#they look like they’d call you a slur but also you could easily picture them making out with another dude

[rottingboygj]

i fucking love interpreting characters and art that’s specifically designed to appease sigma males and incels as queer and gentle. feels like an insane riot even in my own head, you can only imagine, how target audience fucking explodes once you mention that «soldier boy edits are just gay thirst traps». damn

#thought so good i decided to duplicate it on tumblr dot com #also. yes i do think soldier boy and homelander are both gay and homophobic #they look like they’d call you a slur but also you could easily picture them making out with another dude #passionately may i add #soldier boy #homelander #the boys #is an inherently queer show #now crucify me for speaking the truth

[tonguetiedraven]

im very curious about what you'll come up with the following ;)

⚠️🧸

Rynoa, you chaos causer, lol.

⚠️a love triangle with a character making their final choice

🧸exes with feelings

I went with Lewin, Arthur, and Shura for this because I've been wanting to try his pov, and this went in a weird direction, lol.

— — — — —

Lewin Light had spent most of his life on the outside looking in. He had never been able to see the full picture that way, but it also let him be privy to things those on the inside couldn’t see either. It was a detached way of looking at things. Something that kept him away from the world, but could also keep him safe and uncompromised. There was a barrier between him and the abuse they’d tried to heep on him since he was a child.

Preston Garmon had been the first one to point it out. Lewin didn’t have the greatest memory in the world — there was a reason he had found a method to shorten verses after all — but some memories didn’t let themselves be forgotten, and Preston Garmon with his tailored uniform (who tailored a five-year olds uniform?) was one of those people.

He had pushed Lewin in the chest, scowled, and called him a demon. It was a weird insult, and it had taken Lewin ages to realize the boy couldn’t actually see demons, and just meant he thought Lewin was a monster.

Preston was the first, but not the last, and the names and insults and shoves continued until he was big enough to shove back, and harder.

Adulthood offered some repreveal from the childhood bullying, but it brought new obstacles to overcome in the strange world he was always a little separate from. He was nineteen and twenty-nine days old when Casey Yerhot asked him out, and he had not understood what she meant. He insulted her and ended up turning a friend into an enemy thanks to that, but he did learn what to look out for, so the next time someone asked, he didn’t make the same mistakes.

He got to make some new mistakes instead, and wow, it was easy to make mistakes when everyone seemed to know the rules but you, and no one wanted to bother to explain them. (That was okay, Lewin liked to experiment. And you couldn’t experiment without making mistakes.)

Redarm saw something in him worth training, and before long he found that being on the outside looking in was helpful with True Cross. Regular people got squeamish over the demon thing, or they got too attached. They weren’t fascinated by demons in the same way Lewin was, but that was okay because they mostly let Lewin do what he wanted and experiment to his heart’s content. (Once Redarm stopped asking what he was doing, they got along swimmingly.)

And then Arthur A. Angel stepped into the picture, and everything about him was so bright. He was like the shine off a new sword and the sparkle off a seraphim.

And for the first time in his life, Lewin fell. There was something a little broken about the bright knight, and that something drew Lewin in like a sylph to a flame. He sought out opportunities to spend time with him, and he dedicated himself to learning the quirks of the knight. What did he like? What actions made him come alive?

He loved rules for one thing, and he had a deep disgust of demons. Lewin could follow rules when he wanted to, and he was decent at not getting caught when he didn’t. He was fascinated by demons, but he didn’t always lament their loss, so he worked well enough with Arthur on those things. Arthur made him feel alive and hopeful. If someone as broken as Arthur could shine so brightly, could inspire and lead, so could Lewin.

They were brilliant together, until they weren’t.

Lewin wasn’t quite sure what he had done wrong, but it ended up with a lot of yelling on both parts, bitter words, and him getting very drunk with Shura. She listened, called him an idiot, called Angel a prick, and took him home when he couldn’t walk.

“I love him,” he slurred, slipping down in her grip as he dragged his feet. She hefted him back up easily. She was too strong for a normal human. They were all too strong.

“I know. It’s because you’re stupid.” She pat his arm consolingly and unlocked his door.

“It’s ‘cause I’m a monster.”

“Yeah?” She shoved the door open, carried him inside on stumbling feet, and kicked the door shut. He buried his face in her side because she was as soft as she was strong. “I was raised by one of those. Did I ever—” she hiccuped and stumbled towards the bedroom, “tell you about that?”

He shook his head and didn’t resist when she dumped him on the bed. It smelled like Arthur’s shampoo, and that hurt more than he thought it would.

Shura stared down at him, and the drunkenness seemed to fade from her gaze.

“Maybe I’ll tell you someday.”

He watched her go, sniffing and wishing he could get on the inside to understand what the sadness in her eyes meant, and what he’d done wrong with Arthur.

(He didn’t get inside, and he didn’t hear what she meant by monster until much later.)

The revelation of the Illuminati and the Okumura twins were the most exciting kind of distraction from Arthur’s new position as his boss, and he sprang on it with single-minded interest. He needed to know, and there were endless questions to ask. Mephisto had been playing a hell of a game with them, and Lewin was going to learn all about it.

Ryuuji Suguro was a pleasant surprise, and it was a strange delight to have someone around who would berate him about the sloppiness and uneven corners of his life. Someone who would point out when he was a jerk, and not tip toe around it. You couldn’t learn anything if people didn’t tell you, and it felt like finally having an in to the room he was always peering through the windows at. Someone that could feed him some of the information he was missing.

It also meant he saw Arthur less, which helped, and Shura more, which also (strangely) helped.

He kissed her for the first time after the disaster of a Christmas party. When her lips tasted like cheap champagne and birthday cake, and her laughter felt like bubbles against his skin instead of in his champagne glass. She kissed him back before punching his arm and telling him not to try that again.

(He did, and she let him.)

But it was the Arthur of the situation he couldn’t quite get past. It was knowing that the broken thing in his (ex) boyfriend was his lineage. That the Paladin of True Cross was a clone, and that he was adopted after the Blue Night and never told anything about it that hits hardest.

“You’re a monster!” Arthur had yelled, but of the two of them, Lewin was the one that was entirely, and damningly, human.

He told him in the gentlest way he knew how, which wasn’t very gentle, and almost got stabbed for the effort. “I’m trying to help.” He almost said. “Can’t ya see that I want to help? It isn’t that bad. It doesn’t make you a monster.”

(Would being a monster really be so bad?)

Eventually Lewin stopped trying to explain and just left. He fought with True Cross against Satan (again) and fought next to Shura when he could manage it. He helped Yukio where he failed before, and laughed when Ryuuji went off on a passionate rant about friendship and sticking together.

They won, and he kissed Shura again at the end of it. Hachiro had been destroyed, and he didn’t think she was ever an actual monster, but he might have been, and she kissed him on the cheek and tells him to call her.

He does. Then he met her at her place (“Yours is always dirty minutes after Ryuuji leaves. Whaddya do to that place anyway?”) and they hit it off.

It was great, until Arthur sat next to him at the bar in Shura’s empty seat — he was pretty sure she went to the bathroom — and sighed.

“I miss you.”

“Do ya?” Was Lewin’s first thought, and he managed to keep it in, for once. Ryuuji would be proud. Shura too. Probably. He hummed instead, and pulled the fruity thing Shura ordered for him closer.

“Are you free later?” Arthur rose instead of waiting for the answer. “Call me? I’d… we should talk.”

Lewin nodded and slurped. Shura came back, and they get drunk in the way they had that one night. Now he knew about the monster that raised her, and when she fell asleep snoring with her head on his chest, he stared at his phone and thought about calling.

Lewin fiddled with the phone and thought of brightness and broken people, and wondered if there could be healing from that sort of thing. If they could find it together.

The thoughts don’t go away. They get louder. They’re there late at night, and they’re there in the middle of the day.

It comes to a head in his office, which was a mess, right after Ryuuji left to pick up his dry-cleaning.

“He picked me, jackass!” Shura yelled, brandishing her sword. The sword Lewin had tied a demon to.

“Lewin!” Arthur snapped, refusing to talk to her, “Tell her!”

Tell her what? She wasn’t the one he had trouble talking with. She was easy. Easy like Ryuuji or his parents or Redarm. Easy like he’d thought Arthur was before the fight. She was the feeling of laughter against his skin and the soft strength of an arm around his waist to help him along. She wasn’t the brightness of Arthur, but that just made her easier to look at when it hurt.

She had called him a million things, but never monster.

Part of Lewin knew he’d always be drawn in by the brightness and the brokenness of Arthur, but…

But he was on the outside, and Shura had opened the glass for him to get inside, and while a lot of hands had reached out for him to help, she’s the one that had just made it feel like the barrier wasn’t there.

So Lewin grabbed Shura’s hand (careful to stay out of the way of the sword) and grinned at the chaos he had caused. He didn’t have to tell her a thing. She already knew, and that’s why he’d picked her.

— — — — —

I listened to some jazzy lofi (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sG75OnvGopI ) while writing this, and I feel like that’s 80% of why I went this direction with it. I hope you liked it, Rynoa, and thanks for the prompt :D

#aoex #blue exorcist #lewin light #lewin lightning light #shura kirigakure #my tumblr fics #arthur angel #lewin/shura #past lewin/arthur #ao no exorcist #manga spoilers #this was a fun challenge

[reversemoon255]

(This is the second of a three-part series chronicling the story, concepts, and original Pokémon that appeared in a Dungeons and Dragons campaign I worked on for several months. This entry will be more focused on a lot of my original designs and how their encounters would play out, rather than concrete story. Also, much of the art was done by @extyrannomon on Twitter, and I suggest you check them out.)

Dungeons ‘n’ Dragonites - Phase 2: Ultra City

The Queen Durant would prove to be a difficult foe, able to use all manner of elemental attacks to strike from a distance to compensate for her low speed. Furthermore, she would have full command of the Duranthill, using her followers to guard herself. As the battle rages, the team slowly begin to evolve, and their newfound strength and Types, along with the aid of the Princess, would have them see victory.

I was unsure as to the ultimate fate of the Queen. Either having it disappear into the tunnels alone, or be sucked into another Ultra Wormhole like the Poipole. And with the Queen vanquished, the Princess would choose to become partner to whoever she felt most worthy (a combination of good role playing and damage dealt).

I designed every Pokémon in this campaign under the pretense that it could actually exist. The Queen and Princess fall under the category of “Rare Variants.” There’s only one queen in a colony of thousands of ants, so it makes sense for it to be rarely seen. They’re still Bug/Steel, but special attackers, with the three spheres on each of their abdomens made to mimic the pattern of Tri-Attack, symbolizing their ability to use those Types.

As for the Starter evos, Flymph has evolved into Epipesis, gained the Electric-Type, and become a full Dragonfly. Calfyre into Steared, staying mono-Fire, but growing considerably (4 feet at the shoulder, the largest mid-stage Starter). Squisque into Knaval who’s now Rock, because he’s a rock lobster! And Utaw into Uteteo who may still be pure Fairy, but has gained some gold adornments.

=====

My working title for this campaign was “Ultra City.” Hinted at by the appearance of the Poipole early in the game, my intentions would come into full swing during this portion, with boss encounters against many of the known and some unknown Ultra Beasts. I had a few encounters planned, from a pickpocket Pheramosa that they’d fight in a mall store room full of mannequins, to a Blacephalon that had kidnapped several children, hypnotized them, and had them watching his performances, to a beach episode where there’s just a Buzzwole hanging out and not causing trouble.

Things would take a twist when a Guzzlord would take over the abandoned district, raining destruction down from its highest building. The crew would have to climb a multi-floor dungeon in order to battle it, many scared and aggravated Pokémon blocking their paths. After reaching the top however, after initiative had been rolled, a mysterious Pokémon would descend from the sky, felling Guzzlord in a single strike...

Majra, the Dragoon Pokémon (a slurred portmanteau of Magic and Dragon). A Dragon hunter with a unique ability, “Hunter of Evil,” that removes all its resistances but makes it immune to Dragon, Dark, and Ghost. This Pokémon came about as I was trying to create a dramatic encounter that would interrupt an expected one. As I was thumbing through DnD and fantasy ideas, the idea of a Dragoon who furiously hunts Dragon-Types came to mind. Ice/Fairy seemed the perfect combination, and the sentient suit of ice armor fell into place soon after. As Pokémon don’t typically hold weapons, I made him part scorpion, having him hold his tail as a workaround, and also informed how his extremities would look. The Haxorus skull buckler also helped drive the Dragon hunter aspect home.

Ultra Beasts were the second category of original Pokémon in my campaign, and encompass all purely original Pokémon (including the Starters). However, I didn’t want to just haphazardly make a ton (as commissions cost money), so I gave myself the condition that if I made an Ultra Beast it had to play with weaknesses and resistances in a way to trip up experienced players, hence Majra’s ability.

Majra would not attack our players in their first encounter, unless someone was using a Type he hunts. He would be a reoccurring boss character, helping or hindering the players depending on their enemies or allies.

The next unique encounter would have been a tutorial battle against another Rare Variant, a Shiinotic possessed Parasect. Every boss encounter is technically 4-on-1, so I wanted to give a Pokémon a reason to have multiple turns, and fused or symbiotic Pokémon felt like a naturally occurring way to have that happen. I created this Shiinotic as a way to teach the players how these Pokémon work.

As Shiinotic is a bio-luminescent mushroom, I wanted to have Parasect faded in color from its light. I also thought it’d be a nice touch to have Shiinotic’s spindly fingers act as puppet strings to move Parasect’s arms around. It would have been encountered after a swarm of scared Paras started flooding out of the sewers near everyone’s school.

Then would be Fortifiend, who would be encountered a few times as an easily circumventable castle wall in the middle of the street before Majra would eventually attack it, forcing our players to take a side in the battle (with Fortifiend possibly joining them if they help it). His ability would make all attacks not very effective while it had over 50% HP, and the opposite when under 50%. Despite the name, I pictured him being very nice, and giggle whenever he heard someone compliment his stone structure.

I imagined that the world he came from had naturally occurring stone structures similar to him, and his folded castle form was a sort of net to help him catch large prey; partly why he doesn’t attack the smaller people and Pokémon of the game’s dimension (he’s around 30ft tall). He could be encountered anywhere, so he wasn’t a full quest; just a fun “what the heck is this” moment to confuse players.

Also, while it wasn’t purposeful, Fortifiend and Majra both also matched the DnD aesthetic. That definitely helped them stand out as some of my favorites, and Fortifiend barely missed the final pass for the last round of commissions.

Then was the twin encounter of Feyerre, a Fire-Type igloo and snowmobile Pokémon, and Eyescse, an Ice-Type pyramid and four-wheeler Pokémon (probably the most Ultra Beast-esque concepts I came up with). They would be messing with the weather across the city, causing disturbances until the players eventually found one of them, in when the other would appear. Their ability would flip their weaknesses and resistances, and they would have an attack that could do the same to a target. And fun fact: there’s meaning to the color and number of their eyes! Feyerre’s are F.I.R.E (Fire=Red, Ice=L.Blue, Rock=Brown, Electric=Yellow), and Eyescse’s are I.C.E (Ice=L.Blue, Sea=D.Blue, Electric=Yellow).

But their defeat would incur the wrath of a mysterious Pokémon they had encountered a few times:

“As you turn around, you see a grey Charizard standing there. It stares at you for a moment, wide-eyed and unblinking. Then it begins to open its mouth, wide, wider, and wider still, stretching beyond what should be possible. Then a hand reaches out of it...

“Suddenly you’re falling. The lights and sounds of countless unknown worlds whir past you incomprehensibly as you plummet through time and space. You try to close your eyes to shut out the flurry of stimuli, but it’s impossible to drown out as your minds begin to feel the strain of the void. Then, after what feels like hours, time seems to stand still as the heavy rain of an unknown world hits your face. For a brief moment you are able to take in the desert that surrounds you before a flash of lightning illuminates the sky, revealing a titanic silhouette looming above you before you are once again thrown into darkness. And as you come to outside the warehouse (where you encountered Feyerre and Eyescse), in the distance, you hear what sounds like laughing.

“Fofofofofo...”

The final original encounter I had planned for Stage 2 was Meadew. It would have been wandering the city, spawning grasses and flowers wherever it went. However, while beautiful, the sudden growth would be causing havoc and destruction to all the buildings and vehicles it could root into.

Unlike the other Ultra Beasts, Meadew’s ability didn’t affect its weaknesses, but instead created Substitutes since I wanted a way for it to form its own adds (the concept behind its inception). However, it wasn’t without a Type gimmick; rather than an ability it has a signature status move called “Radiance” that raises its attack and special, as well as give it the Fire-Type, making it Grass/Water/Fire (the 3 Starter Types). It would invoke this after its adds were defeated, but could be talked down through diplomacy, unlike some of the other encounters.

=====

I’ve mentioned Rare Variants and Ultra Beasts, but there was a third Type of original Pokémon that could appear: Mutant Evolutions. Essentially, evolutions like Probopass or Leafeon where being in an energy charged area or coming into contact with a huge ore deposit (what I interpreted the Mossy and Icy Rocks as, since they became Leaf and Ice Stones in later Gens) could force an unusual evolution in a Pokémon already shown to be susceptible to unique evolutionary conditions. Due to a future encounter, I already knew there would be large Metal Coat and Ice Stone Ore deposits in the mountains to the north, so I wanted to do some test prototyping using each of those items, whether I used those evolutions or not.

Poliwhirl is already shown to be capable of multiple evolutions, all of which use items, so I thought having it come into contact with a massive amount of Ice Stone Ore (since it should be chemically similar to Water Stones) could force a Mutant Evolution. This is Policuti, from the Latin Cutis meaning skin, and Poli-Cutis would mean “multiple skins,” as it wears the shed skin of preevolution. And being freshly shed is why its skin lacks pigment. It’s just a cute little frog in a raincoat! Also, the swirl on its jaw is actually its tongue.

Since Magneton evolves into Magnezone through being electrically charged, I thought about how it might evolve if charged with Steel energy. I imagined it being magnetically attracted to the Metal Coat Ore, fiercely trying to pull itself away, being stretched and elongated in the process, resulting in the bullet train Pokémon Magneline. The Mutant Evolutions weren’t supposed to be anything important to the story or that they’d run into in the wild. They were more so surprises to excite the players who would be expecting something, well, expected. I had considered doing at least one for each player if they caught a compatible Pokémon, but as no teams were filled out, I was merely left with my prototypes. The only reason I had these two commissioned was because I was very happy with their designs.

=====

As we reach the end of Stage 2, the reoccurring group of rowdy Onix would return once more. Following them deep into their tunnels, our heroes would come across a massive chamber with a giant metal stalagmite and frozen stalactite in the center of it. The Onix would then appear, twisting around them, forcing their evolutions. One into Steelix, and the other into Glacix...

#Pokemon #dungeons and dungeons #DND #dnd homebrew #durant #shiinotic #parasect #poliwhirl #magneton #onix

[ingu]

These TUA prompt drabbles you're doing are amazing. If you're up for more, how about “Is there anything you won’t do to get what you want?” and “Why didn’t you call me sooner?”

[Warning for period-typical racism affecting Allison in this fill.]

The expression on Allison’s face when she walked into the hospital room was almost enough to make Five instantly regret the phone call.

He knew he didn’t make a pretty sight, laid up in bed dressed in a hospital gown, an IV plugged into his arm. The doctors and the police officer had had far too many questions about where his injuries had come from. And the easiest way to get out of answering had been for him to play the scared kid and demand for them to call his family.

Though now that his family was here, Five found he didn’t enjoy the look of shock and worry that crossed his sister’s face in the slightest.

“Five!” Allison gasped, eyes wide as she rushed to his bedside. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” Five said, pushing himself up, wincing as the movement tugged at his injuries. “I need you to get me out of here.”

“What happened to you?” Allison insisted. “Why didn’t you call me sooner? How long have you been here?”

This was the other thing he had been dreading, the questions. Frustration flared.

“Allison, if it helps, I didn’t want to call you at all,” Five said, reaching out his hand. “Now give me your coat, and the scarf.” He had no idea where they’d put his clothes and he had to hide the gown somehow when they left.

If Five could reliably walk on his own he’d already be out of here, but even getting out of bed was a problem at the moment with the painkillers in his system. His powers were refusing to cooperate and he needed someone to get him out before the entire nightmare would drag on any longer.

“Oh for the love of-” Allison sighed, the worry on her face hardening into a glare. “Do you know how hard it was for me to get in here? Looking like this?” She gestured at her face aggressively.

Right, segregation. “Considering your powers I didn’t think it’d be a problem.”

“I’m trying to not rely on it anymore, Five. Anyway, what happened to you?” Allison insisted, making no move to acquiesce to Five’s demands. “Why are you in hospital? Answer the question.”

Five, arm still outstretched, was starting to see the lack of wisdom in antagonizing the one person he was relying on to rescue him.

Five sighed, closing his eyes briefly as he lowered his arm. “Fine, I passed out in the street, okay? Someone brought me to the hospital when they saw the blood and injuries… and then they wouldn’t let me leave.”

“What?” Shock shifted back into concern on Allison’s face, and she looked down at Five’s body, raising an arm as though she wanted to check him over. “You passed out? What injuries? Who hurt you?”

Five’s first instinct was to refuse to answer, but that was probably equally pointless since Allison could easily get it out of the doctor. Was Five ever going to live this down? Most likely not. 

“Just some bruising and scrapes, and the old shrapnel wound was bleeding again,” Five said. The doctors had also made some comment about malnourishment and exhaustion, but Allison didn’t need to know about that. Five was pretty sure he’d be fine.

“Shrapnel?” Confusion, then understanding, crossed Allison’s face in rapid succession. “Five, how long have you been in the 60s?”

Five raised an eyebrow. “Four? Five days?”

Allison’s eyes widened, and then she rubbed at her temples. “Oh my God. Why didn’t you tell us?”

“It’s not like I was hiding it,” Five said. “You guys never asked. Now give me your clothes. We need to get out of here before the nurse comes back.”

Five really didn’t want to find out if social services was already a thing in 1963, because he knew what all of it looked like right now. There were only so many conclusions a person could reach when they found what looked like an injured runaway passed out in the street.

Allison narrowed her eyes at him, before she sighed, clearly recognizing that Five was right, and started stripping off her coat and scarf. Five carefully removed his IV as she did, and then pulled the coat over his gown, before wrapping the scarf around his neck to hide the rest of it.

“Uh,” Allison looked over him. “Where are your shoes?”

Five shrugged, staring down at his toes. He’d sort of forgotten about shoes. He was going to blame it on the drugs.

“Okay, you look ridiculous,” Alison said as she looked over him, her face twisting with almost a smile. “I’m just going to ask them to give me your clothes.”

“Excuse me, who are you? How did you get in here?” 

A soft female voice suddenly piped up from the doorway, both Allison and Five looked over with wide eyes to find a middle-aged nurse staring at them both. There was a polite smile on her face that masked her clear suspicion very poorly.

They must paint quite a picture for her. A ‘strange’ black woman standing over a young white boy in a white hospital. 

Five really hated the sixties.

“I am…” Allison hesitated, an equally polite smile frozen on her face. “His babysitter.”

She smiled sweetly at the nurse, every bit of the award winning actress she was known to be.

Five grit his teeth, and did his best to smile and nod. Allison’s explanation was practical, even if it was annoying, and Allison’s expression told him she knew how much Five hated it.

“Mr and Mrs Hargreeves hired me to take care of him and his siblings while they’re out of town on vacation,” Allison smiled even harder. “He got bullied by his older brothers and ran away. I’m so glad someone found him.” 

Five watched the nurse’s expression, his heart sinking when he saw her expression grow cold. She wasn’t buying it at all.

“Thank you for taking care of him,” Allison continued, exuding gratitude and relief. “I’ll be able to take him home to his family now.”

“Well.” The nurse’s face drooped with disapproval. “You’ve certainly done an excellent job watching this child. If you would give me his parents’ contact details, I will be reporting to them what you’ve done to him.”

Five sighed internally as Allison’s smile froze on her face. This was why he wanted to leave sooner rather than later. Maybe he should have called Luther instead of counting on Allison’s power to get them both out without incident. Of all the times for her sister to go through some sort of moral crisis about her power, she had to pick the 1960s.

Though Five supposed Allison hadn’t picked it, Five was the one who had stranded her here. Fuck. He had no idea how to even begin making up for the shit she must have gone through because of him.

“And don’t think I’m going to let this boy go with you after what you’ve clearly done to him.” The nurse continued, rambling in her self-righteous rage. “You’re the one who beat this poor boy, aren’t you? He is half starved, look at how skinny he is! I bet you haven’t fed him properly in days. I’ve always known that your people couldn’t be trusted with looking after our children, you-”

The moment the slurs started coming out, Five decided it was enough.

“Would you shut the fuck up?” Five said suddenly, cutting off the woman’s tirade before it could get any more abusive.

Allison’s was shaking with rage next to him, her hands clenched into fists. She looked about ready to punch the woman herself. 

Five was tempted to do it for her, at this point. Calling Allison had definitely been a mistake. What a way to fuck up on top of passing out in the damn street.

The nurse started at Five’s interjection, and glared at him in outrage. “Excuse me, young man. I am tr-”

That was it. Five hopped off of the bed and then immediately crumpled as his legs refused to take his weight.

“Five!” Allison and the nurse rushed forward at the same time. Allison, who was closest, caught Five before he could end up completely sprawled across the floor. 

The nurse closed the distance between them rapidly, then started trying to pull Allison away as even more hate spewed from her mouth.

Pulling on all of his strength, Five threw himself forward and punched her to shut her up.

“Five!” Allison shouted, her arms wrapping around Five as the nurse reeled back with a cry of pain.

Dammit. Five was still too weak from whatever the hell it was they gave him to knock the woman out. Five refused to believe it was just a matter of exhaustion.

Five kicked the woman in the shins.

The nurse stumbled back, shouting.

“Five what are you-” Allison fumbled awkwardly, trying to pull him back from the racist nurse.

“Just let me go-” Five lunged forward, fighting Allison as her arms tightened around his frame.

“I-I heard-” Allison stammered. “I heard a rumor that you forgot everything that just happened and think everything’s fine!”

The nurse’s eyes flashed white, and then confusion fell across her face as she stared at both of them in surprise.

Five relaxed in Allison’s arms, and cautiously watched the woman.

Beside him, Allison smiled nervously, and spoke again before the nurse in front of them could come to the wrong conclusion. “I heard a rumor that you completely trust me with this boy and have no problems with me taking him home. And that you will bring me his clothes.”

The woman’s eyes flashed white again as Allison’s power took hold. Then, a friendly smile unfolded over her face.

“Well, it’s so good that you’re here to pick him up. Let me go get his clothes so you can take him home,” the woman said gently, before she turned and walked out of the room, still smiling.

“Finally,” Five sagged in Allison’s arms the moment they were alone again. “You should have just done that from the start.” 

“Five-” Allison sighed, though strangely enough, her arms tightened even more around him. “Is there anything you won’t do to get what you want?” 

“Of course,” Five answered without missing a beat. “It just happens that beating up some racist asshole isn’t on the list.”

A tremor went through Allison behind him, and then, weirdly enough, she started shaking with laughter. 

Five, feeling guilty for being the reason she’d just gone through the abuse, stood there and let her get it out of her system.

“God, I hate the past so much,” Allison mumbled after a moment, her arms loosening around Five. “Think you can stand?”

“I’ll be okay,” Five said quietly, carefully balancing himself. “Just give me your arm on the way out.”

“Alright,” Allison said, watching him with an uncomfortably soft smile on her face.

“And… sorry about that,” Five said. He’d underestimated just how messed up the period was when he decided to call her. “I won’t let it happen again.”

He was going to get her out of this time and back to 2019. That and also make sure he didn’t pass out again.

“Well,” Allison said, eyes gentle as she considered him. “You can make it up to me by buying me lunch.”

“Fine,” Five said, hoping his money would still be in his pockets when his clothes showed up again. “You can even choose where.”

Though, all things considered, pickpocketing some random so he could feed Allison was something Five was definitely willing to do.

“Getting you into a black diner is going to take a bit of explaining, though,” Allison murmured beside him suddenly.

Five sighed. He couldn’t wait to get back to 2019.

#i thought allison should get a turn #and now here we are #i hope you like it anon! #f: the umbrella academy #mine: fic #m: fic #Anonymous

[malcolmwhitly-bright]

Hi! Can you do 8. “Can you come get me?” and/or 9. “This is not an ideal way to find out I’m your emergency contact.” for Jessica and Gil? Will gladly appreciate anything. Thanksss

(I hope this is what you wanted! If not just send me another asks, I’d gladly do another!!) She doesn't want her kids to worry. Malcolm shields her in annoyance, grown men don't want their mothers to baby them. Ainsley wants her guidance without her advice, which always leads to them stepping all over each other's feet and Malcolm stepping in. As the self-proclaimed black sheep of their family, Malcolm has a lot of depreciation towards himself and his relationship with them. He has this belief that they'd both be better without him but she's not sure she could have done it without him.

"Mom?" She's pacing the length of her bedroom when her phone goes off. Malcolm's baby picture lights up the screen. Ainsley had changed her contacts to have pictures. Most were good, flattering but she had chosen Malcolm's to be a baby picture. Jessica thought it was cute but Malcolm wasn't too thrilled to have his contact be a picture of his baby butt surrounded by bubbles in the bath. 

"Mom?" His voice cracks, a sleepy, strained whine. "Can you come get me?" 

She's had a rather sleepless night and suspects the same for him. "Come get you?" She's already moving to her closet, prepared to slip into more appropriate clothes. "Malcolm, where are you?"

She can hear him grunt in pain, the faint sound of voices around him. "Hos'ital, " he mumbles, that too-familiar slur to his words. "Hit my head." 

She stops and glances at the alarm clock on her nightstand. It's two in the morning, how did he manage to hit his head? "Okay, my darling." She looks around, putting together her outfit. "I'm on my way." She sighs, kicking out of her slippers and dropping her robe over her bed. "Can I ask you a question, my love, before I come and get you?"

Malcolm makes a noise that sounds like 'uh-huh' but could easily also just be a pillow muffled, snore. 

"How did you hit your head?" 

He chuckles, she can tell he's a little out of his wits. Her son is a funny man, a joker. He used to scare Ainsley and her friends at sleepovers. He'd throw his sister around and parade around the house as ridiculously as possible when company was over. He likes to have his fun but the chuckle he just let out, a rather mad sounding half-there sound, isn't natural. 

He snickers a little more before providing her with an answer. "That is the funny part, " he giggles, "I don't remember."

Jessica stops, eyes raised to the ceiling and take a self-soothing deep breath. "Okay, " now to just put herself together and collect her son, once again, from the hospital. "I assume you're at Bellevue?"

Malcolm hums, " yep! They like me here." 

Jessica refrains from rolling her eyes, " okay, my love. I'll be there momentarily. Due refrain hitting your head again until I arrive, please." She gets a sleepy "mhmm" in response and ends the call. It's going to be a long night.

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

"Malcolm- don't- " 

Jessica is directed by a nurse to the sustained area her son waits for her in. She hadn't expected to pull the curtain back to find Gil Arroyo fighting her son back into his shirt. The lieutenant spares her a quick smile before smacking at her son and pointing out her entrance. "Malcolm, your mother is here."

Malcolm turns too quickly, his knees nearly giving out from beneath him. Gil catches him just under his arms, frowning when Malcolm just giggles at the incident. After Gil helps right him back on his feet, Malcolm sticks his fore and middle finger into his mouth, chewing at his nails like he used to do as a teen. 

Gil smacks Malcolm's hand away from his mouth. "Stop!" Malcolm laughs again and Gil shakes his head. He directs most of his attention to Jessica, " what're you doing here?"

Jessica watches as Gil redirects her stumbling son back to the hospital bed's side. Settling him there to sit. "I'm his mother, " is her initial response before melting at the sight of Malcolm lazily going limp and smashing his face into Gil's sweater. "He called me and said he needed a ride."

Gil rolls his eyes but fondly runs his hand over Malcolm's head. He moves between rubbing his back and raking his hand through Malcolm's hair. "Mm, " Gil shakes his head, she gets the look is for her son and not her. "I got a call from the hospital." Gil looks down at the grown man currently wrapped around him, " gotta say, this is not an ideal way to find out I'm your emergency contact."

Malcolm hums, unphased.

“Let’s get our boy home,” Gil offers, motioning to the wheelchair just to Jessica’s left. She unlocks the brakes and pushes it to Gil. “Malcolm-” Gil incoherently fights with Malcolm. The two fo them fighting with Malcolm’s lanky limbs into the wheelchair. “Okay,” Gil sighs, shaking his head.

“We ‘oing home?” Malcolm asks, leaning back against the wheelchair’s back eyes half-lidded and unfocused. 

Gil rubs his shoulder, “yeah buddy.”

Malcolm hums, “is mom here?”

Jessica rubs her thumb against his bicep, “right here, sweetheart.”

Malcolm hums, sinking even further, limp. “ ‘s good.” 

Gil grins down at the top of Malcolm’s head, “yeah, kid. It’s all good, we got you.”

[inkribbon796]

Black and White

Summary: Silver and his superhero friends think it’s time to finally take on the monster that’s had an iron grip on their town.

~::~ Twenty-Five Years Ago ~::~

Silver ran up the final flight of stairs to get to the room. It was dark, the sky illuminated by the street lights.

The monochrome-themed superhero was excited, months and planning and finally they were ready to take on Dark himself. Mark and his friends had gotten into a lot of fights with Dark’s cronies and middle-management enforcers, but they’d never come up against Dark or Wil directly.

Mostly not coming into contact with Wil was partially Daniel’s planning, and another part sheer dumb luck.

“You freak of nature,” Daniel gasped as he followed him up a bit more slowly. “How do you still run like a maniac, you can fly?”

Silver paused, so full of energy he was jogging in place. “Sorry, you need to rest, man?”

“Just a minute to catch my breath,” Daniel breathed a little bit heavier than usual. “The others in position?”

“Yeah, they’re just waiting for our signal,” Mark jumped up a bit, levitating off the ground about an inch or two. “This is going to be awesome.

“Oh yeah, awesome,” Daniel rolled his eyes, finally catching his second wind. “Okay, let’s go.”

Silver smiled as they both checked their costumes and then Silver safely grabbed onto Iblis’s arms so he could safely fly him down to the ground and they could quietly and in the dead of night heading over to the series of warehouses that made up Dark’s base of operations.

Everyone in Egoton knew to avoid the warehouses, everyone who was trying desperately to be a somewhat honest citizen in the despotic, wretched town they lived in anyways. The warehouses were stationed almost too close together, and bordered an old abandoned church that had long since fallen into ruin.

The warehouse Silver and his friends were going to try to break into was at the center of almost an oval shape except for a bend in it. Silver and Iblis snuck into the abandoned church. Silver took the time to fix one of the windows that stood as the signal that he and Iblis were in place.

The reflection of something caught Silver’s eye and he smiled at Iblis. “Time to raise some hell.”

Iblis smiled back and leapt out the already broken window to shoot a fireball at the closest warehouse, the same one they’d visit before they’d been accidentally taken to the Manor.

“Batter up,” Iblis smiled, throwing a large rock towards Silver who used a plank of wood lying around to hit the rock against the wall of the warehouse leaving a huge dent in the metal and distingrated the rock into a small cloud of sand and pebbles.

The reaction was almost instantaneous, which normally happened when fire came into the picture. Instantly Dark’s enforcers were alion them, some of them already drained from how late it was.

Something Mark didn’t quite calculate was how fast Dark showed up. The two heroes felt Dark’s aura a split second before the creature thinly disguised as a human actually showed up.

Silver was grabbed by the back of his neck and the fledgling hero felt energy completely course through him and sent him flying towards the warehouse that had already been attacked.

If Mark hadn’t already been granted super strength and super healing, he was certain that at that very moment he would have died instantly.

Silver slammed into the steel wall of the warehouse, his nose bleeding, neck aching, and head ringing. But Silver forced himself to stand and flipped Dark off as he wiped his bleeding nose.

The Entity actually looked impressed, glancing over at Iblis and then back to Mark, frowning. “Huh.”

“Yeah, we’re not dead, fucker!” Silver proclaimed loudly.

The mob boss’s frown became a scowl, “That is quite a shame.”

Silver lightly shook himself, gently around the neck to give it more time to heal and then fly at Dark as fast as he could at the same time that Iblis was launching more fireballs at him.

The aerial hero was smiling a little at the clear frustration on Dark’s face as he threw up his aura to block the fire being thrown at him. Leaving him open for—

Suddenly Silver slammed into a nearly invisible barrier of aura, Dark turning to smile at him. “Fly too close to the sun, and it will burn you, little Icarus.”

The hero pulled back a little Dark’s smile widened, the villain leaning in head brazenly closer as Silver tried to punch through the aura but was stopped and his wrist was aching.

“However you two survived,” Dark mused, “it’s of little consequence to me.”

“You—” Dark’s aura grabbed Silver by the foot and prepared to launch him. “—are nothing but mud at the bottom of my shoe, and I will dispose of you just as easily.”

Silver was thrown up into the air, he could feel aura still wrapped around him, trying to slam him back into a pile of twisted and jagged metal.

Before he could hit the shredded pile, a barrier started slowing his fall so it felt less like sharp spikes almost-death, and more like falling on pins and needles. Still hurt but it hurt less.

Bob stepped out from behind the warehouse, looking like he’d already gotten into a couple fights, Wade following him at more of a run. Both of them were in costumes that the group had patched together from a box of old costumes that Mark’s mom had in her attic and some old hoodies.

“Great,” Dark snarled, Iblis rushing to stand with them and away from Dark. “More technicolored vermin.”

“Your reign of terror over this city is over,” Silver told him.

“We want our city back!” Wade shouted.

Dark got a dark chuckle out of that, “Your city? You all are gravely mistaken. This city is a writhing, dark abyss that kills everything it touches. I did not summon evil into Egoton, I was summoned because of it. If anyone should be blamed, it’s your people.”

“Hey, fire and damnation!” Iblis called out before he threw a small fireball at Dark. Dark just watched it hit his aura barrier and then the smoke bomb in the middle erupted into a massive cloud of smoke.

The fledgling heroes for the first time in their lives heard Dark led out a loud and audible, “Fucking dammit!”

This would also be the last time they’d head Dark audibly curse in years but Mark took it as a victory.

Dark just flew towards them, his eyes red and blue, the ringing of his aura shrill and Mark could swear his ears were bleeding with how bad it was. Bob was the one to throw up a barrier but Dark slammed himself and his aura into it hard enough to knock Bob back into Mark a bit.

Shadowy tendrils of Dark’s aura trying to get into their barrier.

“Let me out of there so I can punch him,” Silver said, stomping on the bits of Dark’s aura that was trying to come up through the ground. He could tell that continuing to fight. Silver could feel almost like the warmth being drained from his entire body.

“I’m trying but he’ll get in,” Bob shouted. “Give me a second.”

Silver looked back at Wade and Daniel, “On my signal.”

Dark grinned.

“Oh ho!” Wilford called out and Silver internally cursed, Dark’s concentration faltering significantly. “And here I thought you were going to be working all night.”

“Not now!” Dark growled, Silver noticed that using so much aura had done something to Dark. It sparked something in Silver. That Dark was beatable, that they could do this.

“You busy?” Wil asked, canting his body a little to his left.

“If you could do something I’d be really appreciative right now,” Dark growled.

“Like what?” Wil asked.

Dark glared at Wil, as if he was trying to set the other villain on fire. Wil held up his hands, smiling nervously, “Right, right.”

He snapped his fingers and suddenly it was day time and all four of them were lying in a dumpster. Silver felt like he’d gotten into a fight that left every joint sore and he had cuts all over him . . . cuts probably from falling on a bed of metal shrapnel.

Silver took a moment to just stew in his own fury. They had Dark, they had stalled him.

“Dammit!” Silver spat, his fist slaying on something that squelched uncomfortably. “We almost had him.”

“What time is it?” Bob asked.

“I’m going back,” Mark tried to pick himself out of the dumpster, and completely lost the ability to adhere to the floor, he was just floating there.

“Mark,” Daniel called out. “We can’t, it’s daytime. Dark’s probably had time to recover.”

“We were so close,” Mark argued. “He was weakened. That cotton candy asshole had to come in to save his ass.”

“Mark!” Bob called out. “Stop!”

That finally got Mark to stop scrambling towards the ground and look back. All of them looked tired and beat.

“We need to sleep,” Bob said. “We’ve all missed work.”

“Sides,” Wade slurred, clearly half-asleep. “You literally smell like shit.”

The jab got a tired, sad sigh out of Mark. A sigh that turned into a little chuckle that spread to the rest of the group.

“Yeah, but we almost had him, he was on the ropes,” Mark repeated. “If Wil had just stayed to wherever the hell he was, we would have been able to stop him.”

“Next time,” Bob promised.

“Next time,” Mark mumbled. Iblis dragged. Himself out of the dumpster and grabbed Silver by the ankles. Wade helped to hose some of the trash and filth off them with his water powers.

The four heroes made their trek home, vowing to themselves to try again to bring the demon of Egoton down.

#Superhero AU #Masks and Maladies #Egoton Origins #Markiplier #Daniel Kyre #Muyskens #Lordminion777 #Silver Shepherd #Iblis #Darkiplier #Wilford Warfstache #birthday post #vigilante justice #vigilantism

[you-andthebottlemen]

53 - Request: OVERLAP song fic

So to celebrate the fact I am seeing Catfish tomorrow ahhhhhhhh!!!!! An Overlap fic!!!!!!!

Based on these requests:

From @chestinfect-me

YES! AN OVERLAP FIC PLEASE😭😭😭❤❤❤❤

From @cinnamonmouse8

Idk if you've already done this but maybe a cute little fic where the reader is at home just chilling, maybe like washing up or something and she's blasting Catfish's new album and singing along very offkey and muddling up words but then Van walks in and he thinks it's the cutest, maybe? Such a fan of ur fics either way ❤️

Thank you so much @chestinfect-me for your support! I recognise your URL from waaaay back. Thanks so much for sticking around. I love you and also your icon. Also a big thank you to @cinnamonmouse8 who has been a massive supporter of my writing recently and really inspired me to get back into it! I hope you both like this fic and how I have incorporated/interpreted the requests! Also hope it’s not too confusing lol. It’s a looong one and I’m not really sure how I feel about it.....Aaaanyway. Enjoy!!!!

E x 

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

Your relationship with Van was brief in the scheme of things but that didn’t make it any less serious. You fell fast and hard and your heart broke in two when you had to go your separate ways. You were in love, but things just weren’t working with his lifestyle and yours combined. Same old story really. It was devastating for you both, but you knew that at the time it was the right thing to part ways. You just weren’t meant to be. Time passed and things managed to heal. You dated other people and so did he, your time together started to become history. Neither of you harboured resentment, it was mutual. You stayed in touch here and there but nothing serious. You moved on.

Though as if you were two magnets with the widest of electromagnetic fields, you and Van always managed to find your way back to each other in the end. Every time you thought it was going to be a goodbye, it never was. Your paths crossed and your lives overlapped in more ways than one.

First time since the breakup –

A chance happening, a string pulled by the universe. The odds that you and Van were walking down the same street, at the same time in opposite directions were next to none. But it happened anyway. The look of recognition dawning on both your faces after a few seconds as your eyes met when you passed each other by. Awkward hugs and smiles of disbelief.

“How’ve you been?”

“Yeah good, you?”

“Yeah, fine thanks. How’s the band going?”

And a promise to call that was never fulfilled.

Your cousin’s engagement party –

Van McCann and Larry Lau; the guests no one thought would show. Old school friends of your cousin, they were invited out of chance. But they were there. They bounced through the door, life of the party anywhere they went. People enveloped them into hugs and burst into smiles like nothing you’d ever seen. They were hardly ever home these days; had to sell their cottage in Chester and everything you’d been told. Van made his way to you of course, having no trouble at all pulling you away from the rigmarole of such events. The rest of the party disappeared and so did the time that had escaped between you. You and he caught up like old friends and it was good, warm and right. You lingered at the back of the party in the shadows under the glowing fairy lights, talking and sharing stories of how life had been. You had time to take each other in and evaluate how time had changed you both; it hadn’t much. You thought about bringing up the past, talking about where it went wrong. But you and Van laughed as if nothing bad had ever happened between you and you didn’t want to ruin that. The party went on, you caught up with Larry too. You ate, danced, drank and all the while Van made sure to keep your champagne glass topped up, then got you back home safely in a taxi when the night came to a close.

The wedding –

You somehow ended up bridesmaid, your dress was far too pink for your liking and with too many frills. When you walked up the aisle, bouquet in hand, you couldn’t help but picture your own wedding; if you’d ever have one. As you did so, your eyes fell on Van who was sat in the middle with his mother. You could see even from there that his suit wasn’t pressed, and his tie was a little skew-whiff. Your stomach rippled with a feeling you weren’t sure of and he smiled as you passed him. You looked away. At the reception, once again, Van found you and things began to pick up where they’d left off. It all came easily. Van complemented your dress, you spoke with Mary and you introduced Van to your new boyfriend. Both of you acted like none of this was weird at all. It was just life. Your life.

…………..

One meeting in particular changed things. You had found yourself back home in the small town you wanted nothing more to do with. Reasons for being there aside, the universe wanted you there and wanted Van there too.

You’d escaped your dreary house for some air and were sat inside a shelter similar to that at a bus stop. It stood right on the edge of the beach where the pebbles started and led down to the water. From here you had a view out across the whole straight, flat shoreline. It was windy as hell; your hair blew around your face and you were too zoned out to hold it down or fix it. The sky was grey and so was the water, mirroring how you felt. Down and out. Life was taking its toll.

Staring out into the choppy, angry ocean, you hardly noticed as a figure sat beside you. People walked their dogs along the promenade here all the time, so company wasn’t unusual. But when the person reached a long arm out around your shoulders, you turned and saw that it was Van McCann, of all people. You leant into his touch without a thought and he pulled you close.

You didn’t have the mental capacity to wonder or ask why he was there or how he’d found you.

“You alright, love?” he asked, you didn’t reply.

You didn’t want to tell him about your sick aunt or your job that was desperately close to falling apart or the end to yet another relationship and he didn’t make you. He just took your cold, shaking hands in his own to warm them up and told you ridiculous stories from tour until you cracked a smile. Once he’d cheered you up a little, you both walked along the promenade past all the beach front hotels that were shut up for the winter. You shared memories from growing up and agreed that it was strange to be back there together.

Van walked you home and hugged you tight at the door.

“Are we like, friends now?” you asked softly as you pulled away.

All your run in’s with Van over the last year had left you at somewhat of a no man’s land. You weren’t sure if you were friends yet, but you weren’t just acquaintances either. You didn’t know what to make of it.

You reached out to smooth the thin gold necklace against his chest that had become wonky after your embrace.

“Yeah, y/n. We’re friends,” he replied. Then kissed you on the forehead and guided you inside with an arm around your waist.

…………

Eventually Van was settled, he seemed to have found a place. Maybe an Airbnb you weren’t sure. But he was near enough to you that you could meet up for drinks and whatever else. You grew closer, seeing each other a couple of times when he was off tour and things worked out with both your schedules.

The local pub was buzzing with energy. You could hear all the noise from your small flat above. When you came down, people were sat in crowded groups for a quiz, other’s more low-key up at the bar, some were huddled playing pool. You sat in a corner on a small, sticky sofa waiting for Van. You alternated between scrolling through pointless apps on your phone, sipping your drink and glancing at the door for the tall, skinny legged boy you were waiting for.

Finally, he moseyed through the door and plonked himself down beside you.

“Sorry I’m late,” Van said as he leant to kiss your cheek hello. “Phone’s fucked again too.”

“It’s fine, here. You’re gonna have to catch me up I’ve gotten through two of these,” you said as you pushed him a beer bottle across the coffee table. Beer table? He grinned, up for the challenge.

A night of thoughtless drinking ensued. Quickly, you and Van were slurring your words and getting a little closer than friends should. You sat tucked beside Van on the grimy sofa with your bare legs stretched out across his lap and his hands draped over them, rubbing soft circles on your skin with his thumb.

“Do you ever think about like, us?” he asked nonchalantly. He tipped his head back a little and the sharp line of his jaw became more pronounced.

“You mean when we dated?”

Van nodded. You rested your head down on his shoulder with a sigh. Your brain was too fuzzy to be talking about this.

“Why?”

“Did we fuck up by ending it?” he questioned.

His voice sounded strange and cloudy. You could feel his body tense beneath you and you knew he meant this more as a statement, despite putting it out there as a question.

“Don’t know. But hey, we’re here now,” you tried to sooth and steer the topic away from something so serious. You were friend’s now; you didn’t want to ruin that.  You didn’t want to lose him again.

“Yeah,” he agreed, moving in his seat and bundling you tighter in his lap.

“And we are drunk as all fuck,” you laughed.

“It’s pretty sound hey?” he smiled, giving in to your attempt at lightening the mood. You nodded happily, scrunching up your face at him a little.

Van suddenly stood, lifting you up like a bride and you squealed and threw your arms around his neck.

“I’m not gonna drop ya’ love,” he chuckled, sensing your fear

“Are you sure?” you whispered into his neck.

“I’ve got you y/n, always.”

………..

Going out and getting drunk with Van became somewhat of a routine when he was home. Same place, same time, same amount of fucked. He’d go from his place, to work, to yours almost on a loop. ‘Yours’ being the pub. Another thing that became a habit, was Van bringing up your past. You were both intoxicated every time and you’d almost always end up just laughing about it. Though you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something serious behind his words. You never talked about it sober; that topic was strictly reserved for drunk Van and drunk y/n.

A few months since the last time, you found yourself once again in the local with Van. The only thing different this time, was that Larry and Bondy had joined you.

“So, what’s happening up in The Toon?” you asked Bondy, mocking his Geordie accent.

“Nothing much,” he shrugged, sipping his lager and ignoring your bait. “Went to a good gig at The Cluny the other week though.” he added, referring to a small gig venue he was always at when back home in Newcastle.

“Anything new with you?” Bondy asked. You crinkled your eyebrows to think, then shook your head no in response.

“You sure?” he questioned, nodding his head towards Van’s arm that hung over your shoulders.

“We’re just friends,” you answered quickly.

“Riiiight,” Larry chimed in sarcastically as he came over with a tray of drinks.

You and Van shifted together uncomfortably. He removed his arm and this small act made your stomach twist. Bondy and Larry exchanged a look.

Later on in the night, Van escaped outside for a smoke while the other two played pool. Having no interest in the game, you took Larry’s jacket and followed him out into the cold night. He was stood outside the pub just by the door, his back leant against the bricks.

“You’ll dirty your coat,” you told him, as you leant beside him.

“You’ll dirty Larry’s,” he countered.

“Touché.”

Van smoked in silence, the noise from inside the pub was muffled and the only other sound was the occasional car driving past. You weren’t really sure what was going on. Neither of you were as drunk as usual and things didn’t feel as fun, alcohol aside.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, crossing your arms and turning to face him.

Van dropped his cigarette and squished it under his boot with a sigh. He swatted a moth out of his face, and you let out an exhale in place of a laugh.

“Yeah. I mean…I dunno’ I just have stuff on my mind.”

Van ran a hand through his hair then shoved it into his pocket. Seeing him like this made you uneasy. You didn’t like being serious with Van. Deciding against questioning him further, you stayed quiet and gave him space to think and continue when he was ready.

“I know we talk about it and joke about it when we’re fucked. But I just can’t get it out my head,” he began, pulling away from the wall and sounding frustrated with himself.

Your heart lurched. No, Van, stop. Please.

“Have you really not thought about it? Trying again?” he questioned, his eyes snapping to yours pleadingly.

You had thought about it, but not seriously. You’d tried once and it didn’t work; you’d accepted that. You were friend’s now and that was going just fine. The idea of being in a relationship with Van again, unearthing all the things you once felt, seemed like the scariest thing in the world.

Van’s eyes stared intensely into your own, waiting for a response of some sort. You didn’t know what to say. He looked anxious. When you didn’t reply his eyes began to dart around your face desperately trying to read your blank expression.

“Do you want to be with me y/n?”

The words fell from his mouth quietly and you reeled.

“I- I can’t decide all this now. Not in one night,” you replied, leaning further back into the wall and shutting your eyes to calm yourself. Your mind was racing a million miles an hour.

Van sighed and moved closer to place a warm hand on your cheek.

“Take all the time you need y/n, you know I’ll follow your lead.”

Van led you back inside without another world, telling himself that you’d be together eventually if your path’s kept crossing like they had been. He had no doubt about it.

………

You hadn’t spoken to Van much after the conversation outside the pub. He’d left for tour once again and you’d gotten a new job that kept you busy. You were happier in this one too and the pay was better. This meant that in the three months Van had spent away, he returned home to find you in the midst of moving.

He’d called you just before his flight, saying he needed to talk once he was back. He sounded serious, like he had that night he asked you to be with him. You knew he wanted to work it out once and for all. Your body filled with anxiety yet again, but you agreed to meet in the pub downstairs at lunch time two days after he got back.

You were sweaty haired and stressed out by the time it was midday and you had to go see Van. There were boxes littered around the tiny flat, your possessions spread out across the floor and some boxes in the stair well that you’d managed to drag out. You honestly didn’t know how you’d accumulated so much stuff. After taking a final glance at your not so pleasant reflection in the mirror, you thought fuck it. Van wouldn’t care how you looked anyway.

He was sitting on the sofa in the back corner, your usual spot. Dressed in his usual black skinny jeans and black denim jacket. God, you really were both such creatures of habit. His mouth twisted into a smile when he saw you and he stood to hug you hello. He pulled away leaving his hands rested on your shoulders.

“You alright?” he asked, confused at the state of you.

“Yeah, packing. Moving,” you shrugged as he looked you up and down. “Gotta be out tomorrow morning.”

Van nodded and let his arms drop.

“I can help, if you want?” he offered.

“Sure. Thanks,” you smiled. “But first, what did you wanna talk about?” You knew full well what he wanted to talk about, but you acted ignorant in hopes of putting it off for as long as possible.

“Oh, yeah,” he shook his head as if he’d forgotten. “You know what? Doesn’t matter, just wanted to see ya. How about we go get on with those boxes?”

Van followed you up the stairs to your place. It was strange that he’d somehow never been up there before after the countless nights you’d spent together downstairs. Would the pub still be your meeting place once you moved?

He glanced around the room curiously, eyeing the boxes already packed and the possessions that still lay strewn about the place.

“You weren’t kiddin’ when you said small,” he commented.

The ‘flat’ you rented was a single room with a small kitchen, dining table, bed and shelves all in the one space with a tiny bathroom set off to the side in what may as well have been a cupboard. It was simple but it had worked.

“Yeah, well not all of us have rock star pay checks,” you teased, and Van stared back at you unamused.

“Right. Well I’m currently packing all my books, clothes, whatever. If you could like, pull apart the table and chairs that would be incredible.”

Van nodded and slid out of his jacket. He threw it down on top of a box and pushed up his sleeves before turning to the dining table. You could tell he was a little confused about where to start and what to do but you just watched as he pottered about. It was cute. His face quickly turned to a look of concentration as he sorted through the tool box you had beside it. He began to take out the screws in a chair bit by bit. It was only Ikea stuff so not too difficult.

Something about seeing him be so...domestic…caused memories of your relationship to resurface. Things that you’d not thought about in a long time, that were as good as buried in your mind, suddenly floated to the top.

Stunned at your own thoughts, you quickly shook yourself and moved to the corner where you had your phone plugged into the speakers on the floor. You clicked play on your spotify and looked over to Van who smiled once he heard the music start.

You and Van spent the next couple of hours singing and dancing while loading up boxes with possessions and bits of disassembled furniture. Goofing around together was fun and your worries seemed to fade away. And it was good to hear his singing voice again. Something you used to love was how he’d sing around the house or in the shower, or just specially to you. It was something that always made you felt comforted.

The packing was almost done and you both began to drag boxes outside and downstairs ready to be packed into your car. God knows how that was going to work either. You and Van were absolutely exhausted.

“How about I get us some drinks?” Van offered, leaning down with his hands on his knees to get his breath back.

“I love that idea. Bring them upstairs?”

Van nodded and you turned to go back up. You still had to pack the kitchen crockery in bubble wrap. You laughed to yourself as you heard Homesick playing from the speaker as you walked back through your door. Spotify must have gotten to the Catfish section of your songs list. You’d not listened to Catfish in ages; you had no reason to. It was kind of weird to listen to your ex’s band? But you’d forgotten how good they were and how catchy the songs were too. You began to throw yourself around not dissimilarly to how Van would, singing along to his lyrics as well.  

By the time Van came back carrying a tray of cold, icy ciders you were swaying your hips to the beat of Cocoon and singing along loudly as you rolled a mug up in bubble wrap, unaware that he had returned and was staring at you from the doorway.

“Well, that’s the cutest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen,” Van grinned once the song had finished, making you jump with fright.

“Jesus…lucky I didn’t drop that,” you hissed and your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

He looked at the mug and cringed before mouthing ‘sorry’. Van placed the tray down on the kitchen bench then handed you a cider.

“And not to be ‘that guy’ but you were singin’ the words wrong,” he laughed, his voice laced with smugness.

“Well sorrrryyy, bit out of practice. Been a while since I’ve been to a show, see,” you teased with an eye roll.

“You should come to the next one we have around here, I’ll put you on the list.”

Silence fell between you and Van as you gulped down your drinks, refreshed by the coldness of the liquid after your hard work. You met Van’s gaze and he held eye contact for a little too long. He placed his drink down and leant against the counter.

“Look y/n, I was goin’ to say it before but chickened out. I know I said I’ll wait, but it’s killin’ me. I need to know. Will you be with me?”

Van’s sudden admission floored you. Your eyes opened wide and your jaw dropped slightly. You must have looked as though you’d just seen a ghost.

“I don’t know Van,” you whispered. His face fell.

He took the cider glass from your hand putting it with his and stood close to you, placing a hand on your waist. You wriggled out of his grip and crumpled down to the floor with your back against the cupboard beneath the sink. You sat with your knees to your chest, like a child.

You knew, deep down, that your feelings for Van were there. That they’d laid dormant for a long time. If you’d never seen him again after your breakup, you could have gone your whole life without ever thinking of them. But you hadn’t; yours and Van’s lives kept overlapping and you were brought together again and again. Apart from that having to mean something, it awoke the feelings for him that you’d forgotten and then desperately tried to ignore.

“I don’t know,” you repeated.

Van fell to his knees in front of you and placed both hands on your legs.

“What do I do, y/n?” he pleaded, looking broken.

You wanted to be with Van, you did. In that moment you decided you did, theoretically. But this was not a fantasy. This was real life. The life that had driven you apart before. The life that had become so hard to deal with apart from each other for months on end. How could it work when you’d tried before and knew you were doomed to fail? You didn’t want to be heartbroken over Van McCann yet again.

You didn’t altogether understand his feelings for you either. Why and how had he so suddenly gone from being your friend, to wanting you back so desperately he’d beg? All of these thoughts and questions scared you.

“You need to leave Van,” you said suddenly, pushing him away.

Van’s face contorted into an expression of pain and confusion. He tried to pull you close again but when you wouldn’t budge, he stood up and went to take his coat. You felt sick to the stomach and couldn’t look at him, you knew you were being cruel.

“Call me if you change your mind,” he said solemnly before disappearing out your door, letting it slam behind him.

You threw yourself down on your bed that was now a mattress on the floor and let out an ocean of tears. What the fuck were you doing. You were so angry with yourself and you genuinely didn’t know what to do. Torn between hiding from potential heartbreak or just saying ‘fuck it’ and giving in.

In an attempt to distract yourself, you finished off the last bits of packing. You were staying with a friend for a few days until you could move into the new place. At least that was one thing sorted. Next, you returned the glasses and half-drunk ciders to the pub, sticking around to chat with the bartenders for a bit.

But of course, the distractions weren’t working. Back in your room, you sat down on your bed legs crossed and lip nervously bitten between your teeth. Your phone lay on the duvet at your feet and you stared at it for a long time. You weren’t sure how long; could have been minutes, could have been hours. ‘Call me if you change your mind’, Van had said. The problem was that you couldn’t make it up in the first place. With a rough groan, you pushed the phone away and flopped down onto your back, throwing your hands over your face.

After a moment, you picked up your phone and clicked back into spotify. Van’s voice echoed out of the speakers once again, hitting you right in the chest. What if he had been right when he’d said that maybe you’d fucked up by ending things? What if it worked this time? You had a home and a stable job now. He was used to his lifestyle, he’d grown up. Things were different, as much as you tried to tell yourself they weren’t.

Your mind tracked over the last year, to all the moments where you and Van had been pulled back together. You couldn’t explain it, but it felt right and you’d always known it. No matter where you were or who you were with, Van was what lay at the bottom of it all. Whether that was getting you home safely after one too many, shaking hands with your shitty ex-boyfriend when he shouldn’t have had to, or being your rock in a time of need. Not to mention all the drinks and laughs in between.

You loved Van. You didn’t want to be without him.

In a blind panic and rush of urgency, you grabbed your phone once again and shakily stopped the music before finding Van’s contact and pressing ‘call’. Your heart was beating rapidly and your skin began to turn clammy. Your breath caught in your throat more and more with each passing dial tone.

“Y/n?”

You froze. This should have been the simplest of calls, but you had no idea where to begin.

“I…”

“I know,” he said softly. You let out a deep breath and rested your forehead in your hand. Tears began to spill from your eyes.

“I’m so sorry Van,” you cried into the phone. “I want you. And I need you, I wish I hadn’t ruined things.”

“You haven’t y/n. You haven’t at all,” he soothed.

Your heart rate began to slow at his words and Van let you calm down before he said anything else.

“I’m so fucking glad you called,” he admitted once you’d stopped crying. He sounded as relieved as you felt.  

“Me too,” you whispered. You wish you could hold him right now, bury your face in his chest. Kiss him.

There were a few moments of silence between you. Neither of you were ever that good at talking on the phone anyway.

“God, it really does take us to the eleventh hour doesn’t it?” Van laughed in a tone of frustrated disbelief.

“Are you quoting the Bible?!”

“What? Just mean last minute…somethin’ Dad says.”

You chuckled and nodded, forgetting he couldn’t see. Your mind was in a dizzy haze from feeling too many different things at once. After listening to each other’s breath down the phone for a few seconds, Van spoke, his tone back to its usual bounce.

“Well shall I come over then? Get them boxes in the car?”

#van #van mccann #van mccann fanfiction #catfish #catb #Catfish and the Bottlemen #johnny bond #larry lau #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #vanfic #VanFiction

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Tea? Oh Dear!

Some Hiddleston Fluff for you! Hope you like it! :D

Tags –

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea, @ggbbhehe4455, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb,  and @ckc243 who requested this.

…

“We could still make the midnight showing of the new Jurrassic Park.”

Your brows rose as you locked eyes with the brown eyed southern actor claiming his spot on your arm for his first award show ever who turned his head nearly slurring out, “You can’t see that one, I dated x.” (X is nowhere near the main character in the film) His breath already reeking with the alcohol he downed before joining you in the car you’d picked him up in for your first official outing as a couple after your set up a week ago.

“So?”

“I’ve seen them naked, makes it so you can’t see the movie!”

You nod, “Alright then, in that case you can’t see the new Avengers movies or the one about King Arthur, or anything with any of the Lord of the Rings or Hobbit actors. To name a few.”

Their eyebrows raise, “How many actors have you dated?!”

You cross your arms, “None, But I’ve seen almost all of them naked, or at least close to it, and at one point or another had a far more emotionally fulfilling relationship with them. Even if it was entirely dreamed up on my side, but each was important in a way of helping me through some very hard times in my life. So that leaves you with a very small list of three actors whose movies are safe for you to see.”

“That’s not even the same thing!”

You turn to face them uncrossing your arms, “No, it’s not. But you know what, I can understand keeping your secrets, not that I have a huge list of people that I talk to in the first place, and in the least I would have enough respect that if you’re uncomfortable watching something with either you or a certain person in it I would understand and take it somewhere else, out of respect for you.” You point your finger at him, “But don’t you dare for one minute think that just because you’re this huge important actor that you have the right to tell me what I can or can’t do, say or watch. Because i’ve been there before and I will be damned before I let you or anyone else have that amount of control over me again. Now you’re an incredible actor but just because I like your movies doesn’t mean I have to like you as a person, so I think it’s best that we just leave it at nice to meet you.”

The car stops at the event and the driver is doing his best not to laugh as you get out and walk into the event thinking to yourself as you go to take your place in line on the long carpet entrance beside your waiting agent, “I spent hours getting ready I’ll be damned if I’m missing this.”

Around you your floor length sleeveless and backless velvet black gown settled as your agent held his hands at his sides, “Where’s Drew?”

Adjusting the pairing fake fur lined wrap in the bend in your arms while adjusting the clutch in your hand you answered, “We broke up.”

He raised a brow, “It’s been two hours since I left you!”

You nodded, “The six pack he bathed in was pretty off putting.”

Nodding his head he wet his lips before his hazel eyes met yours, “You’ll be alright on your own?”

You nodded offering him a gentle smile as a larger star passed you on your right stealing a glimpse of you in your gown while his date eyed your glittering ring and fake gem coated clutch, “Of course, not my first event alone. I can always meet up with Timmy back stage to wait between my presenting.”

He nodded again and motioned his hand to the side after reaching out after his request for permission adjusting the choker strap around your neck holding up the near sheer portion of your gown not being supported by the hidden wiring underneath the portion covering your chest also holding your cleavage in place. In a steady pace he led you to the first of your stops to do a short interview where as expected your first question was about your assumed date, “I would have guessed a certain Drew would be escorting you.”

With a large grin as you weakly chuckled you replied, “Up until about half an hour ago he was. Found out a bit late we didn’t see eye to eye on certain areas pertaining a relationship.”

With a raised brow the interviewer asked, “You’re not going to give me anything more than that?”

Your smile inched larger after you released your lip after a quick nip at it to say, “Some men believe they have far more say over their significant other’s lives than others. I’ve been a possession before, obviously it didn’t work for me.”

“Ah.” After wetting his lips he shifted the questioning to your latest role on a tv show, mixing in a hinted joke at your recurring and continuously dying character on two of the new Marvel shows, the same woman that just keeps popping up again and again in the background on each even after dying or being terribly disfigured or harmed without so much as a name or back story stirring hope through fans for one someday. 

A few minutes later you had moved on again to the next interview before you paused for your pictures, tilting your head slightly as you got into place releasing your long braided ponytail to rest down the center of your back before walking inside. You had gotten there early as you were told, walking in you headed straight for the waiting area, a row of large rooms packed with arm chairs and couches around small tables perfect for teas or cocktails and a few snacks before moving to the main ballroom where you would have to claim your seat beside your now ditched date.

Easily you found your way through to one of the quieter rooms spotting your friend behind the bar, on the way however your path paused at the elderly group of women all dressed to the nines on the circle of love seats having a quiet discussion. With an easy smile you approached them and gently smiled at them when they glanced up at you curiously, their soft smiles growing as you said, “I was going to get myself some tea, you didn’t happen to want any did you?” With a round of nods you took the short walk to the bar placing the order then waited there to walk back with the waiter pushing the tea set coated tray, your forward glance leaving you oblivious to the pack of curious Marvel stars off in the distance watching the woman possibly pestering their Mothers.

Fully expecting to accept your cup of tea from the tray and stroll away leaving the ladies to their former discussion you had to force another smile and nod claiming the bare seat they offered you. With a sip of your tea your ankles crossed under your gown when you locked eyes with a woman in deep blue as she asked you your name after stating she’d seen you somewhere.

“Jaqi.”

Another in the group tapped a finger to her lips before extending it at you saying, “You were blonde last season, on that Marvel show.”

You nodded with a weak giggle, “Yes I was.” A few soft gasps as it clicked in their minds later and you were drawn fully into a conversation about your ever changing wardrobe and appearance that drifted towards a slew of actors from the golden age of Hollywood drawing out a near enamored smile from you at your shared love of that era. For nearly an hour you gushed and giggled with the rest of them, the most of it with holding your shivers after curling your wrap around the woman at your side who had forgotten to grab hers before her flight out. Her smile grew as she met your gaze with a somehow familiar set of glistening blue eyes to ask in a crisp British accent, “You’re here alone?”

With an embarrassed chuckle you replied, “I had a date, but he proved to be less than gentlemanly for my liking.”

A scheming smile spread on her face as she replied, “Are you free on Friday?” Your brow rose as she continued, “My Son’s free from a bad patch of his own. It would be simple, dinner, movie, as gentlemanly as possible I give you my word.”

After another weak chuckle your eyes scanned over the group as they all chipped in that if their Sons weren’t taken already they’d be doing the same and that he was a great catch. With a slight barely there shrug you replied, “If he’s anything like you I’m certain we’ll get along stupendously.”

Her smile grew as she reached in her purse collecting her phone stirring another curious round of glances from the distant group to gain your phone number as you offered her yours in return, smiling at you brightly as she settled the details of the restaurant to meet in before the following film. Moments later however your agent found you and called you away granting the men to see your full outfit without the wrap earning a few gulps they were thankful their significant others weren’t there to catch while you left your wrap in her care to keep her warm. 

With a smile you met with the other first round of presenters all learning your categories and awards while claiming your envelopes and awards to be passed off while in the row of seats lined up to keep you all in order. Just before your turn to claim the stage your agent stopped before you with a relieved sigh saying, “Drew was dropped back at home a few minutes ago.” Your brow rose, “Apparently he couldn’t even manage to stumble out of the car to his first interview, his agent whisked him away. So no worries there.” After looking you over he asked, “What was it with the group earlier?”

“Oh, just offered them some tea and fell into a discussion on the golden days of Hollywood.” He nodded and you rolled your eyes accepting his help to your feet, “It’s far more interesting then you assume it to be.”

…

On their paths to their own tables the men went to claim their dates with Tom Hiddleston eyeing the fake fur lined wrap coating his Mother’s back causing him to ask, “Who was that woman?”

His Mother Diana replied with a large grin earning one from him instantly in return, “Jaqi, oh lovely young woman.”

At his side Chris Evans asked his Mother, “How did you start talking in the first place?”

Mrs Evans replied, “She asked us if we wanted some tea.”

Chris H asked, “What all did you talk about.”

After a huge smile with an excited gasp of air Mrs Evans replied, “Oh everything from clothes to movies, food, oh and the jerk she was supposed to come with.”

With curiously furrowed brows Idris asked, “She didn’t ask about us at all?”

They shake their heads, and Mrs Evans replied, “Didn’t even trade last names dear.”

On their path to the tables Diana nudged her Son’s elbow with hers and whispered as he leaned in, both with smiles, “I got her number, so you can call her.”

“Mum I…”

Her hand patted the back of his, “Oh psh…she’s an incredible woman, you’ll love her, just the sort of woman I want for you. Besides I already set it all up, dinner and a movie next Friday.”

“Mum..”

“Don’t Mum me.” Fixes his tie with a large smile meeting his gaze with hers drawing another smile from him at her beaming grin, “You’ll love her.”

After a short exhale he nodded, “Alright. Since you set it up I’ll go.” He eyed the wrap around her asking, “Did she let you keep the wrap, or-.”

She glanced down chuckling softly, “Oh I’d forgotten it completely. It really does feel quite incredible, nice and thick and not overly heavy, perfect for events like these. I do hope she doesn’t catch a chill.”

With a smirk Tom replied, “Perhaps she’ll drop by for it later when she remembers.” His eyes dropped to his jacket pocket as she eased out his phone and punched in your number before returning it and giving his pocket a gentle pat making him smile a bit wider again.

With a gentle pull he eased her into her seat before claiming his own scanning over the crowd hoping to possibly catch another glance of you without any luck. The lights lowered as the hosts took the stage and the show began, only bringing another glimpse of you as the third presenter, a soft snicker came from one of the actors on Tom’s right recognizing you from a scene you’d shared before as he got a full glimpse of your shimmering purple eyes on the jumbo screen through your reading from the prompter before finally opening your envelope welcoming up one of the actors from a nearby table to the men. With a smile you passed the award off and turned gripping your hem for your turn and walk backstage, then out to your two empty seats with the actors watching your path to the table nearly against the wall opposite them and your seat right up against it.

All night your paths seemed to just barely miss one another until you managed to bump into Diana in her path to the rest room as you were leaving to collect your warp again and confirm you would meet up with her Son.

…

Soon enough Friday came and you were early, claiming your seat in the candle lit restaurant you clearly realized to be perfect for an incredibly romantic setting for your start to what you hoped to be your best date ever, not much of a competition but you could still hope for it just the same. Shifting your crossed leg a bit higher over the other you accepted your tea you hoped to help calm you down as you mentally once again debated whether your deep blue dress was truly the best choice for tonight. 

But at least you imagined yourself to appear somewhat suitable for this setting. Warmly the scent wafted into your lungs as you raised the cup just in time to spot the silver suited figure of the man portraying your character always seems to be donning a wink towards either in your clothing or a habit. Those same dazzlingly blue eyes turned to the waiter who set out another cup and poured it at his smiling request through your first sip.

Mentally between your panicked shouts you lowered your cup eyeing Tom Hiddleston as he claimed a sip of his own holding his lingering gaze on you with those same several hidden message filled eyes you’d yet to decipher their meaning towards you. Oh dear. Softly the words rang through your mind as he lowered his cup with a smile at your asking, “You’re Diana’s Son?”

After a weak chuckle he replied, “Yes. She speaks very highly of you.”

With a smile of your own you caught another shift in his eyes with a subtle shifting of his shoulders as you replied, “Obviously she did the same about you, rightfully so of course.”

Unable to help it the corner of his mouth twitched up as he wet his lips and shifted again to settle his arms on the table to ask, “I have to ask.” His eyes scanned over your face again before his continuing, “Who exactly were you expecting?”

You shrugged through a weak chuckle as his smile broke out larger in a curious chuckle of his own at your stating, “Not a clue. Someone able to borrow an incredibly expensive suit for a night at least was my best guess.”

“Then why-,” he wet his lips glancing up at the waving woman passing your table on the way to leave before meeting your gaze with a melting smile at your hint of a blush as you claimed another sip of your tea watching his eyes shimmering in the candle light. “Why agree to it. I mean, I’ve been set up before but by friends, family, agents…”

His words trailed at your next smile lowering your cup again, “The way I see it, anyone sharing my love for black and white films with swooning damsels and debonair lead men willing to dance their way down a flight of stairs or hurls chairs with the best of them would most likely have an equally as incredible child, at least by the odds my mind worked out. If not, at least I could stun the Son by keeping a friendship with his Mother.”

With another chuckle Tom watched your dazzling smile drop to the menu as he slid his fingers anxiously around the edge of his trying to calm his nerves, “You most likely would not be wrong in that.” Lowering his gaze to the menu only to keep darting it back up to you each few lines, simply choosing something his Mother had suggested from her last trip here being similar to what you had ordered.

Within moments of passing the menus over with your orders. After a casual mention of a book he’d gotten stuck in earlier, hence his only five minute early arrival tonight you both sank into a swirl of topics. Spilling out the depths of your shared interest as far back as the obvious Shakespeare and Elizabeth Gaskell to newer authors through the arrival and completions of your meal. 

.

Before you’d known it the pair of you were on your feet headed towards the theater for your late showing, both partially dreading having to remain silent and drop your conversation for the next near two hours. But through your place in line your eyes rose to meet his as he smiled at you easing his jacket around your shoulders stirring a weak from you through your thanks before he eased your hair out from underneath it and waited for your hands to work through the sleeves before his fingertips grazed along your open palm soon wrapped in his.

Through the crowded line you led the way as the adorably tall figure snuggled with you in an attempt to hide his identity from those around you. With a grin he missed your reaching into your purse to draw out a large folded flat cap and tapped his shoulder with it gaining a wide curious grin from him answered with a simple explanation, “I always keep a hat in my bags, rain and all that.”

He chuckled again, “Thank you.” His eyes shining at you brightly through adding the hat he tucked as low as he could manage over his eyes only to release your hand to curl his arms around your middle resting his chin on your shoulder as he softly purred next to your ear, “Hope you still don’t mind my hiding place.”

His grin growing as he felt your cheek rising to press against his through your soft awkward giggle before whispering back, “I would never object to being your hiding place.” Your gaze dropped for a moment only to feel your heart skip at his lips pressing against your cheek before his snuggling stance again while he chuckled softly to himself.

.

For the short walk inside after your purchasing the tickets he remained fixed behind you until you entered the dimly lit theater with his hands fixed on yours behind your back following you to your pre-decided seats from your discussion outside, where he propped up dividing arm rest and happily curled around you. Holding his spot facing you against the wall in the two seats in the back set apart from the rest of the row. Your hushed conversation continued between his blatantly obvious lingering glances at your lips barely inches from his in his hiding hunch, missed by you entirely at your nervous gaze locked on the same replaying slides of random facts and guessing games for the wait. One more heated gaze at your lips after your wetting them after another of your soft giggles his head turned forward at the screen lighting up for the previews.

Wetting his own lips he forced his attention to the film as he settled a bit closer to your side, crossing an ankle over his knee as he adjusted one of his socks only to leave it there at its place resting against your crossed legs. As the opening credits rolled he drew his lower lip into his mouth withholding his idiotic cheek aching grin at your head settling against his chest, causing his arm to tighten around you out of reflex while your hands settled in a woven mess on his lower thigh draped across your lap soon covered by his free hand to stroke absent minded circles against your skin.

.

Hand in hand you strolled your way out of the theater strolling through the nearly empty streets to stop into a small diner with a giggle as he avoided a large group of young ladies passing a bit too closely for his liking. In a steady exhale he calmed at their passing by unnoticed and met your gaze with a smile offering a snack you happily agreed to. This time choosing to claim a curved booth in the mainly abandoned diner granting you much more privacy along with a chance to continue your close contact. Soon enough you’d melted into your same giggling mess of an entranced conversation flowing through your snack and out into the streets when the diner was closing for the night. Barely past three you were back out into the chilly air tucked under Tom’s arm for a lengthy stroll as your minds unknowingly took you out towards the not too distant beach.

One by one the ocean breezes blew over you on your stroll across the wooden walkway lowly sounding at your every step through your lamp lit stroll. Somewhere along the way as the sun was rising again your location was found out by the same camera crews from earlier had settled into a safe distance filming away your every moment, including your pause at the end of the long pier where his same lingering gazes on you lips ended. Your hat was folded and slipped into his back pocket as his free hand curled over your cheek moments after your head had turned just enough to meet his gaze again drawing his lips to yours. Firmly they melted against yours while his other arm drew you flat against his chest through your hands settling on his chest and in a slow easing path around the side of his neck through your rise onto your toes to lean more into the abruptly ending kiss.

A loud crash drew your eyes to the camera crews all beginning to shout at the person that had collided with their car they had parked halfway in the street and halfway in the shoulder. A weak giggle left you through Tom’s chuckling through turning his head to face you again only to ease his nose against yours to claim another kiss when you peered up at him again. A rumble from his stomach being your reason for parting this time earning another embarrassed chuckle from him at his locking eyes with you again to say, “Pancakes?”

With a nod you smiled up at him with another giggle, “Pancakes sound excellent.” He nodded and readied to pull back only to pause at your saying, “One thing.” He raised a brow only to chuckle as your arms eased around his neck in your rise onto your toes again to be met halfway through another tight grip on you through the passionate lip lock leaving him breathless at your pulling away. A wry chuckle left him at your hand sliding down his arm to grip his fingers loosely starting your walk back up the pier, past the crowd of still shouting cameramen. Your hat was added once again while his arm settled around your back through his kissing the top of your head at your lean against his side once again.

Not long after you’d strolled into the same diner claiming your same booth for breakfast filled with more lingering gazes until your final hand in hand stroll to your hotel not far from his.

Wetting his lips again he asked, “So, you live in the States?”

You nodded glancing up at him, “Renting a room at my Uncle’s.” His brows rose through his biting his lip eagerly, “Are you headed back to England?”

He shook his head, “No, um, where, does said Uncle live?”

With a giggle you replied, “Oh, California. Up in a vineyard, bit of a drive for work but I usually crash at his Son’s through filming nights mostly.”

“Wow, that sounds, incredible. I’m going to be out in LA for a bit, new show out there.” His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he eyed your bright smile up at him, “When are you headed back?”

“Um,” Your head turned and you glanced down easing the watch on his wrist to your view and you replied, “Four hours.”

Then met his eye again as he peered at his watch saying, “Hmm, we should be getting back then. Can’t miss our flights.”

Outside your hotel you shared another awkward chuckle as you passed him his jacket again confirming that Diana had in fact already given you each other’s numbers enabling you to set up another date when you were both settled into your homes again after the long flight. He stole another smiling glance at you on your path inside before crossing to the next block where his hotel was. 

Each step drawing a mental growl louder in his mind at his body finally feeling the effects of your shared sleepless night. In the elevator you leaned against the wall feeling wobbly on your feet as you glanced at your tall heels you were shocked not to have triggered any pain until now, leaving only your obviously enamored trance with the amazing man.

Back in your hotel room you couldn’t help but hum along to the song ‘It only takes a moment’ from ‘Hello Dolly!’ replayed in your mind once again adding to your concluded thought that even if this ended, fizzled or blew up in your face you could now happily say no matter what you had a wonderful day with a one of a kind pure hearted man straight from your dreams. Softly to yourself you whispered, “I really owe Diana a room full of flowers.” Stripping and filling the tub to soak your feet, continuing your humming until you dried and changed into your comfy jeans, long socks and a baggy cardigan over your tight tank top finally freeing your long curls to flow freely after its night of being tightly pulled back into yet another form of ponytail.

…

Softly your sneakers tapped on the polished ground on your path to your gate after passing through security, each step nearly causing you to collapse as your exhaustion crept up on you ready to pounce all at once. Your smile flinched larger at your approach to the counter in your gate while you adjusted your small duffel bag on your shoulder then turned to claim your seat only to catch the smirk of the two Chris both smirking at you on their arrival to your gate. Their heads turned watching you pass them to claim your seat in the hard seats where you stole a moment to rub your face with a low grumble only to look up just as two bodies plopped into the seats beside you. Looking up you locked eyes with your image on the phone screen as two teenage girls leaned against you with large grins stealing a picture you barely had time to flash a smile for before they darted off again to do the same to the guys approaching you.

Heavily they dropped into the now empty seats both chuckling as Chris Evans said, “Heard the date went well.”

His answer came with an awkward giggle from you at your lean forward to rest your forehead against the duffel in your lap while Hemsworth laughed as he spotted Tom strolling into the same gate, turning his head towards the laugh only to find your head rising again to meet Evans’ eye replying, “How exactly?”

He laughed pulling out his phone showing you the pages of pictures and videos of your four dates in one stretching through the night leading to the ones of you kissing in front of the sunrise you mentally set a note to download a copy later for your background. Biting your lip you nodded and giggled awkwardly again before your head turned to Hemsworth shifting to the empty seat on his left allowing Tom to sit beside you while more of the same group of guys trickled in pooling around you through Tom scrolling through his phone to send you the copies of the pictures the guys had sent him. Your eyes shot up once again as in a moment you were squeezed in a beefcake sandwich as Idris drew his phone to snap a picture of all of you together, one that he switched off with Benedict to get one with him in it before sending them to everyone there including you.

Another giggle left you at Tom’s helping you back into your seat again after while phones dinged around you at the men uploading the pictures to their various social accounts. A clear voice sounded overhead announcing boarding, leading to your phones being shut off on your path to board as the guys all formed a line only to have those same teens approach Tom and the guys that had arrived last. All bearing large grins while you claimed your seat, in the back right in the first class section, your one splurge you only claimed, the extra space for the cross country flights. Looking up you flashed a weak smile at Sebastion who froze at his seat marked beside yours, with a turn of his head he caught Tom’s entrance and glance back at you after his adding his bag to the over head bin in the seat beside Evans in the front row. The soft urging of the stewardess brought them all to their seats and buckled up for take off.

All through the taxiing Sebastian kept chuckling softly at Tom’s fidgeting in his struggle not to glance back at you through it, his hand rose to rub his face mentally counting down the times he caught Tom’s hand flex and curl between his fingers rising to ease across his lips. Finally a soft ding sounded as your eyelids drooped as your head settled against your curled arm resting on the wall beside your seat through a steady exhale. A gentle tap on your knee drew your eyes open as Sebastian said, “As much as I’m sure you’re an amazing travel buddy I don’t think I can last 18 hours with that puppy dog stare.”

After a wink from him he smiled at you through his rise to his feet for the short walk a few rows up where his hand bumped Tom’s shoulder gaining his eye contact with a curious smile after a glance back towards your neighboring empty seat through Sebastian’s saying, “Up and out.” Tom’s brow rose, “Come on, it’s an 18 hour flight and I can’t imagine sleeping with you staring my row down with that puppy dog stare.” His head nodded to the side as Evans chuckled behind Tom nudging his back stirring his releasing his belt and rise to his feet catching your curious gaze as he passed the chuckling men around him then claimed the empty seat giving you a nervous smile.

Sliming back at him you said, “It seems you’re my new traveling buddy.”

His smile inched wider as he replied, “It seems I am.” With a weak chuckle he offered you his pillow catching your drooping lids, and smiled helping to pull your blanket you pulled from you bag higher over your shoulders as your head settled into the reclined chair. A smile eased onto his face as his hand resting with yours at your side wriggled your fingers tighter in his as you sunk deeper into sleep, within moments he’d joined you gripping yours tighter in return. Somewhere between switching and your first meal a few chuckles were heard as Tom stirred to find you somehow twisted onto your side under your seatbelt still with your leg resting on his leg rest with his hand under your blanket gripping your thigh just above your knee. Tom’s body somehow had shifted to rest halfway on your chair and half on his, with your head on his side while his legs curled up around yours. The chuckles stirred Tom’s curious glance over to the sound of a cranking revealing Benedict having just claimed another picture of his friend’s awkward position earning an eye roll from Tom as Evans chuckled saying, “You make a nice pair. Though I suppose it helps she’s got so much space on her seat to share with you.”

In a glance down at your grumble Tom caught your hand shifting and the soft clink sounding of your belt being released finally before your eye peeked open causing your hand to grip your blanket you pulled up over your head. A few chuckles sounded around you at your mumble, “Honestly, between you lot and my Cousin’s kids, can’t sleep at all without someone staring at me.”

Straightening up Tom rested across the small gap between your chairs holding you in place on his chest through another picture being stolen by Benedict who smirked stating, “I’ll have these developed right away, send you copies.”

From under the blanket you peeked out again as Hemsworth chuckled and stated, “You should have seen some of the positions Tom twisted into. Downright adorable on his wiggle over too.”

Chuckling weakly you settled back under the blanket on Tom’s chest feeling his kiss on the strip of your forehead still peeking out as you settled into another nap until the meal was served signaling the first film of a marathon you both snuggled through. All through to your landing when Tom’s agent ushered him away from you at the exit gate after allowing a few pictures of you both among the large group. But off on your walk towards the bus leading to the long term parking lots you caught that very same puppy dog gaze through Idris’ near hopping pace at your side once he heard your drive went past his rental house, saving him the need for a taxi while Robert tagged along too to claim his car as well beside Ruffalo who was crashing at his place.

#Tom Hiddleston x Reader OC

[tytodreams]

space to wonder, part one

summary: Hal Jordan comes to while drifting out in space in the middle of nowhere, and even though he’s accompanied by his fellow Green Lantern, Guy Gardner, things aren’t exactly looking good for either of them.  

author’s note: this is part one of a two part (or maybe three part?) fanfic set in my DC headcanon verse. It’s from Hal’s perspective for a change. And yes, all of the unfamiliar space location names were pulled directly from my ass.

you can find part two here

The world is upside down.

Everything is a lazy swirl of shadow and his fingertips are so numb that he can scarcely even feel them. Hal isn’t sure if he knows where he is anymore. Space is black and endless and empty. And everything is so, so cold.  

“......big bad dino......big bad dino ahead.......”

That’s Guy’s voice. He recognizes it immediately ― that’s Guy’s voice. That’s Guy’s nonsensical mutterings and that’s Guy’s limp body floating nearby. Hal blinks and tries to chase away the blurred pictures in his mind; the strange haze of light and color and darkness.

“......big bad di-no-saur ahead, yeeup. Big baddie dino with big bad teeth,” Guy’s head is tipped forward, chin resting against his chest as he blabbers on. Hal can see him properly now ― just a few feet away and outlined faintly in green.  

“Di-no-saur! Yeeup, yeeup!” the ginger slurs again to no one in particular. His words are the only noise in the silent vacuum of space.

Big bad dinosaur.......big bad dinosaur? Hal can’t make sense of it. All he knows is that his head hurts and that it hurts bad. He winces, teeth grinding together, trying to bite down against the pain. It feels like there’s an iron spike being driven into the left side of his skull, over and over and over.......

Weakly, Hal lifts his fingers to his temple. Wet. There’s something wet against his skin. He pulls his hand away, narrows his eyes, and tries to get a better look at it. The more accustomed he becomes to being awake, the sharper his surroundings appear. They’re all beginning to look real now; like proper images instead of smears of color and light.

There’s blood on his fingers. He’s bleeding. Hal chokes slightly, takes a deep breath and pulls in air from nothing. There’s no oxygen in outer space. But somehow, he can take it from his shield ― from the green light surrounding him.  

Hal groans and touches his head again. It’s still wet, but the bleeding has begun to slow down and the blood itself has started to harden around the edges of the wound. He guesses it to be some sort of cut across the left temple.

“.......di-no-saur......di-no-saur......di-no-saur.......” Guy remains close by, still lolling around on his back. But something doesn’t seem right when Hal looks at him this time around. Because this time his eyes are swollen shut by bruises; and his whole lower face and jaw is stained with blood. His neck is red and covered in marks. His limbs twitch.

It takes Hal a few moments, but finally the image registers and he jolts forward in surprise. Muscles tensed and eyes widening, he’s hit with a sudden wave of panic. Guy is injured. Oh fuck, Guy is injured, and he’s injured bad.

Despite the shooting pain in his temple, Hal starts glancing frantically about himself. Where are they? Where are they and how did they get here? What happened? His heart rate picks up. Hal’s body trembles and he parts his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.  He searches the empty star fields in vain. It feels like his mind is going at a million miles an hour. What’s happening? What’s happening? What’s happening?

Hal squeezes his eyes shut. No, stop. He clutches his head in his hands and barks angrily to himself, don’t panic. Don’t be afraid. You’re in space and you’re with Guy, and you’re both in bad shape but he’s worse off. But you’ll be okay ― you’ll both be okay. Call John. Call Kilowog.  

He pulls his bloodied hands away and breathes in. The ring on his finger is burning cold. It reminds him of stepping into the shower when his feet are numb; the way that hot water feels as it washes over chilled skin. Hal’s whole body is tingling.  

If he’s going to call for help, he’s going to have to tell the ring who to call. So, he focuses on John’s face. He tries to imagine the way his nose slopes and the exact hue of his irises. It’s a face that Hal knows well, so it shouldn’t be hard, now should it?

But when he thinks, he can’t think of John. And when he reaches out for a face and for a name, it isn’t John’s. It’s someone else’s. It’s someone the ring can’t call.

Barry. It’s Barry’s face. It’s his square jaw and round cheeks, and his short, golden hair. And when Hal tries to push the face and name away for Kilowog’s instead, it doesn’t go. He wants to show the ring a fellow Lantern he can call, but his mind isn’t listening. He can’t see John’s face and he can’t see Kilowog’s. The only name is Barry’s name. The only face is Barry’s face. His snub nose and big blue eyes. His easy, all-American smile.

There’s a stab of wistfulness in Hal’s chest. Something that he can’t really describe, some sort of sorrowful feeling that fills him with inexplicable joy. He’s seeing Barry’s face and he’s remembering something. A recent memory, but nothing all that important in the grand scheme of things. A memory.......

He was sitting in a red leather booth in some cheap diner in Missouri. It was a Saturday or maybe a Sunday; a day when Barry could get off work early if convinced. And Barry was sitting across from him, dressed in a blue argyle sweater vest and pleated long sleeves and khakis. And Barry was smiling too. And he was digging into his meal, and pensively tapping his foot against the tiled linoleum floors. He looked so handsome in those clothes. They fit him so well and the blue of the sweater brought out his eyes.

So naturally, Hal made a remark about him looking like a nerd. Barry rolled his eyes and ate a French fry. Then he pointed out a bruise on Hal’s cheek and started scolding him over it. And Hal tried to wave him off ― told him it was from a skirmish with Black Hand or some other earthbound baddie. But Barry knew better. He always seems to know better. And Barry stared at him for a moment, almost unnervingly serious, and then finally his face broke out into a wide grin.  

“Liar!” he exposed Hal right away, “You and Oliver were being stupid and messing around again, weren’t you?” And Hal tried to act offended, tried to hide his embarrassment at Barry having so easily realized the truth. He’d been sparring with Ollie in the boxing ring at the Arrow hideout when Dinah had stopped by to watch. And when she’d leaned against the rails, the boys had started yapping their big mouths off; started teasing her as they mock-fought.    

Not a good idea, naturally. Because then she’d jumped into the ring and kicked them both hard in their sorry rears. “And a kiss on the cheek each didn’t exactly make it any less painful, Di,” they’d have liked to say. And when Superman asked Ollie how he’d gotten a black eye, he’d panicked and claimed he’d walked into a door. He’d started blushing like a madman when Hal laughed, and Hal was the lucky one because he didn’t need an excuse. No matter what, it seemed like there was always some sort of scrape on him, so people had eventually just stopped asking. Except for Barry, of course.

And in that little Missouri diner, Hal had finally surrendered to Barry. He admitted that Dinah had “whooped his ass” and that “if we’re being honest, Ollie got it worse ‘cause he called her a ‘wannabe Joan Jett’ and that was just rude.” Still smiling, Barry shook his head and muttered a “knew it”, continued emptying another carton of fries. And Hal shrugged and leaned back in his seat. He knocked his knee against Barry’s, heard the speedster hum approvingly, and smiled back at him. Smiled when he sighed and said, “What am I going to do with you?”  

But he’d also kept an eye on the other patrons too. Because as much as he hates to admit it, deep down, he’s always been rather self-conscious. And he didn’t exactly want to deal with anyone going on about stupid stuff then either. Not then, when Barry was sitting across from him, smiling like the sun and telling him all about his day. And he’d had a really good day, so Hal had wanted to hear all of it. The fingerprint analysis that Barry and his colleagues worked on that had helped solve a case down at the station. The two friendly border collies he’d met in the park during his morning run. The little girl he’d helped get her kite out of a tree and who’d given him a hug in thanks. And Hal sipped the strawberry milkshake he’d weaseled away from Barry and listened to him rave about the new materials the lab would be getting next week.    

“And this microscope is so much more powerful than the one we have now. It has twenty different lenses, and you won’t believe how sleek it looked in the catalogue......”

“Hey! Di-no-saur! Di-no-saur! Bad, bad, bad!”

Hal tumbles back into the present. His eyes widen when Guy yells and the hairs on the back of his neck raise. He’s weightless. There’s nothing solid beneath him, no leather booth in Missouri or concrete sidewalk under his feet, only empty space, only distant lights scattered across eternal blackness. Only nothing.

The cut on his head doesn’t hurt anymore. When he touches it, the wound throbs gently, but any pain it gives off is so minor that he can barely feel it. Hal lurches forward and the blood drains from his face. Guy is unnaturally pale.

He’s still muttering nonsense and floating too far away from him for comfort. Hal settles his quaking limbs and looks his comrade over, trying to gauge the exact distance between them. Five and a half, six......? He propels himself forward a few feet and maneuvers around Guy as carefully as he can. He slips his hands under Guy’s arms and pulls him up against himself. Guy’s head is tilted back, chin pointed upwards and jaw twitching slightly as he rambles on. The faint green aura from his ring appears to be the only thing keeping him afloat.

Hal curses under his breath and tries to adjust his hold on the other Lantern. Guy may be a thousand times lighter in space, but whatever beating Hal received earlier isn’t exactly helping his arms stay steady. The wound on his head doesn’t hurt anymore, but the rest of his body sure aches like a son of a bitch.

What happened? He’s racking his brain, struggling to remember. Where are they? How the hell did this happen? How the hell did they end up here? How......?

“Dino......dino......” Guy sputters childishly, his shoulders knocking into Hal’s chest. The other man winces but doesn’t let go. His ribs must be bruised ― that would explain the tugging in his chest whenever he breathes. “Dino......dino......dino.......”

Then it hits him. Dinosaur. Hal remembers now, oh goddamn, he remembers now. Dinosaur. Atrocitus. The Red Lantern’s hulking form looms over Hal’s memory and he clutches onto Guy a little too tightly in response. He knows where they are, why they’re here, what happened, and everything else in between.  

The Corps had gained intel on some recent Red Lantern sightings out in sector 2075 in the Oberix and Talmayn systems. The more the number of sightings increased, the more uneasy the Guardians became about the possibility of a reformation of the Red Lantern Corps ― a not at all unfounded concern. Especially considering the jailbreak incident roughly one Earth year back, and the fact that former Red Lantern general, Atrocitus, happened to be one of the escapees.  

Salaak had sent Guy and Hal, by order of the Guardians, to do recon out in sector 2075. After all, word-of-mouth rumors don’t guarantee reality. In order to act, there needs to be confirmation. And it was their duty to deny or to confirm.  

Well, Hal thinks to himself as he floats aimlessly about, Guy dangling in his arms, at least our suspicions have been confirmed. Joy.

Perhaps they shouldn’t have sent Hal Jordan on a Red Lantern reconnaissance mission, knowing that Atrocitus would almost certainly be involved. General Atrocitus, who happens to have a vendetta against plucky Green Lantern “captain” Hal Jordan. Because Hal Jordan was the one that foiled his grand invasion of Oa. He was the one that defeated him in battle in front of his own men and then imprisoned him in a science cell to rot for (hopefully) the rest of his life. Yes, that Hal Jordan.

If one thinks about it rationally, they might come to the conclusion that a mission tends to become a bit more dangerous when the enemy in question would like nothing more than to flay you alive. It’s just common sense, really.

Hal struggles to hold back his laughter. He’d rather not test the pain receptors in those bruised ribs of his with a verbal expression of self-loathing.  

He and Guy had scoured the entire Oberix system without any luck, and by the time they’d reached the Talmayn and it’s yellow dwarf sun, they’d gotten a bit lazy. Instead of giving straight-backed salutes to the occupants of the mining operations and refueling stations they’d swung by, the two had plowed in with informal bursts of sardonic humor and good-natured jabs. Guy had accepted free drinks at a rest stop bar almost took quickly, and Hal had wowed a company of Yulqazz miners by breaking his record of consecutive backflips in space.

Thirty-seven, to be exact. The trick is to breathe deeply and consistently, and to focus on your core so you don’t get dizzy.  

None of the locals in either solar system had much of anything to say about the supposed Red Lantern sightings. Most of them denied seeing anything at all, while the few that did couldn’t seem to place any specifics. As far as Guy and Hal were aware, there really wasn’t anything substantial this side of sector 2075. Maybe the Uhbeld system would’ve been a better place to check.

Whatever the answer was, the two of them had conceded that there was no point in staying there anymore. So, Hal recalls himself and Guy taking off from the docks of a refueling station, headed for the nearest long-jump portal back to Oa. They’d started talking ― of course, talking with Guy had always been a trip, and it is even more so now after his onslaught of head-related injuries.

Guy’s brain damage certainly causes him some issues. His memory, his speech patterns, and his ability to compartmentalize things are all pretty muddled. The past couple of years have been quite rough for him and he’s had to relearn a surprising amount of basic tasks. But, luckily for him, the medical expertise offered by the Green Lantern Corps is far more advanced than that on Earth. And even though Guy has never exactly been one to trust doctors or hospitals ― and Hal can’t blame him for that, seeing that he’s very much the same ― Guy has been remarkably lenient with what the Corps have provided.  

That makes sense to Hal though. The Corps may not always know what they’re doing, but if he were given a chance to significantly fix the damage done to his brain, he would jump on it immediately as well. Thinking about that, Hal winces at all the brain cells that he’s probably lost to concussions and alcohol. It certainly isn’t a small amount.

Guy still sounds rather childish when he speaks sometimes. Not that he ever had a very sophisticated manner of speaking before, but Hal finds there’s still something notably immature in the way he talks. Maybe it’s how he sounds things out or the words he chooses to use ― again, Hal isn’t sure ― but there is a distinct difference in how he communicated before and how he communicates now.

He was calling Atrocitus a “big bad red dinosaur with a face full of warts” when they got ambushed. Ah, yes. They’d been ambushed. Hal remembers now, how they’d been joking amongst themselves when at least twenty Red Lanterns had shot out from behind a cluster of asteroids and taken them by surprise. And Atrocitus had happened to be one of them.

It was a miracle that Guy had managed to finish his sentence at all.

“......Hal? .......Hal?” speaking of the ginger brickhouse, he appears to have opened his eyes ― or at least tried to. With those nasty yellow-green bruises, it’s hard to tell.

Hal’s heart leaps in his chest at the sound of his own name, and he turns around to grab his comrade by the shoulders, “Guy! Oh god, Guy, you’re awake! Stay awake, okay?” He knows from experience that drifting off after a bad beating or a blow to the head is far from a good thing.

Guy tilts his head slightly, a look of confusion crossing his face. But he doesn’t say anything in return. He just blinks his eyes and then starts looking around slowly, as if he’s just woken up from a long nap. Hal isn’t sure if he can see out of such bloated eyes, but at least he can still feel things, because when Guy flexes his fingers, he winces and holds them still. He must have broken something or hurt the joints while throwing a punch.

Hal moves around him and tries to get a better view of his head. There doesn’t appear to be any serious damage to Guy’s cranium, which is good. He’s already gone through enough; another round of brain damage issues would just be cruel by this point. They’d probably make his current mood swings even worse.  

After examining the other man’s head, Hal swings back around to face Guy and puts his hands firmly on his shoulders. They’re roughly an arm’s length apart and floating somewhere in the Talmayn solar system, in a sector that Hal knows fairly well. If he’s being honest with himself, it could be worse, and Hal is glad that it isn’t.

He draws one hand away from a still woozy guy and brings it up to his face, eyeing the green light. He needs to call for help and this time he can’t get distracted. There are Red Lanterns in sector 2075 and they are undeniably dangerous. They’re also still out here somewhere, and that doesn’t ease Hal’s nerves in the slightest.

Especially seeing that he and Guy are still alive. That’s the part that really worries him.  

Why would Atrocitus and his men ambush him and another Green Lantern only to let them live? It would have made more sense to kill them for vengeance or to capture and imprison them to hold for ransom or to torture for information. So why beat them senseless and then leave them alive? Atrocitus was no idiot ― he wouldn’t have just assumed they were dead, he would have made sure. So why just leave them where he found them instead of taking them as prisoners if killing wasn’t his intent?

Hal doesn’t like this. He doesn’t like this one bit. He has to call John and he has to call him now. Hal closes his eyes and conjures up the name and face he needs ― needs not wants ― he reminds himself bitterly. He needs someone like John, someone that can help him. He wanted Barry. But Barry can’t help him. Barry’s lightyears and lightyears away and even the fastest man alive can’t run across the stars.

Besides, it would be cruel to ask him to. Hal’s chest clenches at the thought of everything that Barry might do for him. Because Barry’s a good man, and even though it seems cliché to say it, Hal really can’t think of another way to explain it. He’s just a good man. And he believes that Hal is too. That Hal deserves to have someone who would leave the Milky Way for him. Who would leap over Orion’s Shield and dart across the Pillars of Creation.  

Who would come to him galaxies away from Earth with hope in their eyes and tell him that everything will be alright.

And that thought is just too much. It makes Hal’s limbs weak again and it makes his grip on Guy’s shoulder go slack. Hopefully the other man is conscious enough to stay in the same orbit as him, because Hal really doesn’t know if he has the strength to pull him back in right now. He needs Barry to leave his mind. He needs to think with his head and not his heart.

John’s face comes into view of his mind’s eye. Strong cheekbones and broad nose, tight mouth and curious eyes. He’s as quiet and contemplative-looking as always and Hal can’t help but snicker a little. People always seem to imagine John as some sort of “deep-thinker” ― after all, he always looks so lost in thought, like one of those ancient Greek philosophers.

People always assume things.  

Just last week, during the Justice League’s most recent meeting, John had given everyone in the room that deep-eyed look. He’d nodded thoughtfully and tilted his head in consideration each time someone spoke. And then, roughly half an hour in to yet another one of Batman’s monotonous and excruciatingly boring speeches, he’d leaned over in his seat and whispered to Hal, “I had to wake up real early on Oa, so I could get here on time and I’m damn sure that I accidentally put Katma’s ear lotion on my toothbrush. I can still taste it. Can you make some sort of distraction, so I can grab a cup of water? It’s all I’ve been thinking about for the past six hours.”

A real deep-thinker, alright. The next Socrates, for sure. Hal stops himself from trying to laugh at the memory ― his chest still hurts when he exerts it too much.

Instead he focuses on his ring. It’s begun to glow more brightly than before, as he draws in all the willpower he can. The low hum it gives off is reassuring, and if you listen closely enough, the ring sounds like it’s singing. Hal told Ollie about it once before, but he didn’t believe him. Even when Hal had put it up close to Ollie’s ear and let the ring settle into a harmony, Ollie said he still couldn’t hear a thing.  

But Hal knows he can hear the ring. It sings to him because that’s how it communicates. He made Dinah and Barry listen to it too, and even Tom when he first realized that it could. Yet none of them heard it. So, he was anxious when he asked John if his ring sang to him too ― he hadn’t wanted to look stupid by asking Kilowog or Sinestro at the time when he was younger. He’d asked John if the ring sang to him and John looked at him as though the answer was obvious.  

“Of course, it does.”

So, he asked Kilowog and Katma and Tomar Re too, and all their answers were the same: “What kind of question is that? Of course, the ring sings.” And that settled it then. Only ring-bearers can hear the ring. No one else can make sense of it ― all those melodies are just distant hums to them. They can’t hear the songs and they can’t feel the words that the songs embed into the ring-bearers’ minds. A shame, really......there’s nothing else in the universe like it.

“This is Green Lantern, John Stewart. Who is this?”

Hal hears that familiar voice and he feels like he could fly to the moon and back. Finally, John. Good old John. He tries to cry out the other man’s name in excitement, but he finds himself breathless and croaking out a weak, “Jo-hn” instead. Hal winces at the sound of it, yet still, he continues, “It’s Hal. I’m with Guy and we’re fucked, dude. We’re fucked up.”

“Hal?” John’s voice is warbled slightly by the ring, “......do you and Guy still have all your limbs?”  

It’s a slightly ridiculous but understandable question. In fact, Hal takes a moment to glance over himself and then Guy again just in case, before replying, “Yeah. Everything’s still there. We got ambushed, John. There were Red Lanterns, ‘bout nineteen or twenty of them. And Atrocitus ― Atrocitus was there........”

He can hear a muffled, “shit......” from John’s end. “Where are you two?”

Floating around aimlessly, Hal struggles to gain his bearings. He searches the open space around them, the asteroid fields, the distant stars, the occasional planet as it falls into view. “We’re still in sector 2075,” he rasps, “somewhere near the Kylaaq Belt.........Talmayn System.......I, I think we might be near the planet......Givnuer? Terrestrial, no native life......yellow dwarf star. Talmayn’s the one with the yellow dwarf, Oberix is red.......”

Guy has started babbling incoherently again, his head lolling against Hal’s shoulder. He looks as if he may start drifting off into unconsciousness and that isn’t a good sign at all. Hal grunts and carefully pushes Guy about arm’s-length away from him. He shakes his shoulders a little, trying to keep him awake. The murmuring ceases and Guy blinks drowsily.

“How far?” John asks, and Hal thinks he can hear concern.  

“Huh?” Hal looks back to his ring. He’s still in a bit of a daze himself.  

“How far from Givnuer?”

Keeping his hold on Guy, Hal twists his head around as best he can and attempts to judge their distance from the planet. “Four......four AU.......maybe three?” He gives the area a quick scan with his ring and waits for the responding hum, “......yeah. Yeah, about four.”

“Okay,” John sounds relieved despite the vocal distortion the rings tend to cause, “If your rings are looking low on power, jettison over there immediately. Try to conserve energy. We’ll be there as quickly as we can.”

“Thanks, John,” Hal sighs, his shoulders sagging and his free hand dropping away from Guy’s arm.

John exhales, “Of course,” and then ends the call, already heading off to go fetch a proper rescue team. In the meantime, Hal turns his attention back to his less stable teammate. Guy is wobbling back and forth, still gazing blankly at the empty space around himself. The dried blood from his nose and jaw cover the entire lower half of his face, and it almost looks like some sort of patchy reddish-brown beard; not entirely unbelievable for the ginger to have.

“Hal.......” he murmurs, “Hal, I heard Johnny.......”

Hal steadies him with both hands again, “That was Johnny. I called him, he’s gonna come get us.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

Guy hums in consideration before slumping forward, resting his head against Hal’s shoulder, “Don’t feel good. Hope Johnny comes soon.”

“He will,” Hal accepts the weight and cocks his head to the left. He narrows his eyes in the direction of Givnuer. Would it be best for them to go there and rest like John suggested, or can they just wait it out......?

“Hal?”

He tears his eyes away from the distant planet and says to Guy, “Yeah? What is it?”

The concussed Green Lantern screws up his battered face, looking more like a curious child than a six foot four Baltimorean, “Were you scared?”

“......what?”

“Were you scared? When the dino showed up?”

“...........”

Hal doesn’t blink. He isn’t looking at Guy anymore though — his gaze is fixed on Givnuer again. It looks pale and reddish from a distance, reminding him vaguely of Mars. Mars; J’onn’s home planet, less than one Solar AU from Earth. And Earth, so far away from here........  

“I was,” Guy says nonchalantly and (Hal wonders if even he knows it) with incredible irony, “I thought I wasn’t gonna make it back home. Were you thinkin’ ‘bout home, Hally?”

“......no.”

“Hhm......I was thinkin’ ‘bout home......I was thinkin’ ‘bout my Tora an’ ‘bout Bea too. An’ stupid Ted an’ Booster even......an’ I was thinkin’ ‘bout my old students......hell, my old woman an’ her husband too — even if they’re awful.......I was scared I wouldn’t see any of ‘em again......”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.......” it’s strange to hear Guy speak so softly; speak so calmly and in little more than a whisper, “......Hal? Were you thinkin’ ‘bout anyone?”

Hal throws Guy’s arm over his shoulder. He shifts around a bit, trying to support him in a half-carry before finally setting course for Givnuer, “I guess I was.”

Guy’s cheek is pressed against Hal’s shoulder. His swollen eyelids droop and he doesn’t look at the other man when he speaks. Like Hal’s are, Guy’s eyes are focused only on the approaching planet, “......your Barry?”

Though every nerve in his body is immediately struck with the desire to freeze, Hal presses onward instead. His skin is riddled with pinpricks and the green blaze of light around him takes on a wavering image. There’s something heavy stuck in his throat. Something heavy sliding slowly — so painfully slowly — and dropping down into his chest. There’s something heavy settling between his ribs. Something heavy trying to smother the delicate façade onto which his heart so desperately clings.    

His Barry.........his Barry.

The two Lanterns fly on in silence. Hal gives no response and Guy doesn’t push him to. At one point, Hal worries that Guy has fallen asleep; but fortunately, the other man blinks through his bruises and manages to keep his chin up. He even musters enough strength to straighten out his back, easing some of the pressure off Hal. Roughly halfway to Givnuer, they both get a twenty percent warning from their rings and Hal speeds up a fraction or two.

Guy starts humming something under his breath. It’s some sort of song, maybe even a lullaby, but Hal doesn’t recognize it. Despite his exhaustion, the inky void of space still makes for a surprising comfort. The shivering stars and roving meteors seem to urge him forward as he pulls his comrade to safety. Hal tries not to think about Atrocitus or the Red Lanterns. He tries not to think about Earth and certainly not anyone on it. He tries not to think about.......Barry.

Guy stops humming as they reach the edges of Givnuer’s outer atmosphere. He gives a little burst from his own ring to aide Hal as the two of them prepare for entry. The world around them turns starkly rose-colored, and the burning green light of their shields become tipped with fuchsia. Guy and Hal descend softly into the afternoon sky, streaks of color trailing behind. Both men are as silent as the barren world below them.

They remain silent all the way there.

#¶ talk #dc #dc comics #green lantern #hal jordan #guy gardner #gl john stewart #halbarry #also #dailygreenlantern #I thought you guys might be interested #seeing that this is a green lantern story! #it's mainly just awkward bonding between guy and hal #with strongly implied halbarry #(despite barry not even being present) #also John and some alien lanterns #who are going to get proper screen time #in the second half

[luucarii]

With a Dash of Gin - Ch19

Wow, I actually got my chapter numbers right! And I posted something two days in a row! What madness!

Also I live for an easily embarrassed Kokichi so...

Read on Ao3

The rest of the week seemed to drag. Rantaro went back to his afternoon shifts, fearing the worst should he decide to take anything later than working from noon to six. Midori had seemed to warm up to him a bit and finally dropped the attitude once he had returned to normal. Kokichi and Shuichi were in the midst of moving out of their dorms for the summer, both of them staying in Shuichi’s uncle’s house. He was usually out working so most days the two of them were stuck in the house alone complaining about nothing to do.

With the slow week came a drastic rise in temperature. July usually was the worst month during the summer with frequent heat waves and general discomfort in the muggy evenings. There was always the suggestion (usually from Kaede or Kaito) of going to the beach but both Shuichi and Kokichi made subtle excuses for avoiding the beach when really they just wanted to avoid a sunburn. Despite his reluctance, Kokichi refused to sit the heatwave out. It would be a waste to sit inside during the rare days where the temperature was fair enough to stay outside for more than a few hours. Thankfully for him, Rantaro seemed to be thinking the exact same thing and it didn’t take too long into the week for him to call and invite him to hang out.

“A pool?” Kokichi cocked an eyebrow and from across the room, Shuichi’s eyes shot up. He nodded vigorously and Kokichi snickered. Being stuck inside for nearly a week was getting to Shuichi’s head.

“Yeah, I think my dad set up plans with one of his business partners. There’s a branch of the Togami corporation near the area and they own a house with a huge pool. We’ve been given an invitation to come whenever we like.”

“Was this recent?”

Rantaro’s voice lowered, “yeah. He probably sent his assistant to do it. Maybe just to keep us unaware of what’s happening with him.”

“Ranty…” Kokichi drifted off and Rantaro chuckled on the other end.

“Don’t worry about it. So are you gonna come? I’m taking my sisters and I think they’d love to have you.”

“You’d love to have me too, don’t lie to yourself Ranty! And can I have a plus four? My friends have been bugging me nonstop about going out to the beach and this is one better.”

“Sure, just swing by my house around noon and we’ll go.”

With a giggle, Kokichi hung up and threw his phone onto his bed. Eyes narrowed onto Shuichi and he pointed at him, his free hand on his hip, “Shuichi! Call Kaede, Maki and Kaito! We’re all going to a rich kid’s pool!”

One concern Kokichi had about the whole outing was how twelve people were going to squeeze together in one subway car with dozens of others. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t used to squishing but he worried how Chizuru and the other young sisters would fare. Though most of his concerns were easily laid to rest as he walked up Rantaro’s street and saw a long car stretching in front of his house. 

Kokichi’s eyes lit up.

Outside were Rantaro and his sisters, all dressed up in loose fitting clothing with bathing suits underneath, holding small bags which Kokichi assumed were filled with clothes and whatever other girly things they needed. At first glance of Kokichi, Chizuru dashed up to him and hugged his leg, cringing somewhat afterward. She looked up at him in confusion and there was no way Kokichi was going to admit how much sunscreen he put on so he would avoid a sunburn.

“Kokichi! You didn’t tell me Rantaro had a freakin limo!” Kaito hissed and for a moment, Kokichi was grateful he had enough of a mind to censor himself in front of the kids.

“It’s not mine.” Rantaro smiled as he looked toward his sisters and nudged his head to the car. They all slid inside, leaving the door open behind them and Kaede excitedly dragged Maki inside. “The corporation is a big one when it comes to appearances. Any guests they have over have to be treated like celebrities. Personally I wouldn’t mind taking the subway but well, I won’t pass up a free ride.”

Kaito narrowed his eyes, “is there AC?”

“Of course.”

“Drinks?”

“If you’re thirsty, yeah.”

“Radio?”

“..It’s still a car?”

Kaito grinned and flung an arm over Kokichi’s shoulder, “you picked a good on Kokichi. He’s a keeper.”

“Just get in the damn car.” Kokichi grumbled and Rantaro laughed. Kaito darted toward the car and slid inside and it wasn’t long until his voice was heard sparking up conversation with Rantaro’s sisters. Rantaro slipped a hand into Kokichi’s and planted a tiny kiss on his forehead before pulling away.

“Why are you all slimy?”

Kokichi glared at him, “like I’d risk getting burned. You’re insane.”

Rantaro shrugged and lightly pushed Kokichi ahead, holding the door open from him and letting him slide inside beside Kaede. He jumped in and closed the door and once the car had darkened, there was a soft voice coming from the speakers.

“The Togami Corporation gladly welcomes your company Mr. Amami and friends.”

“No need for formalities. Rantaro’s fine.” 

“My name is Kirumi Tojo. I shall be taking care of you all today. Please, let me know if I can assist you with anything.”

Kokichi giggled, “faaancy.”

It didn’t take too long for the car to finally start moving and Kokichi was struck with awe throughout the entire drive. The interior was decked out with mini compartments and had a small mini fridge built into the floor. The seats were leather and the entire experience was nothing short of mesmerizing. With Rantaro’s arm lazily draped over his shoulder, Kokichi felt nothing short of being a king.

During the drive, everyone had introduced themselves and it seemed Kazu and Saki had grown interested in Maki. They were seated on her two sides and they continuously would ask her questions about her life. Kokichi worried she’d snap at them knowing how easily annoyed she get but if anything she was a bit bashful, awkwardly telling stories to the girls who looked on in awe.

Eri managed to spark up conversation with Kaede and, being the two optimists out of the whole group, they managed to hit it off very well. Kaede mentioned her interest in music and her love of the piano and Eri had excitedly offered to take pictures of her while she performed. Kokichi could swear he saw them exchanging phone numbers. Sasori and Shuichi had mostly talked about what they were studying in college, Shuichi suddenly growing an interest in the medical field despite his firm determination to be a detective.

Kaito was stuck with Midori and Chizuru though he didn’t mind too much. Kokichi could tell how hard it was for him to watch his mouth around Chizuru — granted having Saki as a sister, Kokichi wouldn’t be surprised if she had heard worse from her. Midori tried to be modest but she had the same big eyed expression as Chizuru usually had.

Upon arrival, Kokichi couldn’t believe it could get any better than it already had. Riding in a limo and being able to go into a rich kid’s pool was more than enough, but seeing the grand scale of what he assumed was one of the many Togami households left him dizzy. The exterior was a near golden bronze and it seemed to sparkle under the harsh sun. He leaned into Rantaro and spoke in slurred awe.

“This is the rich kid’s life…”

“It’s really not that grand after a while. But it’s cute to see you like that.” Rantaro nudged his shoulder and guided him inside the house with Kirumi leading the group. The main hall was huge with marble flooring and a large chandelier hanging from the ceiling. There was a noticeable echo but all that could be heard was Kokichi and his friends commenting on how utterly astounding it was.

Kirumi led the group to the back porch where a large rectangular pool sparkled. Pool chairs were set up around the perimeter with a few umbrellas shadowing over them. A few more maids and butlers were placed around the outside, tidying up the area and suddenly straightened themselves when Kirumi stepped in the center  Kirumi outstretched a hand to show off the outside and smiled as she bowed, and with that small soft tone of voice, she spoke.

“We hope you enjoy your stay.”

On that note, Saki let out a squeal and immediately rushed to claim a chair, flinging her bag onto it. Midori took the one beside her and it didn’t take long for most of the chairs on the left side to be claimed by the girls. The four boys took the other side and couldn’t help feeling a bit overwhelmed by the difference in number between girls and boys. The boys (specifically Kaito) made sure to mind their eyes when the likes of Kaede and Maki were in the midst of taking off their clothes and adjusting to the feeling of wearing a swimsuit. Kaede’s was modest, a simple frilly pale pink two piece and Maki had a red one piece that she had to borrow from her. The two girls embarrassingly tried to help the sisters adjust their swimsuits but Kokichi wouldn’t ignore the way Eri would stare at the girls in admiration.

Kokichi shrugged it off and turned to face the guys. Shuichi was far too embarrassed to even think of lifting up his shirt and it only took Kaito threatening to push him into the pool for him to slip off the thin fabric. Kaito’s were a weird red color for some reason and he had complained that since Shuichi had called him last minute, all his other swimwear had been thrown in the laundry already. The one who surprised him the most, for obvious reasons, was Rantaro and Kokichi felt the heat rushing to his cheeks the minute Rantaro slipped his shirt off. Wearing dark blue swim trunks with a thin lime green outline, Kokichi eyed how despite the fact he was thin, Rantaro had garnered quite a bit of muscle. His build wasn’t Kaito level or anything but he was damn near impressive when put against the other guys. Kokichi gulped when he realized he was the only one who hadn’t stripped yet and suddenly felt a bit self-conscious.

“You alright?” Rantaro questioned as he worked on taking out the piercings in his ears.

“Of course I am, Ranty! How couldn’t I be?”

“You haven’t taken your shirt off yet. I honestly believed you’d be the first to jump in the minute we got here.”

That award went to Kazu, followed by Saki. The two girls came up for air and giggled, splashing each other with water before Kaede joined in. Eri kept dry for the first few minutes, taking a personal tour of the outside with her camera to take picture of the house and the flowers in the garden. Kaito rushed across the other side and pushed Maki in the pool while she was in the midst of pulling up her hair. With a typical Maki Stare, she reached for his leg and dragged him in. Midori decided she’d prioritize tanning over anything and Sasori decided to relax with her to keep her company. Shuichi sat at the edge of the pool with a silent Chizuru as they dipped their feet into water and sighed to themselves. Shuichi made sure he looked back a few time to catch if Kokichi would be devilish enough to push him in but was still surprised when Kokichi eventually did.

“I didn’t know Ranty was secretly a pervert.” Kokichi narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms, clicking his tongue.

“Call me whatever you want but I’m dragging you in this pool sooner or later. Better to be prepared now.” Rantaro’s eyes glinted teasingly and Kokichi grumbled. 

“Rantaro, stop teasing the poor kid and get in! I want to take a few pictures!” Eri hissed as she readied her camera, already in the process of snapping pictures of Saki and Kazu doing handstands underwater. 

“Kid!? I’m older than you!” Kokichi snapped and he glared at Maki in the pool who was chuckling to herself. Before Kokichi could even echo out a sigh, he felt himself pulled into a hug and the ground under him disappeared. With Rantaro’s laugh in his ears, the two boys hit the water with a splash, enough scare Kazu and Saki into swimming to the surface.

When his head popped above the water, Kokichi coughed up a bit of water and frowned at the way his hair stuck to his face. Rantaro appeared behind him and wrapped his arms around Kokichi’s shoulders, kissing the other’s cheek playfully and Kokichi finally broke into a laugh.

“What the hell Ranty?”

“I told you I was getting you in here.” Rantaro’s head peered off to the side, “did you get it Eri?”

“Yep! Perfect! His face was so cute!” Eri giggled behind her camera.

“Ranty ruined my favorite shirt. Meanie.” Kokichi pouted and turned his head away from him.

“I’ll let you borrow mine.” Kokichi jumped when he felt Rantaro’s soft fingers pulled up the helm of his shirt and he wanted to die when he caught Kaito’s eyes narrowing in that sort of lewd glance.

“Aww, I think Kokichi has a sunburn already!” Saki teased and Kazu snickered behind her.

Once the shirt was finally pulled over his head (which Kokichi could swear took way longer than needed) and thrown over to his pool chair, Kokichi made his escape, swimming over to where Chizuru was sitting. He knew Rantaro didn’t mean anything by it beside maybe a light bit of teasing but his head reeled nonetheless.

“I didn’t know Kokichi was easily embarrassed. It’s kinda cute.” Kaede smiled.

“Shuichi’s the same way too. You should see him when I start teasing him about you.” Kokichi snickered and Shuichi, who had just poked his head up from underwater, looked around the pool in confusion.

“Wha?” 

Kokichi swam over to his roommate and flung an arm over his shoulder, “don’t worry about it, buddy!”

“Why am I suddenly scared?”

“Come on everyone! All together!” Eri cheered. Upon her request, before the drive home she wanted Kirumi to take a group photo of everyone. Eri took charge on setting everyone up, making sure the short ones were at the bottom and the taller ones near the top and it ended up with a near perfect setup of four rows of three. Kazu, Chizuru and Saki took the bottom, Kokichi, Midori and Shuichi the second row, Rantaro, Maki and Kaede the middle row and finally Sasori, Kaito and Eri at the top. Eri encouraged everyone to do more than just a plain smile and before the camera had flashed, she made sure she pulled Kaede into a tight embrace under her. The picture ended up with Sasori grinning at Kaito who was ruffling Maki’s wet hair, Rantaro leaning down to kiss Kokichi’s head, Maki looking up at Kaito with a glare, Kaede laughing while reaching a hand down to grab Shuichi’s, Midori holding Chizuru’s shoulders and Kazu and Saki bursting out into harsh laughter.

When Kirumi had handed Eri her camera back, the blonde girl squealed in excitement and her eyes softened at the sight. “I’ll make sure to print out a copy for everyone. So we never forget the fun we had today!”

“Oh! And don’t forget to send the pictures you took of me Eri!” Kaede giggled as she smiled and Eri smiled with her.

“Of course Kaede!”

“Aww, you guys got close! How cute!” Kokichi teased and grinned when Eri’s face warmed up. Kaede nodded and stood proudly next to Eri, grabbing her hand and holding it up in the air. Eri chuckled sheepishly and gulped, looking over at Kaede with timid eyes.

“Trust me, this won’t be the last bit of teasing she gets about that.” Rantaro whispered with a laugh in Kokichi’s ear and pointed to the way Saki and Kazu were whispering to each other. For a moment, Kokichi felt a bit bad that her sisters would most likely annoy her late into the night with what seemed to be a tiny crush on Kaede but despite her embarrassment, she didn’t seem to mind too much.

“Alright guys, let’s head out!” Kokichi announced, grabbing Rantaro’s hand and leading the group. They raced past Kirumi and out to the front of the house where the limo was parked, the engine quietly grumbling. As they slid inside, Kokichi leaped into Rantaro’s lap and flung an arm around his neck.

“You should let me sleepover tonight.” He chuckled and Rantaro raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not opposed to it but what do you have up your sleeve?”

Kokichi gasped and held his chest, “Ranty is a pervert. You were thinking naughty thoughts weren’t you?”

“What do you—?”

“Jeez, I’m not some hormonal kid who wants sex all the time Ranty!”

“But we haven’t even—“

“But you were thinking that when I asked to sleepover.”

“I…” Rantaro drifted off, face turning a light shade of pink and Kokichi laughed.

“Just teasing Ranty. Seriously though, let me sleepover?”

#aarisfics #With a Dash of Gin #oumami #danganronpa v3 #kokichi ouma #amami rantarou #i usually queue these for a specific hour but oh well #we post randomly like men

[loftyexecutor]

clean slate (11/?)

Pairing: (eventual) addcest [LPDE] & elsain [LKATh] WC this chapter: 3600 Rating: T+ TWs: (past) abuse AU: modern/single parent Lusa (with his tiny son Arc) + runaway Esper (hah) Notes: i wont spoil anything but i feel like this is my favorite chapter so far 

ao3 link

It’s with a heavy heart that Esper shoves a shirt into his backpack and then, after a second’s deliberation, grabs another one, Lusa’s, from where it’s thrown over the laundry basket. He’d never thought he would feel like this one day, throwing essentials into a bag to leave, heart in the pit of his stomach. He’d never thought he’d get attached to a place.

The last time he’d done this, much less peacefully, he’d been full of adrenaline, panic coursing through his very veins. He remembers looking over his shoulder the whole time, watching carefully if his father stirs from his unconsciousness. He doesn’t to that now; doesn’t have to, since he’d hear either Lusa or Arc coming long before they’d see him pushing all the overflowing things further into the bag to zip it up.

He can’t help but wonder if he’ll be missed. Arc had grown attached to him, and Lusa was nice to him, but ultimately, they’d go back to how they were before he’d turned up. Lusa will probably be happier, having his workshop all to himself again, not having to care for Esper’s untimely outbursts.

He resolves to stop thinking about it lest he start crying and wakes someone up with the sound.

He throws the bag over his shoulder and then picks up the note he’d spent an agonizingly long time writing up. He places it onto the dining table for Lusa to find easily in the morning. He would feel bad for leaving without even saying a goodbye, but he can’t exactly do that without Lusa attempting to stop him. He could also go for a hug that he knows Lusa would provide more than happily, but he also can’t have that, even if he feels so, so cold. Suddenly it doesn’t feel like the summer anymore.

Esper shakes his head to clear it and then slips on his shoes. He can’t handle turning around eve once more to look at the house he’d come to call home, a real home as it’s defined in the dictionaries, as opposed to the prison he’d spent his life at before.

He steps onto the dark street with quaking shoulders.

                                                         —

“Heey! Give back my dinosaur!”

“Shea!”

“But da-ad! It’s my turn!”

“That’s my dinosaur!”

“Shea, you lost your dinosaur last week. Give it back to your brother.”

“But da——d!”

“No buts! Give it back and go brush your teeth, both of your. It’s way past your bedtime.”

“...okay…”

Arme sighs, adding ‘get Shea a new toy dinosaur’ to his mental to-do list. He turns to Knight, who is still sitting on the sofa, fiddling with his phone and the strap on it. Arme’s expression melts as he sits by him, enveloping him with an arm.

“You tired?” he asks, bumping into Knight’s head with his.

Knight chuckles and returns the gesture. “A little. I still can’t believe what happened to Lusa today.”

Arme’s answer is a nod. He takes the phone from his husband’s hands and puts it onto the coffee table. The entire conversation is ingrained in his brain just as much as it is in Knight’s.

Knight had called Lusa to ask about going bowling next weekend, but it’d been obvious Lusa was not alright just from his tone of voice. Knight had put him on speaker then, and Arme had found his way into the living room, drawn by their discussion.

Lusa told them what had happened, and then promptly cried soft sobs into the phone. He didn’t want to wake up anyone, but Knight and Arme were lending an ear, he just couldn’t help it.

Knight had assured Lusa he’d personally be of help hiding the body if Asker were to ever show up again. Arme wasn't sure how to feel — because on one hand he completely agreed, but he also kew Knight was completely serious, so on the other hand he wished it wouldn’t come to that.

Finally, they managed to coerce Lusa to get some sleep, but ‘out of sight, out of mind’ never really worked its supposed magic with them.

“We’re a family,” Arme tells Knight, slow and deliberate. “We protect our own. God help those who would try harming Esper.”

Knight grins tiredly and then leans up to place a kiss to Arme’s temple. His lips linger there for a moment, and when they leave, Knight’s entire head rests on Armes shoulder instead. “You always know what to say.”

“Don’t make fun of me—”

“I’m not! I’m not,” Knight defends himself, “I mean it. That was very ice.”

Arme huffs. “You didn’t marry me because of my linguistic abilities or lack thereof.”

“You’re right, I married you for that sweet cheque you bring home every month.”

“Elsword Knight Sieghart-Ishmael, I swear—”

“Dad! Papa! We want a story!” Anpa cries from the upper floor, much to Knight’s elation. He uses the distraction to slip out of Arme’s hold and heads upstairs.

Arme watches with a fond look. He also adds ‘buy Knight something nice from that sweet cheque he brings home every month’ to his to-do list. It’s really getting too long at this point.

It’s not much later that he follow upstairs, stationing himself at the door of their boys’ room like a guard, listening in on every soft word Knight reads from the boys’ favorite storybook. The story of the fearless knight and the crystal of life. Arme knows it by heart, could probably wi a recital , that’s how many times he’d read it already. And Knight alike, probably even a few more times than him.

Still, there is no such thing calming like his husband’s voice piercing the nightly silence, and Arme closes his eyes to enjoy it to the fullest. It’s not like he can’t picture Knight’s smiles and fond looks aimed at their sons with perfection anyway.

He’s almost lulled to sleep himself by the time Knight finishes the story and places kisses on their boys’ heads, doing his best not to wake either of them. He’s smiling sleepily as he leaves the room, the click of the door handle hiding the smack their lips make as they come together.

“Let’s sleep, too,” he whispers, and Arme is nodding along with practiced ease, though he swoops down to get one more kiss beforehand.

Knight is tugging his shirt off before they’re even in the bedroom, sending it flying towards the direction of the bathroom. Arme would laugh if he didn’t feel similarly tired. He starts working his clothes off when Knight pipes up from the dresser, holding their pajamas in his hands with unnatural stiffness.

He’s staring out of the window as if transfixed.

“Is that—” He leans over the dresser, knocking over a — fortunately unlit — candle holder. “Is that Esper?!”

Arme frowns, running over so he can look out the window himself Sure enough, the figure passing their house has Esper’s hair, and is tall enough to pass for him. Arme’s breathing stutters as soon as he notices the bulging backpack on the figure’s back.

It might just be a coincidence, but then again…

There’s no one in the town who resembles Esper, especially not like that. Arme is rushing to get his phone from its charging station on the bedside table.

“We have to call Lusa,” he says, already doing just that. Knight peeks peering out the window, watches the figure go further and further down the street.

“What’s that way—?” Knight asks, but it hits him almost the second the words leave his lips. “The bus stop! Arme, he’s planning to leave!”

Knight’s panicked words only serve to make the dialing tones more terse. “Pick up, pick up, God, make him pick up alread—”

“Hm? Arme?” Lusa slurs from the other side of the line, obviously having been just awoken.

“Lusa, is Esper home?” Arme asks in a rush.

Lusa sounds confused, and Arme can almost see the little crease between his brows. “Wha? He went to bed before me…? Why’re you askin’?”

“Lusa, I need you to go check Esper’s room right the fuck now. Knight, I’m gonna start the car,” Arme instructs, pulling his shirt back on haphazardly.

There’s a distant, “Wow! Language!”

“Did something happen?” Lusa asks, starting to wake up more. Arme isn’t sure whose heavy footsteps he hears; Lusa’s or his own. The automatic light turns on as he steps onto the porch, already clicking the car lock off.

“Fuck!” Lusa hisses into his ear, “He’s not here! It’s a fucking mess, what happened?” He sounds just as panicked as Arme knows he is.

“Knight saw him going down our street a few ago,” he tries explaining. Hes jabbing the key into the ignition and pushing the phone against his shoulder with the side of his face as he peels off the driveway, making a sharper turn than he ever would during daylight. “He had a bag. Knight thinks he’s going to the bus stop.”

“Fuck! What’s he thinking?”

Arme has no answer for that question, but he knows Lusa does. There’s silence for a few blocks and then Lusa breathes heavily into the receiver and says, “I’ll be there in ten minutes. Please, stop him.”

“That’s the plan,” Arme cuts off, Lusa’s voice fading off with the end of the call.

                                                        —

Lusa’s hands tremble as he holds the paper, wrinkling it with the force of his grip. He wishes he could unread something, but alas, he has no such powers or luck.

— Lusa,

I hope you had a good rest. I decided it was too dangerous for me to stay when father knows there this is. I can’t imagine if he’d hurt you or Arc and I can’t risk it. Sorry I left without a word, but I don’t want you to try to stop me. It’s better this way. You’ll be safe if you don’t know where I am. My father is a dangerous man, you’re lucky nothing happened to you yesterday. Please please don’t look for me.

Thank you for everything. I hope I can repay you one say, somehow.

— Esper

Lusa feels like what he’d just read isn’t real, but Arme had made it all too real, and painfully so. He’s grabbing his keys before he can think about it a second longer, running out in nothing but his pajamas and bedheaded hair.

The letter gets shoved into his pocket haphazardly and Lusa wants to forget it exists, but it’s burning a hole through his jeans and soul alike. Nothing save it feels real at the moment; the dark and quiet transforms the town into something unfamiliar, strange.

The drive feels at once endless and over too soon. Lusa’s sneakers drag over the concrete as he half-jogs to the bus stop, breathing out an immediate sigh of relief when he spots a hunched-over figure.

Esper sits on the bench, the lone street lamp that reaches the secluded spot casting long shadows over his figure. Sure enough, there’s a bag on his shoulders. He was really planning on leaving.

Lusa can’t breathe.

“Esper!” he cries, breaking out into a full run and almost tripping himself over a curb.

Esper jerks, turning a wide-eyed face towards him, recoiling almost immediately. Lusa comes to a halt when he reaches him, panting and with equally wide-eyed stare. Esper is holding up his arms in front of his chest as if waiting to be struck down, to defend himself. The implications churn Lusa’s stomach in the very opposite of a good way.

How does he show Esper that he wouldn’t hurt him, never ever again? Each day, each tiny jolt and jerk and careful, fearful glance he beats himself up for contributing to it, wishing there was a way to re-do history and change not only his meeting with Esper, but everything else as well.

He only just notices Arme sitting next to Esper when he leans to look at him closer, frowning like Lusa had done something awful. And, fuck, Lusa doesn’t need him to remind him too; he’s very capable of kicking his brain himself, thank you very much.

He all but collapses at Esper’s feet, reaching out to grab his hands in his, enveloping them and warming the cold skin. He can’t hold back the tears that he didn’t even know he still had after all the ones he’d spent today.

Esper stares down at him, mirroring him with a look of agony that Lusa wishes will never cross his face ever again.

“Please, please, please don’t leave,” Lusa chokes out, back bending down in tandem with the quiet wail that leaves his chapped, bitten-up lips. His forehead comes to rest against Esper’s knees, yet he keeps talking. Esper and Arme hear him clear as day, no matter the mumbles or sobs. “Please, I promise nothing will happen to you anymore, so please, rethink it— I don’t want to lose you, Esper, please…”

Esper weeps — one would think he’d also have no tears left to cry anymore, after a day full of them, but no, his tearducts are as functional as ever and provide the saltiness diligently — and he leans over Lusa, squeezing his hand with his trembling ones. Lusa squeezes back and that simple human contact warms Esper like nothing else could.

“I—” he gasps, sniffling like a whining puppy that had been kicked. His face is a mess of various fluids and he’s thankful for the bad light so the others don’t have to see him like that. “I don’t want to leave…!”

“You don’t have to, you don’t, so please,” Lusa begs, gripping onto Esper like his entire life depends on it.

Maybe it does.

Arme rubs Esper’s back in silence. He knows there’s not much more he can do than he’d already done, or say more than he already had. He’s glad Lusa didn’t have to see Esper when he’d first realized he’d been caught in the act, fighting and begging. Really a sight Arme himself wishes to erase from his memory. He’s not sure how Lusa would have reacted.

Esper shakes between the two of them, trying to stifle his sobs and hiccups. His success is debatable, but it’s not like either of them is going to start the debate.

“I’m sorry,” he says, not without his voice breaking in the middle though, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

“It’s okay,” Lusa echoes back back to each of Esper’s apologies, pulling the man closer, enveloping him in a tight embrace. He doesn’t want to ever let go, ever let Esper slip from his fingers like he’d tried.

They’re pulled out of their thoughts, out of their tears, by the bus coming up to a stop by their little bench, tires screeching too-loud in the night.

Lusa stares at the vehicle and then looks back at Esper, holding him in place with a terrified look. With wide and bloodshot eyes and tear streaks running down his cheeks like rivulets of pain, Esper isn’t sure he’d ever seen Lusa look this scared before. Lusa was strong, he was the one who didn’t cry — today is the first time Esper had ever seen him shed a tear, and what a way to find out.

“Please,” Lusa chokes out, no more than a cut-off whisper that gets stuck halfway up his throat, “I won’t— I can’t make you stay if you don’t want to, but please— please don’t go.”

Esper sobs again, lips wobbling as he grits his teeth and fights not to screw his eyes shut. He almost knocks Lusa backwards with the force he throws himself at him again, clinging like a drowning man to a piece of driftwood. Lusa feels like an anchor, holding him down so he feels real again when everything feels like a bad, bad dream.

“I don’t want to leave,” he confesses again, straight into the fabric of Lusa’s already wrinkled shirt.

“Then don’t! I promise everything will be alright.”

Esper lets himself get lulled by the soft words until the bus drives closes the doors to the vehicle again and speeds off, disappearing into the distance as its tail lights fade out of view.

“Would you like to go home?” Lusa asks, peeking at Arme over the tremble of Esper’s shoulder. They share a look full of nothing but relief, though Arme knows Lusa feels much more of it than him.

Esper nods, choppy, timid. It would’ve gotten unnoticed if he didn’t have his face pressed into the crook of Lusa’s neck and Lusa couldn’t feel even miniscule movements.

“Then let’s go, let’s get some rest.”

                                                        —

“Thank you, Arme,” Lusa says, standing in the doorway. He looks so tired now, with bags under his eyes and unable to even form a real smile.

Arme shakes his head, arms folded not defensively, but pensively. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll Knight everything is fine, he must be worried sick by now.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“Again, not your fault. Not Esper’s, either. Please go get some rest.”

Lusa nods, staring off into nothing again. “Yeah,” he says finally, when the sound of boiling water and the kettle squeaking reaches his ears. “Be careful on the way home.”

“I will. Good night, Lusa,” Arme tells him. He hesitates for a moment, though, then reaches up and softly claps Lusa’s shoulder. Then he’s heading back to his car.

The clock on the hallway wall reads 3:19 when Lusa closes the door and leans back on it to catch his breath, way past his or Arme’s bedtime on a weekday. They’re all going to be messes tomorrow.

But there’s someone who’s a mess right now who needs attention. Lusa paddles his way to the kitchen to find Esper pouring tea. He’s handed a steaming mug and Esper gives a wide smile to go along with it.

“Here. I thought it might help you sleep. It’s chamomile.”

Lusa puts the mug down onto the table. “Esper,” he says sternly, but not unkindly, “You don’t need to act like nothing happened.”

Esper’s falls off like a leaf in the autumn breeze. He holds his own mug close, fingers wrapped around the colorful ceramic. It’s Lusa’s, the one he keeps, the one that has the terrible cat pun on it.

“I’m sorry,” he says, quiet and gazing down.

“Come on, I wasn’t looking for an apology. I’m not angry at you, okay?”

“Uh-uh,” Esper nods, staring into the moving surface of his tea like it holds the secrets to the universe. He plays with the teabag absently, yanking at the damp string.

“I wanna… talk to you about it again, but not now,” Lusa says. His voice is soft, as gentle as he can make it. “For now, I bet we’re both tired.”

“Yeah.”

“Esper…” Lusa hesitates. Gathering all his courage to ask this, he goes ahead with it, but not until a few tense moments pass. “Would you consider sleeping with me tonight? In my room, I mean— I know, it sounds weird, but I’d just like to make sure you’re here, y’know?”

“Okay,” Esper nods, but Lusa frowns.

“You don’t have to say yes. If you don’t want to, nothing will happen. I won’t get angry.”

“No. No, it’s okay. More than okay— I’d… like to not be alone, actually,” Esper explains, a quiet confession like a giant secret no one was supposed to find out.

Lusa opens his arms and waits for Esper to put his tea away before he hugs him again. The lankier man reciprocates, squeezing Lusa with all his strength.

“Today was… long,” Lusa says as he pulls away, “I promise you everything will be alright. So let’s sleep on it, okay?”

Esper hums, nodding with a small, crooked smile. He can’t wait to sleep, really; is sure he’d pass out as soon as his head hit the pillow. Now that the adrenaline is gone from his system, his limbs feel like lead and head pounds with a headache from all the crying.

They take their teas and sip them slowly, savoring the sweetened taste. Esper makes the best tea, Lusa had decided. And the best food. And the best desserts.

He has the nicest laugh. He’s so funny. He gets scared by horror movies too easily. He gets that wrinkle between his brows when he concentrates too much. He’s skilled with anything he picks up almost immediately.

He’s family. Lusa can’t imagine life without him anymore, just like he can’t imagine life without Arc.

Esper drags himself more than walks up the stairs and Lusa can see just how badly this has affected him. Not that he couldn’t before, but with the storm — hopefully — behind them, it’s time to see what hasn’t gotten flooded. Esper hesitates in the doorway of Lusa’s room until Lusa motions him inside.

It’s okay, he repeats. To himself, to Esper. To the both of them.

They collapse onto the bed, teas forgotten on the bedside table. It should be weird, sharing such a small bed with two of them, but it isn’t. Lusa’s arms come to wind around Esper, to keep him close, almost unconsciously, and Esper kicks away the blanket so they’re not overheating. They’re still wearing their clothes — or, at least Esper is, Lusa had just thrown a shirt on to go along with his sleeping sweatpants. That should also be weird. Possibly uncomfortable. But Esper doesn’t even peep.

Just as he’d predicted, the sweet embrace of sleep takes him into its hold just as easily as  Lusa does, and he snuggles up to both.

#elsword #addcest #lpde #.elsword #.addcest #.ch #.cs #.LPDE #im very fond of this chapter if im being honest here. puffs cheeks out #i wsih people would talk to me about this au its one of my favorites...........

[lady-olive-oil]

Distraction Ch.1

Chapter 1

A/N: AYE!!!!!! Here we go ya’ll, here we go! its a longer than i anticipated for the first chapter but it’s something. The title has been changed, mainly because i love Kehlani but still has the vibes of the last title I had. Each chapter will have a different picture, either both of them together or one of each for the characters in their point of view. I have a tag list squad, so if you’d like to be in it, let me know. Alright here we go!

Word count: 1,631

Words in Swahili: Kubeba [bear], Ni habari gani [whats the news?]

Song: Legend Has It by Run The Jewels

{Back to Winston Duke/M’Baku List}

Tag Squad: @itsmegarabitch || @curbedcharybdis [if i forgot your name let me know!!!

enjoy!

-Amina’s POV-

Another day, another dollar. No time for slacking, no time for errors. You can take the girl out of the fashion world, but you can’t take the fashion out of the girl. Being a fashion designer, there was never a dull moment. Just like being the owner of your own boutique. You heard that right, I own The Jungle Boutique, Manhattan. Not too far from where I live, which is Brooklyn. With fashion week being over, I managed to get some random sketches done for fun, whenever I have free time. I do have a little following going on, which isn’t too bad if I do say so myself. WiI had my black Beats headphones in my ears, shielding the world around me, as I sketched a few designs in my book. Bobbing my head to the music, getting a feel of the rhythm of the graphite strokes on the paper. The prismacolors molded against the intricate lines, shaping the garments effortlessly as i went on.

“Amina.” the faint noise of something or someone wasn’t very far.

“Hear what I say, we are the business today, Fuck shit is finished today RT & J, we the new PB & J We dropped a classic today. We did a tablet of acid today, Did joints with the masses and ashes away SKRRRT! We dash away, Donner and Dixon, the pistol is blastin’ away”

“Amina.” there voice spoke again, in the distance that spoke calmly and easily.

“Doctors of death, Curing our patients of breath. We oughta pay you the trust, Crooked at work Cookin’ up curses and slurs Smokin’ my brain into mush. I became famous for blamin’ you fucks Maimin’ my way through the brush. There is no training or taming of me and my bruh, Look like a man, but I’m animal raw”

“Amina!” The voice yelled this time as i kept on sketching, nodding my head to Legend Has It by Run The Jewels. That was until my right earbud was yanked out my ear, forcing me to draw my elbow back, and send an angry glare at the culprit at hand. Yet i was caught, looking up at a very amused Winston.

“Winston! You know damn well you can’t just yank someone’s headphones out!” My thick and heavy accent had shone through, like many times before when I was either tired or distraught. His laughter was something else. Laughing at my pain in the process, one of his hands rested on my shoulder while holding his stomach with the other.

“Oh come on Mimi. It was just a friendly little getsure, don’t take it to heart. Plus, your receptionist Janice, let me up before she left to switch with some guy named Jonah.” There goes that nickname. It never left the 4th grade. He tried to calm his laughter but it was to no avail, sadly enough. Janice and Jonah, my receptionists and old college friends, never ceased to amaze me. Lord knows i’ll have a fille day with them two asking me questions tomorrow.

With a roll of my sweet chocolate brown eyes, closing my book in the process and leaning back in my chair, I gave him a look. Why was he here exactly? Not that I didn’t mind at all, it was nice to see an old friend, especially him. He was the best friend anyone could possibly ask for in any crises. That’s why I called him bear, when we were kids. Now he’s this big star doing extraordinary things with his career, that makes me proud to be from Brooklyn. Making it seems like anything was possible, and that it can be done.

“OK, i have to ask. Why are you here kubeba? Shouldn’t you be at auditions?” I asked him curiously as i watched him pace around the room with excitement, something must be good.

“Well bunny, kind of. You ready for it?”

What was this boy up to? Whatever it was, it must’ve been a good thing to  make him so giddy.

“As I’ll ever be, oh great one. Release your good news upon the village people.” The look on his face was priceless when it was my turn to laugh. It was do deadpanned that even roadkill was jealous, yet he joined in. Doubling over this time, I clutched my stomach and caught my breath.

He was always a tough one to crack, when it came to jokes. I got him to laugh every time, regardless if it was bad or not. I’d like to see one of his little girlfriends do that, without being all up on him like a starfish. You could say I’m a little protective over the women he chooses to date. OK maybe not a little but you get my drift. None of them liked me anyway, because he’d always ask me to check them out for him, or help to get rid of them like that one movie What’s Your Number. Yeah it never ended well for him or I to be honest. They’d all think i was his girl in the end, and that was not the case by any means. Many a times I have thought about being with him, but then I’d think about our friendship in the end. In school I’d be the one getting picked on because of how darkly pigmented my skin was, different from my brothers. Being Afro-Latina in my way, was a gift as my mother would say. Yes i’ve grown into my head and my body curved itself out but what can you do? Plus, i grew my hair out more and it’s literally larger than life. Snapping back into reality, I grabbed his hand that was waving in my face.

“Earth to madame Jakande. You ok?” His concerned voice was soft and gentle, yet worried.

“Yeah. yeah I’m fine. Just uh, daydreaming again. So uh what’s this grandiose news you have for me, ye old one?” I had to get my mind back in the right state of mind, so i gathered my belongings and headed for the elevator for the day.

“I am older than you, yes, so respect your elders.” He poked my side and caused me to yelp, as he followed in tow.

“You’re only older than me by 10 days, ya goofball. Anyway, ni habari gani?” the anticipation was killing me as to what he had in store, as we both descended down the elevator down to the main floor. Manhattan was always busy, no matter what time of day it was. It was however, currently noon on a brisk Sunday afternoon.

“Well since you spoke in Swahili, it is one of the many languages my character in The Black Panther knows. In fact, I’m also the leader of a tribe.” He smiled brightly at me with soft chuckle. At that moment i stopped us both in front of my boutique store front window, giving him a shocked look with a huge grin.

I gave him a once over one good time before saying anything. He had told me that he had gotten a huge role in a movie that would break possible barriers but never told me what it was. I even looked all over the internet and found nothing despite my search. I grew up reading comic books at a young age, because of my parents and older brother, so i knew a little bit. Once he said Black Panther, I had to think for a bit and then I got it.

“Wait, wait. You’re a huge guy so I can only think of one character for you to be. The great M’Baku, leader of the Jabari tribe!” i squealed way too loud as I gave him a congratulatory hug on his huge accomplishment. His strong arms enveloped me in return, laughing himself.

“Someone knows their stuff! Look at you nzuri! Listen as great gesture for being my right hand girl, how about we do lunch? I pay, you pick the place” Releasing himself from our heart warming embrace, he looked at me with hopeful eyes. Damn him for being 6’4.

“Ugh, deal. You drive a hard bargain, oh great leader. I wonder how your girl, Ashanti is gonna take this.” with a sweet wink and a chuckle, we walked side by side towards Del Posto, to discuss his future.

“About her, we broke up actually. Because she got tired of me working more hours.” The look of defeat fell upon his chiseled features as he explained it, but a smile bounced back.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that Winston. Listen, you need to stop serial dating and look for a woman to settle down with, you know? You’re in your early 30’s, I think it’s time.” He rolled his eyes at me this time and smiled graciously, as I let out a sweet laugh. If only he knew.

“Yeah, yeah. When the time is right, I will. Now let’s eat and discuss my wardrobe for this premier. You are styling me right?” He offered me his hand to do the Wakandan salute that I know from the trailers, and we both did it.

“Oh hell yeah. You know i am. What kind of friend would i be if i didn’t use skills for good instead of evil?” walking inside the restaurant, we were greeted by an aroma of multiple things and sat at our usual table by the window.

“To us. Two best friends, living their dreams in the city and conquering everything. But, not losing sight of themselves.” he made a little speech before we clinked our wine glasses together.

Oh yeah, this was going to be an interesting year for him, and also me as well.

#m'baku #winston duke #winston duke x amina jakande #distraction #thicc daddy m’baku #black panther #m’baku x reader #m’baku x oc

[camsthisky]

A War Inside My Head

ao3 | ff.net

Thanks to @tantalum-cobalt and @chimaerakitten for looking this over. I didn’t change much but the things you pointed out, so thanks for taking the time to beta! I really appreciate it!

“What if I poke him?” someone murmurs.

“If you do that, he’s going to hit you,” someone else says.

“He wouldn’t hit me. It’s Dick.” The first voice pauses. “And besides, he’d totally poke me, too.”

“No, I’d do it to you. Or Damian, or Steph. But not Dick.”

“Yes, Todd,” a new voice chimes in, though it sounds reluctant. “Grayson would most likely dote on the sight of you drooling on your pillow.”

Someone snickers. “Oh my God. Now I can’t stop picturing it.”

“Shut it if you know what’s good for you, Damian. You, too, Tim.”

The voices are invading his dreams, Dick realizes. He can’t match voices to names or faces, but they sound familiar enough that Dick figures he’s not in any danger. And honestly, Dick’s tired enough to sleep for days.

He just wishes the voices would get the memo.

Someone tuts. “Like you could take me down.”

“I will shoot you.”

“Leave him alone, Jay.”

“And what’s up with that? Since when are you on the Demon Brat’s side?”

“Since he stopped Bruce from throwing out all of my coffee.”

“What—do I even want to know?”

“I thought it might be a fruitful investment. I turned out to be correct.”

Dick forces his eyes open, and he blinks blearily up at the trio standing in the middle of the living room, just inches away from the couch Dick had collapsed on when he’d gotten back to the Manor earlier. None of them are looking at him, and while they’re all being relatively quiet, it isn’t quiet enough for Dick. He’s tired, and as much as he’d normally love for his little brothers to be in the same room and talking and not killing each other, now is kind of a bad time.

He just wants to sleep, preferably without any little brothers interrupting his first rest in over 48 hours.

“If you’re gonna talk, do it somewhere else,” Dick tells them, half his face smooshed against a couch pillow, slightly muffling his slurred words. “‘M tryna sleep.”

Jason doesn’t miss a beat. “Then why aren’t you in your bed, Goldie? The couch isn’t exactly the best place to crash.”

“Wasn’t gonna make it,” Dick murmurs, eyes sliding closed.

It’s quiet long enough that Dick is able to slip back into a doze, and he can almost convince himself that Jason, Tim and Damian have left the room with use of bat-training. Except, he can still feel their eyes on him, and it’s annoying.

Dick makes an irritated noise in the back of his throat, and without opening his eyes again, asks, “What?”

“Nothing,” Tim says, but it’s too quick. “Just—what did you mean by that?”

“By what?”

“When you said you wouldn’t make it to your bed.”

Dick sighs, and pushes himself up on his elbow. They’re still huddled, but they look more concerned than amused now—well. Tim does. Damian looks indifferent, but that’s just his usual I’m-interested-and-worried-but-I’ll-never-admit-it expression, so Dick counts it. Jason just looks...odd.

Yeahhhh, Dick’s not touching that look with a ten-foot pole. Moving on.

“I’ve been working a case,” Dick says. “I just finished an’ I’m tired, so if you want me off this couch you’re gonna hafta carry me, ‘cause I’m not moving.”

Tim frowns. “What case?”

“And why wasn’t I involved?” Damian asks, arms crossing over his chest.

Jason doesn’t say anything.

Dick sighs. “A drug dealer made it big in Blüdhaven and worked his way to Gotham, but I didn’t realize he was coming here until I was just about to bust him. Besides, all of you have been busy.”

At least, that’s what they’d told him when he’d requested a movie night the day before he started tailing the guy.

“How long were you after this guy?” Jason sounds interested, which is, again, odd. Jason doesn’t usually care what Nightwing does as long as he stays out of Red Hood’s way. Which Dick had. Or maybe Jason’s just interested in the guy because he’s a drug dealer in Gotham. It seems like the sort of thing Jason would get worked up about, given that at some point Jason had his hands on half of Gotham’s criminal underbelly.

“I was tailing him for two days,” Dick tells him. “And I took him down—” a glance at the clock, “—about two hours ago. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go back to sleep.”

Dick collapses back on the couch again, ready to drift back to sleep. Hopefully now that their curiosity is satisfied, his little brothers will go away and be nice to each other.

Unfortunately, his brothers have other ideas. They start murmuring to each other, like they think Dick can’t hear him. He’s right here, though, and yes. He can hear every word they’re saying to each other.

“Should we tell him?” Tim asks. He sounds conflicted.

“He’s sleep deprived,” Jason says. “Mr. happy-go-lucky is grumpier than I’ve ever seen him.”

“It’s only two days,” Tim argues. “I’ve gone longer.”

Damian scoffs. “Yes, well he’s not you, Drake.”

“He’s going to find out the moment he turns on the news, anyways.”

“Y’know I can hear you, right?” Dick asks, but then he sighs, cracking his eyes open again. “Why’re you guys even here?”

Tim hesitates, but when Jason and Damian aren’t forthcoming, his shoulders droop. “It’s, uh. There’s been a breakout out from Arkham, and Bruce wants all hands on deck.”

Dick’s rolling off the couch and onto his feet before Tim’s even finished talking. He runs his hand down his face and blinks rapidly trying to get his bearings. Going from lying to standing in two seconds hadn’t been the smartest idea. “Just give me a sec,” Dick tells them.

Tim looks unsure. “Dick—”

“Yeah, I don’t think so, Dickiebird,” Jason says, pushing him back down to sit on the couch. Dick can’t seem to put up much resistance, so he goes down compliantly. “We can handle this.”

Dick frowns. “But Bruce said-”

“Bruce also doesn’t know you’re running on fumes,” Tim counters.

“Contrary to what you think, we can handle this without you, Grayson,” Damian says. “Sleep.”

“Wow,” Tim says, and his eyes are wide and completely mocking. Looks like the coffee saving has been forgotten. “That almost sounded like you care.”

“Nonsense,” Damian sniffs. “Grayson would just be a hindrance, is all.”

Dick knows that Damian’s just covering for what he thinks is weakness, but Dick also knows that Damian’s right. After spending the past two days tailing his drug dealer with hardly any sleep, Dick’s worn out. He wouldn’t be at the top of his game, and he’d be sloppy. More than likely, he’d get seriously injured and someone would have to bail him out.

“Right,” Dick says. “You guys go then. I’ll stay and keep Alfie company.”

Jason huffs out a laugh that says that he doesn’t quite believe Dick. “Right, sure. How about this. You stay here, make sure we don’t have to save your ass, and tomorrow night, after we finish clean up, maybe we can have that movie night you wanted.”

“I want to pick the movie,” Damian says immediately, a scowl across his face again. “I refuse to be subjected to another Disney movie. Or another documentary.”

Tim shoots Damian a nasty look. “That was one time.”

Dick laughs quietly, his lips quirking up in a smile. “That sounds nice, Jay. Promise I won’t run off.”

A chime sounds, and Tim pulls out his phone. “Uh oh. B’s down in the Cave, and he’s not happy.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Is he ever?” Jason asks. “I swear, there’s a stick up Bruce’s ass, and nothing anyone does is going to get it out of there.”

Damian tuts again. “Todd, have a little more respect.”

“For who? Bruce? You’re kidding, right?”

Damian sweeps out of the room, and Jason follows him, their argument fading into indistinct murmurs as they head towards Bruce’s study. Tim, though. Tim stays, and he turns to Dick. He looks a little hesitant, but not in a bad way, so Dick waits until Tim’s figured out what he needs to say.

“You’re going to stay, right?”

Dick nods. “I’ll stay. I won’t be much use to you out there.”

“You know, we were worried.”

“About me?”

Tim hums an affirmative. “You’ve been working a lot of cases without us.”

Dick smiles. It’s weary, but genuine. “I’m okay, Tim.” And he is. There has just been a lot for him to do, the same way that Bruce and Tim have both been frantically trying to keep up with everything. “You should go. They’re going to need you.”

“Sure,” Tim says easily, though his eyes tell Dick that this conversation is far from over. “I’ll see you when I get back. Make sure you get some rest.”

Dick waves as Tim exits the room, calling a “Stay safe!” after him.

And then it’s just Dick sitting on a couch, and he’s suddenly very, very awake. Even if he can’t put on his uniform, he still wants to help out. He’ll find Alfred, and he’ll wait for everyone to come back home, safe and sound. And after that, he’ll sleep.

“Do you think he’s actually going to stay?” Stephanie asks as she adjusts her cowl, looking over to where Tim’s fiddling with his bandoliers. “He can be really stubborn when he wants to.”

“He’ll stay,” Tim says quietly. “I think he’s knows that he isn’t up for this.”

“If you say so,” Stephanie says, wishing that she could feel as sure as Tim does.

Bruce enters, cowl up, and it’s all business. “Let’s go,” Batman growls, and then they’re all off, ready to beat in some bad guys’ faces, and Stephanie forces herself to forget about Dick Grayson being too tired to force himself to save the day, to pretend like it’s not going to eat her up inside.

Dick doesn’t even last an hour before he falls asleep again, this time in Bruce’s computer chair.

But even if he’s sleeping, it’s not peaceful. His head feels heavy. There’s a buzz in the back of his mind, and his skull is thumping with every beat of his heart. All in all, a very miserable existence. He wonders if it’s from the sleep deprivation or if this is something entirely different. Maybe he’s getting sick.

“Master Richard?” Alfred calls, prodding Dick back into wakefulness, just like he used to when Dick was a kid waiting for Batman to get back after a particularly nasty nightmare. “Are you sure you would not be more comfortable in your own bed?”

“‘M fine, Alfie,” Dick tells him. “I wanna wait for Bruce an’ the others to get back.”

Alfred looks troubled, but he doesn’t argue. “If you are sure.”

Alfred leaves, off to clean and worry, and worry and clean, and maybe find some time to cook in between, just like he always does whenever anyone goes out ever. But it’s especially hard for him on nights like this, where everyone’s called out into the night, and Dick finds himself in the exact same position.

He hates it, and he can’t understand how Alfred’s managed to do it night after night for so many years. Dick would die from worry alone.

Dick falls asleep—again—to those thoughts, and the next time he wakes up, he’s being shaken, worried blue eyes staring down at him from Bruce Wayne’s face—he’s still in costume, but sans cowl. Bruce’s hand comes out of nowhere and sweeps his hair out of his face. Dick can’t help but lean into the touch.

“Dick,” Bruce whispers. “Bed time.”

“‘S everyone okay?”

“Tim has a scratch on his cheek, and Jason hit his funny bone accidentally when he elbowed a guy in the face.”

“That’s it?” Dick asks.

“That’s it,” Bruce confirms. “No one’s hurt, Dick, so go to sleep.”

Dick scrunches up his face. “I was asleep.”

“Bed,” Bruce orders, but it’s gentle. Nothing like his orders in costume, that’s for sure. There’s this undertone of worry, but Dick still can’t force himself to disobey—he wonders what that says about him. “Now.”

Dick hums in agreement. “That sounds nice,” Dick sighs, his eyes drooping shut. “But I dunno if I can get there by myself.”

There’s silence for a moment, and then Bruce is in front of him again, freshly showered and dressed in sweats and a t-shirt. Dick wonders how long he’d actually closed his eyes for, because it felt like seconds. Definitely not long enough for Bruce to get out of the costume, scrub himself down, and throw some clothes on.

Then Bruce is levering him up, throwing Dick’s arm around his shoulder, until Dick’s standing, dead weight against Bruce’s mass. Bruce practically drags him up the stairs and to his bedroom, and Dick thinks he should probably help somewhat, but his feet have decided that they don’t work anymore, because he can’t seem to get them underneath him.

Bruce only stops once they reach Dick’s bedroom. Dick’s still more asleep than awake when his face hits his pillow, and by the time he realizes that Bruce is trying to get Dick underneath the blanket, he’s too far gone to care.

Dick passes out before Bruce even finishes tucking him in.

Everyone’s relieved that Dick doesn’t sneak out of the Cave, but they’re also really worried. Tim, though, he’s not sure what to make of this situation. Because it isn’t supposed to be Dick that’s forced to stay behind because he’s too tired. That’s usually Tim’s job.

But after seeing how tired Dick was the night before, Tim’s not surprised that Dick’s not at breakfast the next morning. He worries his bottom lip, thinking about how Dick got so tired in the first place.

Jason shoots him a look from across the dining table, one that says he knows exactly what Tim’s thinking, and that he better knock it off. Well, tough. Jason might like to pretend that he isn’t attached to this mess that’s their family, but Tim accepted it a long time ago. There’s no point in denying it now.

Damian comes in as Alfred is placing down a plate of omelets in front of Tim. The kid takes note of the people in the room—just Tim, Jason, Alfred—and sniffs in what everybody but Dick would call disdain (Dick would call it concern, but Tim just can’t see it).

“Where is Grayson?” Damian asks, settling in a few chairs down from Jason.

Jason stabs a pancake with his fork. “Sleeping.”

Damian scowls. “Still?”

“He was dead tired,” Tim points out, frowning. “And I saw Bruce dragging him to bed after we all came home. I was going to check on him after breakfast.” He lets Alfred top off his orange juice. “Thanks, Alfred.”

Alfred smiles. “You’re quite welcome, Master Timothy. As for Master Richard, give him a few more hours to sleep off his exhaustion. From what I understand, he’s been under quite a bit of stress lately. He could use the rest.”

Tim frowns harder, Damian does that weird pouting-scowling thing he does whenever he’s worried about Dick, and Jason sighs into his hands. If Bruce were here, he’d be brooding over Alfred’s words, wondering just how much time he should give Dick before he went and sounded the alarm bells.

But that’s Bruce, and while Tim is more than capable of waiting two or three hours before checking in on his brother, he doesn’t really want to. He wonders if it would be so wrong to check on Dick now, and if he’s still in bed, Tim doesn’t really see the harm in slipping under the covers and spending a day lazing about. God knows he deserves it.

So Tim says, “Sure, Alfred,” and makes a mental note to check on Dick right after he finishes his breakfast, ignoring the disbelieving snort from Jason and the knowing look from Damian. He knows that Alfred probably knows that he’s lying, but the butler doesn’t call him out on it, so he’s pretty much in the clear.

They’re all worried, and Dick sleeping isn’t going to deter Tim from checking on him.

Now, to finish this omelet.

Dick’s dreams don’t quite make sense, even with dream logic intact.

He’s not Nightwing, he’s Batman again, the weight of the cape and the cowl and the world sitting on his shoulders. A weight Bruce seems to hold up so easily. A weight that Dick never quite could. But it’s back, and it’s heavy. That’s not the part that doesn’t make sense though.

What he doesn’t get is why there are three Robins, now. Damian and Tim, he gets, but Jason’s put the costume back on, too, and that doesn’t sit well with Dick at all. He doesn’t know why, but it feels wrong.

All the same, he accepts the burden. He accepts the weight of the cape pulling him down deeper into the abyss, the responsibility of watching out for Robin—the Robins—and making sure that they don’t have to do what he made sure Robin was for all those years ago. Bruce isn’t under the cowl, and Dick won’t ask of them the same Bruce asked of him.

They aren’t fighting anybody, but Dick’s covered in blood, and he doesn’t understand why. They’re in the Cave, haven’t left, but Jason and Tim and Damian—all thirteen years old—are looking at Dick like he just killed a man.

And then Bruce is holding Dick’s face between his blood-slicked hands, and Dick’s not sure what’s happening. He just knows that somehow, somehow, it’s his fault.

Bruce pulls back his lips and snarls, telling Dick, “You did this to me. You did this to them,” and over Bruce’s shoulder are Jason and Tim and Damian looking at him like he’s just killed a man, because he did. He killed a man and three kids, and it’s his fault. All his fault.

He’s covered in blood. All five of them are covered in blood, but only four out of five of them are bleeding heavily from bullet holes all over their bodies. And it’s Dick that’s holding a gun. Bruce grips Dick’s face harder. Dick shoots. Again and again and again, and he’s afraid.

And then it replays all over again.

Dick kills his family six times over before he turns the gun on himself.

“Did you know he had a fever?” Damian demands, stomping into Bruce’s study. He looks absolutely thunderous, and Bruce honestly doesn’t blame him, because there’s that clenching in his own gut that’s only there when one of his kids are hurt or ill. When Bruce doesn’t answer, Damian takes another step closer. “Did you know.”

Bruce sighs, dropping his pen and leaning back in his chair. “He was warm last night when I checked on him, but Alfred told me it spiked this morning.”

Damian’s quiet for a moment, staring at the floor. “What’s wrong with him?”

“I don’t know,” Bruce admits. “But I’m trying to find out.”

In the end, Dick sleeps almost 13 hours (a few spent with different siblings slipping under the blankets with him, he’ll find out later), and a glance out the window to see the sun streaming through tells him that it’s sometime in the afternoon by the time Dick finally shakes off the remains of unconsciousness.

Barely.

He’s still unbelievably tired, and he really doesn’t want to get up. In fact, it’d just be so much easier to fall back into slumber, and Dick’s eyes fall shut again without his express permission. Before he knows it, he’s dozing.

“Dick,” Bruce whispers, startling Dick into opening his eyes again, and he blinks up at Bruce. It’s déjà vu, Dick thinks, because he thinks that they’ve done this dance once before—only Dick had had a lot less sleep then, because there’d been a lot more confusion.

“Bruce?” Dick croaks, squinting up at his dad. “What’re you doin’ in here?”

“It’s time to get up. You need to eat something.”

Dick frowns, and tries to think through the sleepy haze still clouding his brain. “I don’t think I’m hungry. I had a weird dream and I think it’s making me sick.”

“I still want you to try.”

“There were three Robins,” Dick says, because for some reason he needs Bruce to understand.

Bruce has gone from soft and gentle to unhappy, almost in an instant, and Dick wonders if it was something he’d said. “Dick,” Bruce says, his voice taking on a harsher edge. “You need to eat. If you don’t, I’m going to call Leslie.”

Well, Dick isn’t sure of a lot of things right now, but he’s sure he doesn’t want that. So he levers himself up and blinks against the black dots dancing in front of his eyes. Lots of blinking today, it seems. “I’ll eat,” he tells Bruce. “Don’t call Leslie.”

“Good,” Bruce says, his voice soft again. He grabs a bowl of soup from the tray sitting on Dick’s bedside table and hands it to Dick. He takes the bow from Bruce with shaking hands, but he manages to get more than five bites into his mouth before the urge to vomit hits.

Dick drops the spoon into the bowl. “I think I’m gonna be sick,” he whispers.

Bruce is quick. He grabs the bowl, sets it down, and grips Dick’s bicep all within a second, and then he’s pulling Dick to his stumbling feet and leading him to the private bathroom in his room. Dick’s in front of the toilet retching into the bowl seconds later, his stomach spasming painfully.

The entire time, Bruce is there. Rubbing his back, running his fingers through Dick’s hair, keeping up quiet murmuring that Dick can’t really pay attention to right now. It’s comforting, and Dick’s exhausted enough that the eating and the retching are enough to have him leaning his sweaty face against the cool porcelain of the bathtub beside him.

“I don’t feel good,” Dick mutters, because he’s not sure what else to say. He just wants to feel good again. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Stress,” Bruce tells him, his fingers brushing his damp hair away from his face. “You’re stressed out, and your body couldn’t handle it.”

“I’ve been stressed before and it’s never been like this.”

“Your immune system’s weaker because you haven’t been sleeping, Dick. You’ve been running yourself into the ground, and now it’s biting you in the ass.”

“Language.”

“I don’t think I need a lecture on cursing from you of all people,” Bruce says, his voice light and teasing and gentle in a way it hasn’t been in so, so long. Since before Jason, maybe. Or maybe before that, even. It wasn’t like Dick and Bruce had really been on speaking terms when Jason came into their lives, after all.

Dick swallows back the tears threatening to prick at his eyes. “I’m tired, Bruce.”

“I know,” is all Bruce says, and they stay in the bathroom like that for a really long time.

Damian slips into Grayson’s bedroom that evening, and he stops cold. Because Father is lying there on the bed, Grayson curled up into his side, fast asleep, and Damian thinks that maybe he should back up and leave before he interrupts an intimate moment between his father and his oldest brother.

But Father catches him before he can go anywhere, and Damian walks towards the bed reluctantly at his father’s nod.

Damian’s gaze flicks to Grayson and before he can really process the fact that he’s saying anything, Damian asks, “Is he alright?”

Father sighs. “It’s stress. He’s doing better, but Alfred says it’ll probably be another day of sleeping off exhaustion.”

Damian nods, and then hesitates again before asking, “Would it be alright it…?”

“Come here, Damian,” Father says, and he lifts up his other arm, the one not wrapped around Grayson, and Damian takes the offer before it can be rescinded. They stay like that for a while, and Damian can’t find it in him to be humiliated about the position.

When Dick wakes up again, it takes him a moment to understand why he’s so warm. Burning almost. He’s settled against someone’s—Bruce’s—chest, and both his and Bruce’s body heat underneath the covers is almost too much to bear, and it—it’s not something Dick can really comprehend. Because Dick’s curled up next to Bruce plenty of times before, and never before has it been this hot.

“Stop squirming,” Bruce says out of the blue, his voice rumbling in his chest underneath Dick’s cheek, and Dick’s even more confused. Because he isn’t even moving. But then Bruce speaks up again, exasperation clear in his voice, “Damian. Stop.”

“Tell Drake to keep away from me, then,” Damian sneers. “He keeps elbowing me.”

“I wouldn’t if you would stop taking up so much of the bed,” Tim hisses, and there’s a commotion from the other side of the bed that Dick can only really listen to. He’s too tired to raise his head, and he’d had that unsettling dream once again.

It’s almost like feels like there’s something crawling beneath his skin, something heavy weighing down both his body and his mind.

“Shut up,” a new voice says, but this one is from farther away. It’s Jason, and Dick thinks he sounds like he’s sitting at the desk in the corner of his bedroom. “You’re gonna wake Dick up.”

“You’re going to wake Dick up,” Tim shoots back, but there’s no heat behind the words.

“You’re all too late,” Bruce says, amusement in his voice, and Dick finally raises his head to see Bruce looking down at him eyebrow raised. “Good morning, Dick.”

“It’s eleven pm,” Tim protests from somewhere on the other side of Bruce.

Bruce hums but he doesn’t correct himself. Instead he just squeezes Dick a little closer to his comfort and Dick lays his head back down on his dad’s chest, feeling a sudden urge to cry. He doesn’t know if it’s because he’s surrounded by his family or if it’s because he’s still feeling sick, but the tears prick at his eyes nevertheless.

“Is he actually awake this time?” Damian asks, sounding skeptical.

“Will all of you be quiet?” Steph cries from somewhere beyond the bed and on the floor. “Me and Cass are trying to sleep.”

Jason snorts. “You’re playing Go Fish.”

There’s silence after that besides a little bit of muffled laughter from Cass, but for the most part the room goes quiet, and Dick feels himself start to relax under Bruce’s hand rubbing up and down his back.

“Go back to sleep, Dick,” Bruce says quietly. “We’ll all be here when you wake up again.”

And Dick, well. He believes Bruce. He relaxes fully, that something underneath his skin settling down for the moment with the knowledge of his family surrounding him, some of them not even an arm’s length away.

Dick falls asleep, and when he wakes up again, it’s to Bruce holding him. To Jason sneaking him worried glances from over by the desk. To Tim crawling from one side of the bed in order to lie on Dick’s other side. To Damian hiding concern behind raised hackles and cruel words only directed towards Tim and Jason and Steph. To Stephanie cracking lame jokes with a full belly laugh. To Cass sitting at the end of the bed resting a comforting hand on his blanket covered foot. To Alfred opening up the door and serving them all breakfast up in Dick’s room.

They’re all here, and Dick, even if he doesn’t feel ready to shake off his exhaustion and sickness and face the world yet, feels safe with his family surrounding him.

#dick grayson #tim drake #damian wayne #jason todd #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #dc #camryn writes #a war inside my head #i swear the title made sense when i chose it a month ago

[chanzicoup]

Runaways ( Wonwoo x Reader Gang!AU)

Make sure to read the post explaining the roles each SVT member has!

Count: 4.5k

Genre: Life on the run

Warning: Abusive Parents, Mentions of Drug and Alcohol abuse, fight scenes, mentions suicide attempt

Next Part

Madeline's POV

I wake up from my dreamless sleep to the blaring noise of my alarm clock. With my eyes barely open I lean over to my nightstand and press the snooze button out of routine. I slump back into the warmth of my mattress. Feeling even warmer arms wrapping around me, I smile when I feel my boyfriends lips grazing my shoulder for a quick peck.

"Mae..." His voice is still groggy from barely waking up. I turn towards him and instinctively my fingers start to thread themselves through his dark locks.

"Morning Wonwoo." He called me Mae, I called him Wonwoo. It was our thing. His real name was Oh Pyeonghan but he hates it to the grave. I can't blame him, his parents were probably high as hell when they named him. Only I call him Wonwoo. It's special to us. It's a way for us to be different people, people we want to be, when we are together.

"I should get going soon." He mumbled into my nape, the words tickling my skin like feathers. I look back at the clock and see that it's 5:47 in the morning. He had to be out of here by 5:50 so he could get back to his home before his parents discover he's gone.

"Yeah... I guess you need to go." I didn't want him to leave. When he leaves it's like he's taking a part of my soul with him. His arms disappear from their position around my waist and he sits on the edge of my bed. His shirtless back is revealed to me and me only. Finding his jeans and t-shirt he wore hear last night, Wonwoo changes quickly before looking back at me.

"Don't give me that look now." I hadn't noticed the slight pout on my face but I didn't change it after being caught. I sat on my knees and allowed the blanket to slide off my body. One of Wonwoo's sweaters he left here forever ago serving as my cover up that exposed my right shoulder and my thighs from being just a few sizes bigger then I am.

"But I don't want you to go..." I wanted to live in the reality we shared forever. No school, no abuse, no stress, all of that vanished into thin air even with the mere sight of him. As stupid as it sounds, my life is awful with out him. He climbs back on the bed, crawling a few inches to close the distance between our lips. He pulled away and whispered in my ear.

"I'll be back. Be strong for me, okay?" He said. I nodded as we stood, me having to look up due to our height difference. I held his hand during the walk to my bedroom window that opens to reveal a fire escape. Opening the window, the brisk air whipping our faces.

"See you later?" I asked with one leg stepping out of the window, part of my body outside while the other half stays inside.

"Do you even need to ask?" I sneered at his answer while he only chuckled. Every night without fail for the past two years either he snuck out of his home or I snuck out to his. We did it to spend all the time we could together, our families hated each other and despised the idea of their only children being together. As far as they knew, we only see each other in the hallways of school, and even that managed to piss them off. If they found out about us they'd have our heads and don't think that's an exaggeration. Yet neither of us knew why our families were feuding, but that was how things were and we never asked.

"Just checking. I love you." He smiled at my statement our hands began to slip apart.

"Love you more." His fingertips brushed mine before completely letting go. Watching him jogging down the stairs, I could already feel the beginning of the emptiness that would be lingering with me for the rest of the day until I see him at school.

Closing the window and walking to my dresser I change into a pair of black skinny jeans and a white t-shirt. My hair was messy but after brushing it out and placing one of Wonwoo's red beanies on the top of my head I left the room at exactly 6 a.m, I showered last night so I'm fine for now in that department. School doesn't start until eight but if I wanted to successfully avoid a drunken lecture from my father I had to get an early start. Heading into the kitchen to grab an apple I walk past the picture frame with a haunting memory. It was an older picture of my parents and I when things were better. The young me was in a Sunday dress and my parents were in their finest attire, it was the last picture we took before my mother died of lung cancer.

"I miss you mom." I traced her long blonde hair with my index finger. My mother came from France and met my father here in Seoul while she was studying abroad. They fell in love and less than a year later they were happily married. My mother was thrown away by her family, but she didn't care. All she wanted was my father. A short time after their marriage I was born and life was good until I was about eleven, when mom got sick. She didn't last long after that, if I remember correctly she was on chemo for three months before the doctor announced her death.

I don't know for sure what happened to my father after that. He just snapped. Overtime he became easily aggravated and yelled at me for the littlest of things. I remember on my twelfth birthday he gifted me a nasty scar on my stomach from throwing a bottle at me. He only got physical if he'd been drinking, which was pretty often. I separated myself from others, afraid of being hurt more then I should. But when I started high school I was targeted by everyone. Being a "half breed" the other students would chant slurs and insults until I cried. When I did let a tear slip they would throw trash at me, squish food on my clothes, and anything else they could come up with for laughs. It only got worse as times went on.

Going to the teachers was an option I used rarely. Every time I told someone what was going on they always took it lightly, saying the other kids were only joking and that I should relax. The bullying escalated but one day Wonwoo saved me from ending it all if you catch my drift. It was the last three weeks of Freshman year and the anniversary of my mother's death. I stood on the edge of the roof, ready to jump and soar in the air until I hit the ground and left the Hellish world I was in.

It was luck that brought Wonwoo to the roof on that day, he was reading a book while listening to music during his lunch break and with his senses shut off from the world he had no idea I was behind him. And I had no idea he was their either. The strangest feeling that made him look up saved my life. He had found me hovering one leg over the edge of the building and the other shaking under my weight, barely keeping it's balance with all of my being resting on it.

He had convinced me to come down and when I did he held me while I cried. A total stranger helped another. From that day forward he promised to keep me safe, of course I didn't find this out until we started dating. That night he walked me home , it was the first time I had truly felt happy since my mother's death, I didn't care about anything else besides that very moment. I was talking to someone who would listen and respond positively. What I didn't know was that my dad was eyeing the two of us from his bedroom window and that he was infuriated. He met us at the front door and told Wonwoo to go back to his house before gave me the beating of a lifetime from behind closed doors. Saying I shouldn't be hanging with scum like him and that it would make him look like the bad dad he really was to the public, who'd seen him as a hardworking man who lost his wife and is raising his rebellious daughter he could not control and is troubled from loosing her mother at such a young age.

No one knew what my life was like, no one but Wonwoo. Despite what my father had done to me, I couldn't bring myself to cut ties with the only person who actually seemed to care. The bruises on my arms that I thought were well hidden under my hoodies were easily noticed by him and it was also enough for him to figure out what my dad had done. Since then he promised once again to protect me at all costs, that was when our relationship had gotten stronger.

I shook my head to take my thoughts off of what happened three years ago. It's in the past now. Since Wonwoo and I began dating those awful thoughts of ending my life receded into the mysterious depths of my brain, never popping up even on the worst days. I heard my dad's bedroom door slam and I began to run back into my room, making sure I stayed as quiet as I could on the steps. The smell of alcohol could be detected from all the way up here and if he saw me know I would never hear the end of it even though I had gone nothing remotely wrong to disturb him. I grabbed my school bag and phone before slipping on a red hoodie and leaving through the fire escape. Maybe if I get there fast the day will go by even faster.

Wonwoo's POV

I didn't want to leave her. But if her father found us in bed together he'd freak. Even though we were innocently sleeping next to each other I knew what her dad was capable of and I didn't want her to get hurt. Plus, if my parents found out they'd know instantly where I was and take matters into their own hands. Possibly killing Mae because they think all of their problems can be resolved with violence.

My parents were powerful people, together they run the largest gang in Korea. Living double lives they appear to the world as simple pharmacy operators but in reality they smuggle antibiotics and illegal drugs to all the corners of the Earth, pocketing all the money they earn for themselves instead of putting it into a college fund for me like most parents would do for their only child. Then again most parents are not extreme drug dealers. My parents never cared for me, I wasn't even suppose to be born, I was just "the result of a drunken night and a mess up on my mother's birth control," and don't tell me I'm wrong because they both agree.

I always try to talk to them about it, craving for their love and affection, but they shut me out and say that they didn't raise me to be warm hearted and caring, they raised me to hide my emotions and be careless, they wanted me to be more like them in every way possible. But that clearly is not the person I am, I care about others and protect the ones I love while my parents want me to be this gang lord when I'm older. I need love like any other civil human being. 'We don't love.' My father would say before he knocks me to the floor or throws a glass vase at my back. He always lost his temper with me, it's always been like that. He claimed it as 'reinforcement' or 'disciplinary services' but legally it would be qualified as abuse.

When I met Mae on the roof I saw how hurt she was, even if I didn't know what she'd been through at that time. The look of sadness in her eyes scarred me for life, since then I've sworn to never have her like that again. I couldn't bring myself to just leave someone alone and depressed like I had been. I convinced her off of the roof, thank god. I held her while she cried and released the emotions she must've bottled up for who knows how long. I am proud to say that I have kept my promise.

On that day when I walked her home and when she thought I was gone, I stood at the porch and watched as her father brutally beat her in the living room. I wanted to kick the door down and kill him then and there, but in the end I found myself walking home with clenched fists. I should've done something, anything would've worked. I could've gotten the neighbors to call the cops, or called them myself. But I didn't and I'll regret it forever.

When I got home it was about six o'clock and after changing my clothes and showering I was out of the house by seven with my breakfast money in my wallet. Not only are my parents powerful, they're god awful with money and leave random bills laying on the tables or wedged in between the couch cushions. Every kids dream right?

I walked the twenty minute distance to school and stopped in the cafeteria to buy two muffins. A blueberry one for me and a banana nut one for Mae, since she probably grabbed an apple or something to avoid her dad. I thanked the lunch lady after she gave me the brown bags containing the food and made my way to Mae's homeroom class.

Since school doesn't start for another half hour most of the students haven't gotten here yet but most likely they would be here any minute. Mae sat alone in the class, her back facing me but I could see that she was listening to music by the way she was tapping her fingers on the desk. Knocking would be useless since she couldn't hear me, so I slid my way in without her seeing me. I sat the muffins on the desk behind her and swung one of the chairs over so when I sat in it I would he directly facing her. Putting my elbows on the desk and resting my head on my palms I admired her features as her eyes stayed closed, absorbing the music and getting lost in her own little world. Damn she's so cute. Pecking her lips she gasped and opened her eyes, surprised to see me smirking in front of her. She punched my shoulder playfully and we both chuckled.

"When did you get here?" She asked, taking out her ear buds and putting them away.

"A few minutes ago, here, I got you something." I took the bag from the desk and handed her the muffin I got for her.

"I know you probably ate an apple or something so I got you this." I explained. She rolled her eyes but unwrapped the muffin with a smile. So I was right, huh?

"You know me so damn well." She said while chewing. I nodded and began eating my blueberry muffin as well. A few minutes went by and we sat in a comfortable silence that other couples would see as strange or weird but it was normal for us. Our feelings could go unspoken.

"So how'd things go today?" I threw away our trash and sat back down in the chair.

"Dad almost saw me, but when I heard his door slam I hauled ass." She snickered. Good thing she got out in time, I don't know how I would react seeing even more scars on her milky white skin that she hid from the world underneath long sleeves and bracelets.

"I wish I could help." I said. It hurt me to see the only person I've ever loved live in fear like this.

"You are helping. Being here for me is enough." She smiled.

We continued talking until the school bell rang, signaling it was eight o'clock and classes were starting at any minute.

"I have to go. I'll be at the normal spot during lunch." I stood up, grabbing my bag before slinging it over my shoulder and pecking Mae's lips again.

"I'll see you there." She said.

Mae's POV

I watched as Wonwoo left the room and the other students filed in like a herd of buffalo. A group of boys stood with each other a few feet away from my desk, discussing what to do over the weekend before saying how much they hated their parents because they took away their phone and grounded them. I rolled my eyes and ignored their conversation, if they thought that was bad, try living with my dad. But hey I'm just people watching, not eavesdropping at all.

I took out my music again to listen to until my teacher showed up, before I even had the chance to press play they were ripped out of my grasp. I didn't need to turn my head to see who took them, I know damn well who it is and exactly why they did it.

"Thanks for the gift, moron." Said the peppy voice that belonged to Kwon Daena, a proper way to describe her would be by saying she was the snake in my rabbit hole. But if I remember correctly, I'm way smarter than she'll ever be because I have common sense.

I kept silent as a response, if I snapped back at her I'd just be giving her what she wanted. Attention. She needed it from others to satisfy her growing ego and would target anyone to get it. So far she only pestered me into being her only victim. I couldn't blame her, like I said I'm an easy target. I was the girl who has no mom, mixed racially, and has no money to her name. It made me the perfect victim for her to attack for her own well being. I mean I clearly don't have enough to deal with in life so might as well add bullying to shake things up a bit, right? Hopefully you guys see the sarcasm in my statement. She just has nothing better to do with her petty life.

Me being quiet only seemed to annoy her, which I had expected, so she slammed her palm on my desk to grab the eyes of every single kid in class. With everyone watching us, she took this as a chance to humiliate me further by grabbing a water bottle from her bag and dumping it over my head. My clothes were soaked and it didn't help now knowing her water was infused with lime or some kind of citrus fruit. I smelled like a damn lemon tree that had germinated with a waterfall.

"Look who's a wet little whore." Oh well now that's just extra, no one needed to hear such a slur from the mouth of the real whore. Wait, does that make me hypocritical if I'm talking to myself? Probably, but whatever. She continued to sneer and circle my desk while the rest of the class erupted into laughter and I sat with my head down. I've grown used to the jokes and the constant harassment so I just take it at this point. There isn't really anything else I could do, if I talked back it would only get worse. If I told anyone they will not believe me, and things would still only get even worse from there. I've learned this through experience.

I took off my hoodie and thanked the lords the water didn't sink down to my shirt. But my hair didn't seem to get all that lucky so I settled with tying it up to keep somewhat dry. The door opened and the teacher stepped in, greeting the class and apologizing for being late.

"Madeline!" She yelled. I sat quietly but turned my head to acknowledge her,

"Why are you soaking wet in my classroom?!" Her yelling only making it harder for the students to hide their laughter.

"I-it was..." I looked over at Daena and her looks alone were enough to convince me against snitching. I closed my mouth and looked back down at my hands that were resting on my lap.

"I can't just have you walking into school soaked like this! Do to the nurses office to get cleaned up and come back when you're decent." She ordered while pointing her fingers to the door. I grabbed my book bag and now lemon scented hoodie and went to the nurses office, only to find it empty and locked. I sighed and went to my locker, grabbing the spare hoodie I kept here just in case something like this happened. I threw the soiled one onto the hook to take home and wash later, if I remembered. I then went to the bathroom to rinse off the smell of lemon-lime fusion that resided itself into my scalp and used paper towels to dry my hair, which was an excruciatingly long process.

By the time I was finished it's been an hour so when I went back to class the teacher was talking about a completely different subject than the one she left off with when I left. Even if it was the same topic I had zero idea what she was even talking about. None of it made much sense to me anyway.

"Madeline, care to tell me where you've been for the last hour?" She crossed her arms and looked at me like a crow stalking it's prey.

"Bathroom." I said simply.

"I told you to go to the nurse."

"Well maybe you should have made sure the nurse was there before sending me." I snapped. Her mouth hung open in surprise and I stood tall, she was mad that I was right and she knew it, but couldn't bring it out to admit she had been mistaken. Instead of speaking kindly like how most teacher should she resorted to her lecturing tone.

"I don't like you're attitude, missy. I suggest you clear it before I send you to ACI." ACI was like in-school suspension, you sit in a room until you take a break for lunch, school ends, or until you are instructed otherwise. You don't sit there without work, of course. The classes you miss give you the work and notes you need to complete and give to the supervisor. I've been there before and it wasn't so bad, the teacher's who were suppose to supervise us 'troublemakers' would fall asleep or go to the teacher's lounge instead of doing their jobs. But that didn't surprise me.

"I don't like your attitude either so I guess neither of us are happy. Send me to ACI, see if I care, it's all you ever do. It's probably better there than here, do you even think your dumbass students know what you're talking about? Why do you teachers here never do their fucking jobs anymore?" I didn't care, why should I? It's not like being polite would do anything good for me anyway. And she disrespected me first so why should I play nice?

"That's it! Go to ACI now or else I'll get security to do it for me." She threatened while walking to the school's phone. I scoffed before speaking.

"If I'm going down I'm doing it without your stupid security guards. Also this whole thing would've been avoided if you'd listen to me when I was saying it was Daena who soaked me with water. But you won't listen because her daddy is your pimp." I murmured the last part so then the teacher didn't hear it over her agitated whispers to the principle over the phone, letting him be aware of me being sent to ACI once more. What is this, the tenth time this month? If anything I'm excited to go, it keeps me away from everyone else and makes it easier to sneak out. I stormed out of the classroom and walked down the hall and into the designated ACI room, but not without flipping off the class while they broke their characters and giggled like children on a sugar high.

Four rows of desks placed before me and no one occupied any of them. The teacher's desk was empty as well, finally some time alone. I sat in the desk in the farthest corner of the rooms and took out my notebook, doodling random things over my notes about some formulas I'm never going to use again. I looked at the clock, 9:37 a.m.. Lunch is at 12:30 so what the heck am I going to do for three hours?

It was too risky to have my phone out, if a teacher were to see me on it in ACI they'll confiscate it immediately and give me detention, which is basically ACI but on a Saturday or after school. I didn't want to be here during school hours anyway so why would I risk being here longer? I looked around and saw no signs of entertainment, just white walls and a black chalk board that hadn't been cleaned off in years. The only color of the room being the red and blue inked graffiti on the desks, some were hotlines for "a good time" and others were stupid comic strips that I had read thousands of times. Some weren't bad but those were the ones I wrote.

There was a knock on the door and through the little window I saw a girl with a pile of papers and a textbook in her hand. I stood up to let her in and she set the papers down on the desk. The pink sticky note that was stuck on the first page read, "For Ms. Madeline, homeroom teacher: Ms. Lee." Ah, my beloved ACI work.

"Thank you." I said and flipped through the pages.

"N-no problem, Madeline." She stuttered before leaving. It took me a minute before realizing that was Park JinHa, the class secretary. I've never heard her talk much in class, but who has? Everyone knew she was a genius without her ever boasting about it. Was she that shy? I guess that's why she didn't win the presidential election, she lacks in people skills poor thing.

I sat back at my desk with my papers, apparently I would be missing two tests, three worksheets and a study guide for our Economics' test. I sighed and got to work, starting with my English test.

#seventeen #jeon wonwoo #seventeen imagine #gang #kpop #seventeen wonwoo #seventeen reaction #seventeen scenario #kpop imagine #kpop scenario #kpop reaction #gang au #kpop gang au #seventeen gang au #au

[setoangel01-fanfiction]

Devastation

Crazy - Chapter 23 (Previous Chapters)

Fandom: TMNT 2014-16

Pairing: Raphael x April

Rated: T

Chapter Summary: While awaiting for April to come back home, Raphael learns things he's not at all prepared to hear…

Fanfiction.net

A03

…there had to be an explanation - there just HAD to be...

Every logical part of him tried to come up with something reasonable to explain this behavior after everything they'd been through. Heart hammering and throat parched, Raphael continued to pace around her small apartment. Habitually glancing out the many windows and keeping his scattered focus on her front door, looking down at his cell phone and searching for any clue as to tip him off as to when the beautiful brunette would make her return.

The trepidation of fear and anxiety began boiling deep in his gut without any hopes of alleviating.

Raphael was sorely tempted to text, to call if only to make sure she was okay was becoming an all-encompassing need. Yet another side of him said that he was being ridiculous; perhaps it was just a long game and they had lost track of time at a 24-hour restaurant or pub but as the minutes and hours slowly ticked by without a sign of her intending to return to her apartment, Raphael gradually lost his mind to panic.

Desperation and fear coiling in his gut; terrified for her safety.

Yes, he was damn well aware Casey wasn't just some pretty boy and could in fact defend himself. Raphael didn't need to be reminded of his heroic actions regarding Bebop and Rocksteady that day but there was a doubt, a piece of truth Raphael needed to confront -

Casey was only human.

A decent-enough fighter yet one that couldn't even hope to stand up to more than three or four foot soldiers at the most. He trusted him to be able to protect April more than Ol' Captain Vern but that wasn't saying fucking much…

The criminal activities and the Foot Clan and Karai's prison escape was not far from his mind and it was driving him insane. Karai being their temporary leader left the Foot an actual looming threat and with April out there in the city with no one more than Casey to protect her had his stomach churning with undesirable outcomes for either. The Foot was made up with experienced ninjas under Karai's control - anything could happen at any damn time and April had no real protection other than a pretty boy with a hockey stick….

Raphael was really beginning to panic.

Mind awash with scenarios he did not want to confront; possibilities that they both were indeed in trouble (Casey he didn't care so much - but April…). Picturing the beautiful brunette captured, hurt, crying for help without no one to heed her panicked calls…them hurting her, brutalizing her for information…even killing her to shut her up…

It was now 7am and there was still no sign or call from April, it finally became too damn much for him.

Grabbing his cell phone in massive shaky hands, he dialed her number before putting the small device to his ear. Desperately awaiting her lovely voice on the other line; resolute to hear her distinct tone echoing in ear. For her to answer and successfully push aside his own fearful connotations and his doubts to rest; that she was indeed fine and dandy and he was being far too apprehensive and worried for absolutely no reason (it wouldn't be the first time). Raphael would gladly take a bit of embarrassment for the chance to just hear her on the other line right now…

"Hey!" her voice started after a few rings - sounding like a beautiful chiming bell.

"APRIL!" Raphael bellowed beside himself; heat plummeting to his bowels when her voice suddenly continued uninterrupted.

"-You've reached April O'Neil. I'm unavailable right now but if leave your name and number after the tone, I'll be sure to call you back as soon as I can! Have a nice day!" her message finished and he could see her signature smile she always ended her broadcast with in his mind...Stomach dropping to his bowels like an anchor to the bottom of a lake when reality hit him…

Raphael swallowed thickly.

Heart hammering and nostrils flaring, he pulled the phone away from his face and hung it up with a shaking thumb. Excuses immediately filling his brain so he wouldn't be forced to think of other scenarios he really did not want to fathom let alone entertain. Maybe she was in the bathroom, left it on silent, or perhaps her phone just died…

…That was possible, wasn't it?

Raphael suddenly ran to her kitchen where she always left her phone cord plugged in and, like he suspected, it was there. That made sense. April just forgot her charger so her phone probably just died and she got caught up; maybe even got called into work hours ago. She was just too occupied to get the chance to call him and tell him she wouldn't be there until later on that day…

Yeah, that was probably it…

Within half an hour and still no sign or call from April to be had, Raphael was forced to accept the other possibilities. Flicking on the news, desperately hoping to perhaps see her beautiful face and happily delivering the morning news - all safe and sound. But she wasn't, but there was also no news of an attack or anything of the sort but it still wasn't enough to ease the hallow sensation filling his stomach…

A dreadful feeling he hadn't experienced since he was watching her fall from Sack's tower…

Lowering his eyes from the television, he called her again and like the past ten or so times, it went to voice-mail but more alarming was the fact it went from three rings - to two - than one before just going to voice-mail automatically….Desperation leaking into his gut, Raphael was sorely enticed to head outside and start tearing apart the city looking for her but it now being daylight, there was amount of ninjitsu, no training, and no force on Heaven or earth that would cause him from NOT being seen.

Yet as the seconds and minutes quietly ticked by without knowing where she was or what the hell could have happened, Raphael was beginning not to care.

Screw Splinter and Leonardo's constant berating of never being seen in daylight - April needed him. Raphael stood up, sorely tempted to just fling the window open and search every corner of the city for her. To ignore the screams of the citizens regarding his massive, horrid form; he wouldn't care as long as he found April. Yet when he approached the window and was so ready to just throw it open and leave…her voice in his head stopped him. Telling him to stick around - to wait for her to return. That kept him stuck there - wanting to keep his promise to stay…so he did.

"April…" he breathed; heart hammering painfully and sweat tickling at his underarms, neck, and forehead as he lost himself to his fears. Raphael was nearly hyperventilating as he plopped himself down on her couch; the leather and wood creaking painfully underneath his massive weight.

"Dammit! Where the fuck are ya?" he growled, rubbing his hand over his forehead to swipe at the beads of sweat that accumulated.

As the minutes slowly ticked by, an idea sprung to his mind and before he could even think of any connotations or questions that would await him later, he dialed his phone again.

"DONNIE!" Raphael screamed as soon as the genius turtle answered with a slurred 'what?'

"Ugh…what is it, Raph? It's too fuckin' early for you to call me…" Donnie replied grouchily and Raphael could practically see the purple-banded turtle rubbing at his eyes from the other end of the line. "Where the hell are you anyway? Patrol go on too long or what?"

"...April never came home." Raphael breathed out, not even caring how absolutely petrified he probably sounded to his genius brother.

"...what the hell are you talkin' about, Raph?" Donnie grumbled and it was blatantly obvious he was still half asleep and in no mood to deal with any of this shit.

"Did ya fuckin' hear me, Don?! I said - April never came home last night!"

"...you mean she wasn't there when you went to fix her dishwasher?"

"No, Don! She left with Casey last night."

"...on a date?" was the puzzled or rather pitied reply.

"NO!" Raphael shouted; genuinely surprised at himself for being so damn angry in response. He swallowed before he continued in a much more calm manner, "No, i-it was jus' a hockey game or somethin'."

"...Okay…So if she didn't come home, so what? Also, what are you still doing there? Are you still fixing it? It shouldn't have taken you that long." Donnie replied sounding slightly more awake but just as salty as always.

"Don't ya give me that! Of course I fuckin' fixed it! B-Besides, that doesn't fuckin' matter, Don! She never came home!" Raph shouted; cheeks heating from anger and frustration and why the hell wasn't Donnie just as worried as him!?

"Raph, she probably just went to a bar with Casey or something. I wouldn't worry about it." Donnie waved him off and Raphael had it.

"April promised, Don!" Raphael bellowed, found himself loudly stomping his foot against her thin carpet without thinking and if the downstairs neighbors hated him already, they really hated him now.

"...Promised what, Raph?" Donnie responded in a sardonic tone - one Raphael was really getting sick of hearing.

"April promised me that she would come home last night - she told me to wait for her here…"

Donnie grew silent for a long time as if quietly mulling over this new information and when the genius didn't make any more complains or sarcastic barbs as if Raph was indeed being irrational, Raph knew the direness of this situation suddenly fell over Donnie as well.

"...she did?" Donatello asked, a breathy concern to his voice was easily detected to Raph's sharp ears.

"Yes." Raph grunted out. If anything, his panic only increased at hearing how utterly concerned Donnie sounded with just those two words.

"That doesn't sound right that she didn't come home then."

"What 'ave I been saying dis whole fuckin'; time, Einstein!?" Raph growled, anger sating his need to panic, the need to rip this city to pieces until he found the beautiful brunette - hopefully safe and sound.

"Calm down, Raph! M-Maybe she just forgot."

"April never forgets and she'd never break a promise!" Raphael reasoned and it indeed was true - April wouldn't be lax about a promise; no one was more loyal or punctual than April.

"..." Donatello was silent. An unspoken worry that echoed between the silence. Very real fear plaguing the tension-filled air surrounding them. "Do you think…?" Donnie finally muttered out; both of their minds going to the prison break and news of Foot Clan activity running rampant throughout the town.

Raphael didn't speak, his heart plummeting in fear of something Leonardo had perpetually warned him about. The steadfast nights he'd been over at April's; watching her house and keeping a constant vigilance. How was he certain no one was watching him?

…if something happened to April because of his recklessness…

"DONNIE! You need to track her phone!" Raphael suddenly bellowed and Donnie yelped at the sudden sound.

"Okay! Okay!" Donatello screamed back and Raphael listened carefully as Donnie's footsteps rang about and the obvious squeaking of the rolling computer chair he sat on.

For long, terse minutes, all Raphael could hear was Donnie's labored breathing, the clack of computer keys and his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. So many scenarios playing in his head; multiple horrifying images of the Foot Clan capturing his beloved April, holding her against her will, torturing her for information about them and knowing April…she'd die before she gave them up.

A lump clogged his throat, a burning sensation in the back of his eyes alarming his heart to a near standstill. Raphael wanted to cry, scream, tear the entire fucking city apart and find those who may have stolen her and rip them limb from limb, rip their insides out through their throat while they're still alive.

If those bastards laid one finger on her…

"Raph?" Donnie's calm voice filled his ears suddenly and he was gratefully flung from those thoughts. Fists loosening from his white-knuckled grasp as he heard the voice of his younger brother.

"What is it, Don?! Where the fuck is she!?" Raphael didn't beat around the bush; bellowing at this point. Utter and complete terror filling his chest and hanging on every one of Donnie's words he had yet to speak. "Just tell me where she is and I'll go get her!" he further demanded.

"Raph." Donnie muttered and he stilled at how utterly calm Donnie seemed, "April's fine." the genius completed.

The utter relief that filled Raphael's chest was sadly short lived when another thought plagued him.

"...what? B-But wait - then where is she!? She should have come home!" Raphael shouted, very well aware of how utterly pathetic and hysterical he sounded.

"Raph - she's fine - that's all you need to know. She's…in familiar territory." Donnie was being annoyingly vague, and damn, it was beyond frustrating.

"...is she at work?" Raph asked hopefully.

"...She's fine." Donnie decided upon his vagueness but Raphael was not going to allow it anymore.

"Don, are you fucking hiding something from me? Where the fuck is April!?"

"..."

"DON!"

"...Raph, i-i-it's nothin!," Don answered with a stutter and that scared him more than anything, "a-and I-I don't necessarily think that information is entirely impervious to this harrowing situation and furthermore - "

"Dammit, Donnie! Stop beating around the fuckin' bush already! Where the fuck is she!? Just TELL me!" Raphael shouted; voice booming into the other end of his cell phone to where Donatello went completely silent at his outburst.

Long moments passed of deafening silence; own heart hammering painfully and if he had expected anything, this certainly wasn't it…

"...she's at Casey's apartment…" Donnie muttered out.

It was as if Raphael's heart suddenly became encased in ice…

"...what?" the words left before he even realized he could form them anymore.

"Hey, I-I bet it's nothing, Raph. Heh. Maybe she just didn't want him to drive back in the snow and decided to crash there." Donnie chuckled but Raphael felt as if he was going to be sick.

April had promised him she'd be back…

She lied…

April never lied to him before…

"Raph? Hey… Raph, maybe this is just a big misundersta-" Donnie's voice was cut off when Raphael suddenly hung up the phone.

[sssolaine]

Tit for Tat

Rating: M (for suggestive sexual themes)

Prompt: “I won’t give you roses,  Granger, cliché isn’t my thing.”

Synopsis: His life as a Ministry head was all fine and dandy until a sexy wrench called Granger was thrown in the mix. What’s a hot blooded wizard to do?

A/N: I’d like to thank stellagammadraconis and DayDreamer1123 for beta-ing this and I apologize for such a short notice (a girl loves to cram)! The premise was provided by Di and I just toyed with it. Hope y'all enjoy what we came up with!

Draco must’ve been dreaming. That’s it. It had been five years since he’d last seen Granger, and to say she’d changed a lot would be an understatement. Last he’d heard, she’d moved to Australia to be with her parents. He never did find out why they left Britain, but he assumed it had a lot to do with their daughter’s involvement in the war.

From where he was seated, Draco had a good view of the Muggle-born. He could tell she’d grown taller, her hair was now tamer, and the tight black blouse she wore was pretty distracting, especially since it emphasized the curve of her bosom. He’d surveyed her with a keen eye when she’d entered, her hips swaying as she walked. If someone used a legilimens spell on him right now, they’d be in for a pleasant surprise. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine having a raging hard-on because of Hermione Granger.

The sound of Shacklebolt’s baritone wrenched Draco out of his lustful thoughts and back into the department head meeting.

“As you are all aware, with Mulberry’s retirement, the Magical Law Enforcement Department is currently without a head. Ms. Granger here has worked in the same capacity at the Australian Ministry. She comes to us highly recommended by the Australian Minister himself. I trust that there will be no problems as she transitions into her new role.”

Granger smiled, exchanged pleasantries with her soon-to-be staff and headed out for a meeting with the Minister without even acknowledging Draco’s presence. She looked delightful and he’d be damned if he’d let her escape his grasp before he sampled that fine arse. No one could resist a Malfoy’s charm if he put his mind to it. Draco smirked to himself. Yeah, they would certainly have a great “working relationship.”

oOo

Or so he thought. The minx was difficult to get a hold of. When she wasn’t attending meetings, she was busy shirking his advances. Draco started to make a move on her in the ministry cafeteria’s secluded area three days after she assumed the position. He’d subtly complimented her hot ensemble coupled with fuck-me heels that day, he just couldn’t help himself. Hermione stared at him for a whole minute, obviously dumbfounded, before her face scrunched up as if her coffee tasted awful. Murmuring a quick “Excuse me” she left in haste as if Snatchers were hot on her heels. Their succeeding encounters were all similar, always ending with her fleeing the scene from his constant stares and “accidental” touches. Draco was going easy on her, convinced subtlety was the key, but it was all for naught. If witches weren’t throwing sultry glances his way, he would have doubted his Malfoy charisma by now. It was downright insulting, to say the least, but he wasn’t a quitter. Draco would win her soon, he was sure of it. But perhaps a change of strategy was in order.

oOo

Hermione Granger, department head of MLE, sighed and leaned back in her comfortable chair. Being back in Britain was helping to slowly mend the gap that had formed between her and her friends while she’d lived in Australia for a few years following the defeat of Voldemort. The kiss she and Ron had shared in the Chamber should have given way to a budding romance, but her heart couldn’t take the separation from her parents, so she’d made up her mind and took a step back. After the battle, Hermione had decided to lift the obliviate spell she’d placed on them before it became irreversible. She hadn’t bothered asking Ron to come with her because she knew he was still grieving the loss of his brother, and his family needed him. It had been painful, though, that he hadn’t offered to accompany her, or just to see her off - even Ginny, who had been in the same boat as him, had the time to spare. Hermione knew dwelling on it was childish, so she’d moved on after some time.

But that wasn’t what had really hurt their friendship. No, what caused the rift was the fact that he carried on with his life as the Keeper of the Chudley Cannons. That, and being a member of the Golden Trio, had catapulted him to stardom. And with fame came parties, social events…and women. She shouldn’t be affected by all of this — they’d never really talked about where they stood, but it hurt her nonetheless.

Her return sparked a change in Ron. It was as if a memory charm had been reversed, and he started thinking about picking up where they’d left of. No longer was he seen out with various witches, as he only pursued her since the day she got back. He sent her roses every day, as if he’d forgotten that she was allergic to them, and chocolates, for which she’d never had a liking. She sighed. After all these years, it was as if he didn’t know her.

And then there was Malfoy, head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation.

Malfoy, who was constantly on the lookout for her like a wolf to his prey, giving her compliments out of nowhere, watching her like he’d devour her. Those eyes, oh those eyes! They made her quiver with want, left her hot and bothered. It was a feeling Hermione was no longer familiar with, having less time for love and the physical needs of her body.

She was unnerved.

This was the same man who, five years ago, had called her a vicious slur she ought not to mention even in her mind. He’d sneered at her, hexed her and thought her way beneath the dirt on his dragon-hide boots. What made him interested, all of a sudden? She wondered. It wasn’t as if he was out of witches. She had seen a couple of them eyeing him like he was sex on legs. The fact that he’d gone from a pointy-faced git to a heartthrob in a span of a few years made her suspicious he had an ulterior motive behind his actions. Oh, she won’t think of him. Not anymore! She had Ron to think about. She wouldn’t picture Draco’s strong arms..arms that could easily hoist her up and fu—

“Ugh! No! Stop it!” She banged her head on her table, hissing at the pain that made her forget her momentary lapse of sanity. She didn’t even hear her door open.

“Hermione? What’s wrong?” Ron entered hesitantly and sauntered close to her.

“N-nothing!”she stuttered, caught in the act having lurid thoughts about Malfoy. “I’ve got a headache, nothing serious.”

“Reckon what you’re doing doesn’t help. Are we still on for later?”  Ron gave Hermione the boyish smile that used to make her heart flutter. Gone was his lanky frame, replaced by muscles from his line of work. He looked handsomer than before. There was no spark, though. It was like the years apart had snuffed the attraction from her.

“Yeah, it doesn’t. I have a potion for it, so I should be okay later.”

He seemed satisfied with her answer and slowly leaned down to kiss her lips. Alarmed and unsure of how she should respond, she moved her face just in time, and his lips landed on her cheek instead. She leaned back, and an awkward silence filled the room.

“Uhm, I’ll see you later then?”

“Yeah, later.” Ron tucked his hands in his robe’s pockets and walked to the door, but he suddenly stopped before leaving her office.

“What the hell are you doing here Malfoy?”

“In case you’ve forgotten, Weasley, I work here,” Malfoy snapped back, his voice laced with venom. “Also, if you can kindly move your arse out of the way, I have confidential things to discuss with Granger. You’re wasting my time.”

Ron’s hands tightened to fists, seemingly ready to wipe the sneer off Malfoy’s face.

“Ron, I’ll see you later. Please,” she pleaded. “I have a case I need to run through with Malfoy.”

Ron faced her, gave a curt nod and left in a huff.

Malfoy closed the door behind him and prowled toward her. Hermione was taken aback by the anger she saw in his eyes and carefully backed away into the corner.

“What is it, Malfoy?” She heard her voice falter.

“You’ve been avoiding me, Granger, and I don’t like it. Why?” he snarled.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You know damn well what I’m talking about.” He placed his hands on the wall, effectively locking her in.

She tried to pry his arms off, but he won’t budge. “Get away, Malfoy! What do you want?”

He turned his grey eyes on her and, in that husky drawl of his, uttered the words that shattered her resolve. “You. I want you, Granger.”  

She gasped. Seeing his chance to silence her, Malfoy leaned in and closed the gap between them. His tongue plundered her mouth. Teasing. Caressing. A startled cry escaped her lips and, knees weak from the onslaught of his advances, her hands braced his shoulders out of instinct to keep from falling. Shock turned to arousal, shutting down her sense of right and wrong, and she returned his fervent kisses with the same intensity.

Hermione mewled against Malfoy’s mouth when his hips ground against hers. He did it repeatedly and roughly, seeming completely consumed with need and fueled by the noises she made.

Groaning into her mouth, Draco quickly reached down and lifted her hips to his, hiking her skirt up in the process.

His mouth found her neck and opened hotly to suck at her delicate skin. He tasted her while his hands caressed her arse, still grinding his hips, letting her feel his hard length on her wet heat. This was all unplanned, but he wasn’t about to complain. When he’d seen Weasley try to kiss her, he’d been consumed by a feeling foreign to him. There’s no way he was letting that oaf have his little minx after this. He’d make sure she’d be his. Her lips were plump and red from their passionate snogging, and her eyes were shut tight, lost in the throes of passion.

“Granger, look at me.” She slowly opened her honeyed orbs and couldn’t seem to focus because of his ministrations. “Don’t go with him. This, whatever this is that we have between us, you can’t deny it. Not anymore.”

As if to prove his point, Draco pressed featherlight kisses on her mouth again. She readily parted for him, savoring his taste. Carrying her to a chair, he leaned back and tipped up her chin.

“I won’t give you roses, Granger, cliché isn’t my thing, but I sure as hell won’t leave you hesitating when I give you my attention.” He gazed into her eyes, hoping he’d be able to convey his thoughts. “Let’s give this thing a chance. I saw how you evaded Weasley’s kiss. Say yes.”

In a moment of clarity, she tried to move, but Draco held her hips firmly.

“Let me up, Malfoy. How can we talk properly when you’re holding me hostage?” She pouted those sumptuous lips.

“I think you’re right where you’re supposed to be.” He gave her a cheeky grin. “So? What do you think?”

“Let me up, and I’ll tell you.”

He sighed and gave in, allowing her to stand.

Granger looked away and closed her eyes. “I’m dating Ron. I can’t just up and cancel on him. He’s my friend.” She let out an exasperated sigh. She knew she should feel guilty, but his lips on hers felt so right.

Standing up and feeling incensed by her answer—something he should have expected from this stubborn witch—he marched to the door. Before he grasped the knob, he turned to her.

“We’re not done here, Granger. Think about it. Will you settle for a man you no longer feel like giving a proper snog? I saw you. And I felt how you responded to me.” He scanned her brazenly from head to foot. “You can tell me you don’t want me, but your body sings a different tune. You know where to find me when you change your mind.” He slammed the door on his way out, rattling its frame.

Hermione dropped into her chair when he left.  Now there was no faking it, she could really feel a headache coming.

oOo

Fidgeting, Hermione arranged her skirt under the table. She didn’t know how she’d be able to break it to Ron while he was yammering on about the latest Quidditch scores and the proper feints.

“Mione?”

Startled out of her reverie, she sipped her wine before she said, “Yes?”

“Did you even hear what I said?” Ron frowned, irked that she wasn’t paying attention.

“I’m sorry, Ron, it’s been a long day and I’m tired.”

“'Are you sure that’s the only reason?” He eyed her pensively.

This was it, she thought. That was the opening she was looking for. She hesitated a little too long and, when she faced him, he was looking at her intently.

“I’m sorry.” She took another sip of her merlot for liquid courage and placed her glass on the table. “I don’t think this is working, Ron. We tried. I know we did, but…I think it’s too late for us. I…I no longer feel the same way before I left for Australia.”

Silence.

All she could hear were the sounds of the neighboring table’s cutlery. Confused by the lack of his legendary outbursts, she looked up. Ron was blinking and swiped an arm over his eyes.

“'Ron? Are you—”

“I know.” He breathed heavily, regret marring his voice. “I just thought, if we tried, we could go back to what we were before this. I should not have allowed you to go alone. I should have been there for you, too. If I was, then maybe, just maybe, we’d be together and happily married like Harry and Ginny.”

Stunned by his admission, she stood up and moved in front of her best friend. This was the man she’d thought she’d spend her life with. Grasping his hand, she pulled him up and hugged him fiercely. People were probably staring, but she didn’t care. Her sobs were muffled by his shirt. She cried for the love they’d lost, for the chance they would no longer get back.

When she was able to get her bearings, she peered at him, eyes puffy from crying. “I love you, you know? You’ll always have a piece of my heart Ron. I know you’ll find someone who will be worthy of your affection someday. I’m sure of it.”

He patted her back and murmured his acquiescence. They returned to their places and continued eating, foregoing any personal conversation and settling on safer topics like their work and their friends. After settling their bill, he took her home and dropped a chaste kiss on her forehead.

Hermione looked around and when she didn’t see anyone, she whispered a few spells to drop her wards. Letting herself in, she did her nightly rituals and prepared for bed. When her head hit the pillow, her mind traitorously reviewed everything that had transpired during her dinner with Ron, and she felt a stray tear escape her eye. She rubbed her cheek to remove the liquid. There was no use thinking about it. They’d made peace with each other.

She only had Malfoy to deal with now.

Malfoy.

The git was still as arrogant as ever. When he’d started flirting with her, she’d decided to investigate what the rotten ferret was up to. What she found out was astonishing. He donated a hefty sum each year to war reparations, funded a muggle-born orphanage for those who’d lost their parents in the second wizarding war and other charity work. It seemed he had also left his prejudiced beliefs behind from what she observed in the office. He was chummy with muggle-born wizards and witches, even trusted by Kingsley. And if those sexy intense looks were a promise of what’s to come, hell, she would be coming alright.

Oh well, it seemed a dreamless sleep potion was in order.

oOo

He sought her out every chance he got, even though he said she should be the one to approach him when she’s ready. The witch in question was always nowhere in sight. She should have been sorted into Slytherin with all the tactics she employed to avoid his presence. When he was finally able to see her, in her office nonetheless, she disappeared before he even got the chance to talk to her, leaving via portkey for an international magical conference. He was at his wit’s end.

oOo

1 week later

February 12

Draco was shuffling papers at his desk, pretending to be busy despite finishing all of his tasks before lunch time. According to his sources, the conference had been extended from a three day event to a week. He was frustrated, irate and terribly missing the wily witch. He thought about giving up, but changed his mind at the last minute. A Malfoy always gets what they want. He huffed. Fat chance that would come true this time. The witch seemed to have forgotten everything they shared for a few minutes in her office.

A knock on his door pulled him out of his brooding. “Come in,” he called out without looking up. His new secretary had been quite outrageous with her propositions recently and if it was her, he had to appear busy or else she’d try to molest him again. Not that the lady wasn’t pretty, quite the contrary, but ever since that encounter with Granger he couldn’t seem to get it up for anyone else.

“What is it, Ms. Hollingsworth?”

“Last I’ve heard it’s Ms. Granger,” a female said with a teasing lilt in her voice.

Malfoy’s head snapped up immediately when he heard her. It couldn’t be. He almost believed he was hallucinating from his constant thoughts about her, but this seemed to be real. There she was, wearing that tight skirt and shirt he fancied so much. Keep your cool, Malfoy. You don’t want her thinking you’re too excited to see her. To cover his shock, he dropped his gaze and perused the documents in front of him.

“How can I help you, Granger?” he uttered nonchalantly.

She sashayed unhurriedly toward him, and he saw her dainty hands grip the edge of his desk.

“Well, you did say I could come here when I changed my mind. You can stop acting like you don’t care Malfoy.” He looked up the saw those plump lips he’d been dreaming about curl into a smile. “Caught how your eyes almost fell out of their sockets when you saw me.”

The cheeky minx. He was about to stand up and face her when she dropped a piece of folded parchment on his table.

“See you on the fourteenth, Malfoy. It’s a date. Don’t be late.” Granger winked, turned on her heel, and left a gaping Malfoy behind.

Hermione walked briskly to her office, trying to calm her beating heart. She knew it was a bold move, what she’d done. But her mind was made up. The entire week in Paris and the weeks she’d constantly pulled a disappearing act on him had given her ample time to think everything through. Although still a bit unsure, there was no denying the physical attraction she felt for him. The magnetic pull was inevitable, and she knew it was only a matter of time before she caved. Hermione preferred to do it on her own terms rather than his. Feeling confident she’d done the right thing, she slowed her pace and grinned. Oh, Malfoy, you’ll absolutely get it, just you wait.

oOo

The parchment held an old brass key and instructions to touch it by 8:00 PM on Valentine’s Day, no less. Figured Granger was a romantic. This was the first time he had no idea what to look forward to, no clue what to even wear on this momentous occasion. Not wanting to come unprepared, he wore a three piece suit, just to be sure. She had said it was a date. Satisfied with his appearance in the mirror, he checked the grandfather clock in his room and when the bell tolled, he gripped the key and felt the tugging sensation always accompanied by portkey travel.

He was whisked to an unfamiliar place, and when he turned, he saw a quaint house with a beautiful lawn. It was filled with orchids of various colors and sizes, the grass leading to the house’s entrance was trimmed short and obviously well kept. Not bad. He trudged toward the door and tried to turn the knob, but it was locked. Remembering the key, he fished it out of his pocket and inserted it into the keyhole. The door slowly opened to reveal a modern looking household filled with muggle contraptions. Did Granger just invited him into her home? Curious.

He called out for her, but when no one answered, he slowly let himself in, hoping against all hope that there were no hexes in place for intruders. He stood in shock when he got to the dining area. There was a table for two, a bottle of wine chilling not too far from it, and a sweet melody playing in the background.

”Like it? Have a seat, Malfoy.”

He saw her, then, coming out of what seemed to be the kitchen. His eyes traveled from her gorgeous face, sporting a pretty smirk that rivaled his signature one, down to her body encased in a little black dress that hugged her curves and flared at the bottom, to the creamy expanse of her legs that went on forever. On her feet were open toed pumps. Draco almost broke a sweat. It seemed he had a foot fetish with the way his breath caught upon seeing her in those.

He coughed to hide his minute ogling, and took a seat.

“This is unexpected, Granger, but definitely welcome. So you and Weasley?”

“What about Ron?”

“You know what, Granger, don’t play games with me.” He narrowed his eyes at her, jealousy flaring up his mood.

She openly laughed, walked toward him and, to his surprise, sat her firm arse on his lap, her arms encircling his neck.

“No need to get all fired up, Malfoy. Ron and I have settled on being friends. Things weren’t looking up on the dating front, and it’s better this way than to ruin years of friendship. Plus, I don’t think we’d be here if I was still into him.” Mischief filled her hazel eyes.

Unable to keep the happiness out of his face, he flashed her an endearing smile, baring that perfect set of pearly whites. The git really was handsome. “So, I guess what I’m trying to say is, what we’re doing right now…we’re sort of dating, right?”

“Believe you me, Granger, if I had my way, that’s not the only thing we’d be doing tonight.” He waggled his eyebrows meaningfully and proceeded to snog her senseless.

Only their moans could be heard in the room, dinner all but forgotten.

Fin.

#dramione #dhr #Dramione fanfic #draco x hermione #hermione x draco