#fade fluff

skye

would probably be an absolute chatter box but after realizing how upset you actually are, she makes you get a breath of fresh air

if you’re feeling up for it she will accompany you to a walk on the protocol hq grounds

but if you’re feeling too down she’ll just sit by the window with you, stroking your legs to calm you down

will ask you if you wanted to talk about it and if you say yes, she would sit there with you however long you needed to let it all out

reyna

you’re probably the most important person to her in the world and she holds you to a way higher standard than all the other agents

so when she sees you crying, she feels kind of helpless, not really knowing what to do in this situation

so she says exactly that

when you tell her how you feel and what you would like her to do, she complies eagerly, happy because you didn’t tell her to go away but instead wanted her company

not one for pda but will maybe stroke your hand a bit to give you some kind of reassurance that she’s there for you

sage

sage would be the first person you would talk to about your breakdown probably

if you aren’t the type of person to say these things out loud she would also be the type of person to just notice that something is wrong

won’t urge you to tell her about your problems but will silently make you some tea and maybe give you some sweets or something

with her you don’t need to ever feel alone because even in her smallest actions she shows you how special and meaningful you and your emotions are to her

jett

probably would notice that something is wrong as well but wants to give you some space to think about it first

when you tell her about what’s bothering you, she will attentively listen, spinning her knife between her fingers without saying something

if you ask for her advice she will give it to you, but if you don’t specifically mention it, she won’t; if she would’ve been in your shoes she wouldn’t want to be lectured either

afterwards she’ll maybe take you on a walk or a jog, just to get your mind off of things

killjoy

scratches head

i really don’t know how killjoy would react

she maybe would be like “oh no, baby, what’s wrong? tell me” and then keep asking about what is bothering you until you tell her

after she finds out she’ll probably like shake her fist at the problem being like “how dare ___ make you feel so hurt” just to make you laugh

so when you do, she feels a little lighter because she’s not that good at comforting people so humor is her only way to make you feel better

willing to listen to you vent though, she just won’t say anything reassuring or give you advice; maybe she will let you watch her work on her tech accessories or simply rest with you by cuddling

fade

another one who doesn’t really know how to express their concern or feelings

so: quality time!!! watching a movie or something to distract you from your thoughts and make you feel better

if you do feel up for it you can tell her about it; she will listen

but she probably won’t say anything supportive or encouraging

After it was announced to the team that Fade would be joining, needless to say the reaction was tepid at best. The atmosphere at the base which had been tense the past months with all the dossiers had hardly lifted. 

As much as Fade wanted to act like it didn’t bother her— after all, she’d wanted them to be scared of her— but it was… difficult. 

Being ignored, she could understand. She was used to that— being a shadow, the others not wanting to even meet her eye. 

But after awhile, it settled into the familiar dull ache of loneliness. The others were always cordial and cooperative on missions, but after when the toughened facade for battle was dropped, she’d watch Jett joking with Phoenix, or Neon’s loud laugh that filled the plane, and feel alone. 

The only person who treated her somewhat normally was Cypher, whom she’d come to a tentative agreement with through the interrogation, and strangely… you

From the research she’d done, you’re one of the newer agents. Perhaps that’s why you don’t hold the same reservations about her— you hadn’t been as integral in the protocol so Fade hadn’t targeted you as much. It seemed you were friendly with all of the other agents, yet you were often on your own.

She would see you in the community kitchen. It seemed you enjoyed baking and making food in general— that was how you bonded with the other agents.

One day, Fade was heading to the kitchen after her workout for a snack and found you there. You turned around and beamed— not something she had expected at all

“Just the person I was looking for!” you smile. It turns sheepish, “um, would you like to have some tea? The leaves just started steeping.”

Fade nods silently, almost hesitant. The two of you begin chatting, mostly you talking about anything and Fade nodding, a neutral expression on her face. It’s empty conversation— not about anything in particular. Her workout, you complaining about Yoru always flashing you around corners. It’s… actually really nice. Bit by bit, she feels her guard receding.

Soon the tea is done steeping and you pour it out into two sizable mugs and the two of you sit down. The warm mug clinks against her rings and she looks down at the steaming liquid— black tea, her favorite. Suddenly it feels easier to look down at the mug than at you. 

You shift in your seat a bit, awkward. Fade is honestly an intimidating person, not just from what the other agents had said and the information she had released, but she was just so cool.

You consider yourself not the most extroverted person. You enjoyed your hobbies and work in the Valorant protocol, but talking was never always easy. The way Fade commanded herself on the battlefield and around others filled you with awe. She just seemed always in control, though a bit sad.

That’s why you’d had the thought to make some tea. You knew Fade liked to come into the kitchen around mid-morning for a post-workout snack and, well, nothing cheered someone up like a bit of home. While Fade was always brewing some sort of coffee, you’d hoped perhaps she’d like something different, that showed your thoughts about her—

Well, not like that sort of thoughts. You flush slightly and realize it’s been quiet for some time. Oh god, were you making this awkward?

Fade sips the tea. The strong flavor washes over her, a hint of citrus and sugar in the blend. It was like home. She blinks fast, suddenly aware of burning in her eyes. 

“It’s good,” she says.

You feel like she’s still on guard a bit. Your worry at your lip, hoping desperately that your gesture hasn’t made her uncomfortable. 

“Hey,” you start, awkward. “I just… I’m happy you joined the protocol. I never feel scared going into site when I know your eyes are watching.”

Fade’s expression softens. “Thank you, canım (my dear).”

She hadn’t been sure of what to make of you, what your intentions had been. But when she looks at you, there’s no fear, no shadows. It’s just… you. You’re radiant.

It was strange at first, learning how to balance the relationship. Both Fade and Deadlock had their own way of showing care, and both struggled, sometimes quietly, sometimes more bluntly, when it came to dealing with how fragile you were physically.

Deadlock’s protectiveness usually showed itself in silence. She didn’t hover, exactly, but you noticed she was always subtly close, always making sure the path you walked on was clear, or that the heavy grocery bag ended up in her hand before you even thought about lifting it. She never teased you about your weakness, instead, she simply adjusted for it. If she offered to hold you, she’d ask softly first, as though she was checking she wouldn’t accidentally hurt you.

Fade, on the other hand, had a harder time with it, because it scared her. She hated seeing how easily your strength could fail, hated that she couldn’t just make your body sturdier. She’d never say it out loud, but her prowlers would appear more often when you were around, as if her nightmares themselves wanted to keep watch over you. Where Deadlock was steady and practical, Fade was emotional. She would brush her hand against yours and linger there too long, or curl her body protectively around you at night, almost as though keeping you anchored to her.

Together, they were a good balance. Deadlock would lift you onto the counter without a word so you wouldn’t strain yourself reaching for the kettle, and Fade would immediately be behind you, sliding her arms around your waist as if she could shield you from just everything. You’d laugh, telling them both you weren’t glass, but the way they looked at you, Fade’s constant worry, Deadlock’s way of always keeping an eye out for you, reminded you how deeply they cared.

You weren’t fragile to them in a way that made you a burden. You were fragile like a priceless artifact, something that needed gentleness and care, but was still beautiful to hold. And no matter how insecure Fade grew, or how cautious Deadlock became, they both found themselves softening when thinking about the fact that, you were theirs, and they would make sure to protect you in every way they knew how.

Deadlock

Deadlock hated watching you struggle with strength-based tasks. She never pitied you (that wasn’t her way) but she quietly made adjustments around you. Heavy doors? She’d open them without making a show of it. Long walks? She’d slow her pace until it matched yours perfectly.

But the tenderness showed most in small, intimate moments. You’d lie against her chest, your body tired, and she’d stroke your hair in patient silence. She was cautious when holding you, bionic arm flexing nervously at first as though she could forget her own strength. Eventually, though, she found her rhythm, firm enough to remind you of her presence, but gentle enough that you felt safe in her arms.

“Kjære” she’d murmur into your hair, her voice low. “Doesn’t matter how strong you are. You’re still everything to me.”

Fade

Fade always worried. You could see it in the way her eyes lingered on you when you were tired, the way she frowned when you insisted you could carry something yourself.

It wasn’t distrust, it was fear. Fear of losing you.

So she compensated in her own way. If you needed rest, she’d coax you into her lap and stroke her thumb over your knuckles, whispering things in Turkish too soft for you to catch. If someone made a careless comment about your weakness, she’d glare them into silence, prowler at her side.

When you curled into her side one night and whispered, “You don’t have to worry so much,” she smiled faintly, brushing her nose against your temple.

“I know,” she said. “But I will anyway. Because you’re my dream, Yarim.”

Divider by: @/saradika-graphics