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whatifxwereyou · 3 years

Text

Ashes Chapter 16: Up Against the Wall

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 2021

Pairing: Liu Kang x Reader

Summary: You two will probably never stop fighting, but at least you're trying.

A/N: I'm so sorry to have to split this up. This was a smut chapter but it was just so damn long. I couldn't just slam 15 pages here. I mean I could, but it didn't make sense to. But next week? Smut. Also definitely gonna write a prequel to this. Even if it's just for me, unless you guys wanna see it haha <3

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“What was that about?” Liu sat on the edge of your bed at your side without so much as asking for permission. Bold.

“Oh, that?” You looked to the door in amusement. “Yeah, about that. Cole knows.”

“Cole knows what?”

“Cole knows.” You gave him a pointed look. Liu furrowed his brow while trying to decipher your words and then widened his eyes in realization. He watched the door, surprised.

“Oh.” He seemed puzzled. “How, exactly?”

“He saw us the other night. Right before closing.”

“Oh.” He repeated. “Bad timing.” Liu sighed but you could see amusement behind his eyes. It was reminiscent of those first few weeks you’d spent with him where he didn’t say what he really meant but in a playful sort of way. He’d done that all the damn time and he knew just how attractive you found it. Damn him. Of course he would think this was a little funny while you were ripping yourself apart over it.

“That and…” You tilted your head to the side and pushed your hair away from your shoulder. Then you wiped the remains of the makeup off of your neck so that he could see the damn hickey that he’d left on you. Liu’s face dropped but then he practically snorted with laughter and had to cover his mouth to hide his smile. What a brat! He cleared his throat.

“Oops.”

That was all he had to say, huh? You shoved his shoulder.

“Really, Liu? A hickey? What are you, twelve?” You let your hair fall back into place.

“I guess I got a little carried away.” He shrugged as if this were all the explanation you would need. “I didn’t mean to.”

“You know, I cannot think of a single time where you left a mark on me and it wasn’t like we had a lot of self-control back then.”

“Well, that’s not true…” He looked ready to argue with you so you rolled your eyes at him.

“A mark that anyone could see.” You stuck your tongue out at him. He gave a short nod as if to thank you for clarifying. “Now, when things are at their most complicated, Liu, you just… go for it, I guess. Big ol’ mark right on my neck for everyone to see. Thank the stars that it was Cole who noticed it and not someone else.”

“I wasn’t exactly in control of much yesterday.” Liu offered a very pitiful defense but he, again, was hiding his laughter.

“Oh, and you were so in control back then, were you?”

“Uh…” He hesitated. “Fair point.” You laughed in disbelief. “It’s nice to see you smile.” But your smile fell almost immediately. It had felt nice to joke about it, like it wasn’t weighing so heavily on you. Things were often too serious between you now. You’d once been the best of friends. “How are you feeling?” He didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Of course not.

“I’m tired of you asking me how I’m feeling.”

“You collapsed earlier so I’m a little worried. That’s all. I think I get to ask.” When you offered him no further explanation of what had happened, he continued. “Overexertion, perhaps? Or something that you’re not telling me which seems more likely. You do that a lot. Especially now. There was a time where you couldn’t keep from telling me everything.” He was right about that. You’d had an instant connection and had shared truths and secrets very early on. That felt like a lifetime ago. You were a different person now.

“Liu…” You decided to let him down easy and then send him away. Today had been too much and keeping him around was dangerous. And considering how much you wanted to do something dangerous, you had to get rid of him.

“What aren’t you telling me, Y/N?”

“I’m not ready to talk about it yet.” It was true. You didn’t want to tell anyone what that man had put into your head. You weren’t ready to face it. In fact, your brain had completely stalled in processing it. The afternoon was already being blacked out.

“We don’t have time for you to brood over whatever it is. Dealing with it later can’t be the only solution you have.”

“You are just so damn determined to turn everything into a fight, aren’t you?” You snapped at him. “I didn’t force you to deal with whatever you’re dealing with. Maybe later is all I have right now.”

“We don’t have until later.”

“Does it make you feel better to pick a fight with me? Is that what it is?”

“You’re just as confrontational as I am, Y/N. Listen to the way you said that.”

“Let it go. I’ll sort it out with Raiden when we get back to China. You and I? We’re not that close anymore, Liu. Get it through your head.”

“You know that I can’t let it go.” He pushed his hair back in frustration. “Not just because you’re my friend. That night on the roof you saw something. I’m guessing you saw this. You saw what happened today.” You frowned. He was right but it didn’t mean you had to like it. “I let you have your space about what you saw on the roof and after today, I can’t keep doing that. And you don’t have to lash out at me every time you’re scared.”

“Scared?” You went from zero to annoyed immediately. Annoyed because he was right and annoyed because he was calling you out in such a tone.

“I’ve decided that’s what it is that makes you like this. Fear. Fear of change. Fear of the guilt. Fear of me. Fear of whatever it is you’re not telling anyone.”

“Sometimes I can’t stand the way that you assume you know what I’m thinking and feeling.”

“Only because you don’t tell me anything anymore. So don’t start on that. I’m not assuming anything, Y/N. It’s an observation.” He frowned but he hadn’t snapped or yelled at you. You hated that he was so levelheaded. Why couldn’t he be just as irrational as you were now? Why was it that he had gotten it together but you were still a mess? “You’re jumping down my throat because you’re uncomfortable.”

“Liu, I swear…”

“You pick fights now because it’s easier than talking. It was different when I was the one picking fights. And you called me out. So, I’m calling you out, Y/N.” He looked as if he wanted you to prove him wrong. You hated that he was right. You hated that he was making you face these things head on. It was something that Kung Lao just hadn’t done. You’d had your moments where you’d pushed each other but it was nothing like with Liu Kang. He had always pushed you. There had been a time where you’d loved that.

“You know what?” You began with an angry huff but it immediately deflated and your shoulders slumped. “I am scared.” You gave all of your attention to the tacky pattern on the carpeted floor. “I haven’t had to deal with visions in years. My arcana hasn’t drained me like this in just as long. Today was exhausting for me and my fuse is short. This is a lot. You’re right. It’s easier to fight with you than to deal with it.”

“To your credit you did duplicate nearly everyone today. Then you smashed all those things in one strike. I’ve never seen you do anything on that scale before. It was impressive.” He offered an understanding smile which you were relieved to see even out of the corner of your eye. Maybe you wouldn’t fight. “No wonder you’re a little gray.”

“I’ve never tried anything that grand before.”

“You never needed to.”

“It’s left me rattled, that’s all. Raiden will help. We figured it out back then and we’ll figure it out again.” It was probably the trauma and the guilt. Those things could weigh heavily on a person.

“We will.” He folded his hands in his lap and you sat together in silence. Liu shifted next to you. He was trouble today. And he had no idea how dangerous you were feeling, how desperately you wanted to cause some trouble and how easy it was for your brain to connect those two facts. Liu Kang could be just the trouble you needed and you were already kicking yourself for thinking it. “What aren’t you saying?”

“I’m not saying it, Liu, on purpose.” You spoke quietly so he leaned closer. His hand covered yours where you had it rested on the bed between you. Chills ran down your spine so you stiffened up. His touch was so careful, so thoughtful. You refused to shiver beneath the touch of Liu Kang.

“Y/N…” His voice was laced with concern.

“Don’t push me, Liu. Not today.” You turned toward him and leaned closer as if to dare him to do just that. Oh, how your body language betrayed you. “You have no idea how volatile I’m feeling.”

“Then talk to me. Don’t shut down.”

“Why, Liu?” You didn’t see the point. There was no way out of this for you. What did he think would happen? You were at war. What did anything matter? War with Outworld. War with wherever that horrid man had been from. War with each other. “I need to think it over. I’m not a touchy-feely-talk-about-everything person anymore and you know that.”

“No, Y/N, I don’t. We have clawed and fought our way to this point. Whether or not you like it, we’re in this together. You can’t just be in it when it’s convenient for you.”

“That’s so nasty, Liu. Don’t put it like that.”

“I already did.”

“I’m not ready to talk about it. That’s the line.”

“You are obviously hurting. Something happened and you aren’t telling me. Something prompted you to do what you did earlier. Let me be there for you. Let me comfort you.”

“I don’t want your comfort.”

“Why not?”

“You already know the reason, Liu.” His comfort came with strings. There was no such thing as no-strings-attached with Liu Kang. Even when he had said it meant nothing it had been a lie. You knew each other too well now to pretend.

“Because you’re afraid?” There was that word again. The way he said it with such disdain made you immediately angry. You gritted your teeth to keep from saying something awful. “Scared that it’ll make you weak to need comfort? Or scared that maybe you’ll do something that you clearly want to do and then have to deal with the consequences?” He moistened his lips and then swallowed hard as if to keep from saying something more. But he’d said enough.

“You just have to push and push and dig and dig until I snap, don’t you? You just can’t help yourself. Then you call me out for assuming shit and turn around and do the same thing to me, you hypocrite.” There was that bottled up anger, coming out in a bite. You’d warned him and he’d poked the bear anyway.

“You need pushing.”

“Are you getting some sick sense of purpose from this, Liu?” Your lip curled in anger. “I get it. You’re lost after losing Kung Lao and then after what happened with me and finding out I was wasted and made a mistake… now you’re…”

“You don’t get to tell me how I feel, Y/N. You’re angry. Defensive. Lashing out. But you do not get to tell me how I feel or why I’m doing what I’m doing. I’m thinking clearly for the first time since it all happened.”

“Oh, so you get to but I don’t? You used me like a verbal punching bag this last week, Liu! Maybe it’s about time you had a taste of your own damn medicine.”

“Stop.” He grabbed your arm and you tugged it but he didn’t let go. He grabbed your other arm and turned you to face him. “Just stop it, Y/N.”

You should have pulled your hand back and broken his stupid nose. But his dark eyes were full of concern, pleading with you, dripping with sincerity. Betraying your anger, your vision blurred with tears. He was right. You furrowed your brow and forced the tears away. Then you gave him a curt nod.

“Sorry.” You muttered. He shifted and moved closer. Letting go of your wrist, he placed his hand instead on your cheek. His warm fingers traced down to your jaw and then beneath it, tilting your chin back up so you would have to face him. His lips were close. They were dangerous and you wanted them. You hated yourself for wanting them.

“Don’t push me away, Y/N.” His lips brushed against yours just barely, tantalizing you with each word. He knew exactly what he was doing. Liu Kang played so damn innocent but you knew exactly what he was doing in these moments where you had gotten this close. He knew what he’d been doing back then and he knew what he was doing now. “Please.” His lips graced yours again as he spoke and then slowly engulfed them in a kiss that send sparks shooting down your spine. That soft kiss was enough to make you crumble. The tension you’d held in your every nerve faded. How could you do anything but lean into that kiss? You savored the touch of his soft lips, the bottom one still broken from the day before. The taste of them was like fire. Loose embers that had, at some point, coated his lips.

No.

No, you couldn’t do this. As much as you wanted it, this kind of trouble wasn’t the kind you would come back from twice. Hand on his chest, you pushed him back, pulling your lips away from his and just barely managing it.

“Bad idea.” You muttered against every instinct in your body.

“Why?” He grasped the wrist he still held in frustration. “You want this. I know you do.”

“That doesn’t matter, Liu.”

“It matters.” He was exasperated and you couldn’t rightly blame him. “What you want matters. What I want matters.”

“But…”

“But what?” His cool exterior finally broke.

“Don’t snap at me like that.”

He quieted you with a kiss and you laughed in surprise against the demand of his fiery lips.

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peeterparkr · 4 years

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perfidy;tom holland|13

chapter 13: the love interest

enemies to lovers au/enemies with benefits

chapter summary: to fall down an abyss.

pairing: tom holland x y/n

warnings: swearing, fluff, didn’t proof read, smut: (mile high club), unprotected, public sex (skip the * if you don’t want to read it.

word count: 7.6k

here’s a playlist

and here’s another one

and here’s another one inspired by 1D

social media before you read (IMPORTANT FOR THE CHAPTER) :

part one:Harry is suspicious, James regrets telling something to Tom, Y/N is smitten

part two:Haz and Sam get updated, Tom and Y/N are still figuring out how to flirt,

previous chapter next chapter series masterlist wanna be tagged?

Love is irrational. Stupid. You were stupid. Or at least you were trying to convince yourself you were. Love is such a complicated feeling. Because it feels like a song, a good one. One you can’t stop playing. But what happens when someone breaks your heart? The song fades away. You don’t want to listen to it anymore. You can’t live in the past.

Because when they speak of love, they speak of illusion. You could think of a bright sun and a blue sky, or a pink… and foggy dawn. Illusion breaks.

Did you love him? Did you want to go again to that chaotic feeling? That constant sorrow of waiting for rain to come down while it’s a bright and sunny day. That feeling of everyone speaking and bustling through the crowd, but you’re silent. That feeling that when everything seems to explode… he finally shows up.

Because love is… what even is love, after all? Forgiveness?

Love is being stupid.

Love is being irrational.

Love is… butterflies.

Butterflies. You hadn’t felt those in a while. But there you were, smiling like an idiot to the bright screen. Your stomach jolted as soon as he texted back. Like a teenager.

Who were you kidding? You were a fool for him, but he… seemed to be in this, too.

There was something different about all of this. Tom seemed different. Of course you still had to build up your walls but you had to admit that you were really falling for him. There was no way of denying it. And he seemed to like you, too. But did he?

But of course, there was that particular thought in your head, reminding you of how it feels to get your heartbroken. Reminding you that Tom wouldn’t hesitate on breaking your heart. He hadn’t before.

He’d proven that to you, several times.

How come were you so stupid? Charlie was right, Tom would most likely commit perfidy. That’s all he was.

And honestly, what wrong were you doing by writing your story? Sure, it had begun like something to get revenge for, but right now it really was… just a portrayal of your feelings. And it wasn’t hurting anybody. You really weren’t hurting anybody, it was just taking inspiration from real life. A script of an 80’s rock n’ roll love. Of a guy who was supposed to hate someone but ended up falling in love with her.

But was he in love? He couldn’t be.

Because he’d said it again, and again. You were not his type and he’d rather eat a frog than kiss you.

Yet you’ve kissed, and his lips were so damn addictive, because they asked for more and more, and they were soft but steady. All you could think about were his eyes, the way he would gently stare at you.

The way he watched you, god, the way his eyes brightened up and made you feel like there was a single spotlight on you.The way that his smile told you that no matter the rain, he’d make you feel like the sun will come out anyway. The way that he’d turn to listen to you in the crowded room even if you were silent. The way that even with the chaos, he’d be there.

But he was most likely only charmed with lust. He wouldn’t be able to love you. He never had.

But…could he?

Love is being a fool, but not caring about being one. But you did care about it, you didn’t want to be a fool.

That damn thought had you thinking for a few nights. And you’d walk right in front of that bright screen waiting to understand where you wanted to go with this. Re-reading the first dialogues, so full of rage and pettiness. Anger.

You had your reasons. And though he seemed different…You still feared him. And right now, he had more weapons to hold up against you. He had your heart on his hand and he could crush it. But you wouldn’t let him, and he was well aware of it, you knew. Because even if you were giving in to his touch and his flirting, you never really… gave in. You were cold and you were frigid.

Could you ever open your heart again? Could you ever give in to him?

But you had. Who were you trying to fool? You’d given him everything you could think of. Why did he even want a relationship? And did he really want it?

It could be another prank, another complicated way to tumble you down to your knees. Another way to mess up with your heart until he squeezed out every single tear from you.

You thought of the yellow flowers you’d burned. You hadn’t kept them, but you should’ve as a reminder of it. And your mind, god your mind couldn’t shut up. But your heart was being louder. Your heart was yelling at you, asking you to let yourself love him. You were smarter.

Because Tom Holland had taught you one thing, to doubt yourself.

Although, the questions had changed. Now they were wondering why you out of everyone? Was it your hair? Was it your makeup? Your perfume?

Was it his way to once again fool you?

A day before the flight, you opened up two boxes. Timmy’s and Tom’s.

And when you opened Timmy’s… it felt like an old song. It smelled of lavender. You’d once sprayed it with perfume.

There are people who are tailor-made for each other. You know the ones. You see them act so perfectly, so coordinated. They finish each other's sentences and they, without noticing, end up with coordinated outfits. That’s the story that the box with Timmy told, someone who you should be in love with.

Someone who was practically crafted for you. Timmy was in all ways the person you were expected to fall in love with. The perfect guy.

You stared at the canister, a friendly reminder that Timmy probably should’ve been and would be your endgame.

You opened up the canister, and then slid down the bright ring that you’d kept for months now. How long had it been? 6 months now? You couldn’t remember.

“Keep it, wear it if you want to. But don’t give it back, it’s yours.” Those words had stayed long enough in the air for you to still be able to hear them.

You placed it on your finger. You hadn’t worn it. Not really. Because it didn’t feel like it belonged to you. Even now that you were staring at it, and though it adorned your hand beautifully… it didn’t feel right.

Was it your own fear? You’d talked about it once with Harry, how you didn’t believe in the one.

Only two people in this world knew about this ring. Well, four if you counted you and Tim.

Harry and James. Because the first person you’d reached was Harry.

“If you don’t think he’s the one,”Harry said.

“There’s no such thing as the one,” you’d said.

“Well, if you don’t want to marry him then it’s okay if you said no,” Harry said.

“There’s a part of me that thinks I should’ve said yes,” you admitted. “Everyone thinks so.”

“But you’re not ready.”

“I think he is perfect for me,” you explained.

Harry watched you. “Then what’s the problem?”

“Love is not about someone being perfect for each other, love is wanting to be with someone despite them not being perfect.”

That’s love. Despite all, you are still the one who I want.

Was Tom that? Your… “despite”?

But you didn’t want to love him. Not yet. But then the box proved that to you. Even after everything, even after all the bad things, you were there. Because somehow you were stupid. Yes, that’s what love is. Being stupid.

And being in love or not, you were already stupid. So you might as well give in. Slowly. And carefully.

You’d packed the film canister, you had to give it back. And you knew that you couldn’t wait even more, you’d find time to give it back. You couldn’t sleep thinking there was a ring always waiting to be worn when it probably would never be.

Tom had opened the door the very next morning, you’d meet at his place and you’d then head to the airport. “Morning!” He welcomed you and then kissed your cheek. The stupid butterflies to make its way back in.

You only smiled at him, as he rushed you to the kitchen. He immediately let go of your hand as he saw Harrison with a bowl of cereal staring at you both with a smirk.

You walked further apart from Tom. “Harrison hello, nice to see you,” you said with formality.

Haz only smiled at you, too busy with his cereal. Tom pulled out a chair for you, and then approached you a cup.

“So, okay there’s your tea and—“

“My tea?” You questioned.

Tom grinned. “Yeah… And I made you breakfast, I’ll be right back I need to finish-“

“Are you not done packing?”

He stuck his tongue out. “Nope.”

You rolled your eyes. “Thomas oh my god.”

“Sorry,” he blushed. “but hey, Tess is here!” He then called the pup, as she rushed over to you.

You were certainly happy by the news. “Hi baby,” you grinned as Tessa had jumped to your lap, you had forgotten about everything as you hugged the dog, but then you looked up. “How come you’re not done packing?”

He was too busy pettingTess, too. “Huh?” He looked up. “Oh, we...I was busy thinking—“

You scoffed. “ah takes you too much time huh?”

He nudged you. “Shut up,” he laughed, “do you have a checklist I could use? I know you’re a checklist and color coding freak.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not.”

“Do you or do you not have a checklist?” He smirked.

You didn’t answer.

His smirk widened.

You rolled your eyes. “Fine, okay I do but��“

He snickered. “But?”

You blushed, he was right. “Let me—okay,” you sighed as you took out your phone, “just ignore everything that doesn’t apply to you and… sent.”

“What wouldn’t—“his eyes scanned the list. “Oh!” His eyes widened. “Oh?” He stared at you. “Oh…” he smirked.

“What?” You lifted your eyebrows, as you then proceeded to scan your list. It was normal until you saw that particular checkbox. The lingerie one, where you had placed a very nice question mark after it.

“Tell me you checked that box,” he approached you.

“Shut up,” you pushed him away.

“Did you?” He grinned as he lifted your chin.

“No,” you rolled your eyes. “That's an old checklist,” you lied coldy. “Let me help you out with packing.”

“No, you’re going to stay here with Tess,” he winked.

“Tom—“ but then Tessa had gained your attention back. “Hi baby, you’re the only Holland who matters.”

Tom watched you with pride. “Rude...Stay here, it won’t take long and—,” he watched you. “okay, I’ll be quick, Sam is up there he’ll help me out and—“ you didn’t let him finish as you’d already planted a kiss on his cheek. “Okay, I can… okay, that… okay, yeah,” he kissed your forehead before heading up to his room.

You grinned watching him go. But you had forgotten something, Harrison was still there and he made you acknowledge his presence by clearing his throat.

Fuck, you thought. Or said? Maybe you’d said it out loud.

“That’s not… what it looks like, I Uh—“ you blushed and tried to come up with excuses. Any excuse could work.

Haz smirked and then let out a loud laugh. “It wasn’t you kissing his cheek and then him kissing your forehead?”

“No, no… it’s not that.” But it was.

He smirked. “what exactly was it y/n?”

You cleared your throat, and played dumb. “what was what? I’m … Tess?” You turned your attention back to the dog.

Haz cackled. “Tess?”

“What were you saying?” You looked up.

Haz grinned. “ y/n, I know.”

“what?” You looked up with fear.

“I know you guys have… something going on,” Harrison laughed. “You guys weren’t subtle, and I know he asked you out.”

You cleared your throat. “you see that’s where you’re kind of wrong because we don’t have something going on—he barely just asked me out and at this point I don’t think he meant it because there’s no date plan yet—“ you looked away. Another thing that bothered you, he’d asked you out and there was no date in sight.

Haz frowned. “wait, did he not tell you.”

“what?”

“What your date will be?”

You scowled. “No.”

Haz scoffed. “He’s very dumb.”

You grinned. “We can agree on that, but what is it?” You bit your lip.

“Nothing.” Haz watched you. “He really likes you, you know,” he commented..

You laughed. “He does?”

“Very much.”

“I…” you frowned, staring into Tessa's eyes. “No.”

Haz snorted. “No?”

You but your lip. “I’m sorry, I have a hard time believing it.”

The blonde guy watched you. “He’s been that big of an asshole to you, right?”

He had been, but despite all of that. There was your body butterflying over a stupid kiss on the forehead. “yeah, so… I have to be careful or… otherwise he’ll break my heart again and… we don’t want that, do we Tess?” You asked the puppy, who only licked your cheek.

“I don’t know what happened before but right now, he’s head over heels for you,” Harrison admitted.

You watched him skeptically. “we’ll see.”

“seriously,” Haz stated. “he won’t shut up.”

You chuckled. “But he never does, about anything,” you pointed out and Haz nodded in agreement. “who else… knows about this?”

Haz cleared his throat. “no, uh only me.”

Sam had walked into the kitchen. “Only you what? Oh, hi my lovely y/n,” he grinned at you with complicity.

“Sam, hi.”

Sam seemed suspicious too. “You know what I’ve been thinking y/n,” he watched you. “Have you lost your sanity, yet? Spending that much time with Tom?”

You laughed. “I lost it, yes,” you admitted.

Sam chuckled. “And will you be able to spend 8 hours on a plane with him?”

You hadn’t thought about it. You had been too busy thinking and deciding your feelings for that idiot that you forgot you were about to spend 7–almost 8 very risky hours with said idiot. Which could either go very wrong or… no, this could only go wrong. You’d either fight or you wouldn’t. And the second one was worse, because you already were on the edge of the abyss, one little push and you’d fall for him.

It would only take one more kiss to actually make you lose your sanity.

The heart wants what it wants.

“Okay so I was going to buy you flowers,” Tom said as you’d arrived at the airport. Both of you taking out your bags. Security had met you there.

“Flowers?” You questioned.

“Yes but I realized you wouldn’t be able to keep them because of airport rules or whatever,” he said

You frowned watching him. “Why would you buy me flowers?”

He paused and then smiled at you. “Because it’s our date, silly.”

“Our—what?”

Tom grinned. “Our date, dumbass.”

You didn’t say anything.

And you barely had said anything. Some fans had recognized Tom and he’d taken some pictures with him. The whole world was so in love with him, you knew that. You were nothing special for being one more.

There has always been something magical about airports for you. There were a lot of stories to be told and different personalities that could be seen at the airport. You’d always found it so interesting, a chance to leave or a chance to come back home. Airports were always a mystery to you, you never knew why people were traveling. Could be holidays, a breakup, business. People trying to find themselves, people who’ve lost themselves.

“I figured it out,” Tom said the moment you’d both sat at the lounge. Him with a beer, you with a glass of champagne.

“Figured what out?”

“That it should be here, our first date,” he grinned.

You chuckled. “Forcing me to spend 8 hours with you without a possibility of running away?” You mocked. “Clever.”

“Yeah, that mainly,” he admitted with a laugh. “But—also, because you’ve always been a fan of airports and planes.”

You took a sip. “I am.”

“The stories you said?” He asked.

You shrugged. “The possibility of going elsewhere, everyone here is for a different reason,” you explained. “Airports are full of stories waiting to be told.”

He grinned. “And What will ours be?”

“Time will tell,” you smirked.

“I know you y/n, this is… the perfect first date,” he grinned.

You chuckled. “Is it?” You watched him. “Haven’t been in one for a while, what are you supposed to do on a first date?”

His fingers hovered over your hand. “Supposed to be making good impressions.”

“Hm, but we already have impressions of each other,” you sassed, lifting your own fingers to brush his. “And not really the best ones.”

He raised his brows. “Well.”

“Besides, I don’t want anything that a first date is supposed to be ,” you chuckled. “We can't have a normal first date.”

“We can’t?”

“We know each other’s worst side,” you explained.

“But we don’t know the best.” He smirked.

You laughed. “This is stupid, Tom,” you blushed looking away.

“Why?” He frowned. “I think we’ve always wanted this.”

You looked into his eyes. “Well.”

“I’ve always wanted this,” he finally rested his hand on yours, intertwining his fingers.

“That’s so cliche, Tommy.”

“Well didn’t you?” He grinned.

You coughed. “I thought we hated each other.”

“And I think we were always keeping up an act,” he shrugged. “Ever since we were kids”

“Ew no I really thought you were a very annoying kid,” you admitted. “And dumb”

“But think about it, think about all the moments we’ve had,” he pushed.

You had been thinking about them lately. “What about them?”

“We’ve been alone, seems like every time that someone is around we transform but when we see nobody’s around we can be like this,” he brought your hand to his lips.

You cleared your throat nervously.

“Did you blush, idiot ?” He teased.

“It’s the champagne, dumbass,” you took your hand back.

He laughed, as he pulled the chair closer. “Is it?”

“You told Harrison,” you tried to change the subject.

He sipped of his beer. “He figured it out—The horn.”

You laughed. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

“But nobody else knows right?” You questioned.

“You told James!” He frowned.

“He told you?” You coughed. “I—didn’t tell him. He figured it out.”

“We’ve been bad at keeping this a secret, huh?” He grinned.

“But nobody else can know, can you imagine what their reactions would be?” You chuckled.

Tom reached back for your hand. “We don’t have to tell them.”

“I guess.”

“Not until we figure it out,” he said as he then shifted his chair to be closer.

You stared at both his eyes, with a grin. “You won’t freak out then?”

“Freak out?” He leaned over.

“Dunno, every time we’ve been close to catching feelings you pull a stunt,” you brushed his lips with your hand.

“Have I backed away this time?” He questioned, pressing his lips against your finger.

“Hm. guess not, and maybe that’s what scares me,” you pulled back your hand.

“You’re scared?” He took your Chin in his hand.

You bit your lip. “A bit, yeah, but I like you too much to care.”

A smirk appeared on his face. “You like me?”

You closed your eyes and then tried to stand up but he pulled you back to him, over to sit on his lap.

“You like me,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. You tried getting out of his grip but he only pulled you closer.

“No,” you covered his face with your hand, he licked your hand. “Thomas!”

He laughed. “You can’t back up now.”

“I can,” you said smearing his own saliva on his face.

“Y/N!” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Disgusting.”

“Your tongue was on my hand,” you complained.

“It’s been on other parts of your body and you didn’t mind back then,” he sassed with a smug smirk on his face.

You blushed and nudged him. “Dickhead.”

“Am I wrong?” He teased again, laughing.

You smirked, pushing his face away.

“Am I?”

You stood up, walking away.

“Y/N, no! come back,” he sighed. “I was joking.”

“Getting snacks—“

“I’m the snack here,” he laughed, watching you.

You walked back to him and pecked his lips, now it was his time to blush. “Real airport snacks, idiot,” you claimed.

You didn’t know how you both ended up on the floor, your head on his lap as you were tossing m&m’s to his mouth, his hand caressing your hair. You both came up with a game, trying to figure out what everyone else was doing at that airport.

“Probably a businessman,” you said staring at the man. “He’ll go to Wall Street.”

“Really?” Tom watched him. “ah, yeah, gives the vibe,” Tom chuckled. “Y/N this game is boring.”

“You’re boring,” you sat up, barely an inch away from his face. “Well, what else could we do?”

He didn’t answer as he only looked down at your lips.

“Idiot.”

He grinned. “I didn’t say anything!” He laughed, as he pulled you close to him. “We could explore the airport but you are scared of losing the flight,” he laughed.

“I know you, and you tend to dick around long enough to forget everything,” you pointed out.

He laughed. “Well what do you suggest?”

You looked down at his lips.

“I thought that idea didn’t appeal to you,” he laughed.

“No it doesn’t,” you admitted, cupping his face and placing a kiss on the edge of his lips. “Or does it?”

He grinned, pulling you in to mound his lips with yours. You’d missed the taste of his lips, and the way he danced them with yours. Bittersweet.

“Harry was always the worst at pranks,”Tom had pointed out after a while. “Sam was okay.”

“No, but we were the ones who actually won every time,” you agreed. “But I was crowned the queen of pranks.”

“You were not.”

“Do you remember that one time with the cups of water?” You reminded him.

The first prank wars, early teenage years. You’d filled up his room with cups of water while he was sleeping, the entire room was filled up and he couldn’t get off his bed. Of course he had dropped a few, and his whole room had been flooded.

He laughed. “But mum got so angry at you.”

“I still won,” you chuckled.

“You had to help me clean my room up, and your mum grounded you,” he recalled. “you call that winning?”

“Yes.”

“That’s not winning!” He frowned. “If anything I won with the toilet paper one.”

“So original,” you rolled your eyes.

“You know when we teamed up against Sam and Harry? Those were the pranks,” Tom laughed.

“The Oreos one,” you laughed, remembering when Tom and you had taken hours of your day to fill Oreos with toothpaste.

“Dude when we changed the entire bed with that pool,” he laughed.

You shook your head. “No that was you and Sam against me and Harry, and that was my bed,” you scowled.

You hadn’t stopped laughing, remembering anecdotes. Mostly fun. Some not as fun.

“You realize I did everything I did because I wanted attention?”

You frowned. “You always had everyone’s attention. Correction, you always have everyone’s attention.”

“But I wanted yours,” he chuckled. “You were never impressed, no, you are never impressed by me.”

You smiled, knowing that was such a big lie. Did he really think that?

“You always seem to forget,” you looked at him. “I loved you before the whole world did.”

He hadn’t expected that. “No, you hated me.”

“Hate isn’t the absence of love, not in our case,” you reminded him.

And eventually, you were about to board the plane.

“Weren’t you scared of planes?” He recalled watching you.

“No,” you rolled your eyes. But you were shaking. You always were nervous around them, even if you loved them. You couldn’t help but get slightly scared. Maybe that’s all it had been for the past week, maybe it wasn’t the fact that you feared falling in love.

“Oh my god, you were!” Tom smirked. “Yes, you were.”

“Can you shut up?” You frowned.

“Nope,” he laughed. “Oh wait, I’m supposed to be nice now,” he cleared his throat.

“What?”

Tom took your hand. “Hey, hey, I’ll be here.”

“That makes it worse,” you said but squeezed his hand anyway.

Boarding the plane, he stopped you mid-tunnel. “Y/N, it’s okay.”

You chuckled. “Just like two minutes ago you were making fun of me, dickhead,” you answered pushing him away.

“But, hey, it’s okay,” he placed his hands on your waist, and then pulled you close to connect your lips against his, for a brief but sweet moment. “It’ll be fine, silly.”

You only smiled against his lips.

You noticed how both of you toned down any affection towards each other with the silly nicknames, dumbass, idiot, silly, dickhead. As if that cancelled out the strong feelings.

You were really on the abyss.

You found your seats, first class of course. and somehow it made you feel… weird. Spending 7 hours—almost 8 with him. Sam did have a point. And this was a date. How the hell were you going to have a date on this? 8 hours.

“Okay so I brought this thing again,” Tom mentioned as he pulled out the camera once you were settled.

“Oh god,” you rolled your eyes. “Why did you even buy it?”

“You inspired me,” he grinned as he brought it up to his face. You covered the lens. “Y/N,” he pouted.

“You’re taking away the magic of it.” You chuckled.

“What?”

“Ugh, take pictures of more interesting moments.”

“You Can do whatever you want with your camera,” he frowned. “But I want pictures of you.”

“Why?” You laughed as you covered your face.

“Because you’re pretty, idiot.”

“I thought I wasn’t your type,” you pointed out.

He snickered. “You’re not.”

Suddenly you frowned and looked at him, he smirked as he then started to get comfortable in his seat, looking through the movies, ignoring your sight. With confusion, you kept watching him as he let out a loud laugh.

“What?” He grinned.

“Then why the hell are you trying to date me?” You complained.

“Oh,” he smirked. “Did you expect me to tell you… you’re my type?”

You frowned. “Well, no… because I’m not.”

He grinned. “ I’m not yours either and yet…” he grinned leaning over to kiss you, you stopped him before his lips could touch yours.

“How do you know you’re not my type?” You questioned, someone from the flight crew walked over to offer you both a glass of champagne, which Tom gladly accepted and then gave you one.

“Thomas?” You frowned as he gave you one, too. “Tom?”

“I know you enough, y/n, Timmy was your type,” he said with poison.

You cleared your throat.

He chuckled. “See? Timmy was your type,” he continued and you ignored him. “Please, every single guy you’ve dated is Timmy but in different fonts.”

You let out a chuckle. “-okay but .”

“He was, wasn’t he?” He poked your side. “Please I’ve seen all the guys you’ve paraded around with, all have the same aesthetic and do some artsy shit, the painter, the singer, the photographer.”

You smirked. “Well, you’re an actor.”

“But I’m not... aesthetically inclined like them,” he chuckled.

You watched him. “So you’re convinced you’re not my type.”

“I know I’m not,” he grinned.

“Well but you’re... you,” you said, expecting some nice response.

He smirked with pride. “Yeah, I know, I’m gorgeous.”

You punched his arm.

“Oi!” He laughed. “I am.”

“I was trying to be cute, you dumbass, and you ruined it,” you complained.

He rolled his eyes with a grin. “I called you pretty first,” he pointed out. “But okay, fine,” he cupped your face and then planted a long kiss to your lips. “Happy?” He asked, leaving you dumbfounded.

“No.”

He faked anger but then grinned as he lifted the armrest to pull you close to him. “You’re such an idiot.”

“And you’re so stupid,” you grinned as you nuzzled against him. Of course, a flight attendant asked you both to use the seatbelts and all that crap.

But you were too busy cuddling against him, forgetting you were terrified of planes as his hand was playing with your hair as you were trying to decide the movie you’d be watching. Tom had put up the privacy window and he was still stealing from the snacks you’d bought.

“We are not watching Far From Home, fartface, ” you complained just after you’d taken off.

“Why not?” He grinned.

“I already have your dumb face here I don’t need to see it twice, oh my god, Back to the Future,” you grinned. “Yes!”

Tom kissed the top of your head. “No,” he answered calmly.

You sat up. “Why not?”

“Because I know you have a crush on Marty McFly,” he pointed out, “and I want all of your attention on me, darling.”

You blushed, “you do realize why I had a crush on him, right?”

Tom scrunched his face. “No, and I don’t wanna know, attention on me, darling.”

“Prick.”

You pursed your lips and held back a giggle. You’d always had a crush on Marty McFly because he reminded you of Tom.

He frowned. “What?”

“Nothing,” you looked away. “Oh, look backyardigans!”

“We are not watching that,” Tom rolled his eyes.

“Why not? You look like Pablo.”

Tom let out a nervous chuckle. “Is it going to be 7 hours of this?”

“Did you actually plan out this date?” You asked him.

He chuckled, “no, but that’s the magic of it, and see? You’ll get to see the sky and you love that kind of shit, and we get to cuddle and there’s fancy food… and who else has had their first date on a plane?”

You grinned. “You want to cuddle me?”

“I want to kiss all your stupid face,” he admitted, as his fingers lifted your chin to watch him.

“Hm, I brought my laptop,” you mentioned, looking away.

“What, you’ve got porn in there?” He asked.

You flicked his nose. “Dumbass, no, I’ve got… tapes, not that kind of tapes, from when we were kids.”

He grinned. “Like the actual vids?”

You pulled out your laptop and scrolled through the files. He only nuzzled against your head.

“Wait, is that your 18th birthday?” He asked.

“Maybe.”

“I recorded those,” he pointed out. “You were wasted!”

“We are not watching those,” you rolled your eyes.

He chuckled. “C’mon,” he clicked on one. “Was I Spider-?”

“Yeah, I think you were here for a few days in London, and then you’d gone to film again, Homecoming I think.”

“Hello everyone, we’re at y/n’s 18th birthday party, she’s… “

“Hi!” You had appeared on camera.

“How are you feeling y/n?”

You only giggled.

“Y/N?”

You only stared at him. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

“Okay, that’s it,” you closed the video.

He laughed. “You flirted with me that whole day.”

“I was drunk and stupid.”

“Are you drunk right now?” He smirked.

“No, but I’m still stupid,” you laughed. “Hey, no, I have this one.”

His wisdom teeth had just been taken out, and of course, you’d be one of the first ones to show up.

“Tom, how are you feeling?”

“Y/N, you look pretty,” he mumbled.

“And that, folks, is how we know he’s on drugs.”

Tom laughed watching himself saying nonsense gibberish. “I feel like you have enough videos to blackmail me.”

“Oh, I do,” you confessed. “And pictures.”

And you continued watching videos, some were nice, of memories that had you laughing and some others made you both debate on what exactly had happened. But you both were laughing, and genuinely enjoying it. His hands wouldn’t leave your body, he’d squeeze you every now and then and he’d leave small kisses all around your face. He’d apologize sometimes whenever a video show how big of a jerk he was.

This was going to be a long trip.

But it didn’t feel like it. At one point you were barely even talking, just staring out the small window. It was… romantic. Sharing your music.

“Okay, even if you didn’t plan anything this has been nice,” you admitted.

He chuckled. “I’m sorry if I didn’t plan anything.”

You grinned looking at him. “No, really I mean it, this has been… Perfect.” And it had been, and though you didn’t want to admit it. That’s all you really needed.

“So, what’s your impression of me, so far?”

You walked your fingers across his chest as he watched you carefully.

“Mmh,” you looked into his eyes. “Pure of heart, dumb of ass.”

He laughed. “Sounds good.”

“Yours?”

“Idiot with a pretty face,” he answered. “And I want to kiss that dumb face, honestly.”

And that was what he did, kiss your dumb face. And his lips were probably lying, but you didn’t care, because they tasted so good, and they asked for more, and more. Lips so tasty, so soft and silky, and you hummed against him. His thumbs tracing down your hips and sliding them under your t-shirt.

You pulled back, but his lips landed behind your ear. God, you were getting turned on only by the bristle of his lips, you hated this. How the hell were you so smitten with the guy who had been a nightmare to you his whole life?

But you shifted to sit on top of his lap, and you could only listen to him catching his breath in between kisses, as your hands were cupping his face and running through his hair.

But you couldn’t help thinking about how even if the privacy window was closed, anyone could see you.

“Tom,” you whispered.

“What?”

“We can’t do this.”

But his fingers were still toying with the hem of your shirt. He sighed, but then he smirked.

“Don’t you want to go to the bathroom?” He questioned.

You frowned. “Hm? Not really.”

He laughed darkly. “Y/N.”

You watched him with confusion. “What?” You gave it a thought. “Oh.”

“Oh,” he nodded.

You cleared your throat.

“Only if you want to,” he said.

You bit your lip, and then placed a long kiss, giving him the response he needed.

“I’ll knock three times,” he whispered.

You carefully made your way to the restroom, it was bigger than whatever airplane bathroom you’d been in. Of course the first class bathroom had its perks but this was… still exciting. You were excited and scared. The bathroom was big.

You waited for him and then you heard the three knocks.

You opened the door, and let him in before making sure nobody had seen you.

“Are we really doing this?” You questioned as you locked the door, but his lips were already on yours as he pushed you against the wall. The place was reduced but it didn’t matter, he pushed his whole body against you as your hands dug into his hair.

In your mind, there was slight guilt of doing this but that’s what made it exciting, turning you on even more.

He squeezed your hips as his mouth travelled down to your neck, leaving small kisses on it. His hot breath fanning against you, you felt him snicker against it.

“It’s okay if you don’t—“he said suddenly looking up but you shut him up, kissing him, slowly. Your tongue slowly sliding in as he moaned slightly.

Your hands traced its way down his back, your cold fingers making him shiver as they landed down on his cheeks, pulling him even closer to you, as your pulsating body begged for more movement.

But you felt nervous, for the first time, you felt nervous. Was it the fact that you were miles up in the air? Or the fact that you were both acknowledging you had feelings? Either way, you couldn’t help but smile between each kiss, as you tasted the remaining sweet chocolate from them.

You didn’t know what your expectations from this particular experience were, a probably dirty even if it looked impeccable airplane bathroom wasn’t the most romantic thing that you could think of. But if you really squeezed your mind through it, you were about to do it in the sky… that could be romantic.

But you couldn’t stop giggling between kisses, not when his digits were pressing against your waist. And he couldn’t either.

“Y/N!” He complained holding back his laughs. “Stop—laughing.”

You burst into more laughter as your head landed on his shoulder. “Fine, sorry… I’ll be sexy.”

He scoffed with a cackle. “Don’t—say that,” he couldn’t help but laugh with you.

You covered his mouth. “Sh, they cant find out I literally think this is a crime!” He licked your hand. “Tom! Not again.”

“What is a crime? Laughing?” He questioned. “Because that’s all we’ve done here, y/n.”

You rolled your eyes and then pulled his head close so you were kissing him again. You bristled down your path with your own digits, sketching each and every muscle on his chest and stomach, he groaned against your lips.

His own hands explored your body, the pad of his fingers lifting up your t-shirt to coldly rub circles on your belly.

He cupped your breasts, and slowly massaged them. You moaned against him, but then he pulled them back to travel down your sides, gliding them softly. He then pulled back his wet lips from yours, making you open your eyes abruptly. He was staring at you, in a way that he’d never stared before. Making you forget you were in a first class bathroom. Undressing you with only his eyes as you could only see his eyelashes traveling up and down. And he smiled, in that way that was so him.

You’d jumped down the abyss now, not fallen, you had purposely jumped down. And you wanted him to touch you, right there and right now, your skin burned at his sight.

You smiled back, as your hands slid down his pants. You craned your neck back allowing him to suck slightly, ever since you’d first slept with him your neck had been covered with remaining tattoos of his lips. Your fingers brushed against his bulge as he pushed with desperation to grind himself against you. You felt him let out a soft giggle against you as his lips went back to yours, he bit on your bottom lip, as his hands went down to pull down your pants, his digits toying with your core.

You gasped as soon as he had slid his fingers along your folds, you gripped the back of his t-shirt to gain back your composure, as you spread your thighs open for him. His hands left your core as they travelled to the back cupping your ass, lifting you up, you felt his growing shaft right under your pussy and the only friction was doing its sole job.

With one hand on his shoulder and the other unbuckling him, you were only letting out deep breaths as his eyes wouldn’t leave yours, driven by lust… but it wasn’t lust, he was entranced by you. His movements were slow as he brought his hands back up to your face, delicate sparks as he pushed your hair back. You could feel your pussy pooling your pants but he wasn’t being rough, he only kept peppering kisses, as if he couldn’t get enough. And you couldn’t either, even when the kisses were getting sloppier and wetter, and at some point, it was only smiling against a smile. The only thing you were both saying between heavy breaths were each other’s names.

You finally pulled down his pants and underpants to reveal his shaft, dripping already.

“I didn’t—bring—“

“I’m on the pill,” you quickly snapped. “Need you in me, now,” you ordered as he gave in to your orders, he swiped his tip against your clit and then pushed you against the wall as he thrusted into you in one sole movement, you bit down a moan as you shifted against him, helping him find the spot where you needed him.

He bit down his lip, as your hands grasped to his back. Between sloppy and messy kisses he started to pump into you at a steady and slow pace, you were digging your nails down his skin as each thrust was getting harder, and deeper. Digging into your body as you tried not to be loud.

Gentle gasps were leaving your lips as his own lips ere glued to your neck, as he frantically tried to silence himself too. You only felt the cold wall pushing each time against your back.

One of his hands found your waist while the other rested against the cold wall to steady his rhythm, as you were tightening against him, tiptoeing with one leg as you tried to gain balance.

The electricity between each thrust and each kiss was summoning you into a deep state of pleasure, as you messily tried to grab onto his whole body, lifting your digits to every possible inch of his body that you could reach.

This was wrong, right? Then why the hell did it feel so good? At that precise moment you didn’t care if he was planning to break your heart. He could take it and crush it and cut it and you wouldn’t care.

You rolled back your eyes as you curled your toes as he hit the right spot with every thrust.

He lifted you and moved you against the sink, he changed his pace as you angled your hips, bucking against him. His lips leaving kisses on your shoulder as you arched your back, him rolling his own hips against yours.

“Fuck, Tom,” was all you could say.

You panted against him as your eyelids were shutting down. As you tried to shift his hand found your core, circling and toying with your clit, helping you build up the already coming orgasm.

He surged from your neck to go back to your lips as he knew you were close, you barely could kiss him back as his finger rubbed faster against you. You hang from a built moan that was begging to come out but you had to keep shut.

“Tom,” was the only thing you could barely chant as you rode down your high, his lips hitting down the bottom of your lip as he was staining his clothes with sweat, pushing against you, each time sloppier, stuttering thrusts.

“Y/N, fuck—“ was all he could said as he came undone. You felt him filling you, as you pursed your lips, shutting any noise that could come from.

Between heavy breaths he could only connect your lips with his, barely reciprocated lips as you tried to steady your breath out.

He pulled out as he kept staring at you, his face glimmering with sweat but a big smile was across his face..

You watched him and then couldn’t help but laugh again.

“Y/N!” He rolled his eyes, but chuckled.

You smirked. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

“We just joined the mile high club,” he smirked back as he then pulled you back to him.

“We should probably go back, they might notice.”

You both cleaned yourselves up and then you walked back to your seat first of course, not forgetting before giving him one last kiss, feeling like everybody was watching you. They weren’t but of course, your brain was precisely thinking that.

When he walked back to you, he kissed you again.

“Easy, I am not doing that again,” you warned him.

He laughed. “I never thought I’d join that club,” he commented. “At least you’re not scared of planes anymore.”

You snickered nudging him. “Shut up”

He coughed. “You think anybody noticed?”

You had pulled up the privacy window yet, as q woman was staring at you. “Yes.”

He laughed. “Bummer.”

“I don’t do that on first dates,” you mentioned.

“I know, you do it before even dating,” he teased.

“Dickhead,” you playfully smacked his arm.

He took the pillow he had behind him and playfully hit you with it.

“What is wrong with you!” You laughed and then took your own pillow to use it as a weapon.

However, the flight attendant had come in, of course, she tried not to make a face at two grown adults having a pillow fight on first-class seats.

She announced your meals or whatever, you tried not to laugh as Tom was trying to keep a straight face.

You ate and then ended up cuddling again, you ended up watching Back to the Future, against Tom will, and as you were, both of you were trying to find excuses to kiss in between the scenes. He drifted away, holding you close, and you stared at him, his face being more interesting than the sky that was coming from the window. You thought about his box. Because you’d already jumped down the abyss. A box full of secrets and full of memories, a box that told the story of how despite everything, you loved him. And you probably didn’t mind.

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sir-adamus · 4 years

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people I think don't realize that Yang does clarity in anger. when she's angry she actually seems to think more strategically. example I immediately think of is her fight with Neon but this happens in most of her fights at some point. anger isn't bad its just an emotion. notably Yang is never angry at her team to their face. someone with angry issues can't control it. but Yang is usually reasonable to her friends and family. Yang is angry in the fight with Neo but not judgement clouded (1/2)

Anonymous said:

to continue as someone with legit anger issues (therapy improved this) Yang is never angry in a way that makes her life worse. she isn't angry with Weiss during s1 finale even if that makes sense. she isn't angry with Blake in a way that would scare Blake away. she isn't angry with Ruby despite all her worry. actual anger issues ruin relationships. they make people afraid to talk to you. Yang is usually in control. to me it looks like a protective person. (2/2)

but yeah, Yang has no actual problems with her anger (its like her supposed “stubbornness” flaw, entirely informed and not consistent with her actual characterisation - because why the fuck would a character who openly regrets being so stubborn that she almost accidentally got herself and her baby sister killed when she was barely five years old still have a stubbornness issue?)

literally the only time anger has been a problem for Yang was in the fight with Neon - particularly when she was trying not to lose her temper and was continually growing more frustrated with Neons negging (we saw something similar in volume 1 during initiation when things kept happening faster than she could process and she got gradually more frustrated until she blew her lid - with Ruby and Nora close by and neither of them harmed by the literal fiery outburst - and gave herself a minute to breathe and refocus)

the moment she does lose her temper, she refocuses and tear her opponents apart by changing her strategy, broke up the battlefield (using high power ranged attacks doing the same level of damage as a fully charged Nora jumping from height behind a melee weapon) because that makes it harder for Neon to get around and picked off her opponents one-by-one (and not using her semblance, as much as her idiot of a father insists she did, because yes, her eyes were red, but she took down both opponents with her gauntlets - strength enhancement had nothing to do with it)

Yang has never had anger “problems”, she has a temper, shes actually demonstrated a great level of control (2x06, when she loses her temper at Blake and shoves her to prove a point, the episode showed earlier on how much Yang can lift at base strength with no issue, if she wasnt in control of herself she would have easily put Blake through the desk) - she has no problem containing it and utilising it constructively, people just like to ignore that because its easier for them to characterise her as “the dumb angry one” who “needs to learn to be less angry” and act like shes only changed up the way she fights now when she has always been strategic and adaptable (i also wanna point out that literally the only time she actually has relied on her Semblance in order to win a fight was when she baited Adam into attacking her so she could get his sword off him, well after Tais stupid rant)

someone with anger problems is impotent and irrational - characters like Adam and Jaune have anger problems, Yang doesnt

#rwb/y #remember Yangs trailer quote #about how shes more complex than the surface might suggest #and people make snap judgments about her based on their own assumptions about what shes like #and not how she actually is?#because apparently nobody paid any fucking attention to that #Anonymous

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vibingintheritzcar · 4 years

Text

Jumping The Gun

Plot : Spencer is a little intimidated, a little impressed but mostly worried for your well being when you exhibit dangerous, albeit badass, moves on the field.

Category : Neutral, minor fluff and angst

MASTERLIST

. . .

“𝙄’𝙢 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙄 𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙚. 𝘼𝙨𝙠 𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙥, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙄 𝙬𝙤𝙣’𝙩.”

. . .

“Y/N, he’s heading left! Towards you!” Morgan’s yell in your ear immediately turned your feet to sprint towards the right to meet the unsub half way.

Having to use your arms to speed up your pace meant your revolver wasn’t at ready but close and available. However, the milliseconds it would take to aim it could mean life or death.

Those milliseconds were already calculated by the teams resident genius, who always found himself worried about your and Morgan’s well being. You two were the resident, as the doctor put it, “I’m gonna run into oncoming traffic because I can.”

That’s exactly what you were doing in that moment, and far behind, Spencer felt his heart drop seeing you almost carelessly run across the street, Morgan probably somewhere down the road doing the same.

Your heart pounded in your ears, yet you could barely hear yourself breathe. Sweat beaded on your forehead but didn’t last long as the wind from your run would blow it away.

Sounds of horns honking would scream and then cease seeing your vest and the chase. However the unsub and you quickly began a game as you both maneuvered through the four lanes.

In a moment of a predictiment, a moment Spencer dreaded and Immediately thought of multiple outcomes for, you were cut off by a car slamming on its breaks right in front of you.

Of course, in the movies, the protagonist would slide over the front. However, this wasn’t the movies, and your FBI vest would most likely get caught.

So, you simply took a large leap ontop of the hood and sped across, ignoring the cry of the civilian in the front seat.

Spencer wanted to stop and let out a cry of “what the fuck, Y/N?” But knew it had to wait till everyone was secure. He was in shape, but didn’t have the same determination to keep his adrenaline going as you had. He continued anyway, a different goal in mind.

“I’ve got him cornered!” You called out to the team in your mic, somehow barely out of breath. Your heart pounded in your throat as you aimed your gun at him at the end of the alleyway. “Put your hands up!” You roared, “get down on the ground!”

Ignoring the fact your demands would piece the ears of your teammates, you advanced slowly on the perpetrator, watching as he put his hands up and behind his head. “Get on the ground! I said get on the ground!”

His eyes showed the challenge still inside of him, something you noticed too late as you advanced too close. Lunging forwards, he attempted to reach for your weapon.

Throwing yourself to the side, you caught his arm with the barrel, slamming it down on the inner of his elbow, effectively creasing his arm and causing him to loose his balance. The struggle was heard over the mic, causing everyone to speed up to the scene.

“Bastard!” You cried as he used his free arm to drag you to the floor with him. Your weapon went sliding down the alleyway, two pairs of eyes set on it.

He began to crawl for it but you pushed yourself up and tackled him once more, flipping him onto his back. He was well built and furious, two things that never mixed well.

Somersaulting over him to your weapon, you slid in to grab it before he got to his feet. It was in your possession for all but five seconds before he was advancing on you again.

No one knew who had the upper hand in the situation, and when the next few gunshots rang out, they all felt their blood run cold.

Spencer felt the urge to puke before your voice came on. “I’m good. Unsub down, though. Still alive.” You wheezed our the words a little, causing Spencer more concern. “I’m good,” you repeated.”

Spencer was growling words to himself the whole time when the team regrouped, refusing eye contact with you. You knew that attitude meant a “we’ll talk later” and rolled your eyes, more focused on the dull ache in your side.

Immediately back at the BAU headquarters you made your best efforts to leave before Spencer had a chance alone with you, exhausted and sore, you wanted to get home before midnight and not deal with him.

You almost got to the elevator, dreaming of a hot shower and cool bed shoots, when a throat cleared. “Y/N.”

Stifling a sigh, you turned to look at the man behind you, arms crossed, normally calm face contorted in seriousness. “Spencer,” you replied casually. “Goodnight?”

“Sit.” Was all he said, and you sighed, rolling your eyes as you took a seat in the nearest spare chair, already anticipating the next conversation. “What you did today was extremely -“

“Dangerous? Stupid? Non thorough? Not well thought out? What is it this time, Spence?” You leaned back in the chair, watching him grow more irritated.

“I don’t get it. You know everytime you do something irrational, expect the lecture, and do it anyway. Why?” You scoffed, leaning forwards.

“Because I’m not gonna stop doing what I do best because you’re worried I’ll get hurt, Spencer. Does it look like I’m hurt?” His gaze turned flat as you attempted to show you were okay.

“You’ve been holding your side ever since, Y/N, don’t think I didn’t notice.” You sucked in a breath and went silent, unable to come up with a good remark. He sighed, “stand up, please, let me see.”

Unable to resist his politeness and wanting to show that you were okay, you did as told, fully expecting your skin to be your normal shade of flesh. His eyes widened as your shirt lifted, and you smirked, hoping maybe he just got a glimpse of your chest and got flustered.

Your smirk fell into an ‘o’ shape when you followed his gaze to see that a nasty dark bruise covered most of your side. You must’ve gotten it somewhere along the chase or the struggle. “How did that get there?”

Your joke fell flatter then his expression. “This is why I get so worked up,” he said in a genuinely worried yet agitated tone, coming closer to get a better look. “This is bad. It could’ve been worse. You almost got hit by half a dozen cars.”

“But I didn’t,” you reiterated, “I know what I’m doing. I trained for this. Derek did the same thing, why are you not on his ass?”

“I was on his ass earlier,” he retorted, “now it’s your turn. I’ll be honest, I am heavier on you but that’s because. . .” His words drifted away as he pressed his lips together, averting his eyes back to your side.

Your eyes narrowed. “Because why, Spencer?” To cover his mistake, he brushed his fingers over your bruise, “answer me-“

You seethed out in pain, wincing viciously, when a surge of pain went through you. Spencer’s eyes widened as he too jumped back, then his face heavier with guilt.

“Damnit, Y/N, I’m so sorry! Please, stay here, I’ll get some ice and maybe a medic. It’s possible you bruised a rib or something -“

You grabbed his arm to stop him from moving, roughly shoving down your shirt but immediately regretting it when another snap of pain came. “I’m fine, Spencer,” you said through gritted teeth.

“No you’re not,” he snapped back, meeting your eyes seriously. He was hardly confrontational, but for some reason, he had absolutely no worries when it came to you sometimes. “Don’t pretend like you are. I’d rather you admit you’re hurt then pretend you’re not.”

“Why? So you can shove it into my face and prove yourself right, that I get myself hurt everytime?” You scoffed, body heating up with anger. “God, Reid, I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal. I do my job. I get the bad guy. I stop him from getting away. Where’s the bad in that?”

“The bad is that while doing so you’re putting your life at risk and taking unnecessary risks! Not every raid has to end up with you hurt or you alone and in a struggle, Y/N?” His eyes danced with a controlled anger. His temper was well kept.

“That’s the job, Spencer!” You spat back in a tired tone. “What do you want me to do, desk work?”

“I want you to be more precautious! You didn’t look at traffic once today. If I saw you glance one time I wouldn’t be doing this right now.” His focus on you made your chest react in an odd mix of ways, and because of that confusion, you resorted to anger to sort it through.

“Why does it matter?” He appeared taken aback. “More specifically, why does it matter to you? Hotch doesn’t even reprimand me this much! I just want to do my job and not fear you telling me off when I just want to go home!”

“Well, maybe Hotch doesn’t care like I do!” Your eyes widened but Spencer was too in the moment to notice his words. “Maybe Hotch doesn’t go to bed every night this happens thinking about the ways you could’ve gotten hurt or killed that day, unable to sleep.”

You felt like the wind was taken out of you. Taking a step back to try and force yourself back into reality, Spencer took in a few breaths after his outburst. “Why - why does this worry you so much, Spencer? And why can’t you let it go?”

“𝙄’𝙢 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙄 𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙚. 𝘼𝙨𝙠 𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙥, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙄 𝙬𝙤𝙣’𝙩.”

He just wouldn’t stop taking you by surprise. Your eye brows raised, your body forgetting the pain in your side for this time being. “Do I even have to ask why or can you just explain?”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. The more timid and vulnerable side of him you were used too slowly started to fine back out. “I think about you too much, Y/N, not even including the times where I’m terrified for your well being. I don’t know how to describe it. But all I know is everytime I see you running towards danger all I can think about is the fact that it might be the last time I ever see you. And god, I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you like that.”

Before you get the chance to respond, let alone let the words sink in, he moves closer again. “May I?” He asks, hand by your shirt.

You nod, unable to form words. Gently, he raises your shirt up again to expose your purple and blued skin. He closes his eyes tightly like it hurts him too.

“You see this? This may not be a bullet or a stab wound but god, this kills me, Y/N. I hate seeing you in pain more then I hate pain itself. And the next time who’s to say it won’t be a bullet? And then where would we be, where would I be?” His eyes hold a absolute heart wrenching plea.

“I . . What is it you really want to tell me, Spencer? This isn’t just about me getting hurt.” You could see this because he didn’t even try to hide it. He was too distraught to attempt to do so.

“I want to tell you that I want to take you out for a coffee, or dinner, or lunch, whatever you like. And the fact that one day I might never be able to do that sickens me. And I’m tired of going to bed thinking about you bleeding out in my arm, Y/N, just please try and understand that.”

You shut your eyes, his broken tone hurting your soul. You imagine Spencer in your arms, bleeding, hurt, and dying. The fake pain in his eyes and face making you snap out of it almost instantly, unable to handle it.

Your open your eyes to his again, and let out a sigh. “I see your point. I know, Spence, it’s not like I want to die like that it’s just. . Once I’m in the situation my mind goes blank and all I focus on is getting to him, y’know?”

He licks his bottom lip, a horrible habit. “I get that. I’m not asking you to stand back and watch. I’m just asking that you make yourself think of the risks and weight out the situation before you dive head first. Your feet can’t move without a signal from your brain.”

“God, I hate it when you bring out your intelligence on me.” He chuckles, smiling shyly. You look at him for a moment and your heart swells, not for a second forgetting the propositions he just made. You couldn’t let him be worried like that, much less stress over you. And he was right, you had to be more mindful of your own safely. “Alright, you got me. I won’t stop chasing but I will use my brain, okay, genius? And I’ll be safer so you can get the chance to take me out for breakfast.”

His eyes widened and you broke out to a grin. “Breakfast? That wasn’t on the list.”

“I know; but breakfast has the best meals.” A pink blush spreads across his cheeks as he smiles himself, looking adorably flustered. “Just stay off my ass a little bit and I promise I’ll work on myself.”

“Good. Thank you. Now, come on, let me look at this a little bit,” he motions to your side, “just to make sure it’s only a bruise. And then I can send you home and then tomrorow we can discuss breakfast, is that a deal, Y/N?”

You smile, already picturing the French toast and waffles. “Okay, Doctor reid, I’m all yours.”

. . .

#mgg #criminal minds #spencer x reader #mgg fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #doctor reid #reid #dr reid #spencer reid fluff

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myheroaizawashota · 5 years

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God I loved the scenario where Aizawa and Reader met their future kid and Aizawa was the one who learned what had happened. I want a parallel story! I want to see what the kid's parents, the Aizawa and reader who got together went through when they saw their daughter was missing. Did they panic? Look all over the place for her? And when she came back, did she tell her parents that she met their past selves? Maybe she could say something like "you both weren't wearing your rings when I found you"

[YES I LOVE THIS!!! DADZAWA FOR THE WIIIIIN!! I hope you don’t mind but I also added uncle Mic in the mix because I need that in my life hahaha sorry this is a long one i high key got carried away because my heart and soul are weak for dadzawa and uncle Mic]

Ever since the day your daughter was born, both you and Shouta knew things would never be the same, but in the best way possible. While the love of your life wasn’t as eager as you were when you announced your pregnancy, he eventually grew into the idea of being a father. He soon even began to feel excitement the longer your pregnancy drew out, though he would deny it if you asked. Your daughter was the light of both of your lives, a creation of your love that you both adored. While your husband may seem unattentive and disconnected, it was hardly ever the case. You could still remember the look on his face the day your daughter was born. The look in his eyes when you handed him the child the two of you created out of pure love was priceless. Youd never seen him with such a bright look in his eyes, he was in love. Even Present Mic, the god father and uncle to you’re beloved child, made the comment he’d only ever seen Shouta with that look in his eyes once, and it was the day of your wedding.

It was strange, never did the apathetic pro hero think his life would turn out to be this way. He never saw himself falling in love, let alone settling down with a family of his own. Some days it felt like a dream. He didn’t think he was worthy of you, nor your daughter, but he loved you both immensely. If you thought he was over protective of you, lord was he over protective of her. It was to a point you’d have to pry the child from his arms during the school week just to get him out the door on time. You’d even gone as far as leaving your job to remain home and care for your daughter. Though in fairness you didn’t mind, you loved spending time with your baby and it did give your overly stressed and consistently tired husband some peace of mind. While he wasn’t as recognizable as Endevour or All Might, he’d still made his fair share of enemies. Enemies who would kill to know that THE Eraserhead has a family to target, a weak point to exploit. With the current rise of villainous activities afte the retirement of All Might, he didn’t feel comfortable leaving the two of you to fend for yourselves. Logically he knew you were strong, but your quirk wasn’t really helpful in combat, and your daughter only three years old had no quirk. Part of the reason you’d left you’re job to remain home with your daughter was because Shouta felt finding a reliable and secure care center for your child was an impossible task. He didn’t feel safe just passing your daughters life into the hands of someone he hardly knew. You couldn’t disagree with him. It was extreme thinking, but you could very well see where he was coming from. You knew this all took a toll on your lover, he consistently carrying the burden of protecting what was his. Often times Mic joked you’d created a monster...often times your husband would bound the others mouth using that signature capture weapon of his. Mic was right though. Before you the pro hero was aloof, poor at communicating and getting along with others, and far to blunt and unkempt for his own good. You managed to tame the irrational behaviors of the other, bringing him to a much softer more reasonable state. With the addition of your daughter, the two have you had turned the stone of a man into the softest of kittens...at least personally. Professionally, lord was he still as uncooperative and crude as ever.

With all that said, it was difficult for the two of you to go out and enjoy time together. While you loved your daughter, you and the love of your life never seemed to have a break alone anymore. Chasing after a toddler wasn’t easy. Some days you just needed time for you and your husband, to remind each other of your love. That’s why when Mic suggested that you and Shouta take a little weekend excursion for just the two of you, no baby, you were more than eager to jump on board. Being a present part of your child’s life, Mic was always eager to spend time with his favorite little listener! And not to toot his own horn, but your child did love him quite a bit if he did say so himself. Frustratingly for you, it took weeks of convincing to get Shouta to agree to this much needed time alone. At first when you brought the idea up to him it was immediately shot down. Everything about this idiotic plan raised red flags in the pro hero’s head. Leaving his child alone.....with Present Mic....for an entire weekend. Absolutely not.

“Come on Shò, please? We haven’t had time alone since Airi was one. Hizashi offered to baby sit for us, we know she’ll be in good hands! And he’s always follows your compulsive instructions spot on! He texts you updates hourly, calls with updates sporadically and sends pictures to prove she’s fine! Come on please...” you pouted, eyes devistetingly doe like as you stood flush against his chest, chin resting against his body as you stared up at him. “I love our baby but I need time apart. I’m home with her every day, not that i don’t love it, but sometimes mommy needs to breathe without a toddler running after her every five seconds.”

Your husband sucked a deep breath in through his nose, arms moving to lovingly wrap around your waist, pressing you tighter against his body. He did feel bad. He knew life with him wasn’t exactly a dream. Between the League of Villains causing havoc on his students and school, his teaching obligations, and night patrols, his time with you was sparse. Though arguably he hated spending time away from Airi because he got so little time with her as well. He felt he always missed out on so much. Typically weekends were the time he got to spend with her, even if it was only for a few hours before he had to run off on patrol. Letting his lips press to the tip of your nose, your husband released the breath he’d taken, exhaling with a defeated sigh. “I’ll think about it.”

It was better than nothing. You got him to think about it, and he did for 3 weeks. After weighing his options, the over worked multi job wielding lover of yours agreed. He hadn’t been spending much time just the two of you and after thinking about it, he did miss it as well. He loved his little girl, but he also loved you. He’d spent just about every weekend with her since the time she was born, you were correct in saying you two hadn’t had a proper date together in years. You did so much daily for him, taking care of the house, the baby, and him, it would have been cruel for him to decline you the request of one weekend. “We can go away this weekend.“

You squealed when you were given the good news, your husbands eyes glaring brutally at you in response. You couldn’t help but smile, and kiss the scowl off his face, you were happy to be spending time with someone who spoke in cohesive sentences. Though your response seemed mellow compared to when Yamada had found out he’d be in charge of the baby for the weekend. Shouta was definetly beginning to regret his choice. All week it seemed the other tried to wiggle out of the commitment he’d made, however you held him strongly to it. You couldn’t wait to spend some one on one time with your husband. It felt like it’d been ages since you two did anything together. You were so eager you’d even talked your lover into leaving Friday afternoon, that way Saturday would be a day devoted to each other. It was ridiculous if you asked him, but none the less he went along with it for your sake. This all did seem to make you very happy and that’s what mattered to him.

It took what seemed like years for you, seconds for him, but Friday finally came. You smiled as you unpacked Airis belongings from the car, setting them at Mics feet. “Okay, everything she’s going to need is in there. You’ve got her blanket, her favorite stuffed animal, and a few sets of clothes!” You smiled talking just about a mile a minute. While you were excited for your mini vacation you had to admit you felt odd about leaving your baby for two days as well. You hadn’t been apart from her in so long you couldn’t help but feel emotional.

You watched as your daughter gently babbled in her father’s arms, the little fingers of her left hand sucked into her mouth, the other hand touching Shouta cheek. God it hurt your heart. You were gonna miss this child, and you could tell your husband was too. Giving him a set of soft eyes you reached your arms out for her, a very unhappy set of eyes glaring at you as you did so. He didn’t want to hand her over. “Come on you, let me say goodbye to her too” you chuckled watching as the little girl twisted in his arms with the biggest grin as she looked at you. “Come here mommy’s girl” you squealed happily lifting her out of a reluctant Shoutas arms.

You peppered those sweet little puffy cheeks of hers in kisses, smiling as she laughed and kicked her feet squirming in your arms. “Mommy loves you so much. You be good for Uncle Mic okay?”

The child gave a hum, her fingers wrapping around the collar of your shirt as she looked down at the floor. You gave the little girl a bounce, eyes soft as your lover came from behind her and kissed the top of her head before shooting the most terrifying glance you’d ever seen him give at Mic. “I’m putting my child’s life in your hands. Do not make me regret this.”

There was a spark of red that flickered in the others irises as he spoke, Mic swallowing hard as beads of sweat began to pool on his forehead. “Would you relaaaaaaaax Eraser! She’s gonna be totally A-Okay! Ain’t that right little miss! We’re gonna have the best time this weekend! Let me here you say YEAAAAAAAHYAAA”

Cringing at the others tone, your husband gave a sigh. “I regret this already.”

You rolled your eyes smiling as you handed the baby off to her temporary guardian, the look she gave you breaking your heart. “M-mommy....”

You frowned and kissed her head once more, hand cupping around her little cheek. “It’s okay baby mommy will be back soon, you’re gonna have a good time with Uncle Mic...I love you baby girl”

Knowing she wasn’t getting her way with you she tried to pit the same heart breaking look to her father standing beside you. It nearly worked for him, but he had to stand strong. He rarely gave into the girls pouts and attempts to change his mind, he needed to be firm. Kissing the top of her nose, your husbands lips pulled down st the edges “you’ll be fine kitten. Be good for Mic.” He was gonna miss this little girl. You both were. “I’m clarifying this now. Do not give her any sugar or so help me god-“

“I know I know you’ll rip my head off! You two crazy kids get on outa here!!! I totally got this! Right Airi!” He smiles and took the baby’s little hand in his own making her wave off at the two of you. She seemed to smile contently at that and glance up at Mic with a happy grin. You figured that was your cue to go.

Toting your husband back to the car you both sighed and watched as the image of your daughter and closet friend disappeared into the horizon. You both hoped everything would be fine.

The first night without you and Aizawa went pretty smoothly for the two. Hizashi managed to follow every one of the ridiculous rules set forth by Aizawa, he even managing to get the girl down for bed no problem. This parenting thing was a piece O’ cake! He had this handled....so he thought. Unfortunately Saturday didn’t go nearly as smooth as Friday had for him.

Walking around the living room with the three year old screaming in his ears, Hizsshi felt the panic with in begin to grow. She was fine early that morning but once it became apparent you and Shouta weren’t returning for her anytime soon she began to grow hysterical. She wanted to go home to mommy and daddy now. The baby wailed at the top of her lungs, little hands shoving at Hizashis chest in an attempt to break free of his hold, her little fist slamming against his arms. Digging his teeth into the corners of his mouth, the unprepared voice hero tried to bounce the girl lightly in his arms, cringing at her screams. Was this how people felt when he used his quirk? God was this child loud for someone related to Shouta Aizawa. “Hey hey you’re okay! I got it! I know daddy said no sugar, but how about a cookie for my favorite lil listener, huh? We can have a cookie break and maybe jam out to some fresh new beats!” He grinned setting the girl in her play pen for just a minute.

Effortlessly he grabbed the cookies down from the cabinet he turning around with a few in hand, dropping them when he saw the child was gone. He was seeing things. There was no way this child was gone! He’d turned his back for two seconds just to get a cookie! Chest rising with stress, his heart began to thunder in his ear. “Airi? No no, come on where’d you go sister! This is NOT cool!” He rushed to the pen, hands frantically flying through the strands of blonde hair at the top of his head. The kid was gone. “Fuuuuuck.....fuck fuck fuck.”

Quickly he ran through the rest of the house, intensely shoving doors open, searching every corner every inch of the house. Under beds, under tables, in closets. No where. The baby was no where to be seen. He felt sick to his stomach. He had no idea what to do. The kid was virtually quirkless, there was no way she could have gotten out of thst play pen herself! Did someone with a teleportation quirk sneak in and snatch her? His stomach turned at the idea. What was he going to do. Eraser would be expecting a call any minute from him, and he had no child to put on the phone! Out of ideas, he did the only thing he knew to do. He called the two of you up and prepared for the ass chewing he knew he was due for. His hands shook as he held the phone to his ear, eyes stinging with tears as he listened the phone dial. It didn’t take long before the phone call was answered, the voice on the other end breathless and more tired then normal. “What?”

You laid underneath your husbands body, hands moving to grip at his waist and pull his hips down once more against your body, you craving to feel his friction once more. You wanted his full undivided attention in this moment, and the phone call was a major distraction. You desperately worked to pull your husbands attention back to your body, stopping when you felt his muscles tense under your hands, his grip on his cellphone tightening as his knuckles went white. “You did what?”

Concerned by your husbands reaction, you gently shoved yourself out from under his body, placing your ear to the side of his head in attempt to listen in on the distressed phone call. “s-ah-she was crying and I didn’t know what to do so I put her down and went to get a cookie and when I came back she was gone!! I turned my back for two minutes and she disappeared yo!! I had the doors locked and the windows locked and she was in her play pen and then she wasn’t and I don’t know where she went and I can’t find her i tried calling around the house for her and everything!! She doesn’t have a quirk so it’s not like she could have gotten out on her own..” The voice hero spattered, words flying from his mouth in a higher pitch than usual as he blurted his panic out.

Your heart instantly broke, your stomach growing sick as you listened on. Your hands flew to cover your mouth as tears poured down your cheeks. Gone? Your baby was gone? You should have listened to Shouta...he was right not to want to come out on this mini weekend. You could feel your body beginning to tremble and shake. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing “d-do you know anyone with a warping quirk who could have done this?” You asked looking up at your husband, who between your sobbing and Mics, was starting to loose his patience.

“Continue looking for her, were leaving now.” He all but hissed into the phone hanging up. He didn’t even acknowledge you as he shoved himself out of bed, quickly throwing his clothes on and gathering his things. “I knew we shouldn’t have left. Don’t just sit there. Get up and stop crying Y/N. We need to leave.”

You couldn’t help but feel incredibly guilty, you feeling as if you deserved that harsh tone the other provided you. Your husband was right, you pressured him and talked him into leaving your child against his better judgements and this was the repercussions of doing so. Shouta was never cautious without a cause. You should have known if he felt that something was going to be wrong, to trust his gut instinct. You quickly pulled yourself together and threw your clothes on, gathering your own belongings before the two of you rushed out.

The ride back was disturbingly quite, the air sitting stale as neither one of you talked. You didn’t quite have the guts to say anything to your lover nor did you quite know what to say. Though in honesty, you figured if you’d said anything to him now he’d ignore you anyway. You could see it all over his face, he was worried and heart broken. His silence spoke volumes for the question you’d asked back in the hotel room. Clearly he did know someone with a warping quirk who could have taken her, and clearly he was worried for what that meant. You wanted to throw up, but you needed to be strong. Your daughter needed you to be, and so did your husband. While his composure seemed strong and collected on the outside, he was surely overwhelmed and manic on the inside.

When you arrived to Mics, his eyes had been red from crying, he unable to do anything but apologize twenty times over. He felt terrible for this, not only was he the one who planted the idea in your head to leave, he was the one who was suppose to be in charge of keeping the baby safe and he failed. What kind of uncle was he? With every apology he gave, your husbands fuse only grew shorter, his hair beginning to waver just above his shoulders. It wasn’t long before your husband had wound the thick unbreakable scarf of his around Mics neck, winding it up towards his mouth as he pulled on the straps in his hands. “Apologizing to me won’t bring her back Hizashi, so just stop talking. I don’t want an apology. I just want you to be quite.”

Quickly defusing the situation and prying your husband off of Mic, you all began to search for the child. While you wanted to do more to help, your husband demanded you stay safe where you were. Something along the lines of ‘he’s lost one of the most important things to him, no way he was letting someone take the other’. In the end, all of your resolves came to a disappointing failure. Neither Mic nor Aizawa were able to find any information on a stolen toddler while out on their patrol. It seemed no one knew where the child had snuck off to. The three of you spent all night searching and hunting for answers, it wasn’t until around four in the morning you were finally beginning to make leeway. Sitting now in your own home holding your daughters blanket, you were left sniffling silently in your bedroom when you heard a softest little voice followed by some fussing. Were you hearing things? You pushed your way to your feet making your way out of your bedroom towards the living room, heart stopping when the little girl looked around the room, she seemlessly unharmed. “A-Airi? Baby is that you?”

Her little eyes lit up, legs taking off as she ran her way towards you arms out wide begging to be picked up. “Mommy!”

You couldn’t help but break into hysterics as you scooped the child into your arms, pressing your palm to the back of her head as you clutched her tightly against your body. You couldn’t even begin to speak words or fathom how she got here. “Baby are you okay? Oh my god you scared us.” You buried your face into the top of her head tears gently falling into her hair.

As soon as your hands stopped shaking you reached out to your husband, notifying him that your child was safe and found. It didn’t take long for both men to rush into the house. The bags under Shoutas eyes were darker and thicker than usual, his eyes redder in the edges as well. He must have been so worried. The instant he saw the child in your arms his lips made his way to the top of her head as his arms moving to coil around both of your bodies. He’d never been more terrified in his life. Once everyone had calmed down, you all began to look for more answers on the situation. It turns out, your little girl was not as quirkless as you and your husband first thought. It seemed your daughter had inherited a quirk completely different from that of your husband and yours. She seemed to have the ability to move in and out of time. It didn’t make sense at first but the more Shouta dwelled on the matter the more it began to piece together. He had faint memories of a situation similar to what his daughter was describing. “I wen see daddy a worg. We wen see mommy too! Daddy forga mommy and i was sad! Den Mommy came an we sleep in bed” Sighing the incredibly stressed pro, rubbed at his temples. He couldn’t believe his daughter had acquired a chronos quirk. That would be one very strong ability and one he himself wasn’t sure how to stop. Short of keeping his eyes on her frequently, he didn’t have much of a game plan on how to keep the child tethered to where she belonged until she was old enough to control her power on her own. The key to her quirk for now seemed to be related to her emotions, so as long as they were constantly kept in balance, they’d have no problems. He loved his daughter, but he understood his wife now. He needed a god damn break. With the new knowledge of his daughters quirk, the pro hero couldn’t be anymore greatful for his own quirk. It was a long time before Mic offered to baby sit again though it didn’t stop him from coming by to play with the child as often as he could, and truthfully neither you nor Shouta minded that. Despite the incident you both knew Yamada wasn’t a terrible Uncle and both knew how much he did adore your child. You two managed to work some personal one on one time with each other around your daughters needs and his busy schedules. The two of you were in for it when this child hit her teen years.

#aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #my hero academia #toshinori x reader #toshinori yagi #hizashi x reader #yamada hizashi #bnha requests #eraserhead #bnha aizawa

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foxofthedesert · 5 years

Text

Arrow FF | Dinah x Laurel | A Christmas Miracle

Part 2 – The Approach (click to read on AO3)

After wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead for the third time in as many minutes, Laurel unties the bandanna keeping her hair back, folds it up, then uses it to dry off her face. She takes a deep breath to collect her composure having just served a particularly ungrateful misanthrope. It’s hot as hell in the kitchen and now she is irritated beyond belief, so to curtail an early exit stage left requires internally reciting the reason she is here at all. A promise is a promise, after all.

Two weeks ago she was driving through the Triangle on her way home for a change of scenery when she passed one of Star City’s many homeless shelters. Only it wasn’t just any homeless shelter to her but a thorny reminder of a bygone era in her life she rarely reminisces about. Unable to curtail the onrush of memories, she maneuvered her car into the lot on autopilot, got out, and was through the front doors before she realized what she was doing. By the time she regained any sense of control, she had been spotted by a staff member, a tiny black lady whose stature belied an enormous character, and could not beat a hasty retreat without making herself look like a damned fool. So she stuck around a while to chat with the nice lady, Brenda, whom she assumed was in charge of intake but turned out to be the director of the shelter. Big mistake. Within five minutes Brenda had unraveled the phony story she hastily cooked up to explain her presence and had her confessing the real reason she was unable to resist visiting. She kept her identity a secret, of course, but that did not prevent her from regurgitating some excruciating parts of her history and volunteering half an hour later to drop by every evening after work to help prepare the place for Christmas.

That first night, Laurel was nothing more than a frenetic ball of anxiety as she helped organize supplies and pick out which of the gaudy decorations were fit to put on display. Being in the shelter brought back a lot of good memories, but it also unearthed a lot of bad ones. It was nigh on impossible to avoid the ghosts of yesteryear lurking in every nook and cranny of a building that so resembled one she once temporarily called home. She almost bolted for the door several times after getting spooked by a nasty neurological memento only for a resident to trundle by, toss her a friendly or gruff greeting, and in doing so remind her who she was doing this for and what it might mean to them. Through sheer will and determination, she made it the whole night without saying or doing anything unforgivably stupid, which she counted as a major victory. The satisfied smile present on her face as she exited the building around midnight was still there when she breezed into her relatively lavish apartment, only to fade upon realizing how fucking lucky she is to have so much when she deserves so little. That night, curled up on her couch with a quarter-filled tumbler of whiskey and a heart laden with self-loathing, she made a promise to herself, and to one specific ghost of her past, that she would retroactively earn some of that good luck bestowed upon her by being selfless for once in her miserable life.

After that, going back to the shelter got much easier. All the motivation she needed could be derived from one simple fact: if it weren’t for one woman’s compassion and a father’s love she would be dead twice over. So she made good on her promise, by God, and strode into the shelter with her head held high, her back straight, and her hands ready to work. By the third night, the staff all treated her as if she were one of them while the residents often regarded her with a gratitude that resonated down into her bones. Ever since, she’s arrived exactly at 6:30 pm with a smile on her face and a spring in her step, ready to labor in the hope of making this Christmas the best yet for these unfortunate, downtrodden, and disregarded citizens of Star City. Honestly, she’s enjoyed it so much she has promised to keep dropping by when she can to help out and has also already pledged to work both Thanksgiving and Christmas next year. Being here, doing something magnanimous for people with little hope and poor prospects for the future during the season they need it most, has given her a renewed purpose outside of her day job; it has also inspired her to want better things for herself than the lonely, perfunctory existence she has occupied since assuming her deceased doppelganger’s identity.

If only Quentin could see me now. I think he might actually be proud. The thought creates equal measures of warmth and pain in Laurel’s heart.

Except for her Ollie, her father – both of them – was the only person who ever unconditionally believed in her. Her pregnant mother died in an auto accident when she was young and everyone else judged her for her many glaring flaws. Herself included, since it was her fault her father was shot to death interrupting a robbery in progress while out late at a 7/11. He’d been out late buying her a carton of ice cream after much extravagant pleading from a daughter that couldn’t see past the end of her own nose and whose only concern was that her craving for mint chocolate chip be immediately gratified. She was a fifteen-going-on-sixteen year old Daddy’s girl and used that to her advantage to ply him into submission, fully aware that he was tired and probably shouldn’t have even been driving. She has never forgiven herself for the role she played in that senseless tragedy.

Since then, Laurel has not held much concern for the opinions of others. In the wake her father and Ollie dying within six months of one another, every single day for her was a fight for survival. With no other family to speak of, she was sent to live in a state facility for a while, then bounced around foster families who had little patience for a rebellious teenager who was always angry at everything and everyone. By the time she graduated high school at seventeen, which was more due to her intellectual capacity than her studious ethic, she was so done with the system and humanity in general. Her GPA got her into college on a scholarship, but a year later she was living in the streets and fighting every chance she got. Not long after that, he sunk his gnarly claws into her, and within a matter of weeks she was hooked on heroin and all but a slave to a deranged, depraved, maniacal druglord who systematically broke her in body, mind, and spirit. When she got free of him and got clean, she proceeded to burn every last bridge on her home Earth in a wave of fantastic violence that crescendoed with the emergence of Black Siren. With nothing left to live for at home, she jumped at the chance to start over on this Earth when Zoom invaded.

Unlike most of the people Laurel knows on her Earth, she does not blame the people here for hating her. She has more than earned their ire, even expected it and welcomed it for the most part. From Dinah especially, and strangely enough her hatred had hurt the most – far more than enduring Ollie’s hypocritical derision. She has only recently discovered why, though the reason matters little when the chances of anything coming of it are about the same as Felicity managing to resist filling silence with inane babble for more than ten seconds.

The only real surprise on this Earth was Quentin’s stubborn inability to let her slip through his grasp and his irrational faith that there was something inside of her worth saving. He was the only one that saw a spark of decency still smoldering rebelliously within her, and that is counting her own opinion. She had convinced herself she was essentially the walking dead, an empty shell of a woman flitting through life stealing and killing and fucking with casual indifference because her heart was nothing but a shriveled up knot seething with infinite pools of concentrated misery and incendiary hatred. Quentin proved her wrong. And he did it to the cries of foul play from those he cared about the most. His investment in her woke something up that she honestly thought had been permanently extinguished. He made her want to try to make something worthwhile of her life, even convinced her that it was possible she could be good again, ridiculous as that seemed. It is for him that she turned her back on her old life. For him...and for Dinah.

Laurel still has no idea how it happened that Dinah Drake was the first to venture into the newly reopened vaults of her heart. There is every possibility it was because Dinah was able to forgive her for something unforgivable, something Laurel has yet to forgive herself for. Vinnie’s death was so pointless and avoidable, so wrong that even as she was screaming his brains into mush, guilt began to take hold. Sometimes when she’s lying in bed in the dark with her eyes closed, she can still hear Dinah’s helpless screams and see the immense love for her pouring out of Vinnie in a desperate bid to comfort the lover who would have to grieve him a second time having just got him back. If Dinah had done that to Laurel’s Ollie, there is no chance she would have ditched the mission for vengeance without having achieved it or died in the process. Yet for Quentin’s sake, that is exactly what Dinah did. And she did not stop there. Dinah has not only abandoned seeking retribution but has generously offered clemency for the highly personal crime committed against her that Laurel gratefully accepted. But the greatest of all miracles in that fucked up situation is that Dinah actually cares about her as a person and that the feeling is fully reciprocated.

Which brings up the other, even scarier, alternative explanation to Dinah’s taking up residence in Laurel’s every waking thought. That she let Dinah in because of the impossible crush she’d been nursing for the Black Canary since their introduction.

Outside of Sara, no one on this Earth is aware that she is bisexual. Well, sort of. She has a hard time pinning down her sexuality, really, when she is mostly attracted to men and a limited subset of women. Very limited. When she confessed that to Sara, her newly acquired sister just laughed and said the exact reverse was true for her, and that Laurel’s tastes jived with the memory of her beloved sibling, who apparently experimented in college – terribly cliché as that is – with the exact same rival sorority member Laurel had a two year long relationship with.

“Funny enough,” Sara added with a contemplative expression, “Josie had the same attitude, body type, hair color, skin tone, eerily similar facial features and voice timbre of someone we know. Wanna guess who?”

Laurel hadn’t needed to guess since she knew. The second the name Josie was uttered, she had made the same connection. And though she found the comparison to Earth-Prime Laurel uncomfortable, more disconcerting was the revelation that they both harbored uncanny attractions for women that look and act exactly like Dinah Drake. For Sara’s sake she smiled and cut a joke that fell a little flat, and then was oh-so-thankful when she was not called out for ducking the obvious inference. But that isn’t Sara’s way. No, no. Sara’s way is sending snail mail from 1969. And 1971. And ‘84. And ‘91. And ‘93. And ‘97. And ‘01. And ‘04. All of the packages feature a different photo of Laurel gazing at Dinah with moon eyes that Laurel cannot figure out how Sara is getting. And that’s not all. Along with the clandestine snaps are included selfies of Sara – and sometimes Ava – making exaggerated kissy faces and, last but not least, an annoying, hastily scrawled note taunting her about a certain bodacious police captain. One of the notes rather charmingly read: When u gonna woman the fuck up & make a move? Not gettin’ younger here & I need nieces & nephews 2 spoil rotten. Get busy already dumbass!

“When, indeed, Sara,” Laurel had replied to her empty apartment just last night. The answer, sadly, is likely never. What she and Dinah have is far too fragile for her to risk it on such a bold move, even if she does want to as badly as she wanted to ask Ollie to run away with her to Vegas when they turned eighteen. Also, she is fairly certain Dinah doesn’t swing that way. Which is tragic all on it’s own, because that is a woman who deserves to be worshiped and Laurel can’t think of any man who would be suitable to the task.

So, instead of upsetting the apple cart, Laurel contents herself with the status quo. Bantering with Dinah may be as close as she ever gets to a lover’s quarrel and a tentative touch of their hands as near as she’ll ever be to a kiss, but she’ll take it. For her, just having the privilege of being in Dinah’s life is enough.

“Yo, Dinah, lookin’ hot back there, and I don’t just mean the outfit.”

The wry grin of one of Laurel’s favorite residents, a jokester named Lewis, catches her coming out of her thoughts. Unperturbed his usage of her given name, which she uses here for privacy, she wipes her moist hands off on her black jeans, smooths down her red blouse, and gives him a cheeky grin.

“You don’t say,” she says. “Tell you what, I’ll trade sides. You can have the heat and I’ll eat the food. From what I heard, the sweet potato casserole is on point this year.”

“True that,” says Lewis. “Jordie was singin’ its praises to Larissa when I passed by. Which is why I’ll have to decline your generous offer.”

Jordie and Larissa are Lewis’s friends, or as close to that as anyone can get in a shelter. They are always found in each other’s company when present within the facility, as beyond being friends they are all the same twenty-six years of age and all recently recovering addicts who are staying at the shelter while they look for jobs. While Lewis is the resident comedian, Jordie is a talented musician who often sings and tickles the ivories of the upright piano donated to the shelter or plays his beat up acoustic guitar while Larissa – a sweetheart who fell into the wrong crowd and suffered dearly for her mistake – accompanies him with angelic pipes that belong in some saintly choir. Strangely enough Laurel took an instant liking to the three, which is why she stuck her neck out to get them all work. Larissa was due to start her new job at a little mom and pop Laundromat down the street in February while Jordie and Lewis have yet to hear from the public construction foreman Laurel spoke to on their behalf.

“Aww. That’s too bad,” she replies to Lewish, then pauses to lean in conspiratorially. “Say. Did Jordie ever hear back from that foreman about the job he applied for?”

Lewis’s entire countenance lights up as if he were the Christmas tree she helped decorate. “Sure did. He got it. I got on there, too, actually. We start week after New Years.”

Laurel cannot contain a genuine smile. “That’s great, Lew! I’m really happy for you both. Larissa, too”

“Thanks, D.” Lewis shrugs bashfully, toeing the linoleum flooring. “I, uh, I also wanted to say thanks for puttin’ in a word for us.”

Rather than fess up to her role in getting three people jobs who actually deserve them, Laurel playfully narrows her eyes at Lewis and adopts her official District Attorney pose. “Who said I did any such thing?”

“A little birdie.”

“Does that little birdie happen to have a name?”

“Sure does. Funny thing, that. Her name’s Dinah, too.”

Quite unexpectedly, Laurel’s heart skips a beat just like it does just about every time she hears that name. And while she knows it’s unlikely he is referring to her Dinah – when did Dinah become hers for that matter? – all the same she hopes against hope that he is. Dinah being here would make an already damn good evening a perfect one.

“Oh?” she asks, brow quirked inquisitively to hide her sudden bout of nerves. “When did you talk to this other Dinah?”

“Tonight,” says Lewis, causing Laurel’s heart to stutter once more. He then goes on to point in the opposite direction from where they are standing. “Actually, she’s right over there.”

When Laurel follows his extended arm and index finger out of the kitchen and across the cafeteria, her breath catches and her muscles seize up and her high brain functions momentarily cease. There, leaning nonchalantly against a bare metal support post, is Dinah Drake in all of her standard work attire glory, looking like a perfect ten model torn out of some professional chic magazine with her hair in tumbling curls and wearing a snazzy charcoal gray pantsuit with a red Oxford buttoned almost to the top. As if drawn to one another by invisible strings, their eyes lock across the distance. And as Dinah’s gaze bores into Laurel’s very soul, heat begins to rise through her chest, up through the column of her throat, and then spreads into her cheeks, turning them a similar shade to the cranberry sauce she was should have placed on Lewis’s plate two minutes ago.

“I’ll, uh, make myself scarce,” Lewis says after a moment, chuckling a bit at her star-struck expression. “Thanks again, D. And, uh, word of advice? Don’t keep the lady waitin’. Dinner’s almost done bein’ served, so I think the fine folks here can handle things.”

“Listen at Lewis, all wise and shit for a change,” chimes in Brenda, a mid-fifties former bank manager whose brother found life-saving refuge in this very shelter. When Laurel doesn’t respond, Brenda gives her an encouraging nudge. “He’s right, though. Go on, girl. Go say hello to your woman.”

Laurel cannot summon the words to correct the assumption, nor would she lend them voice if she could. Like the scene from some sappy Holiday movie one would watch on Hallmark Movie Channel, the Spirit of Christmas has, in that one visual exchange between herself and Dinah, invaded her brain and her heart and conveniently erased every reason she’s ever come up with to remain in denial about how she feels for the stubborn, compassionate, brilliant woman who has given her so many new reasons to strive for becoming the best version of herself possible. All she can think right now is how beautiful Dinah is, how her eyes glitter even in the bland lighting of the shelter, and how her smile makes Laurel’s heart start to gallop like Secretariat turned loose at the Belmont.

So she nods, wordlessly passes off Lewis’s tray to Brenda, then makes her way over to Dinah on legs that seem far less sturdy than they did a few seconds ago. The thirty yards separating them feel more like a mile as she weaves through the crowded cafeteria. No one dares speak to her, as if they also are cognizant of whatever mystical forces are at play tonight to bring Dinah here of all places and are thus unwilling to break the spell that has descended on them.

Stopping short of Dinah’s position, Laurel loiters uncertainly, a bit confused as to Dinah’s presence but mostly enthralled by it. This has been happening more and more often whenever she spends time with Dinah. A moment will happen between them sort of like this, and Laurel will just go dumb, like a kid called on by her teacher for an answer the first minute of the first class of the first day back at school after summer vacation. It’s like her brain turns into goo or something, rendering her unable to interact like a normal human being. Actually...it sort of reminds of her of how she used to get around Ollie after puberty hit and she realized her best friend was seriously hot.

“Well, are you just gonna stand there staring or what?” Dinah asks, looking terribly amused by Laurel’s inability to speak.

“Huh?” Startled out of her stupor, Laurel quickly stuffs her hands into her pockets to conceal their trembling.

Rather than take pity upon her, Dinah smirks. “I thought you might be coming over here to invite me to join the festivities. You know, since I came all the way down here.”

That last bit provokes a question Laurel’s restored brain cannot pass up vocalizing. “Why are you here?”

Frowning, Dinah glances around the cafeteria at the many people enjoying a relative feast. “You really wanna get into that here and now?”

Laurel mentally chastises herself for being an idiot. “No. No, you’re right. Sorry. Still working on that whole manners thing. Please, come back to the kitchen and I’ll have Brenda fix you a plate.” As she expects, Dinah politely turns her down.

“Nah, I’m good. Don’t wanna take away from anyone here when I got plenty back home in my fridge. That said...” she starts to shuck her jacket as she goes on, “I am handy around a kitchen. Wouldn’t mind pitching in to clean up. Whatever I can do, just point me in a direction.”

That is an offer Laurel is not about to refuse. Clean up at an even like this is an ordeal, and they are already one short since Jeremy’s daughter got sick and his wife had a prior commitment at an office party. Poor thing begged him to stay home with her instead of foisting her off on a nanny. Laurel overheard Brenda tell him on the phone that if he left that baby for one minute she would beat his ass with a rolling pin. The threat was only half-joking, so Jeremy obviously stayed home.

“Well, in that case, follow me,” Laurel says. “Let me warn you, though. You might have just made five lifelong fans ‘cause of the job that’s ahead.”

Dinah returns a secretive smile. “One fan’s all I need, and I have a feeling I already hooked her...”

The comment slams into Laurel like a sledgehammer, and she all but welcomes the delightful pain. Is it possible I was wrong about her? Could she really feel the same as I do? The possibility is so thrilling she feels her extremities begin to tingle in anticipation.

“Someone’s confident. I like it,” she says, rising to the occasion. Laurel has never been one to back down, especially with Dinah.

“Enough to land me a nifty Christmas present?” Dinah replies, her pretty green eyes glimmering in the fluorescent light.

Laurel will never be able to explain the surge of bravery that hits her at this specific instant, only that it inspires her to take a chance that she is fully aware might blow up in her face in spectacular fashion. But in the moment, all she can think is that Dinah is worth the risk.

“Maybe. Guess you’ll have to find out later. If you’re willing to drop by my place afterwards, that is. Clean up around here can be stressful to say the least, so I won’t blame you if you wanna go home afterward. But, I did make eggnog and ginger bread cookies. Old family recipes, too.”

To Laurel’s immense delight, Dinah does not reject the advance. Instead as she nods her assent, her cheeks bloom with color and she tucks a full bottom lip between her teeth. They are the first visible signs that what is happening between them is affecting her as deeply as it is Laurel.

“Plying me with sweets is known to be an effective tactic,” Dinah then says, “so I wouldn’t worry too much about having to bend my arm. Plus, I love eggnog. Especially if it has alcohol.”

“It’s traditional Eirlikör, so it has rum in it. Pretty damn tasty if I do say so myself.”

Truth be told it was the first time Laurel had made it, so she hadn’t expected much. But she found the aged recipe in one of Quentin’s collections a couple days ago and recognized it as one that her father used to make their eggnog every year. Nostalgia mixed with heartfelt sentimentality for a man whose love for her does not vary from world to world provided a cocktail she could not turn down. To her delight, it turned out exactly as she remembered: creamy, thick, with a flavor sort of like custard with a hint of the rum’s vanilla and molasses notes. In other words, it was fucking delicious and she has downed more than half of it already.

Dinah hums appreciatively. “Never had that before, but I like rum and as I said I love eggnog, so...”

“You won’t be disappointed then. I promise.”

Taking another chance, Laurel reaches out to touch Dinah’s arm right above the elbow and is pleased that the gesture is accepted and even reciprocated when Dinah lays her own hand atop Laurel’s.

Staring into Laurel’s eyes as intensely as she ever has, Dinah leans in a touch closer. So close that Laurel can smell her coconut shampoo and the hint of hazelnut coffee on her breath.

“I’ll hold you to that, Counselor,” Dinah says, voice little more than a whisper.

A companionable silence falls between them then that they settle into with matching smiles, lips achingly close to touching, mesmerized by the tension of an attraction that has suddenly taken control of them both. For the longest stretch they stand there, mutually enveloped in a warm aura that drowns out the noise of a crowded cafeteria and erases the bitter hurts between them and makes it seem like the two of them becoming an us is not as impossible as it originally seemed.

Sharp whistling and a few shouted encouragements for her to do what her heart is screaming at her to finally snaps them out of whatever spell just ensnared them and caused them to almost make a scene in public.

Flushing beet red, Laurel clears her throat before doing what she actually approached Dinah to do. “So...how about I take you back to the kitchen and introduce you?”

Dinah nods, nibbles the corner of her lip, blushing as furiously as Laurel is. “Sounds good. Lead the way.”

Without further commentary, Laurel spins and begins weaving her way back through the cafeteria. Once back inside the kitchen, she is greeted by a row of Cheshire grins. In order from left to right there is: Lisa, a perpetually peppy twenty-something of Korean descent straight out of university; Wayne, a hulking slab of muscle with the biggest, softest heart around; Don, a silver-haired ex-Disc Jockey who; and Enrique, the epitome of Hispanic charm with his olive skin, luxurious black hair, suave smile, and panty-melting accent; and last but not least, the leader of this diverse pack of fascinating people, Brenda the fearless and the overprotective mother of forty-eight broken children. All of these people look totally normal on the outside, while on the inside they each harbor hurts – either directly or indirectly – that lead them to dedicate their lives to others. Perhaps that is why Laurel felt so safe with them; they all know what it’s like to hide pain too acute to be expressed and have it marginalized or ignored altogether by family. Don, for instance, retired to social work when his daughter went through a rough patch not terribly unlike Laurel’s. Lisa’s father is still living on the streets of San Francisco; she visits him once every three months. Wayne was homeless for four years after he got out of the military, his PTSD having prevented him from holding down a job and his pride from seeking the help he so desperately needed. Enrique’s story traces back to his native Spain, where he lost a brother to drugs, has a sister in jail for illegally prostituting herself, and whose mother exposed him to things no child ought to ever witness. Laurel knows both sides of the coin, both the personal and familial battle with such demons. While she was a victim, her father – like the Quentin of this Earth – was an alcoholic. There are not many places she fits in the way she does here, which is why she has no intention of abandoning them once the Holidays are over.

That said, sharing a common background, they know how to push her buttons and get a way with it. Like they are right now, when she can’t really retaliate. She groans at the well meaning ribbing she is about to endure, knowing they will not cut her any slack due to their solid rapport – and their never having been introduced to Black Siren. The only Laurel they know is the one who jokes around with them while doing laundry, gets filthy crawling through a tight utility space to rewire a faulty circuit, and sings off key along with Jordie and Larissa whenever they break out early era Dashboard Confessional tunes. She cannot express in words how amazing it feels to be treated like a person and not a public persona, a degenerate monster, or a pale imitation of the deified woman whose life she now inhabits. And for that, Laurel is eternally grateful. Also, it buys the Happy Fun Time Gang – Wayne’s moniker for the staff that has now been extended to include Laurel – a lot of leeway with their teasing that pretty much no one else enjoys.

“I don’t want to hear a peep out of any of you miscreants! I expect you all to be nice while our guest is around,” she says, eyeing them each in turn as if they are children. They all ignore her, long used to her attitude.

“We’re always nice, sugar,” Brenda says with a wink, then turns her big brown eyes onto Dinah as she points a thumb in Laurel’s direction. “This one over here has convinced herself no matter where she goes she’s large and in charge. But around these parts, we just think she’s a cute-pie.”

“I’ve noticed,” Dinah replies, unable to stifle a little giggle at their treatment of a woman who once inspired terror in the hearts of millions as Black Siren and commands power that few can rival as District Attorney of a city as large as theirs.

It’s frankly a bit belittling and incredibly annoying for Laurel to have her fearsome reputation shredded in less than five seconds by five foot three inch distinguished looking lady with salt and pepper hair and a cherubic visage that could fool St. Peter into granting a mischievous imp entry past the pearly gates. And she would be really upset if she wasn’t so enchanted by Dinah’s adorable giggling. And a little flabbergasted that Dinah might actually think it’s cute when she’s being bossy.

“Oh, God, Brenda. Please stop before I have zero credibility left,” Laurel groans again, which incites another round of giggles from Dinah.

“Settle down now, little miss thang,” retorts Brenda with a wave of her hand. “Why don’t you introduce us to this lovely young lady who came to visit.”

Laurel jumps at the chance to end the affectionate harassment. For someone so physically unassuming, Brenda has an eerie way of getting her to do whatever she wants.

Taking in a deep breath, she lets it out with a whoosh. “That is an excellent idea.” She turns to Dinah, then gestures one at a time toward her new friends and colleague. “Dinah, this is Brenda, Lisa, Wayne, Don, and Enrique. They’re all full time employees here at the shelter. Everyone, this is Dinah Drake, Captain of the SCPD’s distinguished Fifth Precinct.”

Lisa whistles loudly in astonishment, though not for the reason Laurel assumes. “Another Dinah. What are the odds?”

In the periphery, Laurel catches Dinah eyeing her sharply and freezes, and not so much out of fear of her secret getting out so much as she is worried Dinah will judge her for lying. The quirky crew that have official adopted her have all been read in to her actual who she really is. By her own choice. Brenda knew from the outset, of course, but after a week of the rest of the gang making her feel so welcome and accepted, the thought continuing the charade, innocuous as it was, any longer made her sick to her stomach. To their credit, finding out her true identity did not change their opinion of her in the slightest. If anything, it only made them respect her more because they recognized the subterfuge as proof she was not acting on some ulterior motive to promote her career by volunteering her time and effort to the needy. Whether or not Dinah sees things the same way is another matter entirely...

“Apparently very good,” Dinah says after a second of staring a hole into the side of Laurel’s head. The northward tilt that turns up the corner of her sinful lips indicates she is not displeased by the deception, which is a relief to Laurel, who lets out the breath she didn’t know she’s been holding. “It’s good to meet you all,” Dinah continues, offering each of them her hand for a quick but firm shake. She then points idly toward the front entrance. “I talked to Marv a bit before I came in. According to him, Laur – er, Dinah – here has been a real lifesaver these past two weeks.”

“Oh, honey. You don’t know the half of it,” Brenda crows, ever quick to sing the praises of one of her people. “That girl saved our hide so many times. Saved it, I tell ya!” Animated as always, she springs into action, corralling Dinah by the shoulder then guiding her deeper into the kitchen as she launches into a comical version of their coordinated planning of this event.

Brenda has this theatrical method of telling a story that either has everyone in stitches or in tears depending on the subject matter. Tonight is no different. Within seconds she has Dinah eating out of the palm of her hand as she describes Laurel’s many contributions and a few misadventures that occurred along the way. Laurel merely watches, bashfully amused by Brenda’s embellishments and besotted by Dinah’s carefree reactions to them.

Not for the first time, as Dinah rolls up her sleeves to start washing dishes all the while laughing along with Laurel’s motley crew of lovable misfits, she gets the sense that this place is truly magical. That it isn’t just her who has experienced a renewed connection to life by stepping crossing the threshold into a building that is the definition of mundane to the naked eye but is teeming with the gritty, noble, tragic, and resilient essence of humanity and infused the full gamut of extreme emotions that the human condition has to offer. That perhaps this Christmas is a portent of things to come, an announcement that the suffocating darkness that enshrouds Star City on a daily basis is not a permanent climate but merely a prolonged weather front that is at last about to recede to the majestic reappearance of a fresh springtime morning. And maybe, just maybe, the joy that floods her heart, spills over, then suffuses her entire being is indicative that what is happening between this group of disparate individuals unified under a single purpose – and most importantly whatever wonderful sorcery is brewing between her and Dinah – doesn’t have to end when they all depart these monotone halls that have housed the best and the worst of mankind. Something truly remarkable is binding them together, giving Laurel a feeling she can’t shake that whatever force is at play in this place is far from finished with the altruistic enterprise it began this otherwise ordinary Christmas. And that’s just fine with her.

As the business of cleaning up after forty-eight famished souls kicks off in earnest, many other tales are told about her contributions to the shelter over the past few weeks. Laurel blushes pretty much the entire time her coworkers gush, and when Dinah looks at her as if torn between wanting to hug or kiss her, it takes all of Laurel’s willpower not take matters into her own hands, which doesn’t help with the blushing one bit. But she makes it through via sheer determination not to ruin her utterly reputation with Dinah. Though, it might be a little late for that after each of the gang chime in with an embarrassing story. As if she wasn’t already mortified enough by the time Enrique is done with his yarn about her accidentally repainting a section of the facility that was just done less than a year before, Don then delivers the coup de grâce with the story of the mouse crawling up her pant leg while she was in the attic working on repairing some faulty wiring. If the twenty or so corroborating reports are to be believed, she may have screeched so loud she was heard two floors down. As insensibly panicked as she was, it was a minor miracle she didn’t slip between rafters and fall through the sheet rock or activate her meta powers which would have caved in the roof. Yeah. That was not her most dignified moment. Dinah eats the story up, though, and laughs at Don’s reenactment of the infamous shriek dancing until she is clutching her stomach as tears of merriment wet her cheeks. Laurel gets the distinct impression that unfortunate if not objectively humorous incident will not be forgotten any time soon. Not that she minds too much. It’s nice to see Dinah so happy, even if it is at her expense.

Eventually, as with all things, the fun comes to an end. It was fun, though, doing this with Dinah. And sort of domestic, as if they were a couple who did stuff like this in their spare time because they could and should seeing as both of them have, to admittedly different degrees, trod the valleys of life then began the long toil back up the foreboding mountain of redemption. As far as Laurel can tell, Dinah enjoys herself every bit as much if not more since she is the star of the day and is showered with copious amounts of attention she does appear unhappy to receive. More than the break it gives Laurel not to be the new kid on the block, she truly enjoys watching Dinah blossom before her eyes. Or maybe not blossom so much as rejuvenate having been exposed to the well fertilized soil of people who have zero political correctness, are utterly devoid of pretense, and are as real and receptive and forgiving and compassionate as any Laurel has ever met. Whatever terminology would be most adequate, the effect is truly marvelous to behold. Dinah at her most disheveled is the most beautiful creature she has ever laid eyes upon. But tonight? Oh, tonight she is more radiant than a Harvest Moon, more august than a blanket of stars on a clear summer night, and more brilliant than the southern equatorial Perihelion sun at midday. For that reason alone, Laurel basically floats through the grueling process of returning the facility to proper working order.

It is nearly half past ten when the final table is swiped down and the last folding chair stacked up and returned to the storage closet in the east end of the building. By then, Laurel is exhausted to the bone but happy down to the marrow. How can she not be? When they bid adieu to the Happy Fun Time Gang and start down the single flight of bricked stairs, Dinah – adorably wrapped up in her coat and scarf and mittens – holds her hand.

#dctv #arrow #arrow fanfic #fanfic #laurel lance #dinah drake #laurel x dinah #dinah x laurel #aka Dinahmite!#or:#dinahsiren #christmas

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prettyblossoms · 7 years

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Lost in Limbo (A Reddie Fic) Ch.3

Summary: Dealing with the pressure of being a teenager is proving to be too much for seventeen-year-old Eddie Kaspbrak, who is unable to deal with his overbearing mother's expectations and violent school bullies. To make matters worse, he is fighting a losing battle with his sexuality.

Meanwhile, Richie Tozier is trying to convince himself that what he feels towards his best friend is a mere attraction, covering it up by being with multiple girls.

Will they be able to find the truth in each other or are they destined to crash and burn?

Chapter 3: Coming Undone

By the time his third-period class had come and gone, Eddie regained most of his composure. He accepted what happened with his mother and was ready for his punishment the millisecond he got into the house.

He had shaken off the of the majority of Richie’s jokes. However, he still felt Richie’s hand on his thigh and heard the unnerving voice of the leper. Even though it had been years since the fight with Pennywise, he still was haunted by nightmares.

In many of these dreams, he would die. Even if it wasn't real, he still felt the excruciating pain surge through his body as It ripped his limbs off his body. His pleas and cries for help always ended up going unheard. Eddie would wake up in a state of panic. He could recall how his heart raced so rapidly in his chest that it hurt. It hurt so bad that he began to struggle to breathe.

In other instances, he had mustered up the courage to tell his friends the truth about his battle with his sexuality and the leper. Earning him only gasps, slurs, and vile insults they each spoke as they all stood in the shadows of the sewer. The only person he could see in this dream was Richie, but that was more than enough to completely kill him. The look of disgust, anger, and hatred in his eyes cut him more in-depth than any physical pain he could ever feel. He would wake up sobbing so loudly that he had to bite his bottom lip to muffle the noise. The amount of emotional distress the dreams caused made him wish he would just suffocate and die. At least that would be better than losing the only people worth living for.

He was forced back to reality when he felt a light tap on his shoulder. He jumped at the touch and looked behind him to see Ms. Lewis. Her black unruly hair was in an array of curls that stuck tightly to her head. She was staring at Eddie, her sparkling baby blue eyes filled with concern. She wore a long floral dress that completely covered her feet paired with cardigan wrapped around her body.

“I didn’t mean to startle you, Eddie.” She carefully spoke as if she was dealing with a wounded animal. “The bell for lunch rang 10 minutes ago, and you’ve been just sitting here staring at the whiteboard."

Eddie exhaled slowly, not knowing what to say. He knew he looked like a deer caught in headlights, so he avoided her stare.

Ms. Lewis didn't falter as she continued, "You also didn’t get involved with the class discussion on Lords of the Flies, which is completely unlike you. Are you okay?”

Eventually, Eddie’s tired eyes met hers, and he wanted to shatter to pieces. She was understanding, smart, and attentive. Like any reasonable person should be. He wished his mother could be like her. Hell, he wanted Ms. Lewis to be his mother because he was on the verge of falling apart. He needed someone to listen to him without judgment. The weight of the world suffocating him was becoming too much to bare.

But, his mother was far from being someone like Ms. Lewis. If he happened to break around her, she would want to put him in the hospital. Which would fuel her fire to start getting Eddie new medications, ones that he doesn’t need. Worst of all, she would never let him out of the house again. Not without a hell of a fight.

Unfortunately, Ms. Lewis was not his mother. Even though he felt comfortable, safe, and unjudged around her, he knew that she was obligated to let the school know whatever he may say. In turn, they would notify his mother.

Eddie sighed deeply and continued to look into her eyes as he lied, “I’m sorry Ms. Lewis, I'm just drained. I stayed up studying for an upcoming exam.” He inwardly thought, ‘Please don’t ask me what subject. For the love of God, please don’t ask me what subject.’

Ms. Lewis stared at him skeptically but let her suspicions go. She smiled at him, “I am sure the exam is important. Just remember to take care of yourself. Okay, Eddie? Now go on, hurry and go get lunch.”

He smiled back at her meekly as he stood up and grabbed his stuff. “I understand. It won't happen again. Thank you, Ms. Lewis.”

Bev, Mike, Bill, Stan, and Ben all sat at their usual table. Their current discussion was focusing on what they wanted to do for the upcoming weekend. Bill had suggested going to see The Sandlot at the Aladdin to which Stan and Bev agreed. Bill and Stan wanted to see it because not only was it a comedy, but it was also a story about friendship. Bev just loved going to the movies.

However, Ben and Mike wanted to have a camping night at the barrens. It had been a couple of months since they had the chance to stargaze and they knew the weather would be perfect this weekend. It also just happened that Eddie’s mom would be out of town this Friday and wouldn't be returning until Monday. His mom leaving and letting him stay home was a pretty rare occurrence. The time was right, and they felt this was the better option.

Since they couldn’t come to a consensus, they all agreed to wait for Richie and Eddie to decide.

Beverly took a bite from her juicy green apple causing a loud crunch at the table, listening to the chatter as she silently chewed the food in her mouth. The redhead looked up to see the doors of the cafeteria opening, immediately noticing that Richie was heading over to the table with his “girlfriend” in tow under his arm.

She groaned loudly, breaking the boy's attention away from their conversation. Whenever Richie’s girlfriend came around, she just couldn’t help but feel irritable.

Beverly just couldn’t shake the feeling that this girl was toxic to them, especially Richie.

Everyone at the table looked at her out of concern and were about to ask her if she was alright, but they too noticed the couple coming towards the table.

They all sighed and prepared for another lunch filled with awkward laughs and stares.

None of them even had to exchange words to know not to mention their ideas for the weekend because she was the type of person who just invited herself.

“Fellow losers, I require your utmost attention.” Richie said using one of his British voices, “King Tozier has arrived.” He plopped down in his usual spot, besides Beverly and patted her back.

The joke earned a laugh from all of his friends.

Samantha, feeling left out, replicated one of his voices as she spoke, “Along with his queen.” She took the seat right beside Richie, which is where Eddie usually sat. Then she placed her large bag on the only space remaining on the bench.

Richie didn’t notice; his eyes were glued onto his pepperoni pizza. He could hear Samantha speaking to him, but his thoughts about Eddie were drowning out her words. He merely nodded his head every couple of minutes to make it look as if he was listening.

Beverly and Stan both rolled their eyes in annoyance. Stan scooched closer to Bill, who was forced into Mike.

Stan hated this girl.

More importantly, he hated that Richie was usually oblivious to the fact that he was putting his friends on the back burner. Mainly, to poor Eddie.

However, today seemed different. Stan noticed that Richie’s whole demeanor towards her had changed. Usually, they would be obnoxiously swapping spit, unable to keep their hands off of each other by now. Yet, Richie was not even looking at her. He was staring more lovingly at his fucking pizza than Samantha.

Stan wasn't going to mention it though. At least, not right now. He grabbed an anti-bacterial wipe from his lunch box and wiped the table and the seat down for his hypochondriac friend. Even though he was closer to Bill, he understood Eddie the most.

Although they were very different, they both had very similar qualities. Stans extreme OCD caused him to be very careful and methodical with how he did things. Everything he owned had a rightful place, the contents of lunch box being a prime example.

Everything inside had to be separated so it would not come into contact with his other food. The bottom of the pail had to have the container with his sandwich. Above the container was home to his fruits. Finally, the top portion of the lunch pail holding his vegetables. If anything inside were to fall out of place, he couldn't help but feel compelled to fix it.

Just like Eddie couldn't help the urge to clean everything out of his irrational fear of germs. The kid couldn't stand to be around anyone who showed the smallest symptoms of an illness. He couldn't use public bathrooms because of the possibilities of who used them. He carried his hand sanitizer in his fanny pack, bringing it out at least five times a day. For Christ sake, he couldn't even spend the night at his friend's houses without bringing his antibacterial soap.

Out of all the loser's club members, they both could empathize with each other on how much it sucked to not be in charge of their lives.

For that, Stan was thankful for having Eddie as his friend. So, he left the antibacterial wipes on the table, knowing all too well that Eddie would insist on wiping the surfaces down a second time.

Eddie inched closer in line, feeling like his skin was crawling. The cafeteria was jam-packed with people. Usually, he would rather die before eating the shit they call food, but he knew he wouldn't survive the day without something. He was going to take the risk, just this once.

The thought of how disgustingly dirty everything was caused him to feel very uneasy. He refused to touch anything and kept his arms crossed tightly over his chest. If anyone got too close to him, he would bite his lip to prevent himself from screaming at them. He reached the front of the line and was greeted with a massive set woman in her fifties wearing a hairnet on her head and a disgusting apron wrapped around her body.

Eddie wanted to throw up.

"What's your student ID number?" She asked him in an uninterested tone.

"1124599," Eddie responded nervously, his stomach began to cry at him in protest.

She typed it into her computer lazily. "What do you want?" Her voice held no enthusiasm.

"What do you have?"

Eddie watched as she rolled her eyes at him."Today we are serving pepperoni pizza or spaghetti."

Both of those options sounded equally as repulsive to Eddie. He began to think to himself, 'The pizza has probably been touched by the workers, while the spaghetti is hopefully scooped up onto the tray. The tray that is in contact with at least two dirty students per day, meaning that thousands have had the potential to use it. There had to multiple types of germs on the trays alone. Maybe they would let me wash my tray if I asked.'

The woman grunted. "Kid, your holding up the line. Pick one." She demanded.

Eddie felt defeated. "Spaghetti, I guess."

He watched in horror as she walked over to the window and grabbed a tray from the middle of a large stack. Then she grabbed an ice cream scooper off the metal table. Using the scoop, she got some spaghetti out of a deep pan. She smacked it onto the tray harshly and lifted the scooper back up, for Eddie to see the spaghetti remained completely intact. It looked sticky, disgusting, and days old. Finally, she opted for him to take the tray.

Eddie shakily grabbed onto it, feeling as if his fingers were going to burn off just from touching it. Upon walking out of the cafeteria, he at least felt less compacted, but dirty nonetheless.

The hypochondriac noticed that all of the Loser’s were sitting in their usual spot. He began to walk over to them, relieved that he was finally going to be able to relax and stop shaking. His pace slowed down when he saw they weren’t speaking to each other. A sign that there was something out of the ordinary going on. His eyes locked onto to Richie, whose gaze was downcast, staring at his empty tray. Usually, he would be talking so much that their friends had to beg him to shut up.

He looked to Richie’s right and found the reason why they were so quiet. Samantha was there talking about god knows what, in his seat.

#lost in limbo #ch 3 #reddie #eddie kaspbrak #fanfiction #angst #slow burn #richie tozier #bill denbrough #ben hanscom #mike hanlon #beverly marsh #stan uris #now on ao3

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thebibliomancer · 7 years

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Essential Avengers: Defenders #11: A Dark and Stormy Knight

December, 1973

“Dark and Stormy Knight”? I get it! Because.... because the Black Knight?

Right. Well. Anyway.

This is an okay cover. Conveys the nature of the threat they’ll be facing and illustrates Dr. Strange’s stunning overestimation of his own abilities. But I just have to wonder. Where is Valkyrie’s cover bubble?

Last time: Dormammu tricked the Defenders into thinking they needed the Evil Eye to unstone Black Knight from when Enchantress turned him into a statue as an eternal testament on how rad she is. A lot of nonsense and shenanigans ensued but the Avengers and Defenders together defeated Dormammu and claimed the Evil Eye. Or rather, Scarlet Witch did most of the work.

This time: Time to fire up that bad boy and see if it works. Yup. This is technically the last part of the Avengers/Defenders War. The war is over but it would kind of feel dumb to not address whether the big motivating factor of so much of the event could be saved or not.

So lets start as Dr. Strange points the Evil Eye at the fourth wall.

Both teams are back on Earth now. And although there is a lot of damage from the dimension merge and monsterificaiton of people, if Scarlet Witch hadn’t gotten the Evil Eye to eat Dormammu Earth would now be a land filled with mindless monsters under Dormammu’s rule.

Nick Fury goes up to thank her for saving humanity but she blows him off. She doesn’t want humanity’s thanks. She was just doing her Avengers duty. I see she’s still a bit nettled over those anti-robot suicide bombers.

Trying to avoid an awkward conversation, Fury tries to swing the conversation toward the Defenders but Dr. Strange instantly wipes his mind. In fact, he wipes knowledge of the Defenders from everyone’s minds, except the Avengers.

What a douchey thing to do, Dr. Strange. Its his wish that the Defenders remain unknown to the world at large. Maybe he just doesn’t want to be blamed for gathering the Evil Eye and indirectly causing this disaster. Either way, his desire for privacy probably doesn’t outweigh the entire population’s desire not to have their synapses scorched.

Anyway. He does it. With the power of the Evil Eye, Dr. Strange wipes knowledge of the Defenders, cleans up the damage left behind by the dimension merge, and poofs away the Defenders.

At least he cleaned up after himself.

So at Strange’s sanctum, Dr. Strange uses the Evil Eye to turn himself into a statue.

Its for a good reason, swearsies.

Oddly, someone forgot to tell the colorist that the Black Knight should still be a statue too. Womp womp.

Dr. Strange astral projects away from his stone body into that cool space land that the Black Knight’s spirit had retreated to. While he’s at it, he muses on the irony that Dormammu lied about the Evil Eye being used to help the Black Knight when its being used to help the Black Knight.

But when he gets to the arbitrary space spot where the Black Knight’s spirit should be, by the Many Moons of Munnopor, it isn’t!

Meanwhile, while the Defenders wait for Dr. Strange to finish up what he’s doing, Hawkeye muses.

He’s probably going to quit the Defenders. He likes them but he ragequit the Avengers to prove he could make it on his own and if he just immediately joins another group, how would that look?

Plus, being tricked into fighting the Avengers put a sour taste in his mind mouth.

Namor agrees. “Being in a group is not the way one demonstrates his true worth.” Namor himself is planning to quit after this mission.

And then Dr. Strange comes back. He starts to explain that the Knight has vanished mysteriously when the Defenders vanish mysteriously. With that most mysterious of sound effects: the FOOM!

The Defenders now find themselves in a world of deserts, fortresses, catapults and oh hey, its the Black Knight. Just the man we were looking for!

They’re a confusing but welcome sight for sore eyes but there’s no time for casual conversation! They’ve ended up in the 12th century Crusades and the Arabs are attacking!

Hahaha, I don’t want to be anywhere near Marvel’s Saturday Morning Cartoon conception of the Crusades.

Neither does Dr. Strange, although for different reasons. This isn’t his war so he’ll just use a spell to immobilize the attackers so the Defenders can get their bearings.

Hulk is fed up with... pretty much everything by this point so just pounds the ground, knocking the attacking Arabs off their feet. And then the other Defenders jump in to help now that Hulk has kind of made their decision for them.

And then a grey version of the Hulk attacks.

Noooo, not Joe Fixit. A gnome of some sort. Except a big gnome. Wish they didn’t make it look so much like the Hulk. It’s not confusing so much as it is off-putting.

Anyway, Dr. Strange and the Silver Surfer blast the gnome, Temax, to no avail. Hulk attacks only to get swatted away.

Dr. Strange reiterates his desire to avoid conflict and teleports the Defenders away before Temax can throw a really big rock.

MILES AWAY, the Defenders plus the Black Knight reappears. There’s no immediate danger so you know what that means!

Exposition time!

Black Knight explains that because of a spell cast by Merlin at the time of Camelot’s collapse, his spirit was yoinked back in time to possess the dead body of his dead ancestor, the original Black Knight. Their spirits have mingled and he’s on a quest to find and fight the man who murdered the original Black Knight, MODRED THE EVIL!

Who also died centuries ago but his essence lives on and can appear anywhere, anytime. Which sounds hax.

Because of Modred’s interference, King Richard was captured and made an Arabian prisoner in the middle of his crusade. And Prince John, instead of being a lion in England trying to get a meddling fox, has taken command of Richard’s army and is planning to desert the king. Also, he’s teamed up with Modred.

The spell that yoinked Black Knight brings opposition to Modred. So it brought Black Knight into this time to fight him and it must have caught up the rest of the Defenders too, to even the odds against the magic that Modred wields.

Basically: Merlin did it.

Later that evening, the Defenders have a plan.

They sneak into Richard’s prison in the guise of really conspicuous priests. And then they split up. Dr. Strange, Namor and the Hulk will go after Modred. The rest will go to free the king.

Black Knight takes a second to grouse that Valkyrie has his sword but Hawkeye says hey you left it unattended on your body. Losers weepers.

Meanwhile, the ‘get Modred’ side of things follows a hunch of Dr. Strange’s. There’s only one corridor of the fortress with no sand on the floor. Clearly, that means the gnomes absorb the sand, leaving the floor clean.

And then they get spotted when two people arguing over a bet drop a torch and see that the Hulk has green feet.

Before you can say ‘man gangrene is really bad huh’ Hulk and Namor have punched them unconscious but too late to keep them from crying out.

Meanwhile elsewhere, Valkyrie ponders that she feels no love for the Black Knight. I don’t remember if I mentioned it but early on when she first joined, she had an irrational love for a man she knew for five minutes. Whether it was just a side-effect of her creation by the Enchantress or something else is unknown to me. But it seems to have worn off.

Anyway, they rescue Richard.

And then get attacked by three gnomes, one of them still looking uncomfortably like the Hulk, another looking like the Hulk if he became a monk, and the third not being very Hulk at all good job.

Anyway, the Defenders get their shit rekt. They all get one feeble attack before being knocked sprawling by the gnomes.

Valkyrie tosses the Ebony Blade to the still standing Black Knight and he has a moment of confidence where he reaffirms his bond to the cursed sword, the singing power locked deep within its polished black metal, and that he was born for battle. This is why he is the Black Knight!

He valiantly rushes forward proclaiming that the Ebony Blade can counter magic!

And he gets even more rekt than the other Defenders.

Damn.

Elsewhere, the other party finds Modred, Prince John, and Chandu the Arabian wizard. Chandu is summoning more gnomes.

The Defenders leap to attack, Dr. Strange confidant that using the Evil Eye will swing the battle in their favor.

But Chandu casts a spell against Dr. Strange and knocks him for a loop. Its magic that has never been directed against him before. Because Chandu is calling on the same forces Dr. Strange usually summons. Womp womp.

Also sorta implied that Dr. Strange doesn’t have access to those forces right now because he hasn’t chronologically befriended them yet.

And then Namor punches Chandu right in his goatee.

And then gets tackled out of the fortress by the gnome Chandu was summoning. There’s a bit of bad news, best news though. Bad news: the gnome hits like a mack truck’s gamma-irradiated cousin and Namor is hurt pretty bad. Best news: the gnome tackled him into an oasis. Not only does the water reinvigorate Namor, it also happens to be the elemental weakness of the gnomes.

The mohawked gnome starts melting.

Now this is something Namor can get behind. “For as I understand so well, water and land ultimately destroy each other!”

You do you, Namor.

And he do do him. He smacks the oasis so hard that he sends a wave through the mystic chamber where the Defenders are fighting Modred and co AND into the tower where the other Defenders got their asses kicked trying to rescue Richard.

And thus today Namor is MVP.

But something occurs to Namor. The whole Avengers/Defenders War was pointless. For many days, the Defenders fought hard to gain the Evil Eye. But it was Merlin’s spell that yoinked them back in time. And it was the simple cleansing power of punched water that saved them from the gnomes. The Evil Eye hasn’t done jack or shit!

Maybe that can be remedied? Because Prince John picked it up from where Dr. Strange dropped it when Chandu zapped him. And boy Prince John is just going to flip the board, so to speak.

And then Prester John shows up and goes ‘nope’ and force summons the Evil Eye to his hand. And he blasts Modred and Prince John unconscious.

Prester John explains that he sensed that the Evil Eye had been restored so he traveled through time to retrieve it. Because he can do that. Shut up.

And even though he has recovered the Evil Eye before he ever obtained it, he’s going to stay in this era because Prester John doesn’t care for your 20 cent paradoxes. Prester John has important Evil Eye owning to do.

Anyway, not only does he belong in this era, he tells Black Knight that he does as well. What with his valor, skill in swordplay, and love of the life chivalric.

PRESTER JOHN KNOWS ALL.

Black Knight admits that he never felt comfortable in the 20th century and could never get interested in being a full-time Avenger (you never even tried!). He’s going to stay in the past!

Dr. Strange is strangely (hah) comfortable with their whole quest being pointless. And since Black Knight already has a body in the past, Strange is just going to keep the stone body in the present. It looks good in his study.

King Richard doesn’t understand any of this high-concept nonsense but he’s happy to have Black Knight if he wants to stay.

And then Prester John sends them Back to the Future with the Evil Eye. Because that is also something it can do.

Back at Strange’s Sanctum, Hawkeye calmquits the Defenders. He thought about becoming part of the team but its not really what he wants. And he’s off to have solo adventures.

Namor also quits. He has to go spend more time in Atlantis. But he’ll be back if he’s ever truly needed. Likewise for the Silver Surfer, except for the Atlantis thing. And likewise for the Hulk, except for the Atlantis thing or the promising to come back thing.

And off they fly or jump hella high in different directions.

Leaving just Valkyrie and Dr. Strange behind, wondering if they’ll ever see them again.

Considering there’s a ‘next time’ box, I wager there’s a strong possibility.

Anyway, that was the real, true actual conclusion to the Avengers/Defenders War. It kind of falls flat. Its good to get resolution on the Black Knight even if that resolution is ‘nah I’m going to stay in the past and help with the Crusades.’

Because of his love of swordplay and valor and chivalry. He is the worst kind of ‘I was born in the wrong century’ person.

But after being fought over so long, the Evil Eye was ultimately pointless. Well, I guess it sent them home. But it would have been a dick move of Merlin to yoink people from the future without a way to send them back.

I think overall this didn’t need to be part of the Avengers/Defenders War. Its not a satisfying conclusion. All it does is tie up a loose end that the Avengers themselves weren’t interested enough to see followed up on.

Also, if Prince John was defeated here, when will he sign the Magna Carta? You’ve destroyed history, you idiots!

#Defenders #Avengers #Avengers Defenders War #pointless artifact of mass destruction #Dr Strange #Namor #Hulk #Valkyrie #Silver Surfer #some historical figures #Essential Avengers #Essential marvel liveblogging #i guess monsters weak to water are a pretty good idea in the desert

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