#who have collectively decided to start putting mugs upside down all over the house

[wqnwoos]

on today’s episode of hana’s slightly insane family

[obeymeluv]

Forever and Always

Story-wise, I’m stuck near the beginning of lesson 21 :(. So I’m taking a break from leveling up cards and everything to pop out a few of those ideas! The weekends are really the only time I have to do this, so it slows me down a bit.

Hope you enjoy! This time: some angst.

Lucifer’s part may be a little triggering because the reader’s been semi-sedated. I’ll basically put the warning out that these are all near-death scenarios. I have no idea what could trigger people so I can’t really tell anyone what to look out for.

P.S: I’m totally down for writing Barbatos and Diavolo but I don’t really know anything about their personalities. If any of you have made it farther into the game or have uncovered things and would like to share them, please let me know!

P.S.S: I headcanon that Mammon has a messed up or mostly broken wing. I’m very suspicious that NONE of the bros had any wing damage from when they fell. Yeah, Lucifer ripped off two of his wings but SOMEONE had to end up with broken wings. I picked Mammon.

These got super long (as always) so I’m working on part 2 with the rest of the bros right now.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ 

It’s rare anyone gets a text from Barbatos (unless it’s on Diavolo’s behalf), and even rarer when it’s just instructions. A date, a time, and a place.

And a warning.

If you’re late, they die.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ 

Lucifer

He couldn’t believe it when he read it.

Lucifer had been on edge about it. The message was enough to break him, a warm-blooded demon, out in a cold sweat

The text message had woken him up in the wee hours of the very morning you were to die

Judging by the stars outside his window and the silence in the house, he was the first up

The eldest crept along the hallways to check on all of you--starting with Mammon, Beel, and Satan, and ending with you.

His gut twisted guiltily as he confirmed Satan was fast asleep in a nest of books, slowly unwinding from the chair and slipping into the floor. It pained him to think Satan, something of his creation, would be his first guess. The main worry.

If not Satan, than who?

The question haunted Lucifer into the early morning, the exhausted demon mulling the question over a cup of coffee.

He had breakfast delivered to the house, far too concerned to cook.

It wasn’t until you decided to portion off your treat to give some to that blossoming love of yours that it hit him like a Celestial Blade

That DEMON! Lucifer stood so abruptly he nearly snapped the handle off his mug, chair shooting back with a groan.

He could hear little splinters under his feet, brain barely processing that everyone was looking at him with concern. Suspicion.

“I’ve dawdled too long. I must get ready.” he excused himself.

Lucifer disappeared to his room, collecting everything for RAD.

Everything circled back to his D.D.D. He checked his pocket two, three, four times before he was convinced it’d stay with him while he went to the academy

Everything from then on was a countdown to the time in the text message.

The message wasn’t clear if you’d be dead at that time, or if he should arrive at that time. It was the farthest thing from his mind, Lucifer kicking the classroom door open so hard that it snapped off the hinges and tumbled awkwardly into the room

The room was hardly used but had recently been cleaned. With a slice of the gardens in the window, it would have been a darling picnic spot. If it were being used for a picnic, that is.

What he stumbled into was most certainly NOT a picnic. Far from it.

He recognized your lover, the cretin, but not the other three who’d crashed this little picnic. But there they were, studying books and hissing amongst themselves as they plotted out which pieces of you to take for themselves.

Humans were the rarest of delicacies among all the delicacies, after all.

Lucifer hadn’t yet unleashed his demon form and it was the arrogance of young demons that led the four to stand as if to challenge him.

“I am no longer an angel,” Lucifer removed his gloves as he glared at them sternly. His rage, the pride of being your protector, was getting the best of him. His fangs were growing, grinding against his words and making them pointed. “But you will beg for my mercy.”

Then he flew at them with all the rage he thought he’d given to Satan. Three of them had jumped on him; he could feel them trying to bite at him and scratching his skin with their claws.

There were hazy memories of snapping, tearing, biting, and all manner of chaos. The only clear thing he remembered was the perfect stillness in the room, the tang of blood, and scooping your drugged body up as gently as he could.

“Those vile creatures,” his soft, naked hands shook against your head as he fixed your hair and picked gore from your face. You were still awake, and could still look at him. Just enough light in your eyes to process things. To endure the agony of what would have been.

All of this would’ve been avoided if he could’ve just told you first. But his pride was too great. And he was the bearer of his sin.

“You are safe, beloved.” Lucifer walked quietly from the destroyed room, shoes squelching into the hallway as he took you to the infirmary.

Mammon

He treated the text like a prized secret.

Reading it was enough to give him an anxiety attack, honestly

He’d texted Barbatos back but the butler said he could give nothing else. ‘The text must be followed’ was all he would say.

Mammon is suspicious and observant by nature. For a brief moment he considered that Diavolo was playing a prank on him and had simply stolen Barbatos’ D.D.D., maybe even put him up to it

But the prince of the Devildom wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize the human transfer. Quite the opposite.

He went to go see Barbatos in person to try and squeeze some extra details out of the attendant, but was met with a stern face and narrowed eyes. Though Barbatos’ face was basically unreadable, Mammon could tell he thought about putting that silver serving platter upside his head (maybe even putting him in the stock pot)

“The text must be followed,” the butler insisted, brushing past him to reach for some spices.

Whatever it was, it was happening at Majolish

Mammon was getting ready for a shoot and his brain was frazzled.

He’d been irritated and jumpy all day.

What was he supposed to look for when he didn’t know what he was looking for?!

How is he supposed to protect you when he doesn’t know what will kill you?

Mammon sets an alarm on his D.D.D for when you’re supposed to meet your fate, and doing so almost makes him sick. He puts on a watch for extra measure.

Mammon’s in the middle of figuring out how to get you to Majolish when he hears Asmo trying to butter you into going shopping. It’s either an ‘I didn’t get picked’ pity trip or he just wants to steal you for himself

It makes Mammon think of something: do you die trying to go see him at Majolish? Do you originally go with Asmo and convince him to watch his shoot?

“Go ask Solomon,” Mammon throws his arm around your shoulder as he stares Asmo down (even though they’re the same height). “They’re busy.”

He tunes out of the usual banter, the standard names, and just gives you a gentle squeeze to start walking in time with him. Mammon ruffles Asmo’s hair for good measure, sure his little brother will spend precious time fixing it. That will give him enough of a lead to get you to Majolish.

Shoots can be laborious, Mammon is well-aware. There’s time in hair, makeup, wardrobe being painstakingly selected, and then it comes down to posing.

There’s re-shoots, different angles, all sorts of things.

He’s starting to wonder what the HELL the danger is or if Barbatos saw the wrong time. Nothing’s happened, you’re fine!

Mammon has trouble relaxing in the shoot because they keep moving you around to avoid shadows. Just keeping you out of the way, off to the side.

His hyper-fixation is starting to burn out. He checks his watch in-between pictures, ignoring all the help as the scuttle around to change lighting and reposition things.

It’s about five minutes until the accident. Mammon clutches his D.D.D. so hard it almost cracks.

He strong-arms the photographer into some couple pictures (’For the human. It’d probably help the issue sell better, anyways!”) when it finally happened.

No one hears it, of that he’s sure. HE didn’t even hear it. Mammon saw it before he heard it, the odd flicker of light. Mammon’s demon form takes over as he surges forward, blowing the photographer onto his back as he shoots overhead.

There was a huge set light plummeting towards your delicate little human head. A demon-made, Devildom brand set light that would surely turn you into a pancake.

He scoops you up and crushes you to his chest, veering around as best he can with his good wing.

The light whizzes past you both, scraping the thin skin of both wings. He stars the choppy descent down as the light crashed to the floor in a blaze of sparks and glittering glass.

“Dammit, human....” Mammon breathes into your hair, petting your head as his feet finally touch the ground again. His arm lingers around your waist a little longer than it should, but he doesn’t care.

The shoot ends there, everyone needing to clean up the mess. And your main man is now busy taking care of you, so he’s done for the day.

Mammon gets a preview issue almost a week later and is stunned to find a shot good enough for an action movie on the cover. It’s him holding you against him, barely in the air, framed by the sparks of that crashed light. A kiss would’ve made that shot worth a million bucks, is all he can think as he rolls himself out of bed to go brag about the cover.

Levi

Levi takes the text with absolute seriousness because Barbatos has never reached out to him. Ever.

Their relationship was a strained one, his and Barbatos’. Upon hearing of his ability to look into the future, Levi tried (and failed) multiple times to nicely/subtly ask for winning numbers on various raffles and ‘take a guess!’ premium giveaways.

He envied the butler for having such a cool power and hated that he was so stingy with it. But he was also afraid of being perceived as an annoying otaku and didn’t want to be whispered about as the ‘weird’ brother, so he took to avoiding him like the plague.

When he gets the text, he immediately hunts down the place where you’re to die.

The Devildom gets traveling acts every now and then. Rarely is there one that makes Levi want to come out of his room. He’s so stoked at the idea of a pop-up aquarium that he forgets he’s supposed to be investigating it and figuring out what could go wrong.

He’s familiar with all manner of sea creatures but these people have collected for centuries and there’s varieties he’s never seen!

Admittedly, he failed the objective of scoping out the place. Levi decided it was cool and would definitely come back to check it out some more.

He goes back a second time to see if he can connect with any of these creatures. There’s a link but it’s all vague. Some have nothing to show, others feel aggression, and some are waiting to be fed, and some have accepted this as their life.

It leaves him with mixed feelings, as does meeting the owners and curators. Levi gets the impression that these people don’t know how to care for these creatures, or have been doing the bare minimum for centuries.

He goes home, wondering how hard Diavolo looked into this traveling show. What if it was actually a ring con-men with stolen animals pretending to be a traveling aquarium?

Levi’s not surprised to hear Lucifer encourage the group to go see the aquarium on the day you’re supposed to die. Levi shyly tags along and intends to stay close by. He’s convinced he knows the best route through the aquarium

He’d prefer to take you on a tour by himself but doesn’t know if he has the guts.

It takes almost an hour to work through the whole aquarium, what with the groups and everything, and Levi is starting to feel socially taxed and mildly people claustrophobic.

Unexpectedly, the owner rushes everyone into a room he’d never seen. It’s a small arena speckled with chairs all facing a floating stage. Levi wants to write it off as a last-minute cash grab but can’t bring himself to say anything.

It’s almost like a weird carnival game. Pay a couple of Grimm, get a handful of feed, and see if the shadow below pops up to feast. You’re swept up into the feeding like--by Asmo? By accident? WHY. HUMAN, WHY?--and Levi knows THIS is where it happens.

He rushes onto the bobbing stage as you start tossing feed like the owner shows you, attempting to grab you around the waist and get you to FLAT, NORMAL, NICE, LAND

The creature bumps the stage and it bumps HARD. To a human it would be a small earthquake. Or like that nature documentary he and Satan watched about the killer whales knocking stuff off of icebergs.

Levi barely finishes going into his demon form when you hit the water. You’re tangled in his tail (that’s on purpose) and Levi’s trying to figure out WHERE THE HELL THE TEETH ARE.

The stage hasn’t settled enough to grab and all he can do is shoot through the water to throw the two of you onto land.

It has tendrils; he can feel them trying to figure out what he is and how to grab him. Levi wants to bite it as a defense mechanism but doesn’t know what drawing blood will do.

Your air is precious and running out. He coils and weaves himself together so you’re near his face. Levi breathes air into your mouth as the water churns and moves the two of you around.

His head breaches the surface and he does something he’s always threatened to do and probably hasn’t done in thousands of years: summons Lotan.

The creature comes when called, plopping down in the arena and generating a colossal wave that heaves the two of you onto dry land.

Everyone is understandably panicked. His brothers are dragging him away into a corner as visitors flee the room.

The owner is missing, the stage is in shambles, and the room is starting to fall apart. Lotan emerges victorious, as Levi knew he would, and eight people sit in the ruins to let the moment pass as everything falls into silence.

You plunk your head gratefully onto his chest, the two of you quite waterlogged, and Levi just pats you with a wet tail as Lotan leans its seven heads down to investigate what’s become of their master.  

[hargrove-mayfields]

Autistic max? I’m all in -🦖

yes!! Max being on the spectrum is one of my favorite headcanons! Here’s a bit of my thoughts and hcs for you anon! <3

okay so first i wanna talk a little about where this hc came from! this idea was born in my head for a multitude of reasons, but the general summary is this:

-she misses a lot of social+emotional cues! she didn’t pick up on just how annoyed Mike was with her in the gym and kept pushing until El intervened, she didn’t detect any of Lucas’ panic or frustration when he was explaining the upside down to her until he touches her, and when el is jealous and just not interested in meeting her, she seems to be completely unfazed by that until she walks away. also every scene she has with Billy, he’s very shut off and she seems to be confused about what she’s expected to say, missing that he’s angry until he’s lashing out, and idk to me it just seems like she doesn’t really have a grasp on understanding others’ emotions!

-similarly, she only seems to react in the face of immediate danger, as if she’s a lot of the time unaware of how bad things truly are around her. like when she’s helping to find dart without even knowing what’s going on, driving a whole muscle car and going down into the tunnels without a hint of fear, seeming barely concerned when the mindflayer was about to drop through the ceiling. it’s almost like she has trouble fully processing the consequences of certain things, which could also explain why she sneaks out even though she probably knows what Neil is like and the fact that it could potentially put her in danger.

-the way she dresses just screams tactile sensitivity! she doesn’t ever wear anything flowy, any scratchy materials, and even at the snowball, where we see Susan fussing over her, she’s still dressed for comfort. what young girl with a mother clearly interested in making her pretty is going to get away with wearing jeans to a school dance if she doesn’t have sensory issues?

-also, whenever she gets upset she seems to shut down. like she almost never talks to Billy after he yells at her unless it’s necessary, when her and Lucas are talking on top of the bus it definitely seems like she’s struggling to voice her feelings or put words to her emotions, when Billy’s in the sauna, after he’s activated she starts turning in on herself, and after his death she’s just sitting in his room. like maybe she doesn’t really understand her own emotions that well either.

I’m not really viewing any of this as like, solid evidence or anything btw, these are just some things I’ve noticed about her as an autistic girl her age and living in a very similar situation that I think are neat and relatable!

onto the stuff I literally made up because I love her!

-Susan gives me autism mommy vibes. Like, making it her identity that she has a child with autism, and at times that can get super frustrating for Max because she hates being her mom’s little trophy daughter, gossiped about at all the potlucks so people feel sorry for her. Her absolute least favorite thing is “She’s such a handful.” and when Susan pulls the I’m so lonely because of taking care of you card to make her feel bad. Especially because she doesn’t feel very taken care of, once she’d hit a certain age her mother decided she’d be alright without all that “kid stuff” and basically tossed her into the world on her on. (hence why she’s Billys responsibility)

-In the 80s (and still now if we’re being entirely honest) it was very normal to just throw a casual r slur into conversation and it kills Max every time her friends say it, especially Mike because she thinks he’s being mean and doesn’t like her. She doesn’t know how to explain to them that that hurts her feelings because she doesn’t even know how to bring it up that she’s autistic. Billy tells her once to try to cheer her up that he could beat them up for her but she cries even harder because that’s what she doesn’t want, is for them to think she’s overreacting. He feels bad and tries to make up for it bringing it up with some of the moms of the group and asking that they tell their kids to stop using that word ever.

-In California she was in special ed classes, but Hawkins Middle deems that not necessary for someone of her “functioning level” (yuck) and she gets landed in coed instead. It might’ve been alright if that was how she started her education, but she was already used to classes of four or five kids like her, and she just cannot learn in that new environment. So she does really, really bad in school her first year in Hawkins. She feels kind of self conscious around her friends because they’re all so smart and her grades make her feel stupid even though it’s not her fault, and that’s why she kinda drifts towards being close with El because she struggles with learning things too.

-Smells are probably her worst overstimulation triggers. Things like cigarette smoke, fresh brewed coffee, her moms perfume, cooking and baking smells, the automatic air freshener thing, candles. Pretty much anything stronger than the smell of water is just overwhelming for her, especially if there’s something else already working her up, because then a whiff of something too strong can put her straight into a meltdown. Billy decides to quit smoking for her (he’ll never admit that, he’s adamant that it was because it was messing with his lung capacity and he’s trying to work out) and he also does things like buy Susan a new, less offensive perfume for her birthday and open windows to get stuffy air out of the house. They never really talk about what that does for her but like, that’s part of how they start getting closer, is when he starts making little accommodations for her like that.

-In addition to smells, there are very specific sounds she can’t stand. It’s not all loud noises, some of them like the rev of Billy’s car or a bass guitar at an outdoor amphitheater are some of her favorites, but the ones she doesn’t like, she really hates. Things like styrofoam, dishes hitting off of each other, something scratching against ice that builds up in the freezer, TV static, the toaster popping up or the oven beeping, and people who can’t chew with their mouths closed (looking at you Billy, keep that gum in your mouth please) all make her feel gross. She’ll try to physically shake off the way those sounds make her feel but sometimes they’re just too much and she shuts down for a while until she gets to hear something else. In that case usually really quiet music or someone talking to her quietly can reel her back in.

-Her interests vary a lot! The longest she’s ever held one special interest was a Miss Piggy phase! Susan liked that she was showing interest in a feminine character because of a lot of her si’s were tomboyish, but Max liked Piggy because she knew karate and punched people who laughed at her or tried to make her feel bad about herself! She has all sorts of Piggy collectibles, like toys, bed sheets, posters, books, mugs and watches! Otherwise her interests and fixations tend to come and go pretty quickly, like one week she could want to know everything there is to know about pro skaters, and the next she’s into the history of circuses! She liked cars for a little while and Billy was really excited to indulge in that and let her get familiar with the camaro, but she shifted to video games pretty soon after and he had to let it drop.

-Another interest that’s also pretty constant for her is nature! Not only for the sensory experience of it, listening to leaves rustle and birds chirp and water rush, but also all the knowledge about it. She can identify any type of flower, grass, tree, critter, or fungus! When she’s melting down and needs to be away from the house, she asks Billy to take her to the state park so she can just sit and be quiet and calm down on a fallen tree or a swing set somewhere. They do have some woods behind their house but she’s too afraid to venture out there and prefers to be out with her brother anyways.

-Stims! She’ll fiddle with zippers and buttons and loose threads constantly to the point that they buy her three or four of the same jackets and shirts for when she inevitably breaks them. She also chews on sleeves and hoodie strings a lot. Other tactile stims she favors are string tricks and braiding and tieing knots! Braiding her and Billy’s hair is something she’ll do anytime she needs to feel grounded, and she has a whole bunch of those little wooden boards that kids use to learn how to tie their shoes to tie knots with. She also always has a pocketful of yarn, and her favorite thing to make with them is a spider web or a star!

-Sort of related to her fascination with string is that her shoelaces never ever match, she has like a whole drawer in her room full of different ones to change them out! (and she has Miss Piggy Bow Biters to put on them!)

-She’s also a very verbal stimmer at times! Giggles for days with Max, if she’s excited, happy, nervous, whatever, she’s giggling. Humming and mimicking too, like if she hears a sound she likes she’ll try to make it, whether it be part of a song or something she hears outside. But if she is sad she’ll get as quiet as a mouse.

Idk these are just like my sort of canon compliant hcs I guess? Like what I feel would be true for her in the timeline and storyline of the show!

[samwrights]

Plastic Flowers [ 5 ]

Chapter 5: The Poison I Need

Katsuki and Kohta get to spend the whole day together, getting to know each other. 

WARNINGS: Slight NSFW, mentions of sodomy, and implications of rape(?)

Katsuki Bakugo had woken up Sunday in the late morning; attempting to hide his eagerness by taking his time to complete each individual task as he got ready. His morning cup of coffee consisted of not only washing his mug after he was finished, but even washed the pot as well as the brew basket. Not necessarily strange for some humans morning routine, but definitely for Katsuki. Even his morning shower took longer than normal; instead of just slopping whatever he could on his messy blonde mop, he took the time to massage product into his roots and ends and scrubbing every inch of his body with a fragrant body wash rather than a plain bar of soap. Simple tasks such as picking out an outfit even came to be a meticulous event—Katsuki was doing all that he could to pass the time before he could leave and head to the Upside Down to pick up Kohta, even if it meant tapping into the grooming lessons he had picked up from Best Jeanist during his internship many years ago.

After finally settling on a fitted black button up, jeans, and an orange lined black hoodie, Katsuki laced up his brown leather boots and locked his the door to his tiny one bedroom apartment, exiting with a bit more enthusiasm in his usual saunter. He would never say it out loud or to himself, but Bakugo was excited to have actual one on one time with his soulmate. While the thought of having to explain to her the bonding process of soulmates was something he was dreading, every other aspect of being alone with Kohta—he didn't mind it at all. Though, he blamed his compliance entirely on the hormones that were released during their brief session in the back room of the Upside Down.

Opting out of driving, mostly to take time to arrive fashionably late, Bakugo decided to walk to the cafe to pick Kohta up. Not that it was a lengthy walk by any means, maybe a half hour at most since Bakugo didn't live too far off from the heart of the downtown area. He didn't want to appear too eager by showing up as soon as he'd left his apartment with only a ten minute drive. Not that Hitoko would have known that, but regardless, Katsuki was over thinking anything and everything. He knew of his own personal faults—his narcissism, his pride, his attitude; Katsuki was overly aware of it all. It was his pride that over shadowed his worry that Kohta would not be able to see past his faults. Now that the two of them had met and at least kissed, forming their bond should be a breeze.

That's what Katsuki thought, anyway, as he rang the buzzing doorbell on the outer brick wall of the Upside Down. When no answer came, his confidence began to waver. Maybe Kohta was still sleeping, his quiet optimism chimed. But his gnawing anxiety kept trying to convince him she was bailing. It felt like hours were passing until he finally saw his soulmate emerge from the back of house door. Kohta's long brown hair swayed in their natural waves, the ends of her locks tickling her bare tattooed midriff. Her loose, black cropped tee revealed the bottom half of some sort of canine tattoo, though the rest of the design was covered by her ripped up white jeans. Despite the amount of exposed skin, Kohta was also sporting a large maroon cardigan that nearly swallowed her tiny frame and covered all else. "Uh, hi." The brunette says with caution as she locks the front door to the Upside Down.

"Hey." Katsuki returns, entirely unsure of how to greet her. Couples usually greeted each other with a hug or a kiss, but they weren't necessarily together. Not yet, anyway. And shaking her hand just seemed...odd. Instead, Bakugo opted to hold out his hand for her to take. His face was rather calm, his confidence making a quick recovery from his budding doubt; even more so as Kohta takes his hand. It was entirely foreign to her—she couldn't even remember the last time she held hands with someone. Maybe when she was a tiny child.

"Where to?" She asks with as much casualty as she could muster. Bakugo had begun walking more towards the heart of downtown as he tried to avoid staring at his soulmate. Seeing her when she wasn't working or having to converse with a bunch of other people, having her undivided attention, made his heart race. Why was he so vehemently against her being his soulmate, he asked himself quietly. Sure, she was more on the plain side, but Bakugo would be lying if he didn't appreciate her beauty for what it was.

"I know a place." He responds as he nudged her towards a little upscale diner just a couple blocks from the Upside Down. It surprised Kohta, not by much but regardless, that she had never been to this place despite how close it was to her home. Katsuki tugged her along gently; doing all the talking to get them a quiet booth away from people and the door. The blonde took the seat facing the entryway, while Kohta kept her back towards it. Their waitress grabbed their drinks—waters and a pot of coffee to split with a side of cream for her.

"So, what brought on the idea to go take me to brunch?" Kohta asks almost meekly, as if she were trying to be smooth and hide the throbbing butterflies in her gut. She was nervous. The last time she had sat down for a meal with somebody had been almost, if not longer than, a year ago when her cat had passed away. Dabi had chosen to take little Kohta Ohta out to breakfast in hopes to perk her up a bit.

"You and I have a lot to talk about. Figured this would be the easiest way." Katsuki huffs out at he flips through the menu, though it didn't take long for him to settle on something to suit his tastes. Something savory and salty with lots of protein, and a side of pancakes to balance out. He had learned early on in the dating game two things: forming a friendship or bond or relationship of any sort was easier when food was involved and that Bakugo was a nervous eater. In his younger years, he never realized that all of his disaster dates were ones that didn't involve some type of meal or going to a theater and munching on popcorn. Since he learned the habit, Katsuki couldn't think of the last time he had a date go wrong.

But relationships that last more than a couple dates was a different monster entirely.

Kohta was flipping through the menu eagerly, completely forgetting she was sitting across from her soulmate as her stomach growled. Having such an eclectic pallet, she couldn't pin down any one thing she wanted to eat. "Do you two need a minute?" Their waitress asked kindly, tipping her head ever so slightly that her sleek chestnut brown hair spilled over her shoulder.

"I think we're ready." Kohta said, matching the tone of their server with her business professional voice. The brunette looked up at the waitress, pushing up her glasses as she did so, before giving her order—a skillet with ham, sausage, mushrooms, green peppers, eggs over easy with a side of pancakes. Katsuki gave a slightly confused, if not impressed, glance to his soulmate.

"I'll have the same, but no peppers and add bacon." The waitress nods before collecting the menu and scurrying away, leaving the two soulmates to gaze at each other. Despite the vortex of emotions overwhelming the couple for a brief second, neither pulled away.

"So, where would you like to start?" Kohta asks as she takes a sip of her coffee—a rich caramel color contrasting her partner’s black cup.

"I feel like I should be asking you that," Bakugo starts evenly, mirroring her actions with his own. "You're the one who doesn't understand how this works, remember?"

"Right...but if we're soulmates or whatever, this should just happen naturally, shouldn't it?" The blonde mulls over her words while silently sipping down the remnants of his first cup of coffee before immediately pouring himself another. It was blatantly obvious the two were going to need another pot, he mused, at the rate they were drinking.

"Fair enough." Bakugo goes quiet for a second, observing as Kohta sets down her mug. As a reflex, he fills it up again, making sure to leave an inch for any fix ins she might have needed. "Then let's not talk about that right now. How old are you?" Kohta let out a soft snort, followed by breathy, whimsical laughter. Such an oxymoron that is difficult to describe and put into words, but was entirely Hitoko. Ever the plain looking woman, who's attitude was anything but.

"Katsuki, you can't just ask a woman her age. Didn't your mother teach you any manners?" She jokes, the light-hearted chuckle a clear indication that she hadn't been remotely serious. "Twenty five. What about you?"

"Me too. But what month are you?"

"August."

"April." Bakugo gave a small smirk, triumphant in his victory that he paid no contribution to. As he was about to open his mouth again, ready to fire off the next question that came to his mind, the brunette woman before him cut him off.

"You asked the last question, I get to ask next. Isn't that how twenty questions works?" Bakugo conceded, shutting his mouth to let his soulmate speak. Conveniently enough, their waitress had come back with their food as well as a fresh pot of coffee. Needing nothing else, the two resumed their little game, neither being shy when talking to each other with their mouths full. It surprised the blonde how much he was learning about her—being an orphan and not going to school, how her parents died when she was merely a toddler, and even simple things like her favorite color was specific shade of blue or that her favorite tattoo was the sword on her forearm, touching the outside length of her elbow and wrist on the arm of her soulmate mark.

Hitoko had learned many things that she hadn't expected of Katsuki. He spoke of his strong desire to the absolute best—the number one—she learned that his talk was far from cheap, according to him. Much to her surprise, he spoke of many of the struggles he faced in school, learning that just because he showed such promise at a young age, didn't mean he knew everything and still needed to understand what it meant to be the best. Katsuki also talked about how his slowly budding friendship with Kirishima turned into being each other’s shoulder to lean on, though he didn't quite phrase it as such. "We have each other's backs—we have for over ten years." Somehow, in the short time that Hitoko has known him, she was able to decipher the blonde's vocabulary to know that he was grateful for their decade long friendship. But as the small talk dwindled and their eating had slowed due to their filling bellies, the reason for their afternoon meeting began to increase the tension between them. "So do you wanna ask or do you just want me to sit here and give you textbook excerpts?" Katsuki nearly grumbles, the gruff tone of his voice making its way to show he was far from relaxed at this very second. And though he sounded much more vicious than he had for the last half hour, Kohta stood her ground, not in the least bit intimidated.

"My mark is still red, so I'm assuming yours is as well. Why is that?" The blonde let out a silent sigh of relief—at least she was starting off easy, he rejoiced in his mind.

"We haven't bonded. Our little...episode, a couple days ago just calmed down the negative affects." Snippets of Katsuki grabbing Hitoko's hips while their lips danced flashed through his mind and had him running warm, warmer than normal.

"Okay, so how do we actually bond then?" At this moment, Bakugo wished he hadn't cleared his plate, or that he had a sudden appetite again. Only his half empty cup of coffee served as a defense mechanism for his nerves, and it wasn't nearly enough. Not even his stupid sex education course with former pro hero, Midnight, could have prepared him for this exact conversation. Sure, it was easier to suffer in silence in a class full of awkward, hormonal teenagers. But telling his own soulmate, the thought was absolutely daunting. It was now or never, though, and he figured his soulmate appreciated brutal honesty as much as he did.

"Intercourse." Bakugo's crimson eyes held Kohta's violet orbs as he spoke so bluntly. "Sodomy and insemination in one's rectum." Silence bloomed between the two. While Kohta might not have received the education that Katsuki did, her lexicon was well versed to know what each of the words that spilled past his lips meant. The entire time she spent processing the information, the blonde stared at her stone faced. If she's my soulmate, she can deal with this, he thought. Cruel omniscient beings above or not, Bakugo knew that anyone good enough to be his life partner would be able to handle such an awkward situation with grace.

"And, ever the gentleman you are, I'm assuming you're not going to just drag me into the backroom and shove it in my ass." Had it not been such a serious conversation, Bakugo might have laughed.

"The fuck do you think I am?!" He snarled instead, his pride wounded at the thought of him raping someone. But Kohta just let out an airy laugh before downing the rest of her coffee. The brunette woman could tell how difficult this conversation had to be for him and soothed him in the only way she knew how—endless jokes at his expense then show appreciation and praise. How she had learned such tactics in such a short time is a mystery to them both; maybe it was just natural for her.

"Kidding, kidding." Kohta chimes before her eyes soften at him. "Besides, if you actually wanted to get this whole bonding process over with, you would have just done it in the back room the other day."

"Shut the fuck up, woman!" Once again, Kohta laughs. When did the two of them get this comfortable with each other? It couldn't have just been from their exposure for the last hour. If anything, it felt as if they had already met once before, maybe in a previous life. "In all seriousness though. Now you know what we have to do, what we're supposed to do. This is your chance to back out if you're scared." The softest snort left Hitoko's nostrils as she tossed a wad of cash on the table to cover the check. Neither of them remember their server ever bringing it, but seeming that this conversation was coming to a close, the brunette figured they may as well relinquish their booth too.

"I have nothing to be afraid of, Bakugo."

Katsuki Bakugo couldn't even recall the last time where he had relationship as lax as his one with Hitoko Ohta. Instead of going separate ways after their brunch date, the two of them ended up at a local pool hall just a bit further into the heart of the downtown area. Since the destroying of Kohta's snooker table, she had frequented the little dive on her days off. With Bakugo's constant strive for perfection, it came as no surprise to her that he was a worthy adversary in eight ball.

But Kohta was slightly better.

"How are you so fucking good at this?" Katsuki drawls as the brunette sinks the eight ball again.

"No school, no parents—I did nothing but play for five years." Under his breath, the blonde let out a grumble before resting the house cue on the table as Kohta packed hers up. "We should probably get going." Her words gave finality, as if to signify that their day together was over. In retrospect, Katsuki probably should have agreed. But, despite being together and alone for the last eight hoard, he wanted to be with her. The two of them left the pool hall, Kohta giving a loud goodbye to the bouncer, hand in hand as they walked back towards the Upside Down. This time around, it was much easier for the two to talk without things being tense—much more laughter was present this time around. But their impending expiration date on their evening was gnawing at Bakugo.

"Hey, do you wanna come over and watch a movie or something?" The blonde's calm voice was present once again, holding no abrasiveness. If only Katsuki were always this calm, Kohta mused internally. Only focusing on his words and the tone of them, she missed the slight sweat that began to build between their hands, namely coming from the number two hero. He was nervous; what if she thought he was just trying to get their bonding process over sooner? Or what if she was already tired of him after spending majority of her day with him? Bakugo was nervous.

"Sure." Hitoko says softly, quieting the buzzing, argumentative voices in his head. It had taken him a moment to even process her word of affirmation, to the point where he remained silent. As she took notice to this, she continued to speak. "You walked here, didn't you?"

"Yeah." Katsuki replies mindlessly, his thoughts still reeling that she had agreed.

"Okay, let's stop by my place then and I'll take us there." By now, Kohta was taking the lead, guiding the two of them back to the Upside Down—an easy ten minute walk. With Bakugo being as quiet as he was and the clamminess in his held hand, she tried her best to ease his nerves with small talk. "Have you ever been on a motorcycle?"

"Huh?" A small laugh bubbles from Kohta's chest as she tugged him toward the alley next to the Upside Down; the alley she could always be found smoking in. Further back behind the building was a one car garage that no one would have ever noticed if they didn't already know it was there. Kohta released his hand to open the garage, finally relieving the both of them from the other's sweaty grasp. Not that Bakugo cared—he was always sweating anyway—but the absence in his hand was a feeling he could not ignore. He missed her hand.

Tch, he mentally scoffed. He was no fucking pansy.

Hitoko was shuffling a couple things around in her garage, pulling up the cover on her motorcycle and grabbing helmets that were sitting on a shelf to the right. The rest of the garage was nearly empty—no actual car for the brunette—save for a paint can that was filled with cigarette butts. Kohta got on her motorcycle with her teal helmet over her head, backing up carefully as she could barely reach the ground before bringing the bike to life. Her head turned towards Bakugo, outstretching her right arm with a black helmet for him. Carefully the blonde sat behind his soulmate, anchoring his hands at her waist for security.

Bakugo almost wished the two of them had a further destination than his little apartment that was only a couple miles away. Even with the borrowed helmet on top of his head, he could feel the rush of wind billowing through his blonde locks, filling him with a sense of freedom he had never known before. A feeling he didn't want to stop. Bakugo had held onto Kohta the entire ride, only letting go with his right hand to direct her with silent gestures since words would fail.

The couple stopped just outside of a small, three story brick building, one of many in a row. Between each apartment building was a small, narrow stone driveway and a wrought iron fence, separating the tiny lots. After parking her bike, Hitoko planted herself onto the ground, offering a hand to Bakugo to steady himself as he dismounted himself. The two were silent as he grabbed his keys, unlocking the front door to his apartment and leading the brunette woman up the stairs to his second story apartment.

It was simple and plain, a tell tale sign to a single man. But, much to Kohta's surprise, the apartment was spotless. Katsuki took off his shoes and placed them neatly on a short shoe rack by the door, prompting the brunette to follow suit. Making herself at home, Kohta walked through to the living room and plopped down on the couch. The blonde stayed behind for a moment, rummaging around his fridge loud enough that she could hear the clinking of glassware. Bakugo emerged, carrying two empty wine glasses and holding a bottle in his left hand.

"Ooh, special occasion?" She jokes as Katsuki sets the objects down onto coasters. With steady hands, he pours each of them a half full glass of the deep crimson liquid before grabbing the remote to his television and sitting back on the couch with her.

"Any movie preferences?" His voice was smoother than the motion of him slipped his arm around her shoulder, glass of cabernet in his free hand. Hitoko gave a soft chuckle before leaning forward to grab her own glass before settling into the warmth of her soulmate. She sipped her glass thoughtfully, a small hum escaping as she did so.

"Either thrillers or Disney movies. There is no in between." The blonde looked at her in disbelief. "Unless you're down for some crappy rom-com."

"Absolutely not. Silence of the Lambs it is." Kohta laughed before carefully wrestling the remote control from Bakugo, switching on the first Disney movie she saw pop up on the streaming service of his choice. Thankfully, it happened to be one of her favorites—Hercules. "At least you picked one of the better ones." He grunted out, conceding to their makeshift battle by taking a swig of his wine. This evening was far from how Bakugo planned it from going. Sure, he was certain the two of them would meet for lunch and discuss what the two of them needed to do next. But the laughter and ease the two of them shared was not something Bakugo anticipated. Hence the call for wine—a beverage typically used to embody celebration and romance. So far, he'd say their day together had been a success.

"So," Kohta chimes quietly, shifting ever so slightly to face the blonde fully with a devious smirk dancing on her lips. "Was this your plan all along? Wine and dine me, hoping the bonding process gets done and over with so you can get back to your hero work?" Despite the playfulness in her tone, Katsuki could sense the tiniest, remote twinge of malice painting the tail ends of her words.

"What's that supposed to mean, stupid?" He grit out, not pausing the movie, but no longer paying attention to the film.

"You mentioned that you were beginning to lose control of your quirk. Am I wrong to assume that you want to fix that as quickly as possible?"

"Fuck yeah you are." A snarl left the blonde's lips as he downed the rest of his glass and slammed it onto the coffee table before them. "You're absolutely fucking wrong. I don't even give a shit how long it takes for us to bond, I just—" Bakugo cuts himself short, realizing that his anger and quick reaction time had made him much more honest than he was ready to admit. "...I like spending time with you." He grumbles after a brief pause. Kohta too remains quiet for a moment before nuzzling into him further.

"I like being with you too." Her voice was quiet and raw, the most vulnerable Katsuki had heard her since their meeting. With both of their glasses out of their hands and the movie long forgotten in the background, serving only as white noise, the blonde gingerly grabbed her chin, tilting her upwards so her lips could meet his in a mutual delicate fashion. This time around, no shock or surprise filled Kohta; in fact, she welcomed the gesture. With no resistance, she wrapped her tattooed arms around Bakugo, bringing him as close as their flesh would allow until their chests pressed together. One of his arms wound tightly around her waist to bring the rest of them together, his free hand gripping her thigh to ensure she had no room to escape.

Not that Kohta wanted to—not in the slightest.

Asserting his dominance, Bakugo guided the two of them forward until her back was pressed into the cushions of his couch, holding contact the entire time. But mere touch was not enough; Hitoko's faint scent of nicotine, mint, and coconut wafted through the blonde's nostrils. That in conjunction with soft mewls and heavy breathing leaving her sent Bakugo into sensory overload. In that moment, the blonde realized how different everything felt when his companion was his soulmate. In previous years, he had fooled around with plenty of women, but not a single one held a candle to the way Kohta ignited fire and passion within his chest. Desire and lust were no foreign concepts to him as they were for her. But both parties were smart enough to realize that, as their limbs tangled into each other after removing most of their clothes, this was so much more than lust.

Was there such thing as a good poison, Kohta wondered absentmindedly, for a fleeting moment. That was the best way she could describe the feeling of Bakugo's lips biting and nipping at the bare flesh of her neck and chest. Soft, airy moans left her lungs as he traveled further downward, tortuously unbuttoning her jeans. These overwhelming emotions pumping through her veins began to teeter into a necessity. "K-Katsuki." She calls out softly as he discards her white, distressed jeans and tossing them onto the ever growing pile on the floor. His name sounded divine coming from her lips, like tasting the forbidden fruit, and once she began to call it, it became the only word she knew.

"Fuck." The blonde grit out, unable to suppress his arousal any further; he needed her. Despite his previous gripes about her being his soulmate, having her here now, just like this, completely changed the game. Poison or not, he needed her. As soon as possible, if not now. "You look so fucking beautiful like this." With his lips suctioned around the bare flesh of her navel and her clouded judgment, Kohta could barely make out his words.

"Hm?" She chimes teasingly when she finally processed his statement. "Like how?" The three gentle words that came from her, though simple and holding no meaning, invigorated Katsuki. With no filter, no fear, no worry to hold him back anymore, he brought himself to be level with her violet gaze as soft pants left his own lips. Involuntarily, he ground his hips against her, letting her feel how turned on he was by her while his fingers danced the on the edge of her underwear.

"You look so fucking beautiful underneath me—so ready for the taking. But I'm not doing anything until you say so." Kohta's back arched further into his touch in attempts to feel him even closer. While Katsuki knew nothing of what was in her mind, his soulmate was silently mulling over her plight. She had never done this before, but man did she want it. Despite her ever-growing lust and desire, there was one thing Kohta was afraid of—the bonding ritual or ceremony, whatever it was called. Having never slept with anyone before, she feared being sodomized as her first experience with sex.

Hitoko was dwelling on her feelings even further as the two of them stripped of their remaining articles of clothing. While Katsuki was trying to hold her gaze during such an intimate moment as they laid bare on his couch, he could almost feel the metaphorical gears turning in her head as she looked right past him. "Hitoko." The blonde's voice came as molten lava—smooth, velvety, and soft while also being hot and rough; the dichotomy not going unnoticed by the woman in question as he spoke her name.

"I want this." She says firmly, her own soprano not nearly as captivating as her soulmates, but still music to his ears nonetheless. "B-but, I just don't think I'm ready for...that." It took a few moments, coupled with the reassuring nips to her neck, for Katsuki to realize what she was saying.

"We don't have to bond right now," Peeling himself off of Kohta, Bakugo attempts to look at his soulmate once again in hopes his eyes could reveal the transparency of the emotions running through them. With one arm supporting him over her, he brought his free hand to delicately dance along her cheek. "But I want this—I want you." The brunette woman laying below him, hair spilling and splaying all over the couch cushions, leaned up enough to capture his lips once again as she mirrored his hand gesture and cupped his cheek.

"I'm yours." Hitoko whispers, pulling away from him enough so that her words could be heard.

"You're mine.”

Plastic Flowers Masterlist

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Thank you guys for checking out this story! I’ll be updating the chapters every Saturday! Chapter title taken from The Front Bottom’s song “HELP” off their album “Back On Top”.

Why sodomy? Because everyone has an asshole, regardless of gender.

Taglist:

@guzmagirl​ @bubbzibubbles (I am so sorry bb, your handle hasn’t been working for me) @wwwwyamd​

[emospritelet]

Twisted Fate - chapter 9

The good news is, things start to get better after this chapter. Slowly.

Please send me a prompt from this list or this list to fuel the angst and smut

[Ch 1] [Ch 2] [Ch 3] [Ch 4] [Ch 5] [Ch 6] [Ch 7] [Ch 8] [AO3]

He felt awkward, standing in the kitchen of the apartment that was not quite hers and no longer his, watching as she made the tea. She had clearly been studying; a pile of books with paper, pens and a closed laptop sat on the kitchen table, along with four dirty mugs and a plate with a few chocolate chip cookies on it. Belle stepped past him, shoving the books to one side and collecting the mugs to take to the sink. It felt as though he was in her way no matter where he stood, and so he went to the table, watching as she carried the teapot over and set it on the iron trivet before returning for cups, spoons and milk. Gold took a seat, feeling wary, and she sat opposite, resting her elbows on the table and threading her fingers together.

“So,” she said. “Let’s talk. What is it that you want?”

“I want full involvement in this child’s life, of course,” he said evenly.

“Yes, but what does that mean?”

Gold sat back, still gripping the handle of his cane.

“Well, from a practical standpoint, it means that this apartment will be yours,” he said. “Yours and our child’s. I’ll transfer it into your name. It’ll mean you have a place to live, a place that’s close to the university. It’ll give you some stability while you’re studying.”

She blinked, then shook her head, as though she was unsure that she had heard him correctly.

“You - you want to give me this apartment?”

“Why not?”

Belle leaned forward, fixing him with a beady eye.

“Because it must have cost you a fortune,” she said, in a flat tone. “And I know you don’t like to lose a profit on anything. It’s kind of making me suspicious as to what price you’ll want me to pay.”

He glanced away, irritated.

“If you could rein in your hostility for the next fifteen minutes or so I’d be eternally grateful,” he said dryly. “When it comes to my child I assure you money is the least of my concerns. I simply want what’s best for its welfare. That means that you need to be settled, safe and comfortable, alright?”

“Okay,” she said warily.

“Which means I want to give you this apartment,” he continued. “Are you going to refuse me?”

Belle hesitated.

“No,” she said. “No, it would be - it would be nice not to have to worry about stuff breaking or the elevator not working. It would be nice to - to be settled.”

She was chewing her lip, and she met his eyes, nodding briefly.

“I’ll take it,” she said. “I’m - I’m grateful. Really. It’s very generous.”

He nodded, and there was a moment of silence. Belle fidgeted, looking awkward, but seemingly unable to break it.

“The rest of my stuff turned up, by the way,” she said eventually. “Your - uh - people brought everything over.”

“Good. Were there any problems?”

She shook her head.

“I didn’t give notice, though,” she said. “To the landlord, I mean. I guess I should.”

“When did you last see them?” asked Gold, and she shrugged.

“I don’t know. Few months ago? He turned up at my door after I hung onto the rent because the elevator wasn’t working. He had it fixed and then it broke again. Twice. But I guess since I’d already paid the rent, he wasn’t all that interested in fixing it.”

He felt his mouth thin.

“Yes, well, I can’t say I’m surprised.” he remarked. “It certainly wasn’t the sort of place that screamed responsible landlord to me.”

She almost smiled at that, and looked away, out of the window. He watched the light shine on her hair, and the pale curves of her cheeks.

“I don’t know what your plans are for when you finish your studies,” he said, trying to keep his mind on the task at hand. “Any thoughts in that regard?”

“I’ll look for a librarian post,” she said, glancing back at him. “I’ll obviously need to take time out of my studies when the baby’s born, so it won’t be for another year at least.”

“Will you stay in Boston?”

“I may not be able to,” she admitted. “Will that be a problem?”

“If you choose to sell the apartment and move elsewhere, that’ll be your decision, of course,” he said. “I’d only ask that you consider my need to see my child when deciding on the destination. I’d like us to discuss it beforehand and reach an agreement. That doesn’t mean I’m averse to moving myself, if necessary, but I’d like you to be reasonable about things.”

“I - yeah, okay,” she said. “I’m not gonna move to England, or anything.”

“Alright,” he said. “I’d also agree to pay you a sum of money each month to ensure that you and the baby have everything you need. Starting now.”

Belle glanced away, biting her lip again.

“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that.”

“It’s only child support,” he reasoned. “It’s what you’re entitled to. If we went to court it’s what would be awarded.”

She shrugged faintly, glancing back at him.

“It would mean you can stop dragging yourself across town to work at that diner,” he added. “You shouldn’t be on your feet all day when you’re seven months pregnant anyway. It can’t be good for you or the baby.”

“I didn’t exactly have a lot of choice,” she said shortly.

“And now you do.”

More silence. She was almost visibly struggling with the idea, he could see that, but he kept silent, hoping her common sense would win out over her dislike of him. Eventually she nodded again.

“Okay,” she said reluctantly.

“I’ve already made preliminary arrangements for a trust fund for the child,” he added. “Wherever they want to study, wherever they might want to buy a house, the money will be there. I promise.”

“That’s - that’s a load off my mind,” she admitted. “I know how hard it is to try to fund your studies alone. Thank you.”

“It’s what I’d do for any child of mine,” he said simply. “No thanks are required.”

“I didn’t realise you liked children so much.”

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he said, in a dry tone.

She looked up sharply, and he wanted to kick himself.

“Well, that’s beside the point,” he said. “Will you accept the financial settlement I’m proposing?”

Belle ducked her head, squeezing her fingers together. He wondered what she was thinking.

“It’s a lot,” she said finally.

“Are you going to refuse it?”

“No,” she said, after a pause. “I mean, I’d be a fool to, right?”

“I think we both know you’re no fool.”

She let out a hollow chuckle at that, not looking at him, but eventually she nodded.

“Okay,” she said. “Thank you.”

“So,” he said. “That brings us on to visitation.”

Belle raised her head, looking cautious.

“Well, I guess you can take the baby every other weekend,” she said.

“No,” he said coldly, and her eyes narrowed.

“What do you mean, no?”

“You want me to agree to see my child twice a month?” he said, his voice thin. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“That’s the standard arrangement, right?”

“The fact that other men display so little interest in their children is of no concern to me,” he said, and Belle sighed, running a hand through her hair.

“Fine,” she said tiredly. “What do you want?”

“I want equal rights, of course,” he said. “I want an equal say in the raising of this child. I want equal access to it.”

“That’s gonna be pretty difficult since I’m living here and you’re in Storybrooke.”

“If you think I won’t turn my own life upside down if I think it’s the best thing for my child, you underestimate me.”

“Clearly,” she said dryly. “Up until last week I had no indication that you’d even care, but then why would I?”

Gold felt his jaw tighten.

“Why indeed?” he said, his tone icy. “It’s not like you bothered to tell me I was to be a father, after all.”

Belle sat back, brows drawing down.

“I’ve already apologised for that,” she said stiffly. “For what it’s worth—”

“It’s worth fuck all,” he interrupted. “But I suppose it could have been worse. At least you did tell me.”

Belle shifted in her seat, looking uncomfortable, and he wanted to snarl. So. Almost didn’t, hmm?

“Well,” he said softly. “We are where we are. It gives us less time to get things organised, but there again I’ll need to spend less time in your presence, which is no doubt a relief.”

“For me or for you?”

Gold closed his eyes, inhaling deeply before glancing at her again. He could feel his patience draining away, and he tried to cling to it, to haul it back.

“Are you going to agree to allow me access, or not?”

“How would that even work?” she asked wearily. “Are we gonna be some sort of - some sort of childcare tag team? Isn’t that going to be unsettling for the baby, if it’s being passed between us all the time?”

“How is that different from parents who work alternate shifts?” he asked, and she shrugged.

“Not like we’re in the same house, is it?”

“Well, we can work out the details later,” he said, his voice cold. “I’m sure that drawing up a child care schedule is not beyond the wit of man. I just need to know that you have no objection in principle, so we know the basis on which to proceed to something more concrete.”

Belle pushed back from the table, folding her arms across her chest and looking put out.

“Fine,” she said. “I have no objection in principle, okay?”

“Good.” His fingers drummed on the cane handle. “We can draw up a rota nearer the time.”

“Can’t wait.”

He felt his teeth clench, and reached out to pour the tea to give himself something else to concentrate on.

“Do you know the sex of the baby?” he asked, pushing a cup towards her, Belle shook her head.

“It had its legs closed on the last scan,” she said. “It’s okay, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know. What about you?”

“I’m happy to wait until it’s born,” he said.

Belle added milk to her tea, stirring it before taking a sip. Her eyes were clear and very blue. He wondered if the child would share them, or if it would take his. Brown eyes usually won out, didn’t they? He’d read that somewhere. It seemed a shame; Belle had beautiful eyes.

“Is there - is there something you’d prefer?” she said, her tone cautious. “Boy or girl?”

“No,” he said honestly. “I don’t mind. You?”

Belle shook her head. There was silence as they drank their tea, but he felt something in his chest loosen a little.

“Any thoughts on names?” he asked. She hesitated, but shook her head.

“I’ve been thinking about it, but I kind of want to wait until it’s born,” she said. “Is there - uh - anything you had in mind?”

“You’ll let me choose?”

“I’ll let you contribute,” she said. “Not saying you get to pick, but I’d like us both to agree.”

“Right.” He felt a slight lessening of the tension between them, and smiled briefly. “Thank you.”

Belle shrugged.

“It’s your baby too.”

He felt his smile widen. She didn’t return it, but she seemed to be less hostile. He decided to move onto another topic, hoping to put her at ease a little more.

“I’ll arrange medical insurance,” he said. “I’ve already made some enquiries, but I’ll need some further details from you.”

“We can go through that tomorrow,” she said. “I take it you’re staying in Boston for a few days?”

“I can stay as long as you like,” he said.

She didn’t say anything in response to that, just looked into her teacup.

“And I’d - I’d like to accompany you to appointments, if that’s alright,” he added. “You’ll have the best care Boston can offer.”

“Thank you.” She cradled the cup in her hands, eyeing him over the rim. “I guess there’s not too long to go now.”

“Not long at all.” He sat back, glancing around the apartment. “Have you thought about which room you’ll put the baby in?”

“Uh - I thought the one next to mine,” she said. “The other one could be the guest bedroom, I suppose.”

“Would you like to repaint?”

Belle’s eyes brightened a little.

“Do you mind?”

“Of course not, it’s your apartment,” he said. “Just let me know what you want. Colours, wallpaper if you like. I’ll get some furniture for the baby’s room.”

“Can I help pick it out?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you.”

She sounded as though she meant it, and that knot in his chest loosened a little more, releasing a strange warmth that began to flood through his body and rid him of the numbing cold that seemed to have kept him from feeling for so long. A brief moment of calm, a sense that she was losing some of her hostility towards him, little though he deserved it. Perhaps they could get through this. Perhaps they could build something. There was silence as they drank their tea. Belle chose a cookie, crunching it in small bites, and he watched her, hoping she would eat another. She could do with putting on a little weight.

He smiled briefly, setting down his cup, and Belle glanced at him, still wary.

“I’ll get all the paperwork from my lawyer,” he said. “There are things you’ll need to sign.”

“Okay.”

“You should really get your own legal advice,” he added.

“I’ll think about it.” She put down her cup. “Let me read through everything first.”

“Well, I’m not going to push you into anything,” he said. “We’ve had the paternity test, so I can sign the Acknowledgement of Paternity when the baby’s born. The rest is just - well, it’s just our agreement. Our deal.”

“Yeah,” she whispered. “We know how you like your deals.”

Gold sat back, irritated.

“Belle,” he said quietly. “I’m fucking trying, alright?”

“I know.” She pushed back in her seat, not looking at him. “I know you’re trying. I just wish - I wish you didn’t have to try, okay? I wish we weren’t in this position.”

“You wish you weren’t pregnant?”

“No.” She shook her head, glancing back at him. “I wish we weren’t like this. I wish you hadn’t done what you did.”

He hung his head a little.

“Look,” he said calmly. “I know I may have burnt my bridges with you, but—”

He cut off as Belle let out a bitter laugh.

“You didn’t - you didn’t burn your bridges, Alex, you bloody well blew them out of the water!” she said. “There was no way to come back from that, and - and what kills me is it wasn’t even necessary. You could have just said that you didn’t love me, that you didn’t want to see me again.”

You wouldn’t have accepted that. You would have kept pushing, kept trying, I know you would. You would have given your all to me, and I would have taken it because I’m weak. You deserve better. You deserve to be loved.

Perhaps he should have told her that, been truthful with her for once in his life, but he couldn’t speak. Belle was chewing her lip, looking desperately sad.

“The worst part…” She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them, they were as cold as winter, filled with regret.

“The worst part is, I loved you anyway,” she said quietly. “After you broke up with me, over at your house, I still loved you. I still wanted you. I thought maybe if I gave it some time, if I went away to study and came back, maybe things would be different, maybe you would be different. Maybe things would change.”

Things wouldn’t change. Things could never change. I wanted you then and I want you now. That’ll never change.

“But then I saw you again, the night before I left,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. She ran her hands over her growing belly. “The night you gave me this. And the things you said...”

He wanted to speak, to tell her he was sorry, that he hadn’t meant the terrible things he had said to her, that he wanted to take them back. She was shaking her head, sadness and unbearable loss in her eyes, and the words caught and died in his throat, harsh and hurting.

“The things you said,” she whispered. “You were so - so bitter, so hateful. I was a fool to think we could have had something.”

No. No, you were never the fool, that was me. A weak, pathetic fool. I should never have touched you. I knew it would hurt us both.

“I was an idiot,” she went on, “thinking that I understood you, that I knew you. Like there’s anyone that knows you. Like you’d ever let me.”

I wanted to. God help me, Belle, a part of me wanted to, I know it.

“And so I worked to get past it,” she said. “And then - this. So I can never forget you, can I? I can never move past you because I’m carrying your child. You’re gonna be a part of my life forever, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it, so you’ll forgive me a few childish digs. I’m sure I��ll get over it.”

He shook his head, his shoulders slumping a little.

“Belle,” he began. “I just—”

“Don’t,” she said wearily. “I don’t want your apology, it’s too late for that.”

He closed his eyes, opened them again.

“I just want to say that everything we had—”

“Everything we had is no longer there,” she interrupted. “And that’s fine.”

It was as though his soul was screaming at him, beating at the inside of his chest, desperate to break out and coil around her and pull her to him. He wanted to speak, but something had wrapped around his tongue and was holding it tight, a scream of anguish frozen in his throat. Belle took a deep breath, letting it out in a long, steady stream, as though cleansing her soul of something dark and foul. She glanced at him, and there was sadness in her eyes, and pain, and loss.

“I suppose at least I know you want to be fully involved in its life,” she added. “That’s more than I was expecting. That’s enough.”

He swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the sharp, heavy lump in his throat.

“Right,” he managed.

“It’s not like we need to be together to raise this child, is it?” she went on. “We just - we just need to be parents.”

“Yes,” he whispered. “That’s it.”

Belle nodded, a gesture of acceptance, and raised her eyes to his.

“Then I guess I’ll wait for you to bring the paperwork over tomorrow,” she said. “I have an appointment in two days, if you want to come with me. I guess I’ll have to arrange something with whoever the new doctor is, right?”

“Right.”

His voice sounded as cold and hollow as he felt, but she didn’t seem to notice, simply giving him a tiny, sad smile.

“Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?”

He shook his head wordlessly, and she nodded.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” she said. “I’ll see you out.”

He followed her as though he was in a trance, walking from the apartment, turning to face her and watching her eyes flick to his as she closed the door, shutting him out. His body seemed to sag, hands folding over the handle of his cane as his head dropped and his shoulders slumped.

“Oh, Belle,” he whispered sadly.

She was beautiful with her hair tied up on her head, but he remembered how it looked unbound and falling around her shoulders. It had slipped through his fingers, soft as silk as he kissed her, that night in the cabin when she had told him she loved him. He remembered the look in her eyes as she whispered the words, and the pure, blinding panic he had felt upon hearing them.

There were a few moments in his life which he had identified as turning points: forked paths in which the decisions he had made had shaped his destiny, for better or worse. Moments when, had he made a different choice, his life would have changed beyond recognition. Gold tried not to acknowledge regrets, a policy which came from having made the wrong choice all too many times, but he wished with all his heart he could go back to that moment and make a different choice. He wished he had told her that he loved her too.

[imagine-lovebug]

Sunshine and Good Things (Tom Holland x Reader)

f(A/N) - So this fic is actually a part of Taylor’s ( @plushparker ) 2k writing challenge. Congrats, girlie! Your writing is incredible, and you totally deserve all the traction that your fics have been getting recently. Can’t wait to read all the other collaborator’s fics and everything else you write in the future. <3

Summary: You’re everything to Tom, even if he doesn’t make you feel like it.

Word Count: 2k

You’re snuggled up in bed, almost asleep but not yet, when you hear the heavy slam of the apartment door and the violent clattering of keys hitting the decorative ceramic plate kept by the entrance. The faint sound of feet shuffling across the hardwood is mixed with huffs and grumbles, and a dim light penetrates the small gap between the floor and door of the bedroom. With a sigh, you peel yourself away from the comfort of your duvet and twist to sit on the edge of the bed, your legs dangling. You know you should move, go and comfort the man you love after his rough day at work but, instead, you just sit there, digging your thumbs into your temples and your elbows into your exposed thighs. 

“You can’t keep doing this,” you told him last night, exasperation in your voice, “you work yourself too hard, let all your stress build up, and then come home to take it out on me! Stop!” This is the ninth night in a row where you’ve had an argument. Well, ‘argument’ is a stretch seeing as this is the first time you’ve actually yelled back. You never see him anymore: he’s out of the house before you wake up, either at the gym or an early call for work and then he’s home at ten or eleven at night, craving inebriation and a rant. 

He laughed apathetically and looked to the ceiling. “Well I’m sorry,” he sneered, “I didn’t know I was asking too much when I wanted to come home to a loving girlfriend after working for almost seventeen hours.”

A scoff left your lips, “No, Tom, that’s a perfectly acceptable thing to want to come home to. My problem,” your fists had clenched at your sides, nails digging into the skin of your palms as your hands shook slightly, “is that you immediately get drunk the second you get back, and then proceed to yell at me for an hour until I go to bed. That’s my fucking problem.”

“What’s wrong with me wanting to relax with a beer when I get home?” he yelled, his fingers pulling at the roots of his hair. 

“Nothing!” Your hands shot out in desperation, gesticulating wildly before settling against your forehead in an attempt to disperse the tension that had collected in your temples. “Absolutely nothing. Relax all you fucking want! Just don’t unload all your fucking stress onto me, because if you can’t deal with that shit then why the fuck would I be able to.” You sighed and looked to your feet, your voice mellowing out,  “I’ve tried so hard to give you advice or sympathize with what’s going on, but when you don’t take it, what the fuck else am I supposed to do? Your problems seem fucking endless and it’s ridiculous.”

Another humourless laugh passed his lips, making you grip at your hair in anger. “I can’t fucking believe you,” he scoffed quietly, “This shouldn’t even be a problem! There are so many fucking girls who would kill to be in your place; why the fuck are you acting like such a bitch right now?” You felt all the blood in your body run cold. The anger and exasperation you were feeling had seeped from you entirely, and numbness expanded in their wake, consuming you. He knew it was a low blow when he said it— you’ve repeatedly expressed your hesitation and anxiety around the idea of his fans, and he’s seen firsthand how their hate-speech affects you—  but when he saw all the colour in your face drain and noticed the tears welling up in your eyes, he immediately went to take it back.

“Baby,” he whispered, regret flooding the affectionate nickname as he reached a hand out towards you. You pulled away as if his touch would brand your skin. “I... I can’t do this right now,” you whispered breathily, your words sticking in your throat. He saw you swallow, the tears in his eyes threatening to fall. You’d never pulled away from him before, and the way you recoiled— like the idea of his touch repulsed you at the moment— killed him.

“Well, this bitch,” you hissed finally, your voice thick with emotion as you held back a sob, “is going to bed. Don’t you fucking dare try to join me.” Tom stared dejectedly at the floor and a sigh left his lips as you stormed off down the hallway. The sound of the door slamming echoed around the apartment, and he felt his heart drop. “For fuck’s sake,” he mumbled, wiping his eyes with the hem of his t-shirt, willing his socked feet to pad their way over to the couch. Tom’s fallen asleep on the sofa many times with ease, usually cuddled up with you, a velvety blanket draped over your laps, and your head nuzzled into the crook of his neck. This time, however, he struggled to find a comfortable position, his body just not melting into his spot like usual, but he eventually drifted off into a restless slumber.

When you woke up this morning, a tepid cup of tea sat on your bedside table and the doors to your bedroom and shared wardrobe were open slightly, making a small smile grace your lips. He never remembers to close them, even the doors to the cupboards in the kitchen. There have been too many times when you’ve walked late at night to get a glass of water and you’ve hit your head on an opened cabinet. It wasn’t too hard to peel yourself from the bed to look further since his side of the mattress was so cold. You tread through the house sleepily, finding that Tom’s keys were no longer on the plate by the door, and the blanket in the living room was thrown haphazardly across the back of the sofa. A pink sticky note was stuck to the front of the fridge that read ‘I’m sorry about last night. I’m back at 7. Chinese for dinner?’ in his scratchy handwriting, a little heart scribbled at the end of his message. 

After a day of nothing, you called in your usual order to the local Chinese restaurant down the road. It showed up at quarter past seven, but Tom still wasn’t home so you put it in the oven to stay warm. You were still mad, but your heart swelled at the thought of that pink sticky and the mug of tea he had made you. You’d found a movie to watch, placed a bottle of beer for him next to your half-drunk glass of Ribena, and waited. At half seven, you shot him a text asking if he’d be home soon and started the movie yourself. At nine you despondently decided to dish up your own meal and eat. At half ten you went to bed.

And now, at almost one in the morning, you sit at the edge of your mattress, contemplating whether you should just lie back down and going to sleep or go and see him for the first time in twenty-four hours. You shudder as your bare feet make contact with the chilled floorboards and a sigh leaves your lips. The door doesn’t creak when you open it and you embrace the silence that fills the flat. The only light that’s on is in the kitchen, but it illuminates the room enough for you to see Tom’s silhouette slumped on the couch, resting his head against the top of the square cushions. Heavy sighs continue to leave his lips as he rubs his temples with his forefingers, his eyes screwed up tightly. 

You quietly shuffle your way behind him and place your hands on his bare shoulders, his shirt balled up at the other end of the sofa, squeezing the muscles there to help alleviate tension. He jumps initially, but soon enough he has melted into your touch, letting quiet sighs and groans leave his mouth as you massage his shoulders, neck, and biceps. With his head still leaned against the back of the couch, he opens his sleepy eyes to look at you. “I don’t deserve you,” he mumbles, his arms lifting to make a childish grabby motion to your face. Your eyes roll, but you lean down anyway and indulge him; you let him cup your cheeks to pull you into a sweet, upside-down kiss. “I don’t think that’s true,” you whisper, pulling your face from his to clamber over the back of the sofa and settle down beside him, “we deserve each other. We just have to work on some stuff, yeah?”

He nods and snuggled his face into your neck, his arms going around your waist to pull you onto his lap. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I was just,” he pauses, hesitation in his voice, “I was just tired and worked up, but that doesn’t excuse what I said. I love you. You’re perfect. Don’t let anyone, especially me, tell you otherwise because we’re all lying.” You shake lightly in a silent chuckle and thread your fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp. Tom groans lightly and places his lips against your neck and jawline. The warmth of his kisses radiates throughout your entire body.

“Everything about you feels like sunshine and good things, y’know?” he mumbles into your skin, “It’s like you’re too pure for this world, and I’m constantly baffled that I’m the one that gets to come home to you every day.” His kisses trail up from your collarbone to your lips, and one hand moves from around your waist to the back of your neck, pulling you further into him. The kiss is slow but demanding and, in every way of the word, intoxicating. Tom hasn’t taken one sip of that beer you left out for him, yet he feels that swell of unadulterated happiness that comes with being drunk. He keeps trying to tug you closer, feeling the desire to hold you tight and never let go; the hand on your waist pushes itself under his hoodie that you’re wearing and dances along the smooth expanse of your back. 

Tom lets his thumb trace the curve of your waist as you pull away reluctantly. You withdraw only when your lungs are frantic for air, decidedly pressing your forehead against his to maintain as much contact as possible, letting your harsh panting breaths intertwine between you. His light chuckle pulls you from your daze. “What?” you ask, a small smile gracing your lips. A cheeky smirk crosses his features, “You taste like Lo Mein.” You throw your head back and roll your eyes, throwing playful punches at his chest as you fight the grin that so desperately wants to emerge on your lips. “You suck.”

“You love me really,” he offers cockily.

“Yeah,” you whisper, “I do, don’t I?” His smirk softens into a delicate smile, his arms coming back around to pull you into him. “I love you, too,” he murmurs, “So much.” The two of you stay there, snuggled up on the couch; you’re straddling his lap and leaning into the crook of his neck while his arms pull you into him, his head leaning against the back cushions. Nothing has changed about the sofa since last night but, suddenly, Tom finds it to be one of the most comfortable places in the world. With you cuddled peacefully into him, he has no problem falling asleep.

Tags: @ptersparkers // @lousimusician // @stephie-senpai // @flirtypeter // @stuckonspidey // @lostparker // @dej-okay // @somethingtoavenge // @shadowsingeraxolotl // @demonsintheair // @parkeroffline // @thegirlwiththeimpala // @plushparker

If you want to be added to my tag list, just msg me!

[mishaphades-blog]

Dead End | Michael Gray

Author: Birdie

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N finds herself in trouble when Michael Gray seeks her out due to her cousin being shot.

Warnings: the usual peaky blinder stuff, lol

A/N: this is part one of a new little mini series I'm starting on here

BARE FEET padded against worn hardwood boards, pale and cold like they were every night. A cigarette was soon lit, lighting up the dark room only a small fraction of a second before darkness enveloped the only body in the room again. The only window in the room was open, the cold air blessing Y/N's skin as she inhaled the nicotine, thoughts about her cousins whereabouts almost coming to a completely stop. Almost.

Vincent was only two years older than her, the two left to take care of each other after Y/N's aunt, Vincent's mother, had passed away. They had to maintain the house somehow and while her cousin was out doing god knows what, she was selling herself off. Somehow, she was fine with it at the time before she had gotten her job at the library. The income that they had both made went without question and it kept a roof over their heads and food in their bellies.

Her concern for him wasn't as big as his concern for her. Despite being only two years younger, Vincent still thought of her as a baby, one who was too pure to know about what he was doing just to take care of her. She never told him what she used to do as well, when they were more desperate for money at that point in time.

Now, they managed to do what they had to without any complications, only seeing each other a few times a day. Not much talking would occur between the two, there was nothing to say anyway.

Y/N knew it was late - not too late though, the laughter and shouts from the Garrison a few streets away filling her ears like it did at all hours of the day. In there, some men were bound to drink their issues away, drowning in alcohol like it was healthy for them. The dark haired girl had her fair share of moments she wanted to forget, doing so by drinking as well. She thanked whoever she could that it didn't become a daily thing.

For Vincent however, that wasn't the case. He drank away like a flower collecting too much water, killing itself right after. She knew he wouldn't care if some kind of illness took him, death was a positive thing in his eyes. Suffering was something he did behind closed doors. Sometimes, Y/N would hear him cry between the thin walls that separated their rooms, and often times she couldn't drift off.

The urge to climb out of bed and knock on his door was strong as well. Wanting to tell him that she loved him and that everything would be alright was something she could never accomplish merely because it wasn't true. Nothing was alright and it never will be. Nothing would bring back the family members put six feet under through the years that she has been living.

E/c eyes scanned the empty streets for any sign of her cousin, hoping to catch him and try to talk before he disappeared into his room, negative thoughts preventing him from catching the sleep he so desperately needed. Maybe she could make him some tea like he used to do for her when the tears couldn't stop spilling from her eyes, quiet sobs sounding painful to his ears.

Vincent wasn't a very affectionate person, he hadn't hugged Y/N in a long time. Never joked around with her like he used to when they were little, when times used to be better, happier. When the sun was still shining and the clouds weren't casted over the blue sky.

Y/N inhaled once more, her night dress hugging her skinny frame as the harsh wind blew through the window. Goosebumps covered her skin and her teeth chattered slightly, lips pressing into a thin line after.

She exhaled, the tinge of mint prominent on her tongue as she put the cigarette out. With nimble fingers, she closed the window and made her way to the closed door at the corner in the far left, walking into the dimly lit living room. It gave off a homely feel despite not being used much at all. Aunt Helena would knit in the creaky rocking chair in the corner, a quilt draped over it.

For the first time in a long time, Y/N smiled slightly, chapped lips curling upward. To most, it would look like a snarl almost. The feeling was foreign to her; happiness that is. Genuine happiness.

With numb feet, she walked into the tiny kitchen, searching the small cabinets for the only pot in the house. Cooking utensils became almost extinct in the household, seeing as no one ever ate there anyway and things were becoming rusty.

Y/N watched as the pot heated up before she put the water into it, something she had a habit of doing in rare moments when she would actually sit down and make something. Vincent had multiple favorite teas but Black tea seemed to take the number one spot and so that's what Y/N made, letting it cool down a bit. He always came home around the same time every night.

She knew this because when he came home, Vincent couldn't keep quiet to save his life and would often stumble through the hall in a drunken state. She had woken up to his racket on many occasions and often glanced at the rusting pocket watch on her night table, letting out a long exhale as soon as she saw the time.

Although she had work tomorrow, Y/N couldn't bring herself to crawl back into bed and go to sleep. For no reason in particular, her belly was in knots, a sinking feeling settling itself below as well.

The front door creaked open, sending all the thoughts that jumbled around to fly out as her gaze snapped toward the chipping wood. Vincent's dark shoes could be seen, the material peeling a bit from its place.

He hadn’t seen Y/N yet, standing there with her arms crossed, hair disheveled and sticking up in all sorts of directions. His face contorted as the door slammed shut accidentally, a string of curse words being mumbled under his breath.

“You don't have to worry about me being asleep.” The words came out hoarse, her throat a bit dry and scratchy.

Vincent slouched, his back still against her. She hadn't seen his face yet, and he didn't plan on showing her any time soon.

“Don't you have work tomorrow?” His speech was slurred, at this Y/N rolled her eyes, shaking a leg as she stood. The floorboard creaking with each shake.

“I do, but I haven't seen you in days.” That wasn't a lie, he would always be gone before she had to get up for work. She had gotten used to the house being so silent that she had convinced herself she had lived alone most times.

Vincent hesitated before speaking, “Please go to bed,” She could hear him swallow.

That comment went ignored. Y/N ran a hand through her dark locks, fingers getting caught in the knots. “Turn around, Vince.”

“No.”

She didn't know why he wouldn't just fucking do what she asked of him. It wasn't that hard to rotate your body.

“Just please turn the fuck around,” A sigh escaped her lips.

A shaky breath left his lips and he lifted his head, turning to her, eyes dark and covered by pain she could understand. The bags under his eyes were visible as well. Something that was also visible was the large discolored area on his right eye socket, dry blood crusting over.

The sharp inhale that Y/N took made her dizzy. She tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, biting down on it to prevent the tears from spilling over.

“What happened to you?” Without warning, her feet moved toward him, he just stood there.

His gaze averted down to the floor, voice low. “It's better if you didn't know.”

Her veins were now hot, blood pumping quickly. “Bullshit.”

He went to speak again but she held up a finger, looking toward the pot, nostrils inhaling the pleasant smell of the tea that she had forgotten.

Seething, Y/N grabbed a small mug from one of the top cabinets, rinsing it out before grabbing the pot handle, pouring the hot liquid inside. From behind her, she could hear Vincent moving about, setting his thin coat on the rack near the door.

“I don't like how you don't tell me things.” The lump in her throat was swallowed soon after as she grabbed a small roll of bread from the bag on the dining table.

Her cousin stumbled over, pulling out a chair as she set the tea down in front of him, slamming it almost as she did the same with the bread roll.

He sighed, deciding against opening his mouth again, that would only get him into further trouble. Slowly, he watched as she wet a clean rag, twisting it to release all the water.

“I can clean it myself.” He said after he gingerly sipped the warm tea, taking a big bite of the bread after. Y/N had said on many occasions that it would soak up the liquor. Ever since then, he had been eating bread non-stop since he got drunk almost every day.

She was bound to slap him upside the head sooner or later.

Scratching the back of his head, he closed his eyes as she came near him, stiffening in his seat as soon as the rag came in contact with his right eye.

Vincent sucked in air between his teeth as she dabbed over the blotchy skin. Her touch was harsh. If he wasn't mistaken, she was hurting him on purpose, taking her anger out on his already injured. Despite his age, he was babied by his cousin to the extent that he felt like the younger one.

“I want you to tell me how you got that black eye, eh?” He could hear the sharpness in her voice as she practically poked at his eye.

He clenched his jaw, “What the bloody fuck, Y/N. Are you actually trying to poke my fucking eye out?” Vincent grabbed her cold hands with his calloused ones, squeezing at them before slamming them down on the table.

When he opened his eyes, his vision was blurry. Blinking multiple times, he raised his eyes to look at her. Her eyebrows were right up into her hairline, as far as they could go. A laugh arose in her throat, not a joking one.

“I just might.” She threw the rag at him before stomping to her room, slamming the door behind her.

After that it was silent, deathly silent. With an angry sigh, Vincent downed the last of his tea and ate the rest of the bread, setting the cup in the sink before he retreated to his own room.

Truly, their relationship had become strained, almost beyond repair. He didn't know why he had let it go this way for so long. Y/N was actually trying and he was dodging her like you would a bee. He had concluded that he was a coward, internally dealing with his issues by himself instead of telling the only family he had left. That's where he had fucked up.

Y/N wasn't one to hold grudges, she was always open to conversation. But he knew that she would continue to press forward and he would have to lie to her in order to protect her.

He thought that not telling her the truth would protect her, but that wasn't the case. Not at all.

[meteorit3737]

5

They decided to celebrate Christmas foursome. This year no one wanted a noisy holiday, a note of sadness mixed in a cheerful mood. There were gifts under the tree (Donna secretly peeked in there and made sure that they were all packed beautifully), Christmas songs were heard in the speakers (Cam winced at a couple of songs, but was surprised to find that all the other songs were in full accord with her mood), on the table there was Donna’s special salad (Joanie admitted that although she likes to tease about this, she really likes it) and the favorite dishes of those present (Haley insisted that there was a cream pie, like the one she threw at her father in Comet).

They ate and chatted naturally, when they were all full, the girls more and more often glanced under the tree, and Donna could not stand it:

- And let's break the tradition this year and open gifts now, and not in the morning?

- Yes! Let's! - shouted Joanie and Haley and together rushed to the tree. Donna and Cam got up with smiles and joined them.

The girls have already managed to open one box.

- Built-in CD-ROM drive for computer! 8x speed! - Haley screamed enthusiastically. - But Cam, it have not yet appeared on sale! How?

- Howe is my last name. - Cam smiled, - It has already appeared in Japan.  

Joanie gently held her present in her arms:

- Mom, how did you realize that I was dreaming of such a camera?

- It was easy, - Donna shrugged. - You said so often, “If I could take a picture of it and show you” when you talked about your journey! And, of course, the fact that you drowned your old camera in the lake just before returning home ...

- It was an accident! I bent to look, and he slipped off his neck under the influence of gravity. By the way, there is something heavy for you.

Joanie handed Donna a box, on the side of which with Cam's uneven handwriting, it was written "for Donna",  and a little lower "carefully, don't drop." Donna looked at Cam, who was discussing with Hayley the question of connecting a CD-ROM to a computer, opened the box and found 10 mugs under layers of rustling paper. They were all different - on one was the Texas state seal, on the other a picture of the famous San Francisco bridge and the inscription "We just had a coffee machine broken," on the third there are two boxes with the words "IBM XT" and the text "Partners for crime”, on the fourth and fifth - pixel drawings of Donna and Cam from chat rooms of the time of Mutiny, both had these funny antennas, on the sixth it was written “Save my BIOS?”, and on the seventh there was an anchor (@theresebelivett, sorry, I couldn't resist). Donna's hands trembled, she almost dropped the mug and hurriedly pressed it to her.

- I just thought that since I am constantly taking all the mugs, I need to replenish your supplies, - came the soft voice of Cam. She awkwardly waved a cozy sweater that she held in her hands, dropped her T-shirt, began to pick it up and dropped the second one. Donna laughed and helped her collect the fallen.

- Thanks, - Cameron said. - And thanks for the gift. This is my favorite! - She unfolded one of the T-shirts and put it to herself so that the words “Ignore alien orders” could be seen. - Great minds think alike, eh?

Donna did not understand at first, then she took out the eighth mug - with a phoenix drawing, then the ninth “I have an idea”, and finally the tenth - “Ignore alien orders”. Donna thinks she never smiled so wide.

When all the other gifts were unpacked and thanks expressed, Joanie suggested watching a Christmas movie. But Haley looked imploringly at her mother:

- Mom, Cam, let's first connect the CD-ROM to my computer, please! I so want to experience it!

- Good, honey, I don’t think it will take much time. Have an instruction?

- There is. But only in Japanese, - Haley winked at Cameron.

- Product for the domestic market. But you're in luck, you have a translator, - Cam waved the instruction twisted into a tube. - Let's go to?

Haley picked up a box of CD-ROM and the three of them went into her room. Joanie sat on the couch and shouted after them: "And I'll start watching the movie! Join in!"

Working together, Cam and Donna quickly pulled out a 5" floppy disk drive from the system unit, plugged in a CD-ROM drive and joyfully looked at the happy Haley, who turned on the disc and enjoyed the music. She went up to them and hugged both at once, wrapping Donna in one hand, and another Cam.

- Hey, you know what? - Joanie appeared at the door. She froze for a second, assessing the situation, then quickly walked up and hugged everyone she could reach. - We look like bats.

- What? - Donna was surprised at the comparison.

- Yes, I once saw a colony of bats, they hang upside down, flap their wings, cling to each other and squeak.

- We don't hang upside down! - Haley said indignantly.

- And we don't squeak! - added Donna.

- And we don't cling, - Cam said.

All three pointedly looked at her, tightly wrapped in their hands.

- What? - raised her eyebrows Cam. - We just ... Well ... (Joanie and Haley giggled, Donna smiled) Well, watch out!

And Cam began to tickle everyone, which caused squeals and laughter in the room.

***

A week later, Joanie flew to Tokyo.

- I did not learn Japanese in vain! - She said after she showed Donna her travel plan across Japan.

- Yes, your knowledge of Japanese is comforting, at least you won’t die of hunger and you can always buy food.

- Cam says that this is a Tokyo dialect and is understood almost everywhere, but I may not understand some dialects, but if a problem arises, I can communicate in hieroglyphs.

- Then write on paper with the hieroglyphs "I need a phone to call my mother" and put it in your pocket. Please, Joanie, do not forget to call.

- Don’t worry, mom, I will. I promise that I will not be lost in Japan for 7 years. In fact, I want to return to Easter. So you have time to buy a tent and stuff.

- A tent? - surprised Donna. - Oh yes, I remembered. Okay!

- Good, - Joanie smiled.

When the three of them returned from the airport, everyone was a little sad. Cameron and Haley went into their rooms and sat at the computers. Donna walked around the house, turned on the dishwasher, which she forgot to turn on after dinner, and decided to sit at the computer too.

She waited for the system to load, decided to find out what the weather is like in Japan, and started connecting the modem. Suddenly, a pixel figure appeared in the lower left corner of the screen, walked to the center, stopped and waved to Donna. It was her own avatar from the Mutiny chats.

Little Donna went to the right corner of the screen, folded her arms over her chest and leaned against the right border of the screen. Donna began to work on the computer, constantly checking what her small copy was doing. But she didn’t sit still: she walked around the screen, sometimes ran with a butterfly net behind the mouse pointer, pulled a computer from the edge of the screen and worked behind it, smartly examined the text that Donna was typing, and when Donna checked the mail, painted Donna opened envelopes, read letters and threw part of it behind the screen, part of it in her pocket.

All this was very fun for Donna and the sad mood was forgotten. She did all the planned things, but she was sorry to turn off the computer. She gently ran the mouse pointer over the drawn hair, then again, and little Donna smiled and a red heart appeared over her head, which slowly turned pale to transparency.

- Cool, yeah?

Donna jumped up in surprise, she was so carried away that she did not notice how Hayley approached her.

- Very cool! I like it so! So you already know this little miss?

- Yes, Cam showed me her when she wrote, I even told her a couple of things that she could do.

- She's wonderful!

- Cam or little miss? - Haley smiled.

- Both! - Donna answered without hesitation. - I'm even sorry to turn off the computer. She will not be lost, right?

- No, she will be at autorun until you get her out of there.

- Never!

Donna sent the computer off and managed to see how her small copy took the pillow and went to bed. Joyful emotions filled Donna. She hugged Haley:

- Are you hungry? Maybe we order takeaway food?

- Yes, I really want pizza.

- Pizza? - asked Donna. - Are you sure?

- Yes, I'm sure. So will I order? You and Cam as usual?

- Of course. I'll go tell Cam how I liked her surprise.

Donna climbed the stairs and knocked on Cam's room. There was no answer, but she assumed that Cameron was just listening to music on the headphones. She knocked and opened the door. She was right - Cam was sitting at the computer in the headphones and quickly tapping the keyboard. She was wearing a shirt “Ignore alien orders” and for a few seconds Donna seemed to be back in time - basement of Cardiff electric, Mutiny, moving to California, Cam lives with them ... At that moment, Cam seemed to feel Donna's gaze and looked up. Donna had a thought in her head that she never managed to discreetly watch working Cam for more than a few seconds, she always found out about her presence and raised her head, or Donna herself simply did not wait for these seconds and involved Cam in solving urgent problems that Mutiny had enough.

Cam stopped typing and took off her headphones. Donna stands in the doorway of room and shines with such a joyful smile, as if she had heard the best news in the world. Or maybe she discovered ...

- Cameron Howe, you are a genius! - exclaimed Donna, interrupting Cam's thoughts.

- May I have a certificate about this? - asked Cam with a smile.

Donna entered the room and went to Cam.

- Do you have a minute?

- Of course! - Cam removed the headphones from her neck and laid them on the table. Donna leaned back against the table and leaned her hands slightly on it. She tilted her head slightly to one side and looked at Cam with strange intensity.

- Sometimes I think what is going on in your head? Where do you get your ideas? And how do you find the time to implement them?

- You want to say that you liked the electronic version of you? - Cam asked hopefully.

- Of course I liked her! I am absolutely delighted! She was painted, but at the same time so lively, sometimes it seemed to me that she was about to speak.

Cameron saw Donna's enthusiasm and it warmed her heart.

- Well, I had such a thought, but for the talking version your computer needs to be upgraded.

- When did you manage to write it? You were constantly busy with a working project, I saw how much you are doing.

- In fact, it did not take much time. I invented everything while I was engaged in some domestic things. So then it remained just to sit down and write down the code. It is in some way a descendant of my operating system.

- Your OS was ahead of time. I did not believe in the success of the Giant until I launched a prototype in the garage and talked to your OS. It said I had good manners, - Donna smiled tenderly.

- You decided to go to Komdex after talking to a computer? Cam shook her head in disbelief. - You know, if you had not come with us, the Giant wouldn’t even have started.

- And if I did not communicate with this villain Hunt, the Giant would be the star of the exhibition, - Donna lowered her eyes sadly.

- Hey, don't blame yourself! If Joe hadn’t taken off my OS ... Although, in some ways, he was right, if one reasoned rationally.

- Sometimes we are too rational, - Donna said decisively. - And speaking emotionally, I’m ready to upgrade my computer even tomorrow to see what you came up with for ... By the way, what is her name? My electronic version?

- When I wrote the code, I thought of her as a mini-Donna, - Cam confusedly confessed. - And I do not think that she will speak out loud, rather, it will be a text.

- Can I write something for her? - Donna asked.

- Yes, I want to make a small window for entering text, which appears when you poke the mouse into the miniDonna.

- You know, she often did actions corresponding to what I did, for example, email.

- The program responds to system calls. So far, only a few, but I still have thoughts on this.

- God, Cam, I’ll just watch her for half the time, and if she starts to talk too ... - Donna waved her hands and laughed. - But you have to write a lot of phrases!

- Therefore, miniDonna will first be a boring interlocutor. But if you regularly update the database of phrases ... Can you imagine if she knew how to learn and remember everything that you write?

- And if she was not alone, but on each computer there were such characters? - continued the thought of Donna.

- With a common database! - finished Cam.

They looked at each other, excited about what they had just come up with.

- Do you think it would be artificial intelligence? - asked Donna.

- Are you afraid that Skynet will capture us? - smirked at Cam.

- Well, if this happens, then messengers from the future will surely come to us to prevent the creation of artificial intelligence, and now I absolutely do not want to deal with them.

- Donna! Are you going to argue with messengers from the future? - Cam was indignant.

They both laughed merrily. At that moment, Cameron's stomach decided to enter into conversation and growled loudly. Cam shrugged shyly.

-I think I'm hungry.

- Let's go down, Haley ordered pizza, she will be brought soon.

- Good idea! - Cam enthusiastically jumped up from her chair. - The last one makes coffee!

And rushed down. Donna did not hesitate for a second and ran after her. They rushed shoulder to shoulder along the stairs, ran to the kitchen, collided with each other at the door and laughed. Haley looked at them from the living room and twisted her finger at the temple.

- Cam, you're crazy! - Donna fell on a chair, continuing to laugh. God, how good it is to laugh! She laughed more in a few months than in the last few years.

- You too! - Cam poured water into a mug and took a couple of sips. Then she took another mug, filled it with water and handed it to Donna. Donna gratefully accepted it and drank it with pleasure.

- So we make coffee together? - asked Donna.

- It's strange that you asked ... - Cam said mysteriously and turned her mug, showing the words “Partners for crime”. - What about you?

Donna looked at her mug and her heart nearly jumped out of her chest. Anchor. She showed it to Cam and nodded: - I will clean the filter, and you pour water.

When the coffee was ready, the pizza delivery man arrived.

[jinmukangwrites]

Flower

A fic in celebration of Mother’s day. Happy Mother’s day everyone :)

Summary: Just because it hurts doesn’t mean it has to be painful.

-o-o-o-o-

There are some things that are just not easily forgotten. How to ride a bike, is one example, but there are other examples, ones much more significant than riding a bike. He will always remember the first time he put on the Nightwing suit. It was ugly as hell but the feeling of… accomplishment and self reliance was enough for him to puff out his chest in pride. There's the first kiss he had with Barbara, the first girl he's ever kissed. He was so nervous, he missed, but she missed too and they still laugh about it to this day. He remembers the first night with Kori, how he'd never felt more alive.

There's the time he visited the manor to see a black haired boy named Jason stuffing his face with waffles, the time the words big brother applied to him for the first time in his life. He remembers crying that night, he's always wanted a little brother.

He will never forget flying, there's not a single moment where he's hurtling himself through the air that he doesn't remember. The weightlessness from swinging from one rope to another, the way butterflies flutter in his chest when gravity takes over. The feeling of hitting the net, rolling on the pavement, shooting another line; those moments will always remain so clear to him. Though, none of them compare to the first time he flew, the first time his mom took his hand and helped him up that three story ladder and told him that he is her little Robin, and today he gets his wings. He couldn't have been more than five years old, yet the trust he had when he saw his father hanging on a trapeze handle in the middle of the course, hands outstretched, ready to catch, was so real. His mom showed him how to hold the handle without hurting his hands, she told him when to let go, when to kick. She looked worried, but his dad's face was turning red from hanging upside down and Dick knew he had to go sooner rather than later.

He flailed, let go, missed, and landed on that net laughing so hard his chest hurt.

There are so many things he will never forget, though not all of them good. The anger he felt when Bruce died. The helplessness when Blockbuster blew up his house, the horror when Kori broke up with him for the worst reason, the shame for being a bad leader to the Outsiders, the fear when Jayson came back bad.

Though, there is one memory he knows, without a doubt, he will never forget. It was one of the hardest days on his life, though it was the day he also realized that he has a family in Bruce, in Alfred.

It was his first Mother's Day without his mom.

-o-o-o-o-

Everything hurts, Dick decides. His eyes from the lack of sleep, his back from being shoved roughly into the lockers two days prior, his cheeks that he's rubbed raw on his pillow, his heart from the lonely aching that will not go away. He didn't think it would be this hard. Even back at the circus they didn't make a big deal out of holidays. On Mother's Day, his dad would come in and give his mom a kiss and a flower while Dick stumbled in with a tray of pancakes. She would laugh and hug them, he can still smell the strawberries in her hair, and then they continue the day like normal.

So it shouldn't hurt this bad. It should be just like any other Sunday. He should be able to get out from his covers, get dressed, and be normal, except every time he thinks about getting up his limbs seem to grow ten times heavier.

The last day of school before the weekend had to be the hardest he's ever had. He's never hated school since Bruce took him in, yes there were the elitist bullies and teachers that tried to kiss up to him to get to Bruce, but he has friends there and he loves his classes. It's fun to go out and become a normal teenager, instead of coming home and being Master Dick, instead of going to parties and being cute little Richard, instead of jumping out into the night and being Robin. Dick, that's all he is at school. Or what he thought so.

It doesn't matter where you go to school or what grade you're in, one or two teachers will have projects and activities for any holidays. Dick was lucky to end up with teachers of his own that had stupid projects like "Write a letter to your mom!" or "when you're finished with the assignment, come plant a seed in a paper cup of cheap dirt from Walmart and give it to your mom when you get home!"

He could feel the stares piercing his neck, sending shivers up his spine and curling his toes. Even the teachers were starting at him, looks full of pity as if they were regretting even making the assignments. That day he wasn't Dick, he was the poor ward of Bruce Wayne whose parents died tragically at the circus. He was motherless, parentless. The teachers couldn't even tell him to write to his dad instead, though one did suggest he do the activity for Bruce instead, and that was something Dick didn't want to think about. Brice isn't his dad, or his mom, or any parent. He's just a guardian, that's it.

During lunch, he sits with a girl named Barbara. That's the only time he felt normal that day, because she was having a hard time too. She doesn't have a mom as well, so they were both miserable that day. At least she got to cross out the words "MOM!" on that stupid cup of dirt and write "dad". They were in the middle of avoiding the topic when a group of kids came over. Dick instantly recognized them as the children of various wealthy families around Gotham. They thought they were so much better because they had money, and now they thought they were better because they had their parents.

"Hey Dickhead, who did you write that letter to in English?"

"I bet he wrote it to one of Bruce Wayne's girlfriends."

"No, I bet he wrote it to Bruce himself."

"That's so gross!"

Usually, Dick would fight back, but this time, something heavy settled in his chest and he quickly got up and left before he could sink to the ground from the weight and cry.

The rest of the day he was made fun of because poor Dick Grayson has no mother.

The light in his room suddenly flicks on and he hisses and buries himself deeper into the covers. He can hear the gentle footsteps of Alfred and he wants to groan. What time is it?

"Master Dick, I do hope you're not planning on staying in bed all day."

Dick mumbles out a response that even he didn't understand. Alfred let's out a tut and walks up to the bed and throws off the covers. Dick curls up as the cool air hits his body. "You missed breakfast," Alfred says casually as he walks to the window to open the curtains, "lunch is in one hour. I expect you to be there."

The words or else went unsaid. Dick doesn't know what Alfred would do to him if he skips out on two out of three meals, but Dick does know he doesn't want to find out. Whatever the case, Alfred leaves with a quick goodbye and reminder to be at lunch, he leaves the door open.

Dick groans.

Thirty minutes later, Dick stumbles down the stairs and into the dining room somewhat put together. His clothes are from the day before and his hair is sort of a mess, but Alfred can't complain. At least Dick got up.

He sits down at the dining table and Alfred gives him a exasperated look before he sets down a cup of coffee in front of him. Bruce is across the table, sipping on his own life-bringing-juice and reading the morning newspaper. The smell of something cooking wafted in from the kitchen.

"Good afternoon, Dick," Bruce says and Dick grunts in response.

There's the ruffling of paper as Bruce turns a page and Dick finds himself slowly sinking so his head on laying on the table. He's so tired. He hasn't gotten a wink of sleep for the last two days, with Robin and his own mind keeping him up. He's so, so tired.

He hasn't noticed his eyes slipped closed until Alfred placed a steaming plate next to his head. He jerks up and Alfred almost snorts and goes to place a plate by Bruce.

"Thank you, Alfred," Bruce says. He pokes his head above the newspaper and looks at Dick with one eyebrow raised.

Dick clears his throat. "Ah yeah, thanks."

"You're very welcome, sirs. Now, eat up, we have places to be today."

Brice nods and puts the newspaper down and Dick has to double take at what he sees. If Dick thought his own hair was messy, Bruce's hair is completely untamed and wild. There's bags under his eyes, almost illuminating his dark blue eyes. He looks spent, like he has no energy left to even pick up his fork and start eating. The meal on Bruce's plate also throws Dick through the loop. Crepes. Little pastry versions of tortillas rolled up around cream cheese and piled up with bananas, blueberries, and strawberries, topped off with a mountain of whipped cream and blackberry syrup. To the side is scrambled eggs cooked a perfect golden, glistening. Dick whips his head down to his own plate and just stares as the exact same meal meats his sight.

He was expecting a sandwich.

Then, the most crazy thing happens; Bruce sets his mug down and stabs his fork into the crepe.

"Master Dick, is your meal not to your liking?" Alfred suddenly asks, the corner of his mouth is lifted quizzingly, like Alfred knows something Dick doesn't. Which is a very possible thing to happen. Dick has discovered in the few months he's lived in the manor that Alfred knows all, sees all.

Then, something clicks in his head. Bruce was drinking coffee, in the middle of the day. Alfred made a very breakfast-y meal for lunch. Bruce looks like he just woke up.

Alfred let them both sleep in.

Dick would wonder why, but his stomach growls. "Um, no, thank you Alfred. It looks good."

Alfred hums in content and Dick turns down and takes a small bite of the very sugary meal that Bruce would never eat normally. It's delicious—of course it is, Alfred made it—and soon the meal is gone. Bruce's plate is halfway finished and Bruce stands up to leave, excusing himself. Alfred sighs and collects the dishes. "You best be off and get ready," Alfred says, "we leave in thirty."

"For what?"

A sad look droops on Alfred's face. "We're going to visit your mother's."

-o-o-o-o-

When Dick sees Bruce all freshened up and in a nice suit, Dick almost regrets slipping on a somewhat clean t-shirt and basketball shorts. Alfred is also in a suit, and he gives Dick a disappointed look but Dick ignores it and clutches his backpack a little closer to him. When he was in the circus, he never had a suit. All he had was what he could stuff in a truck next to his parents' meager belongings. His parents never cared for makeup and perfume and nice dresses, and Dick didn't feel right visiting them all spruced up and wealthy.

In Alfred's hands are two bundles of flowers and Dick… felt something tear in his chest. One had beautiful hydrangea flowers of all colors mixed with the most perfect looking roses Dick has ever seen and the other… the other had simple snapdragons and baby's breath. Dick doesn't know how Alfred knew that those are... were his mother's favorite, but it made him almost want to crumple down and cry right there.

He remembers, when he was very little, his mother and father took him out to buy him a gift for his birthday at a local retail store. He was looking at the Legos and action figures when his mother gasped and walked into the garden center where they had an assortment of colorful snapdragons.

"Dicky, baby look," his mother said and kneeled down next to the flowers. His father was chuckling as Dick curiously and skeptically waddled towards his mom and stood next to her.

"What?" He asked.

"Watch this," she said. Her grin was so wide it was practically splitting her face. She reached forward and placed her hands around the flowers stem and gently pinched. The flower seemed to open its mouth like a dragon. "Hello Dick! I'm Mr Flower!" She said in a gravely monster voice, moving the flower as if it were talking. Dick laughed and she helped him place his own fingers on the flower and test it out for himself.

"These are mommy's favorite," his dad said and knelt down next to them to playfully pinch the flower himself. "She likes childish things."

"Simple. I like simple things," she corrected. "I like baby's breath and that isn't a childish flower."

"It has "baby" in the name, honeybutt."

"Oh be quiet."

In the end, Dick chose to take home a pot of red snapdragons and planted them outside their trailer. He wonders if they're still there in that festival park clearing, or of they've died too.

Walking to the Wayne graveyard is like walking to your own grave. It's filled with morbidity and a weird gut wrenching feeling that makes Dick want to curl his arms over his stomach and fight the urge to vomit. It's not like he hasn't visited the yard before, it just hurts a whole lot today for some unexplainable reason.

They follow along a path carefully constructed into the grass, flowers and bushes line the sides and beautiful trees are planted so it's almost like they're walking through a mystical forest, but Dick isn't appreciating the view, he's dreading the moment he sees the first gray colored stone.

And it doesn't take long. The Wayne's have been around for a very long time. There are gravestones dating back to the 19th century, the graveyard is massive, it's almost the size of a normal city's graveyard actually, except the graves here are so aged. All of them except a few new ones.

They walk to those new ones.

Bruce stops in front of the two largest ones, stone in perfect condition and flowers already sitting at the feet, looking only a day old. Alfred hands the more elegant flowers to Bruce and Bruce silently bends down to replace the old flowers on Martha Wayne's Grave. He steps back and tightens his jaw, looking down at the grave stone with his face half obscured in shadow. Alfred quietly walks over to Dick and holds out the other bundle of flowers.

Dick looks away over towards the newest additions of the graveyard sat. Everyone here are Wayne's, but these two are different, two Grayson's in a sea of someone else's family. He thinks about how wrong that is. His father wanted to be sent off in a boat on the river, set alight, like the Vikings, he joked. His mother wanted her ashes spread over the white cliffs of Dover and into the wind, so she could be with the ocean forever. Dick doesn't think he told anyone that when it happened. He was too busy mourning, so when Bruce offered to have his parents buried in the Wayne Graveyard, Dick didn't refuse. He should have.

There's flowers on his parents graves and he wonders who put them there because he certainly hasn't. Alfred can't have done it himself, he has the manor and the gardens and the horses and so many things to take care of, he would have no time to make a trip to the graveyard to place flowers on the graves of a not even adopted child's dead parents. Dick is just a ward. Why would Alfred do that?

Alfred makes a noise and Dick turns to Alfred's face instantly falls when he sees Dick. Dick wonders why until he feels a streak of water drip down his cheek and onto the group and beneath him. Alfred walks forward and embraces Dick in a bone crushing hug and Dick can only clutch at Alfred's suit jacket and try to keep his shoulders from jolting from the sobs trying to claw themselves out.

"You're okay, my boy," Alfred whispers, "you're okay."

Dick doesn't feel okay. He feels broken, like a piece of him was torn out from his chest and buried in those graves too. He's feels torn and there's no way to put himself back together. He shouldn't be here. He should be on his way to Berlin, or Rome, or Cleveland, or Hong Kong with the rest of the circus, practicing his flips and the show with his parents. He should be handing his mother pancakes in bed and his dad should be offering flowers. Not this. Not this terrible aloneness where he's the one placing the flowers down to a person decaying six feet under the ground.

The first hiccuping sob escapes his throat and then the dam bursts and he can't control it. It hurts so much, and he doesn't understand why. He's been here before, he's sat in front of those graves for hours talking away about school and Wally and Superman and his mission in Amsterdam or somewhere else. He's cried, but it hasn't felt like Harley bludgeoned him in the chest. Why does it hurt so much?

Another warm body wraps itself around Dick, as if it were trying to help keep Dick together as Dick falls apart.

"I have this," a deep voice says and Dick finds himself being lowered to the ground and gathered into the arms of none other than Bruce Wayne. Alfred steps back, holding the bundle of snapdragons and babies breath in reverence.

Bruce has never shown any kind of… affection or emotion like this towards Dick before. There's never been a hug, never anything like that. When Robin does well, it's a ruffle of hair or a pat on the back. When Dick goes to bed it's a simple wave, when he leaves to school it's a nod, never a hug. Nothing like this.

Dick is weeping something ugly, he's clutching to Bruce like he's the last thing keeping Dick from sinking into the dirt himself, pressing his head against his chest and probably staining the suit with his snot, spit, and tears. He thinks he's screaming, or he may just be mumbling incoherently, he doesn't know at this point.

It hurts so, so much. There's no way to describe the pain. The hand carding through his hair doesn't help, the arms, the chest, the soothing words, they aren't helping at all, but soon, Dick finds himself calming down, his breaths evening out, his eyes starting to see again though the tears.

"That's right, chum," Bruce is saying, Dick wonders how long he's been talking, "calm down, even breaths."

Dick swallows and does as he's told, he closes his eyes and let's one last tear slip out.

"Does it ever stop hurting?" Dick whispers.

Bruce sighs and clutches onto Dick tighter for a second. Dick doesn't know what to make of it. He's never seen this side of Bruce Wayne.

"No," Bruce says, not one to lie. Dick can feel that word shoot into his soul as clearly as he can feel the rumble in Bruce's chest as he speaks. Bruce lost his parents, they were shot right in front of him when he was younger than Dick. He's never stopped hurting, never stopped feeling that agony, that emptiness, those should haves, those what ifs. If the Batman is still aching, what hope does Dick have? "But that's not a bad thing, chum."

"I don't understand," Dick says.

Bruce sighs. "When it stops hurting, it means you've forgotten them."

Dick closes his mouth and thinks about those words for a few seconds, and thinks some more, trying to make sense of them.

"But, it doesn't have to be… painful," Bruce continues, "you keep their memory and do something with it. You don't have to be alone, Dick, you have me and Alfred here to help you. Do you understand?"

"I… think so."

"Good. How does ice cream sound?"

Dick looks up from his nestled position and gave Bruce a confused look. "What?"

Bruce smiles, and Dick can tell that it's genuine… because he's never seen that smile before. "Ice cream. It'll cheer us all up."

Dick is about to nod. Ice cream sounds heavenly, maybe he can convince Bruce to take him to Cold Stone uptown where they have a special limited edition sour patch flavored ice cream and he can get one of those waffle bowls… but he looks past Bruce's shoulder and he sees the gravestone with his mother's name carved into it and he sucks in a breath, trying to keep the tears from escaping again.

"Yeah, but... In a second."

Bruce hums and helps Dick return to his feet, seemingly already knowing what Dick was thinking. Dick wouldn't be surprised if he did, he is the best detective in the world after all. Dick walks over to to his backpack he has brought with him and digs into it, he pushes aside the books and binders and stops at a little cup of dirt he had carefully placed inside a few days prior. His teacher said he didn't have to plant a flower seed, but Dick just felt the need to. He takes it out and holds it in his hands as if it were the most precious thing in the world, despite it being a simple cup that held a daisy seed.

He smiles at Alfred and takes the bundle of flowers and walks over to his mother's grave. He sets down the snapdragons and babies breath and picks up the old flowers before he digs out a small handful of dirt and places the daisy seed inside, covering it up carefully.

It hurts, but it doesn't have to be painful. What a strange sentence that makes complete sense. He looks behind him and stands up, sniffling as a few stubborn tears try to break through.

"Okay," he says, his voice breaking only slightly, "can we go to Cold Stone?"

Bruce smiles and brings an arm around Dick's shoulders, bringing him in for a half hug. "Of course, chum."

Somehow, that daisy plant grows and flourishes over the years. The leaves are a pure white, the center a bright, golden yellow. The year after that, Dick plants some red snapdragons, the year after, some daffodils, and it continues.

But that first mother's day, Dick doesn't ever forget. Even now, as an adult with too many siblings to number, with so many years in a different family that they outnumber the time he's spent with his first, the hurt never goes away. Bruce was right, it doesn't ever stop hurting, but something about going out and living his life, something about planting a new flower or weeding around old ones, or talking with Jason or joking with Cass, he finds that it isn't painful.

"Happy Mother's Day," Dick says, leaving a bundle of flowers on his mother's grave. He stands up and pats Damian on the shoulder and ruffles Tim's hair.

"Now, who wants ice cream?"

-o-o-o-o-

Written for my Batfam discord’s weakly prompt “Mother’s Day”, if you’re interested in joining the discord, just message me and I’ll send you the invite <3

[blizzardfluffykpop]

The Best Present

Summary: I can’t change nature but I can change your apartment. (Change your apartment, change the world…)

One-shot

J-Hope X Reader

This was requested by @itsallabigmess btw

Prompt: 6. “Man if I have one more green Christmas I might just cry, especially if I’m this alone”

Since I meet Hoseok, there has rarely ever been a quiet or sad moment when I've been with him. I meet him the first day of college, we bumped into each other while on the guide trying to figure out how to join a sorority/fraternity and with no guide answering us we sat down on the ground and talked about the ways to go about it. I swear if it wasn't for him I'd be living in my apartment by myself, if he hadn't helped me.

My friends every year have a little get together at Seokjin’s house and play cards at his house, and talk about our lives. We all took different majors and our schedules usually conflicted. When Christmas break happens we all head over to Seokjin’s just to talk, play cards, and have all-around good time. It’s the only time when all of us are in the same room, since we started college. They still haven’t gotten good at cheating at cards, while I exceed in this area, I can’t even count how many times I do it when we play monopoly… Because I cheat when everyone is focusing on something else, I ‘by accidentally’ cheat them all out of money, only Yoongi has caught on to it. So has Hoseok’s sister, but I told her and we cheat the boys out of so much money. When they start piecing it together, it’s usually Yoongi or Namjoon flipping the table. Seokjin yelling, about his table… Truly it’s his parent’s table but whenever I’ve brought that up it’s more screaming, so I snidely say it to Hoseok a lot.

Right now, we’re playing cards and Jimin starts complaining about the weather even though it had nothing to do with conversation. We were just talking about Taehyung’s dating experience this month being an ultimate dry season, which was new for him. But he wanted to impress this girl, that he wasn’t a player anymore.

I decided to join Jimin on his rant of the supposed snowy season, “Man if I have one more green Christmas I might just cry, especially if I’m this alone…” I tell the group of friends as we sit playing cards the day before Christmas. “Then cry” comes from Hoseok's lips, and I hit him upside the head as he laughs while I cackle.

But I didn’t cheat so that’s pretty good. Yoongi grabbing his jacket and bidding everyone a goodbye. After, he threw his cards on the table from being pissed off that he lost for the seventh time in a row. We all collectively roll our eyes at his antics, it’s usually him or Taehyung throwing their cards and giving up.

I leave after two more rounds, being tired myself. Not throwing my cards but handing them nicely to Jin, who thanks me for coming, I bid my goodbyes as well. Knowing by the 3rd of January they’ll be at Beta Tau Sigma (BTS for short) and I’ll be in my apartment. Dawon at her fraternity which slips my memory at this point. I take my bag of gifts from all eight of them and leave on my merry way. Tomorrow being Christmas after all. After, I got my pajamas on it wasn’t a second later before I collapsed on the bed and just slept.

The next day I wake up, and there is cotton balls all over my floors, and I go downstairs so confused, did someone invade my house, and I see Hoseok sitting on my couch sipping hot cocoa with a Santa hat on, and an ugly Christmas sweater on. He sees me and smiles, “Hi… I know you said you were going to cry if this was a green Christmas, and although I can’t change the weather I did the best I could… You also didn’t want to be alone so here I am…” I motion for him to put his mug down and I tackle him into a hug, “Thank you so much… You don’t know how much this means to me…”

“I wish I did… You wanna open presents?”

“But how are you going to open your presents?”

“We already had our gift exchange at the fraternity earlier this morning and we opened all the gifts, I knew you weren’t going to get up till 10ish, so the festivities are still going on… But I’d rather spend the time with you…”

“Aw Hoseokie, you’re so sweet!”

“Yeah sweet” he mutters as I go over and sit opening up the presents I got from the boys and Hoseok’s sister and the two from my parents, and there is a little tiny gift I didn’t originally see until I was about to get up from Hoseok giggling at my cute reaction or cackling when my mom bought me underwear “At least she was thinking essentially!” I complained to him.

And I open the tiny gift it’s a piece of paper, “I wish I could describe my feelings, but I’ll will to the best of my abilities… Every time I see you, my heart skips a beat, the butterflies in my stomach scatter about and bounce back off each other, I wish I had the guts to tell you-”, meanwhile, as I’m reading this Hoseok is quiet which is an odd occurrence for him, “-what I truly felt for you, even if your sarcasm is so thick that you can’t see through it. I still think you are one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met. You’ve influenced me to a bit darker in a good way with sarcasm, you’ve made me laugh more than anyone else I’ve met in my life. I truly think you are so stunning that I’m sure that if I stood next you on a rate from 1-10 people, I’d be the 1 and you’d be the 10. So all I really want to have for Christmas this year is not a white Christmas is like you, but to not to be alone… Would you want to be mine? It would be my favorite present for Christmases to come.” Signed at the bottom is Jung Hoseok, my jaw dropped I turned to him, my crush liked me and I all I do is simply nod ‘yes’. His somber silence turns into a happy grin and him bouncing up and pulling me up and into a hug. My smile breaks out and I hug him back happily. “Hoseok you’re my favorite Christmas present”

[aparecium-hq]

Welcome once again to Aparecium, Quin! You have been accepted for Victoire Weasley. I love how you’ve made it clear her daughter is an important part of her life and look forward to seeing Victoire in action on the dash. Check out the new member checklist, and jump right in.

Character Basics

Birthday (Age):  May 2, 2000 (27) Gender (Pronouns): She/Her Sexuality: Straight Blood Status: Pureblood, Part-Veela Hogwarts House/School: Hogwarts/Gryffindor Occupation: Editor at Witch Weekly Faceclaim: Rebecca Rittenhouse

Any requested changes?

I wanted to use a bit of an underrated/underused FC while still fitting the guidelines for Victoire. I think Rebecca fits the age bracket and is stunning.

Biography:

Growing up in the shadow of the Battle of Hogwarts, Victoire always held an immense respect for history, her birthday always came with a sting of guilt, and as she blew her candles every year the young wix always wished for the impossible – for those who died in the battle to be here with them once more. It wasn’t lost on her, the weight of it all, and as she grew older, she recognized the need to put good into the world, for there was already far too much bad. Throughout her time at Hogwarts Victoire never had a problem making friends, some would even call her popular, and being able to connect with others seemed second nature, so, tied with the want to make a positive difference in the world, and her great people relations, Victoire decided to become an editor once she graduated – finding a home at Witch Weekly not too long after that.

Things with Teddy hadn’t always been complicated, and to tell the truth Victoire couldn’t even tell you the moment she felt things weren’t working anymore. Suppose it was a slow change, nothing either of them had rushed into and she usually put it down to the fact that they just grew apart, or maybe, they both just grew up. There wasn’t a day Victoire regretted it, and she was reminded everyday of the happiness they had shared together when she looked upon the face of their daughter. Victoire’s whole life had changed the moment their Alaina was born, and while she had always been somewhat put together, even Victoire had to admit that being a new mother turned her world upside-down. It takes a village, and thankfully, that’s exactly what they had. There was never a shortage of hands and hearts when it came to Alaina, and Victoire had never felt more supported in her whole life.

After the birth of their daughter, things between Victoire and Teddy shifted once more. They would forever be joined, their connection evolving and transforming as they did as people, but sometimes, every now and then, Victoire watched them with their daughter and wonders what it would have been like had they stayed on the same path, and grown together instead of apart. She thinks of the home they could have shared and the life they could have built and it pulled at her heart in ways she couldn’t even begin to explain, but, its complicated. Victoire tries not to make it so, and she enjoys the life she has now, her job is rewarding and she is getting more responsibility by the day. With her eyes looking further into the future, Victoire has big plans for her little family.

Character Questionnaire

How does your character feel about their family?

Victoire is very close with her family, as well as Teddy’s. It’s important to her that everyone is part of her daughter’s life and that Alaina has the same chance to create the same memories as both her parents did in their youths. Holidays together, family dinners and everyone showing up to support her when she needs it most.

How would your character describe their own work ethic? Is that an accurate measure of themselves?

Victoire works hard at Witch Weekly and tries to push for articles that are thought provoking and positive, which seems to be working as the magazine is slowly starting to publish more articles with hard hitting journalism and less about the comings and goings of famous witches and wizards alike. Victoire has big plans for the future of the publication and has her eyes on the top spot, and is already making moves to get there.

How would a stranger who has just met your character describe them?

Victoire is determined, and gets things done though she is very easy to talk to and most relate to her with ease. Everything she does is for the betterment of her daughter’s life, wanting her to grow up in a free world, informed on an all manner of topics and well versed in the way things work.

Para Sample

Combing her fingers through the loose locks of Alaina’s hair, Victoire lent forward and kissed the top of her daughter’s head, arms wrapping around her small frame pulling her close as they sat cross legged on the floor. Alaina was watching her favorite kids show, and Victoire knew she was supposed to be getting the girl ready to go with her father, but for some reason, today was extra hard. After lingering long enough Victoire finally finished up the girl’s hair; a perfect pair of ponytails. She them slid Alaina off her lap before moving into the kitchen, absentmindedly giving her wand a bit of a wave and sorting herself a cup of tea.

On the countertop there was a collection of papers, all work that awaited Victoire’s attention once Teddy had come to collect Alaina. It had been hell at the Weekly as of late, staffing was an issue and Victoire was finding herself going head to head with the other editors almost daily in regards to the quality of their work and the type of articles they were pushing for. The wix had a vision and Merlin help anyone who stood in her way. Victoire wasn’t frightened of confrontation and was known to knock on the door of the editor in chief when she felt it was necessary, she knew there were so many more important subjects to write about than where celebrities spent their holidays and who wore what, the magazine had been the same for years now and Merlin be damned if Victoire wasn’t going to shake it up. Her grandmother supported her too, though Molly was known to enjoy a bit of harmless gossip, she too was the sort of woman who rolled her sleeves up and got stuck in.

There was a tap on the door then and Teddy popped their head in, much to the delight of Alaina who quickly jumped up for a cuddle. They were a vision together and Victoire was thankful everyday and she and Teddy were able to make it work, though, she would be fooling herself if she said it was all for their daughter, Victoire couldn’t imagine her life without Teddy. They had always been in one and others lives, it was how it was supposed to be, as for anything more? Sometimes, when Victoire watched Teddy and Alaina together she thought about how life could be if they were all here under the same roof, how they would put Alaina to bed together and read her a bedtime story. how they would share a bottle of wine while Victoire worked and Teddy cooked them dinner or how together they would lounge on the couch and flick through the tv channels after a long day at the office – how easy it could be. She tried not to sit in the thoughts for too long.

“Enough, now get you backpack from your room.” Victoire spoke perfect French, a smile on her lips as she pointed towards the stairs, sending Alaina quickly on her way. “She has a new favorite, insist on calling him Bart. I think it’s that tiger we got her from the zoo a few weeks ago.” Now she spoke English for Teddy as she reached for her tea, bringing it to her lips and blowing gently, her eyes wide and full of humor over the mugs brim as she watched Teddy. “It’s disgusting, she took it into the garden yesterday so if you can pry it from her tiny hands and wash it that would be great.” Her tone was light and she laughed, the sound almost musical. Something about Teddy calmed her, their presence in her life everlasting in a way that gave her comfort, and it showed, the feelings she had been having just minutes before about Alaina leaving her were now quickly fading away.

[hpdracoxreader]

Get Away Fic

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Words: 2573

Prompt: I HAS ANOTHER REQUEST ~ where it’s after the Draco had finished Hogwarts and now a young adult, and he goes to the muggle world influence and forced to by someone idk and he meets the reader ~ who is muggle and bam, idk

Warnings: Slight swearing

Requested: Yes, by @tacocheeks

A/N: ahhHHH I’m sorry, guys. I forgot to post yesterday, I had everything set up and...*insert dumb brain noise*. But without further a-due - I give you my next piece. Hope you all enjoy it. Let me know what you think *kisses and hugs* 

On a slightly less happy note, I’m really glad that you all enjoy my writings and want part two’s and three’s, but it’s not really motivating when I see messages like ‘YES! DO IT’ or ‘DO IT NOW’ it’s really discouraging so see that I’m not being asked, but demanded that I do this. I mean, yes, I’m going to write these stories, but it’s not going to be done well. So if you guys want to see part two’s and three’s, could you please try something like ‘yes please’ or ‘that out be wonderful to see’ or something.

Sorry that I’m going on about this, it’s just been getting to me a little and I wanted to get it off my chest. Sorry, I’ll go now and let you (hopefully) enjoy this new story.

Talking to Harry Potter had become something that just happened to Draco Malfoy after the war. It was like, talking to someone who was in the eye of the storm at the same time. Seeing the damage around you, but not being effected by it.

Of course, Draco and Harry were both equally effect by the war, losing people and struggling with everyday life like it was supposed to just go back to normal. How do you go back after something like that?

Their conversations started with a letter from Draco, asking if Harry’d seen the latest article about the Hogwarts rebuild. Harry had sent back the Malfoy owl, missing Hedwig whilst doing so, saying he’d seen it. That was all.

A week later, Harry borrowed an owl from the Weasley’s, not yet ready to get his own, and asked if Draco was alright. There had been a clipping of the Malfoy’s in the Daily Prophet. Saying about how they all should be in Azkaban for their crimes.

Draco responded that he was getting by. He tried not to read too much from the media concerning his family.

From there, it went to letters every now and then letters, to weekly mail, until they decided to meet up at Godric’s Hollow every Saturday night. That was the night Ginny went to the Burrow to spend time with her family. Harry was more then welcome to join, but he normally declined.

It was a time he knew was meant for just Weasley’s. Besides, as much as he loved his second family, not being around large groups helped since the war.

So Saturday’s were Draco and Harrys night to catch up, go over their weeks and talk, if they wanted, about the war. It stated rocky, but both settled into a rhythm of chatter. It was nice to talk to someone about things that would be understood.

Neither could fully know what to say, but it was helpful either way.

One particular Saturday night after a fairly nasty article had circulated round England about the Malfoy’s, Draco was very quiet.

Harry leaned back with his tea, blew into the brew and watched it swirl. He looked at Draco, who was intent on watching the fly that buzzed around the biscuits. Harry sighed.

“That bad, huh?”

Draco continued to stare, but nodded his head slowly. He dropped his head into his hand, his right holding onto his own tea. “It’s just,” Draco broke off. He looked up and put down his tea on the small round table.

“I know that I did wrong in the war, I know that,” He looked at Harry, blue eyes boring into green. “I understand that I committed crimes and part of me wants to be locked up, make up for what I did. But another part of me wants to get away from everything and everyone. To just, not be looked at like I’m a monster.”

Harry nodded. “To go where no one know’s who you are.”

Both young men had been mobbed in the street since the war, to the point where they were either not going outside, or using disguises to get by. The second half was unsuccessful, and the first only circulated rumours even more.

“Yeah,” Draco looked at the tea. “Is that selfish to want? To be left alone for one day?”

“No,” Harry leaned forward and grabbed a biscuit. He shook his head. “I don’t thank that’s selfish.” He dipped the biscuit in his tea and stared at it for a moment.

When half of it fell into the hot liquid, Draco got Harry’s attention again. “Potter?”

“What if..what if you could have a day like that?” Harry looked into his tea and watching the half biscuit melt. He raised his eyes to meet those of the Malfoy heir.

“What are you talking about, Potter?” Draco sighed and frowned. “Everyone knows me, just as they know you. I couldn’t go anywhere in the wizarding world to-"

“Exactly.” Harry grinned a little. “Don’t go anywhere in the wizarding world, Malfoy. Don’t go anywhere at all.”

Draco rolled his eyes. It was bound to happen. After everything that they had been through, Harry was bound to loose his marbles at some point. “Okay, no more tea for you tonight.”

Draco reached over for Harry’s cup, only to have it snatched out of his grasp. “Malfoy, listen. Don’t go anywhere in the wizarding world. Everyone knows you. Go into the Muggle world.”

He looked at the blond like it was the simplest conclusion in the world. While Draco on the other hand, looked uncomfortable at the thought. He shifted in his seat, and re-ajusted his collar. He looked back at Harry, who seemed to be ticking it over in his head.

“No, no,” Draco shook his head and put his cup down, crosse his arms and leaned back. “Firstly, my parent’s wouldn’t let me, secondly I know nothing of the Muggle world, and thirdly, brilliant Harry Potter, where would I go?”

Harry thought for a moment before meeting Draco’s eyes. “My Aunt and Uncle’s house.” Draco paled a bit. He knew how Harry’s family had treated him, he didn’t want anything to do with that. “They’ve been gone since the war. They don’t want to risk going back. It’s empty at the moment. You could go there for a week, be by yourself, not have to worry about being lynched when you go outside.”

Muling it over, the pale you man looked at his family ring perched on his slender finger. Not being lynched seemed pleasant at this point. He exhaled a shaky breath, before shaking his head.

“I couldn’t, my parent’s-“

“Screw your parents,” Draco snapped up at that. Harry looked calm, like he hadn’t just done what the rest of the wizarding world had told his family. To get stuffed. “Don’t tell them. Just say that you’re staying here with Ginny and I for a while.”

“Because they’ll accept that.” Draco scoffed.

Harry rolled his eyes and huffed at him. “Look, Malfoy. Are you your own person or not?”

“Potter-“

“Well?” Draco stiffens and shuffled in his his seat. Harry took that as a yes. “Then, go. Have some peace and time to yourself. I can give you some Muggle money and you can just hang around the house, or go into the city for a day. It’ll be good for you.”

Draco looked up. He held Harry’s gaze, before nodding. He sucked in a breath when he heard the sound of apparation. Harry looked behind him to see Ginny unwrapping her scarf, taking off her lime green coat. She looked at Harry and smiled.

Making her way over, she wrapped her arms around Harry’s neck. “Hello boys,” She kissed Harry upside down. He grinned into it. “What are you two talking about, hm?”

Harry looked at Draco, Ginny resting her head on Harry’s shoulder. “Malfoy is going to go to Privet Drive for a little while. Get away from everything.”

Ginny straightened up. She looked from Harry to Draco, who was dressed in his black suit. She smirked a little. “Not dressed like that, he’s not.”

Draco scowled, looking himself over before speaking. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing, Weasley?”

Ginny giggled and walked over to get a mug. She grabbed the teapot and poured her own cup, drinking by the sink. She had been to Privet Drive, when Harry wanted to show her his home. She had hated the small closet, but smiled at how scared Harry had made the Dursley’s with his light threats of magic through his youth.

Ginny looked at Harry, looked at Draco. “You’ll stand out like a bludger in a field full of snitches. No, you need to tone it down, Malfoy.”

Draco glared and raised his fingers. “And how, pray tell, does one, ’tone it down’?”

Ginny laughed. “Just borrow some one Harry’s clothes. Suits are too formal for Muggles. They’re casual creatures, just be casual.”

Furrowing his eyebrows, Draco said. “I…I am dressed casual?”

Ginny just laughed again, with Harry chiming in softly. Ginny grabbed Draco’s arm and went to the closet in her and Harry’s room. She started pulling out clothes that would suit Draco, before duplicating them with magic.

She packed them in a suit case and handed it to Draco, who looked sneeringly at the old beat up thing. He glanced at Ginny and she pushed it towards him further. He took it, and walked back out to the kitchen room, where Harry was still drinking this tea.

“Now what?” Draco inquired, watching as Ginny flowed around the kitchen, collecting Muggle money from a tin in the cupboard. She threw the tin at Harry, who caught it and took out how much he guessed Draco would need to a week.

He passed it to the blond man. “There, you’ve got clothes, money, now you just have to leave.”

Pale eyebrows raised. “Right now?”

Harry shrugged at him before standing, making his way to Ginny to wrap his arm around her. “It would probably be easiest to apparate at night, then no Muggles could see you.” He kissed Ginny on the cheek. She smiled at him, before waving.

Harry grabbed Draco’s shoulder, before winking at Ginny, then apparating to Privet Drive.

When they got there, it was dark, hard to stem much of anything. Draco could see the outline of the house in the moonlight. It was far smaller then the Manor and the cottage that Harry and Ginny lived in.

Draco entered the house after Harry, who was turning on lights. “Try not to use too much magic here, there is only so much the people living here can take.” Harry chuckled as he rounded from the kitchen. “The bedrooms are upstairs, you can take any you like. The fridge is empty or food, but there is some milk, a few bits of fruit, cereal in the cupboard, so you can just make something.”

Draco had put his suitcase down, and was looking at the photos on the wall. It was filled with ones of Harry and Ginny and Ron and Hermione, all the Weasley’s, people from school. One had Neville smiling before falling over as a toad jumped onto his shoulder.

Then, there were ones that were still, not moving. It showed a long woman with a round man, smiling with a small butterball child in front of them. Draco turned to Harry, point to the picture.

“They may have been horrible, but, Aunt Petunia was my Mum’s sister,” Harry shrugged before moving to door. He turned back. “Oh, yeah, there are brooms in the shed out the back, and theres a field over the back of the train line. No one goes there, so you should be right if you wanted to fly.”

Harry looked around and shuffled on his feet. Draco sighed at the awkward man. “Go, get home to Weasley. She’ll be starting to wonder where you are, Potter.” Harry made a move to speak again, but Draco stopped him. “I’ll be fine. Go away now.”

Harry smiled a little before nodding and leaving, closing the front door behind him.   Draco turned to the house. He breathed out heavily, both satisfied to be alone and slightly on edge. He grabbed his suit case and trudged up the stairs.

He placed the bag on the bed and sat. He turned on the light and waited a moment. He started to undress, to get ready for bed. He turned his attention to the case, but something caught his eye.

He looked out the window to see someone across the street watching him. Draco frowned slightly, and walked toward the window to get a better view of her.

She shook herself slightly when she saw his chest better. She frowned at his frown, huffed and close her curtains.

“What?” He muttered. Draco shrugged and went back to changing, but not before closing his own curtains. “Bloody Muggle women.”

When Draco woke the next morning, he forgot where he was, until he saw the small room wrapped around the even smaller bed he was in. He huffed, before getting up.

Normally, at the Manor, Draco had to be dressed before going to breakfast with his parents, but he decided to forgo that and just eat in his borrowed pyjamas. His long blue and white checkered pants hung low on his hips. Draco had discarded the grey shirt. He trundled down the stairs.

He took the milk that was mentioned from the fridge. He grabbed that, a bowl, spoon and the cereal. He glared at the box, showing a bowl of golden flakes and honey. Crunchy Nut?

“Merlin, Potter,” Draco grumbled as he poured the golden fun into his bowl. He scowled harder when he saw what they looked like. “This box is very misleading.” He dumped some milk in and put the carton back in the fridge.

As he brought the spoon to his open lips, he heard the door being knocked on. He turned to look at the wooden thing. It rattled again. He froze for a moment. Had his parents found him? Had other angry wizards?

Draco had left his wand up stairs and cursed himself. He looked at the bench of the kitchen and grabbed  knife from the holder. He walked towards the door, slowly.

Draco opened it to a small crack. He saw the woman that was watching him last night. Lowering his gaze, he saw a smaller girl, holding a pie. She was smiling happily.

Opening the door a little more, Draco spoke. The knife he held stayed behind the door in his other hand. “Ah, can I help you?”

The little girl giggled. She started to speak before the older one smacked her upside the head. “Do you live here?”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “No.”

“So you’re here because…?” She raise her own eyebrow at him.

“I’m…ah, the owners cousin.” He supplied.

The woman laughed. “Really? You’re Harry’s cousin?” Draco looked around before nodding. “Dudley?”

Draco started for a moment. “No, Draco. I’m his cousin from his fathers side.” The woman didn’t seem to believe him. “Look, Potter dropped me off last night. I’m only here for a week, I’m not here because I thought it would be fun.”

The little girl giggled. “He’s go you, Y/N.” She received another smack and pouted.

“Quiet,” She turned her attention back to Draco. “Fine. Our mother wanted us to bring you this pie. Have fun with it.” With that said, Y/N turned on her heel and left.

Draco looked at the jumping child in front of him. He smiled thinly before reaching for the pie with one hand. “She seems angry.”

The little girl laughed. “She’s always like that.” She started to retreat herself, before turning to Draco again. “I’m Heather, and my sister’s name is Y/N. Mummy wanted us to ask you to come to the barbecue this afternoon. It’s at five. You have to come! We’re having honey sausages! Bye, Mister!”

Heather waved and ran towards her home, where Y/N was waiting. She rolled her eyes at her sister. She looked to Draco, who started at her. Y/N huffed and went inside.

Draco closed the door, looked at the pie, and huffed, getting a fork to eat it, since his cereal would be soggy by now.

“Bloody Muggle women."

[pen-masta]

Peace and Coffee Part 1

This is a spin off of Brotherly Love this takes place several years in the future when Castel is older and this focuses on him and his best friend. It was inspired by the Folgers’ coffee commercial the link is here–>   X

Rated Pg-13

Enjoy!

1 2 3 4(Complete)

He walks down the carpeted steps. His bare feet dragging across the fluffy floor before falling onto the hardwood flooring of the kitchen. The rising sun shines its rays through the window of the kitchen and the glass patio door, bringing more light into the room—more so than the overhead. His mom has left the window open and he can hear the birds chirping and singing as a beautiful day begins.

Although the world around him is happy and joyful, he is not. He is miserable, he’s hurt, he’s sad, and in turn he scowls as he walks with his hands in his jean pockets. Today is not a good day. Today is not a happy day. Today is a day to be as unhappy as he pleases, because he’s losing his best friend.

He walks into the kitchen to find Zack sitting at the kitchen table. He and Eliza had stopped by for a visit last night on their way to the south for a holiday. They were leaving later this evening—which is another reason he’s allowed to be miserable today. Zack sits at the table reading over the newspaper with a steaming mug sitting on the hard oak of the table.

 Zack spies his little brother out of the corner of his eye and smiles brightly, “Morning Cassie.”

Castel grunts in response as he opens the cabinet door. He takes his mug down—the white one that Joy had given him last Christmas. It’s got bedazzling gems, glitter, stickers, and rainbow hand drawn bubble letters that spell out ‘Cassie’ on it. He had grabbed it out of habit and now staring at the colorful crazy mug he despises his muscle memory.

Muttering to himself he quickly puts the mug back and takes down a plain black mug. He pours the dark liquid from the coffee pot into the mug and takes a seat next to his brother. Scowling down into his mug he watches in his peripheral vision as his brother folds the newspaper and sets it on the table.

 “What’s with the look, Tiger?” Zack asks sipping his coffee.

 Castel mutters inaudible and reaches for the sugar bowl.

  “Out of sugar cubes,” Zack says.

Castel growls and sips his black coffee. He knows it’s not Zack’s fault he’s upset, but he just can’t seem to not be angry. Well…he’s more hurt than anything, but it shows itself through anger. He sets the mug down and stares into it, trying to differentiate between the dark liquid and the darkness of the mug.

 Zack’s smile falters a little and he decides to stop beating around the bush. He knows what’s got his little brother in a mood and frankly he can’t blame the kid. He can’t imagine how he’d feel if Eliza would just up and leave for two years. He can’t empathize with his little brother like he has been able to do in the past. Castel is the first of the three brothers to have to deal with this, he knows his brother’s heart is aching…but he can’t ever really know how the kid’s heart aches.

Zack clears his throat, “When does the plane leave?”

Castel pauses a moment before he sighs silently, “Two o’clock.”

Zack’s eyes dart to the kitchen clock, “It’s seven o’clock now. You’ve got time to go see her.”

“I know,” Castel says solemnly. “I will.”

Zack looks at his brother and smiles sympathetically, “It’ll be alright, you know.” He says trying his hardest to comfort his kid brother, “It’s not like you’ll never see her again.” 

Castel nods allowing his brother to think his words are helping, but really they’re making it worse. But he knows his brother’s intension are good so he smiles kindly and thanks his brother. The two finish their coffee in silence and Zack offers to wash Castel’s cup for him. Castel gladly takes the offer and heads up to his room—or what his mom liked to call ‘cauchemar d’un inspectur de la santé’ a health inspector’s nightmare.

He opens the door to his room and maneuvers around the several empty bags of chips, empty soda bottles, dirty clothes, caps he’s collected over the years, pencils, journals, textbooks, crumpled up pieces of paper, and discarded blankets. He takes off his Godzilla t-shirt he had slept in last night and tosses it aimlessly to the floor. He rubs his neck wincing at the twinge of pain that shoots down his spine. He had fallen asleep at his desk last night working on a new device to market. Hunched over in his chair, head surrounded by circuit boards and tools was not a good position to sleep in for the young nineteen-year-old.

He looks down at his jeans. Besides the darkened spot on the side of the fabric left by an old mustard stain the pants look suitable for the day. He slips on his belt and his last pair of clean socks before scouring around his room; picking up random t-shirts and sniffing them to find one that didn’t have an odor to it. He finally settles on a burnt orange t-shirt with Optimus Prime on it, in the Uncle Sam pose with the words ‘I want YOU in the Robotics Club!’ written underneath of the picture.

He pulls the shirt on and sniffs the collar again. There’s a faint musky scent to the fabric and he gnaws his bottom lip trying to decide if it’s okay or not. He decides it’s not, so he opens his closet and pulls out a green flannel shirt—promising to be clean considering he almost never wears anything from his closet. He sprays a bit of his cologne on his neck and picks up one of his many caps that litter the floor, before heading across the hall to the bathroom.

 He brushes his teeth and tries to tame his curly mop, but ends up leaving it with it’s extremely curly bedhead look. Staring at his reflection he can see how exhausted he looks. He’s been running on coffee and Rockstars the passed few days as he tries to churn out a new line of electronics to start his business.The grant he had received upon his graduation was more than enough to buy all the material and space he needed…now all he needed was something to market!

 His face displays four, no maybe it was five nights of no sleep. Dark circles rest under his chocolate brown eyes that have a slight red tint near his lids. His hair is a stubborn mess and the five o’clock shadow he’s got going on brings home the fact he hasn’t been in the bathroom longer than to use the toilet. His nose wrinkles remembering it has been a few days since he’s showered and although his hair isn’t greasy his face could probably use a good scrub.

 After washing his face with his washcloth, he pulls on his cap, stomps into his Vans, and heads down the stairs again. It’s almost eight o’clock and this time the kitchen is full of several people that bring life to the quiet house. His mom is busy chattering away with Eliza while Zack and his dad are cooking some breakfast.

 He smiles a little when his mom sees him and she stops her conversation to hug her youngest son. He returns the hug and whines like a small child when she kisses his cheek, earning a little giggle from Eliza who watches.

 “Glad to you finally out of your cave, ma chérie.” His mom smiles, her accent very thick as she speaks.  

 “I’ve been down before,” he smiles and rolls his eyes.

 “Not for five days,” she says and lets her son go.

 “Vous exagérez,” he waves away her comment. “You exaggerate, Maman.”

 Eliza and his mom both chuckle and roll their eyes, before going back into their conversation.

“Cassie!” His dad’s booming voice calls out over the sound of crackling grease. He smiles brightly at his youngest, “You’re still alive I see!”

 Zack snorts and laughs as Castel rolls his eyes, “Yes I am alive and well.”

 “Good,” his dad says and turns back to the stove. “Come help your brother and I.”

 “I’m sorry but I can’t,” Castel says. “I need to go over to Joy’s this morning.”

 The room falls silent and everyone turns to look at the youngest of the Cubs family. Their faces all look the same—sadness and sympathy. Castel manages his hold his grin and hide the hurt that rips through him. His mom clears her throat and shakes her head.

 “Of course,” she says and walks over to her son again. “I forgot that was today.”

 “That’s alright Maman.” Castel shrugs.

“You go,” she smiles.

“Yes, yes go ahead.” His dad smiles solemnly and nods. “Give her ours best wishes.”

“I will Papa,” Castel smiles as kindly as he can without showing his inner sorrow.

His mom hugs him again before he heads to the door. He smiles as the voices of his family pick up in conversation again. He heads down the street to the third and last house on his street. It’s a little white house with teal shutters and a short driveway that is surrounded by beautiful bushes of different kinds of colorful flowers.

With his hands in his pockets he walks up the pavement smiling at the oak tree that sits in the front yard. Memories of sitting under the tree as she climbed high above his head only to dangle upside from her knees flood his brain. He remembers long summers spent under that tree and the tree house that sits proudly in the backyard oak. The driveway is no longer littered with bicycles and tricycles and toys of all shapes and sizes. No, now it holds a car and an old worn out basketball hoop—the only clue that children used to play here.

He walks up the white porch listening as the steps wail under his weight; he imagines the steps feeling the pain he does as well. Wind chimes dangle down from the roof of the porch; some have been bought, but most she’s crafted from recyclables, sea shells, and sea glass.

 “Anything can be made into something new,” she’d tell him as she’d pick up a discarded glass bottle. “You just need to give it the TLC it needs to get there.”

 He remembers walking along the beach with her, helping her find all kinds of shells and sea glass. He remembers the time they found that enormous conch shell that washed up after that bad hurricane. He smiles more when he sees the conch shell proudly perched above the door.

 He knocks on the screen door and walks in after hearing a voice calling out from somewhere in the house that he was welcome. Mr. Curtis sits on the couch reading his book, that he looks up from to smile at Castel.

“Morning Cassie,” he says and although he is smiling, Castel can hear the underlying sadness in his voice.

 “Good morning Sir,” Castel smiles. “I was just—”

 “I know why you’re here,” Mr. Curtis chuckles and turns back to his reading. “She’s in her room.”

 Castel thanks him and heads up the stairs. His mind backtracks to last night; he had gone to dinner with the Curtis family to her favorite restaurant. A place she wouldn’t get to eat at for a long time. It was nice, it was relaxed, it was…public. Not exactly the personal time he had desperately needed from her…but they all ate together and talked and laughed, and he masked the pain it caused his heart to sit there.

 Shortly after the dinner was over she had jumped in the car with some of her other friends she had made while he was away at college. She did invite him, she did include him, but…he declined. It was hard enough sitting through the dinner, he’d never last if he had to spend the entire night with her and her friends. So he feigned illness and headed home.

But it wasn’t enough, he knew it wouldn’t be enough to sit across from her and hold his plastered smile as they talked over side salads and spaghetti. She had invited him, but the hurt in her eyes told him she might have just invited him out of pity. The sickening feeling tight in his stomach told him she may be still upset with him. And frankly he couldn’t blame her. He’d been such a jerk and so distal the last several weeks.

He remembers the morning she announced she was joining the Peace Corp. They were having their weekly Saturday movie night followed by a sleep over on the floor—a tradition started when they were ten. It was the next morning as they sat with her family eating Lucky Charms, everyone she loved was together and she thought it would be best to tell them all at the same time.

Of course it took her parents by surprise but they were proud and supportive as always. Her sisters—all of whom were home visiting for the weekend—were shocked by their youngest sister’s decision, but they were just as supportive as their parents. It was Castel who had an issue. He remembers being quiet the rest of the breakfast. He tried to process the curve ball she had just thrown at him. And all he could think about was how it did not in any way, shape, or form fit into his plan. The plan he’s had mapped out for their lives since eighth grade.

When everyone had left for work or the mall or what have you, and it was just the two of them it happened. He blew up. They had the biggest fight they’ve ever had in their thirteen-years of friendship. He yelled that she was being impulsive and not thinking everything through. That he’s finally gotten back from college and she decides to run off for two years. He shrilled that she had never mentioned ever have a desire to do this before. The only thing that could have brought this on was just a little whim she had that she wasn’t serious about.

Hurt played in her eyes for a moment before she gathered herself and stood her ground. She snapped that he had done the same thing to her only it was for three years. That it wasn’t fair of him to accuse her that way. The unshed tears in her eyes caused his heart to tighten and he’s hated himself from that moment on. They yelled, they fought, and tears stung his eyes as she hissed that she had been counting on his support.

From that moment they hadn’t really spoken. This being the longest amount of time they didn’t speak to each other. They didn’t text. They didn’t call. They didn’t hang out. He distanced himself from her, sinking into a dark cloud of self-pity. He was losing her for two years, and in turn he drowned himself in circuit boards and screw drivers attempting to fill his pain with some kind of electronic—even though he threw out just about every idea he had.

He didn’t sleep for five nights after their fight. He felt like such a jerk. How could he have reacted that way to her? He’s never put himself before her in the past. Even when he had decided to move up to the college level at sixteen, he had considered her feelings. She had been in his thoughts ever step of the way, and how it’d affect her. In the end he did have to choose his future over her feelings…and he guesses that it’s the same for her.

They each had different goals, desires, wants, needs out of the life they wanted. He wanted to be a successful engineer and she…wanted to help people. Of course she wanted to help people! She always has. She’s always been kind and caring, why hadn’t he seen this blanket sweep coming? He’s known her since he was six-years-old, he should have guessed this would have been the path she’d choose. And why should he condemn her for it? Why did he have to be such a jerk? Gosh, he hates himself!

When she had invited him to dinner he was really surprised. It had been almost four weeks since the announcement…well actually three weeks, four days, eight hours…he’s been counting. Rounding his numbers it’s been a rough four weeks. Four weeks since they had spoken to each other. Four weeks without her sweet voice, her jokes, her laughter, her smile…he’s such an idiot to have let this happen! He thought maybe she had forgiven him, but the look in her eyes was unreadable…he had really hurt her. He cut her so deep, and it was going to take more on his part to make this right.

He walks up the steps and past the doors of her sister’s rooms. He can hear the bass of Cheap Thrills booming from the end of the hall. He needed to fix this and fast, the last thing he wanted to do was have her fly to the other side of the world hating his guts. And he certainly didn’t want to have her leave and be left with the truth that she did hate him. As he gets closer to her overly decorated and colorful door the music gets louder, and he sees the door of her room has been left open letting light and music flood the hall. He peeks into her room to see clothes piled up on her bed completely covering the thousands of stuffed animals that lye on the mattress. Balls of yarn, colored pencils, sketch pads, and colorful stones litter the floor. And next to the pile of clothes sits a bright orange suitcase that lies open with a few shirts in it.

His heart drops into his gut at the sight of how empty her room looks—the reminder of her inevitable departure. Lyrics blast from the speaker that sits on her desk and he can hear her singing—errr well screaming—the words to the Sia song. Although he can hear her, he can’t see her. And he’s a little thankful for it, this gives him a few last moments to gather his thoughts…actually he had no thoughts. He has no idea why he’s really here right now. He knows he has to fix this, but he has no idea what he’s planning to do or say. He can’t have her leave with everything so sour between them. She’s his best friend, she’s all he has. Sure he’s still in touch with his brothers and some guys from college, but it’s different with her. They grew up together, he knows everything there is to know about her. He loves her just as any friend would. He couldn’t leave things like this.

“Ah ha!” Her voice articulates from somewhere in the room, ripping him from his thoughts. “I found you! You thought I was gonna leave without you? Yeah right!” She laughs and her closet door opens.

A curtain of brown wavy locks appears in the closet doorway as she steps out into the room. Her eyes are closed as she begins to sing along with the song again, bouncing and dancing to the rhythm of the music. In her hands she grips a ball of bright red yarn and a crocheting needle. Her lips are pulled back into a smile as she sings and dances around her room.

Two years. Two. Years. Two flipping years! Two years of not getting to speak to her everyday. Two years of not getting to see her every morning. Two years of not seeing her jubilant smile. Two years of her never embracing him for a hug. Two years of not hearing her beautiful voice. Two years of not hearing her loud unashamed laughter. Two years of not being called a dork-osaurs-rex.

Two years of not hearing her swear to avenge Kirby after he K.O.s on Mario Bro’s Brawl; followed by that challenging face she’d make when he’d laugh in victory. The same face she’d make right before she’d tackle him and blow raspberries on his neck until he conceded. Two years of not getting to watch her paint—shortly followed by one of them starting a paint throwing battle.

Two years! No corny jokes. No dancing. No tickle fights over the remote. No food fights. No pranking wars. No random water gun fights. No chasing each other around the yard with silly string. No falling asleep on the couch. No hearing that goofy snorting giggle she makes when she tells him a dirty joke. No late night phone calls. No hot summers in the too-small-for-us-now-treehouse. No constancy.

No Joy.

She’s gonna be gone for two years, on the other side of the globe. And when she gets back she’s probably going to be a completely different person! He can’t do this! He thought he could but he just…his heart hurts, tears prick his eyes, his hands tremble in his pockets. He knows she had to deal with him being away for three years, but he was home in the winter and summer. He would come home on the weekends—and he did mainly to ease the pain of the distance. He texted, he called, he skyped. He did anything to contact her. He could come home whenever he felt like it…she can’t. She can’t call him up in the wee hours of the morning. She can’t text him ‘Hey dork-a-doo what’s the haps???’. She can’t come home for a visit during the week…

He swallows thickly and pushes his sorrow out of his head. He can’t think that way about his immediate future. He needs to be here. He needs to be now. He needs to make this right. Swallowing his tears and forcing a small smile, he watches her bob up and down as she tosses the ball of yarn into the open suitcase.

“I love cheap thrills!” Joy screams and points out in front of her as if she were preforming on stage.

His fake smile turns genuine as he watches his best friend dance around like the goof she is. He decides it’s probably time to make his presence known, so he steps into the room. She hums along to the fading tune and opens her eyes. She picks up a shirt off the bed, accidentally knocking off a stuffed animal. When she turns to pick it up she sees him. Her smile shrinks for a moment, and his heart constricts.

She shakes her head and turns off her speaker. “Hey there Cassie.” She says brightly, but he can’t help but feel the tone in forced.

 “Hi,” he says.

They stand there in silence for a while. Her eyes look down from his to focus on the floor, and he’s mentally cursing himself. His eyes wander around the room, falling on the open half empty suitcase.

“Last minute packing I see.” He says trying to make conversation, “Cutting it close aren’t you?” He teases, raising a brow and smirking.

She looks up at him and smiles a little before rolling her eyes. “You worry too much Cassie.” She points to her desk chair where a backpack sits completely stuffed to the max. “I’ve got my main bag packed already.”

 “So what’s all this?” He asks and gestures to the bed full of clothes.

 “Extra stuff,” she shrugs and tosses a t-shirt into the suitcase.

 He chuckles a little, “Didn’t they say bring only what you absolutely need, Jo-Jo?”

“Yeah, yeah.” She waves her hand dismissively, “But I’m going away for two years Casanova! How can I not bring just one more t-shirt, or stuffed animal, or yarn ball, or sweatshirt?”

His smile falters a little, but he manages. “Alright I understand.” He smiles and looks the various items that lye on the floor and bed. “So you’re all set to go, hm?”

“Oh yeah baby!” She laughs and punches her fist into the air, “Philippines here I come!”

“I’m not sure the Philippines are ready for you Joy.” He teases with a chuckle and she sticks her tongue out at him.

“Well they best get ready!” She laughs and he nods in agreement, joining in her mirth.

Silence falls again and he feels so awkward. He nervously rubs the back of his neck, before clearing his throat. She looks up at him and he smiles weakly.

“Would you…ah…would you like some help?” He asks stuttering a little.

She blinks staring at him for a moment before she smiles and nods, “I most certainly would.”

He smiles more and helps her sort through the mass of clothes that sit in an enormous pile on her bed. He tries to rationalize what she should take and what she should leave. She whines at his rationalizing and tosses several items into her suitcase—half of which he convinces her to take back out. They’re talking. They’re teasing each other. They’re laughing. Things are normal. She’s looking at him. But he can see the hidden hurt in her eyes. When silence falls the air gets tense…okay so maybe it’s not so normal. His watch tells him it’s almost eleven when they’ve finally got the suitcase packed. She puts the stuff she’s not taking with her away and sits next to him on the bed. They sit there in silence for a while before she pipes up.

“So how’s Martha?” She asks not looking at him.

“She’s good,” he says looking at his lap. “I haven’t asked her yet.”

She sighs dramatically and smiles teasingly at him, “Gotta move at a snail’s pace don’t cha Cassie-role.”

He chuckles a little and rubs the back of his neck, “Hey I’m being cautious.”

“Oh would you just ask her out already?” She shoves him playfully, “When I get back you better have asked her. I don’t want all my hard work to be done in vein.”

He smiles, “Alright, alright I get it.”

“Do you? I’m not sure I’ve gotten it through that big cranium of yours!” She giggles and pokes his forehead causing him to giggle as well.

“I’ll ask her alright?” He laughs and bats her hand away.

Silence falls again and he sighs a little, knowing he’s running out of time.

“So your flight leaves at two?” He asks looking down again.

“Yes,” she says and plays with the loose string on the hem of her shirt. “But I’ve got to be there two hours before the flight leaves to get through security and all that jazz.”

His eyes dart to her face, “So you’re leaving…at noon?”

She hesitates then nods, “Yes. My taxi will be here in an hour.”

“Why didn’t you say something before?” He asks panic swirling in his stomach.

She shrugs, “I don’t know…I was just…enjoying you being here I guess.” She says looking down at the floor.

The anger pools in his chest again wanting to rear its ugly head, but he won’t let it. He understands what she means. She doesn’t want to address the fact that these are their last few moments together. He can’t mess this up, but the emotions he’s been hiding begin to grow larger. Pricks form behind his eyes and he swallows the lump in his throat.

“Joy,” he says and his voice cracks on the end of her name. He hadn’t meant to say her name with so much emotion, but his heart is swelling and it’s getting harder to school his emotions.

She looks up at him and her eyes show great concern. The sadness gnawing in his chest creeps up onto his face and he quickly gulps it down again, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallows thickly. Even though he’s tried to move quickly he was not fast enough, she must have seen it because she winces.

“I just…” he clears his throat and looks down. He can’t look at her, the tears threatening to spill over. “I’m so very sorry Joy.”

 “Cas—” she starts to say but he cuts her off.

“No, no,” he shakes his head and smiles weakly at her. “I owe you a massive apology Joy. I’ve been a butt—”

“More like a jumbo major massive butt,” she giggles airily.

He chuckles and rolls his eyes, “Alright yes I deserve that. I have been a jumbo major massive butt the passed few weeks. I’m sorry for the way I reacted, it…it wasn’t right.” He looks down, “I just…gosh Joy!” He closes his eyes tight trying his hardest to fend off his tears. “When you said you were going to the other side of the world for two years it was like I was swallowed up by an endless black hole.”

He smiles weakly and gives a sharp laugh, “That’s really kind of why I’ve been distal and…and…” he fumbles and she smiles a little.

 “Acting like a huge cry baby?” She teases and raises a brow.

He laughs more freely and shrugs, “I was going to say sulking, grumpy, moody, but sure huge cry baby works too.” He smiles and she giggles airily.

He can feel the tears pressing against his eyes pleading for the dam to break. His nose starts to run with snot as the bottled up emotions shake and threaten to explode at any second. As causally as he can, he wipes his nose on his sleeve, he will not cry in front of her. He inhales harshly before he continues, ringing his hands in his lap.

“And it’s just…I’m going to miss you so much. But that’s not the real reason I blew up…” he dares to look up at her. Her eyes are wide and glassy, her lips are parted slightly, she’s just staring at him. “I blew up because you’re leaving me. Joy you’re my best friend…my only friend if it isn’t obvious!” He gives a loud sardonic laugh, “I’ve known you since kindergarten and now I find out you’re leaving me! It tore me apart…because I just don’t understand after all these years how you can do it so easily…with a smile on your face.”

His breath hitches and he has to stop because he’s afraid his vocal chords will betray him if he continues any further. His eyes are burning from the built up tears he’s holding back and his hands tremble as they brace against his kneecaps. She sits there for a moment before she looks down. They are both quiet for a minute or two, until Joy laughs weakly.

She sniffles and runs her hand across her eyes, the way she always did when she was trying to manage her emotions. With her eyes hiding behind her hand she has enough courage to say, “And what, you think I’m not going to miss you?”

He looks up at her as she takes her hand away from her eyes. Her nose and cheeks are pink, tears spill over, and run down her cheeks dripping off her chin. Her lips are pulled into a very weak, small, and trembling grin.

“You’re my best friend Cassie,” she sniffles. “And it kills me to leave you here.” She looks down and shrugs, “I haven’t had a good night sleep since I told you I signed up. Of course I care about you, I care how this affects you…but just like how you needed to leave for college…I need to leave to do this.” She slowly looks up at him again. Her caramel eyes big and sad, showing all the hurt she’s hide from him.

His resolve breaks—big, round, fat tears roll down his cheeks as well. Within a second she’s in his arms, burying her head into his shoulder. He conceals his flushed face in her hair and holds her tighter than he ever has in his life. They sit like this for what feels like hours, when in reality it’s only a few minutes.

Joy sniffles and gives a watery laugh, “You’re such a dork-asourus-rex.”

He chuckles and he feels something bubbling in his stomach again…only this time he can’t make out what it is.

“I know you have to go,” he says into her curls. “I’m not trying to keep you here. I’m just…I’m so sorry.”

She sniffles and smiles into his shoulder. Her big sweet lump of dork. “It’s alright Casinator.” She pauses before asking quietly, “So you’re cool with the whole Peace Corp bizz?”

He lets out a sigh of relief and smiles weakly. “Of course Joy,” he lies.

He feels her relax in his arms. He smiles a little more as the tears continue to run down his cheeks. That was it. There it was. All fixed. They had reached a good stopping point, no need to continue forward. Everything that needed to be said, had been said…so why are his lips still moving?

“I love you, Joy.” He lets out like a flock of doves. His eyes widen a little as the bubbles in his stomach explode into butterflies, and he realizes those three words—for the first time in his life—he meant more than just the friendly, platonic way.

She pulls back just enough to turn her head to look at him, “I love you too, Cas.”

The butterflies spin into a hurricane in his gut. He’s had this feeling before with her…years ago…he had ignored it then, and he had assumed the feelings had been smothered out…It’s wrong! It’s wrong! Wrong, wrong, wrong! She’s his best friend! He shouldn’t feel this way about her! He knows she doesn’t feel that way about him. Why is this feeling coming back? He’s going to ask Martha out! Shouldn’t he be having this kind of feeling with her and not Joy?

Joy leans back a little more. She smiles and rests her forehead against his. Tear trails streak her pink cheeks and she takes a shaky inhale before she giggles a little.

“You just had to get all emotional right before I leave, didn’t cha Casanova?” She teases and sniffles a little.

 He chuckles a little and shrugs weakly, “S’rry, J-bird.”

She giggles again, “S’kay dork-a-doo.” She sniffles, “You know I’ll get sometime each week for video calls.” Her eyes brighten, “And! And, I get some time off!” She smiles, “Everyone normally saves their days off for a big Christmas Vakay, so I’ll be back in just a few months.”

He sniffles and smiles as steady as he can. “You have no idea how much I’m going to miss you,” he says his voice breaking a little—butterflies tickling his stomach as they flutter wildly.

Her caramel eyes soften and sparkle, and her bottom lip quivers a little, “And I you. Two years will go by fast. I’ll be back before you know it Cassie-role!”

He smirks a little and before he can think of what he should do or say next her lips on his. It’s a quick, sweet, chaste kiss and by the time his brain registers it, her lips are pulling away. Wake up stupid! He screams in his head when he feels her warm lips leaving his. Driven completely on primal impulse his lips follow hers, closing the distance again.

His eyes flutter closed as his strong lips crash with her soft ones. It’s a bit more heated than the one she granted him and he savors the sweet flavor of her bubblegum lip gloss. He’s so lost in its succulent taste that he almost doesn’t register that she’s not reacting. Reacting? Reacting! She’s not reacting! Abandon ship!!!

 Just as he’s about to pull away and dash out the room in a heated, flustered mess her lips press firmly against his. She pushes back with such force that their teeth clink together—needless to say, he’s a little surprised as she starts to take control. Her soft, plump, warm, lips curl around his hard slightly chapped ones. Her hands slip under his flannel and grip his t-shirt, pulling him closer to her. His hands drop from her back down to her waist, stations just above her ample bottom.

His heart leaps into a racing speed, pounding in his chest, his ears, his neck. His hands are beginning to tremble, as his tongue grazes hers. Their lips continue to entwine with each other and his mind goes completely blank when she moans into the kiss. Never once breaking the kiss she crawls into his lap, straddling him as he runs his one hand up her side and into her hair. Something deep inside him awakens, something that is almost Neanderthal-like. Something so primal, so feral, so aggressively sensual it sparks his brain into numbness.

If his eyes were open they would be dilated and a darker brown than before, as a hungry growl leaves his throat. He pushes back against her taking charge of their embrace. Gripping her tight he almost lifts her up in his lap, he’s not sure why he does this though. His body is not really connecting with his dead brain, his arms doing their own thing. The small lift he’s done she takes as a challenge—and if there’s one thing Joy loves more than art, it’s a heated challenge…especially if her challenger was Castel.

She runs her hand up into his hair, purposely knocking his cap off. Her purple colored fingernails running over his scalp—gently scratching in the most delightful way—as her fingers card through his mop of curls. Her hands make a new home at the base of his skull. She grips the hair on the back on his neck—in an almost painful way—and she pushes her chest hard against his. She pushes against him with so much power and force that he ends up falling onto his back on her bed. And now the two long time friends are in a heated battle for dominance over the kiss—neither willing to relent.

His heart goes into double time. She’s on top of him. She’s squirming as her legs wrap around his—and her merciless wriggling, causes him to have an involuntary reaction below his belt. He lets out a very animal-like assertive growl again; without opening his eyes he finds her wrists, twists his legs, and in one move he’s flipped them over. She yelps a little into the kiss, taken by surprise as he pins her to the mattress.

As more blood rushes south there is less in his brain, causing his thoughts to fog over again—an addicting intoxicating concoction of coconut and orchids surrounds him as he inhales her scent—but he manages to register her cry. Quickly, he moves his hands from her wrists, to rest on either side of her head instead. Her hands snake under his flannel and move up his back, until she’s reached his shoulder blades where she grips the material of his t-shirt.

He runs his one hand down her side, smiling into the kiss when his wandering hand hits that little sensitive spot just above her hipbone. She squeaks cutely and giggles a little, slightly bucking away from his tickling hand. But she moves back when his hand decides to rest on her hip.

She smirks into the kiss and decides, that even though it had been an accident, she wants to return to gesture. Sliding her one hand down, she brushes against his lowest rib with just enough pressure to tickle him briefly. He jolts a little and guffaws involuntarily, she snickers slightly and he growls deep within his throat. He wants a satisfying revenge and bites her bottom lip, dragging a desperate whimper out of her.

She growls a little as well and in defiant retaliation she not only bites back, but she also grinds her hips into his—as if the pressure his zipper is inflecting isn’t enough. She rolls her hips hard into him and the new pressure, combined with the pressure of his zipper peels a deep pleasured moan out of him.

Neither knows how long they’ve been in this heated entanglement, nor how long they would have stayed this way had they not been pulled back to reality by an echoing car horn. The horn blasts loudly and the two break apart immediately, both startled. They stare at each other; their expressions mimic the other’s.

Two pairs of wide eyes stare back at each other, mouths hanging agape as heavy labored breaths beat against the other’s chin. The fog in his brain disappears and his face burns red as he realizes the position he’s in. Fumbling limbs twist as he scrambles to the other side of the bed. They both sit opposite of each other, staring at each other in utter shock. Oh gosh. What. Did. They. Just. Do!?

They both look away from each other for a moment completely embarrassed, before their wide eyes lock again. As embarrassed as he is, his heart still crumbles at the look of pure horror in her eyes and the way her mouth still hangs open in shock, her face flushed a deep red color—most likely matching his.

They both jump when loud lyrics ‘She went down in an airplane, fried getting suntan! Fell in a cement mixer full of quicksand! Help me, help me, I’m no good at goodbyes!’ are exploding into the air accompanied with a buzzing sound. They both look at each other another moment, before Joy blinks, shakes her head, and leans over the edge of the bed.

She picks her phone off of the floor and answers the call. Her face doesn’t lose its shocked expression nor the flushed complexion of her cheeks. Her eyes staying connected with the carpet, and her fingers rest against her swollen lips as she speaks.

“Hello?” She asks her voice shaking. “Oh. Alright. I’ll be…I’ll be down in a second.” She says panting a little.

She ends the call and takes a deep breath, before she stands up. “My taxi is here Cassie.”

 He clears his throat and watches her pick up her bags, “A-a-alright.”

They refuse to make eye contact with each other as she stands in front of him, rubbing the toes of her sneakers together. He waits a moment before he looks up at her. Her cheeks are still red, her hair is a little frizzy, her eyes still holding their horrified shock, her hand covering her swollen lips, and she’s breathing heavily.

His heart pounds harder as it shatters into pieces. What has he done to their friendship? From the tips of his ears, down his cheeks, and across his nose a burn covers his face, with a heat that feels like fire. Tears prick behind his eyes. He had fixed it. He had fixed it! And now…who knows if they can ever fix it again.

How could he do this to her!? Right before she leaves! Gosh, what is wrong with him!? Why did he have this sick impulse? For his best friend! Oh gosh, he’s gonna have a break down! If he thought, he was losing her to the Peace Corp? Ha! He’s lost her forever now. He’s sure of it.

“I’ve got to go Castel,” she says quickly her voice cracking on the second syllable of his name.

He bites his lip and looks down. He shouldn’t hug her. Not after that. He shouldn’t…but he wants to! He’s not going to see for two years! He has to do something! She’s going to leave! She’s going to be gone! She’s…she’s…

He takes a breath and stands up. He puts his hands in his pockets and hangs his head, “Good bye Joy.”

Tears well in her eyes and she takes a shuttered inhale, “Cassie…”

He looks up at her and their eyes meet. Her mouth hangs open, words catching in her throat. He opens his mouth, as well, trying to find something to say to her. Both of them fumbling as they’ve just crossed a huge line, into the most awkward area in their lives. Neither knowing what to say.

Joy takes a breath and goes to speak but a car horn cuts her off. They both look towards the window then back at each other. She closes her mouth into a weak smile.

“That’s my cue. I guess, I’ll see ya when I see ya…Casanova.” She says barley above a whisper.

“Y-yeah,” he trembles out and forces a smile. “See ya when I see ya…Jo-Jo.”

She nods and turns to leave, but stops short. She pivots on her heels, spins around, and throws her arms around him. He embraces her for the last time he’ll get to for many, many months. He holds her tight, relishing in the comforting warmth of her body, and the strength at which she holds him. He feels her move away and he pulls back to look at her.

 She smiles, “Love you Castel.”

 “Love you too Joy,” he smiles. “Stay safe.”

“Always dork-a-doo,” she winks and kisses his cheek.

And just like that it. She’s gone. All he did was blink. She pecked his cheek for less than a second, there was a wave of brown locks, and now he stands alone staring at the spot where she stood moments ago.

                                         What has he done?

==================

He lies in his bed now, staring up at ceiling. It’s late in the evening now…actually it may be early morning, he’s not sure. When I he got home after Joy left he locked himself in his room and tried to drown out his thoughts with electronics. But it was no use. He ended up replaying what happened over and over in his head. What came over him? Why would he do that? With Joy!

He watches his ceiling fan spin around on its lowest speed. He can’t sleep. He runs his tongue along his lips—her sweet taste still lingering in the most taunting way. He can’t stop it. He can’t stop thinking about it. Her sweet plump lips against his. Her body pressed so close to his. Her hands sliding over his body. Her hips rolling into his. The way she—No! Stop! Enough!

He growls audibly in frustration and covers his face with his hands. Gosh he’s sick! Why did these feeling come back? Why now!? He had buried these feelings years ago. What was he? Fourteen? Maybe fifteen when these feelings started creeping into his mind? Sure when he hit puberty he started having more…adult-like thoughts. And when he would crash and burn with trying to find a girlfriend, he had lonelier nights…

But when he turned fifteen his thoughts became more and more inappropriate. And not only were they becoming increasingly more inappropriate there were a few—okay maybe more than a few—nights he had fantasized about Joy. But in his defense, who else was there to fantasize about!? At the time he didn’t have a single shot with Martha and Joy is really the only other female in his life. But he knew it wasn’t right and he did everything he could do to force those thoughts out of his mind. He did everything he could think of! Cold showers, ignoring it, focusing on his marketing projects—or lack there of—anything he could think of. He resisted for as long as he could, but he’d break after so many nights. Since then he’s grown and has a stronger resolve. He’s managed to smother out those inappropriate thoughts of his best friend. And since things with Martha are picking up, he’s had someone else to haunt him on late nights.

But now…he doesn’t know what to make of all of this. All he can think of is the horror that filled her eyes when they broke apart. He huffs and drags his hands down his face. She will never speak to him again. He screwed up. He screwed up big time. Nice going Cubs! You couldn’t just focus on Martha could you!

He closes his eyes as the pricks return with a vengeance. She’s all he has. He doesn’t know how he’s going to fix this…but he has to. He has to! The fate of their friendship depends on him fixing it. She’s his best friend. He’d die for. He’d protect from anything, he always has. He’s always put her first, and things are not about to change now.

He was there for her boy crazy phase. And he was there when Brick broke her heart, and Marco…and Jake. Many nights were spent with ice cream, tissues, hugs, and words of how much he loved her and how stupid those guys were to give her up. And once she was feeling better he stayed to brighten her mood with Comedy movies to make her laugh and violent video games she could take her aggravations out on.

He was there for their adventures in the woods. He was there for all the silly fun games she’s make up for them to play. He was there to run through the field with her and roll down that enormous hill, countless times. He was there to help her across the river when they were kids and played in the woods. He was there to build and decorate their treehouse—their treehouse. He was there in the audience for all her plays. He was there for all her art shows. He was there when they fell out of that tree freshman year. He was there to grab her before they hit the ground so he’d take more of the damage—he ended up breaking his arm and his ankle, covered in cuts from the branches that scrapped him on the way down. While she limped away with her wrist twisted, lip bleeding, and a few bruises. He remembers, that summer they spent everyday watching Lion Fighter and Goofy Goons on the television, and how they had each drawn all over the other’s casts.

He promised himself he’d always be there for her. Protect her from anything and everything. That’s his job as her best friend. That’s his one job. One job. To always protect her from anything that could harm her…even if that thing is him.

He opens his eyes as he replays it again in his mind. But this time he catches something he didn’t before. She had kissed him back. She had kissed him first!…technically. But she was the one who made the kiss more heated first. She’s the one that turned it from an innocent smooch into an intense make out session. She crawled into his lap. She rolled their hips together. Not him! Maybe…could she…possibly be feeling the same as him?

He stares blankly up at the ceiling. No…no she couldn’t. That look of sheer terror in her eyes…that told him everything he needed to know. That look of panic was enough to dissolve any hope of her feeling the same way as him. It’s weird. Their friendship would be ruined…wouldn’t it?

He sighs audible and rolls onto his side, curling towards the wall. He closes his eyes, planning to will himself to sleep when his phone vibrates next to his pillow. He grumbles incoherent words and reaches back behind him. He grabs the rectangular device and taps the screen. He shoots to a straight sitting position when he sees her name on the screen. His heart leaps into his throat, pounding viciously. She had texted him! Probably the last text he’d hear from her in months! She had texted him!

Eager fingers slide the message open and his heart flies down into his gut when he sees it’s just a generic all message. It told everyone that she had landed safely and that she’d see them soon. She had sent it to everyone—family, friends, his family, and him. He wasn’t special. But, come on now, what did he expect? That she was texting him that she had changed her mind? That she wasn’t leaving? That she secretly loved him? That she was turning around to come be with him? Get real Cubs!

He flops back onto his bed. Protect her, yeah. Joy’s feelings before his own, he’s always been there for her and he always will be—as her friend. He’d protect her from everything…including his detrimental feelings. He needed to distance himself from Joy and his sick feelings for his friend. He needed a distraction. A type of distraction his projects would never provide. He needed…

His eyes fall onto his phone again. Fueled by an odd sense of courage he picks up the device and opens a new text message to Martha. She responds almost instantly. Surprised to find that she’s awake he starts up a conversation, like he always did since they’d been talking…but this time he has a goal. A goal he needs to reach tonight. After several text messages back and forth he’s built up enough courage to compose the bombshell question. He’s written and deleted and rewritten it so many time within the passed ten minutes. He stares at the words he’s got written on the screen. Taking a deep breath, he presses send. He holds his breath and waits for her response. After what feels like a millennia her response comes through.

He lets out a long sigh and smiles. After a few more texts she says she’s going to sleep, he agrees and wishes her a peaceful rest. He tosses his phone to the side and smiles up at the ceiling. The perfect distraction. The prefect way to banish his twisted feelings for Joy once and for all. His eyes flutter shut and his smile remains as he feels release.

 Tomorrow he’d be going on his first date with Martha.