He almost chokes on the words in his throat. “God, just- always. All the goddamn time.”

He wants to screw his eyes shut- but everytime his vision goes dark, he sees Ellie's car careening over the concrete barrier, smells it’s wreckage smoking on the ground.

“I’m sorry. I.. fuck. I’m sorry.”

Those aren’t words that often fall from Colt Kaneko’s mouth, but when it comes to her- they come all too easily. They haven’t spent a day together that Colt didn’t bite back an apology for everything he’s done.

“When I left, I thought I was protecting you. I thought that I could keep you safe, and now-”

“Stop it.” Mercy’s eyes are bright with tears, and Colt’s always been shocked by how easily they go from honey to solid gold. “Just stop, okay? You can’t protect me from everything, and the harder you try, the further you push me away from you! I can’t take it, Colt!”

He opens his mouth to respond, but she’s just gaining momentum.

“I don’t want to be trapped in a box, fucking cellophane wrapped from the rest of the world! That’s the reason I left my Dad in the first place! I want to live, actually live, and I want to do it with you! I don’t care what happens, I don’t care-”

Her chest is heaving beneath her bandages, the heart monitor beeping faster and faster- too fast, and Colt does the only thing he can think of to bring her down.

Ellie stills against his lips, cool, and chapped, and so soft that Colt wonders if he might need to be hospitalized himself. Her breaths stutter against him, and just as he pulls back- she pulls him in again, fingers winding tight and desperate into his hair.

Tasting her again feels like speaking his mother tongue- foreign and hauntingly familiar at once, something so deeply worked into his being that it could never be forgotten.

“It’s okay,” he swears, wishing he could pass the assurance through their mouths. “You’re okay.”

It’s just as much a comfort to him as it is to her- the knowledge that she’s here, warm with the flutter of a fragile heart, safe and living beneath his hands.

He holds her knuckles to his lips, wishing desperately that he could breathe in all that hurt, all those months of isolation out from between her fingers.

“I’m here now. I’ve got you, El. I swear I’ve got you.”

And maybe that’s enough.

Ellie’s still holding unto him like she’s afraid he’s going to disappear, and that’s certainly enough to harden his resolve.

He’s an idiot for ever leaving her, for ever doubting that the one who knows what’s best for her is anyone but herself.

But he’s not making that mistake twice. They can’t waste a day- not a second, without each other, because life is a fucking coin toss and there’s no knowing what’s coming next.

Colt’s prepared to handcuff himself to this bed if the paramedics ever make the mistake of trying to pull him away from her.

He knows where he belongs- right by Ellie’s side, and nothing is ever going to pull him from her grasp again.

#Colt Kaneko #Colt x mc #rod colt #colt kaneko fic #rod mc #ellie wheeler #Colt #rod fic #rod #ride or die #choices fic #choices

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