#ive gone through so many possibilities n narrowed them down n each time i think i found someone thag workd

[petri808]

This fic was created for the BKDK Unbirthday Party (Twitter) for prompt #G-0181: (Coffeeshop AU where Izuku accidentally sends katsuki (guest) to hospital after messing up the order submitted by Celestial)

Bakudeku one-shot. Coffee house AU

Ugh! Why’d the coffeehouse have to be so busy today of all days? It was as if the customers knew he’d stayed up late the night before and only managed three hours of sleep. Top it off with co-worker Denki calling out, and that left Izuku Midoriya alone with just one other employee who manned the food offerings.

Izuku wipes the sweat off his brow as he finishes one latte and side-eyes the clock in one swoop. Just one more hour to go until the next shift comes in. ‘Yosh! You can do this Izu! Then die at home curled in bed till the morning.’

He faces the next customer in line, screwing on the bright smile he was known for. “What can I get for you sir?”

Ruby eyes glare back at him. “Large mocha with a double shot of espresso.”

“One mocha double!” Izuku rings up the man’s total and quickly whips up the drink. His body was running on muscle memory at this point having made these drinks so many times before. A mocha was simple enough, chocolate, steamed milk, espresso, done. “Here you go sir.”

“Faster then, usual nerd.” The man grabs his drink and walks away to a nearby table.

‘Never fails,’ Izuku remarks as he moves onto the next customer. The blonde man loved making snide remarks, but he’s never said anything about it because he was also a regular. According to the other coffeehouse employees, blondie only came in when Izuku was working. ‘Probably likes picking on guys like me?’ And today was no different. He sat at a table reading a newspaper with his coffee, staying for thirty minutes or so. Then he repeats the processes the next day.

“Here you go ma’am, one cappuccino.”

Just as Izuku is handing off another drink, a sudden commotion stirs up in the dining area. He looks up to see blondie clutching his throat and surrounding customers panicking. “He can’t breathe!” Someone shouts. More words are thrown. Allergy, nuts, emergency! The baristas eyes blow wide open. Izuku screams at his coworker Uraraka to call for an ambulance and rushes over to the fallen man.

“H-Hold on mister!” Izuku does his best to calm the situation despite the white noise gathering in his eardrums. “Help is coming!”

“H-Haz—el... hazel—nut...” blondie gasps out. “Allerg...all—gic...”

Oh, fuck! Did he mix hazelnut instead of chocolate into the coffee?! “Oh my god,” the panic sets in. “Oh my god, I-I didn’t mean to! Please hold on sir!” If his stupid mistake kills this man, he’ll never forgive himself.

“F-Fucking nerd...”

Tears exploded from Izuku’s eyes, but all he could do was apologize over and over again as the man gasped and struggled to breathe. The blondes lips were taking on a bluish-purple color, hives breaking out along his skin, and his eyes rolling back.

“N-No, no stay awake sir! Stay awake!” He continues to shake the man by the shoulders as sirens resonate outside. Everything was a blur, just him and the customer with hushed conversations of concern all around them. “Please don’t die mister!”

Once the medics rush into the room, Izuku steps back to give them space. He knew procedures during an emergency was to clear the restaurant of customers and secure the cash register, but he couldn’t think straight. All he could do was watch helplessly as they load the man onto a gurney and whisk him away. Luckily, Uraraka had already taken control, phoned the manager, and set about following protocols.

After everything is secure, she tells him to go. “I’ll wait for the manager, so you go check on the customer and keep us informed.”

Like a mindless zombie, he manages a nod, clocks out, and sheds his apron.

“Hey, try not to be too hard on yourself. It was an honest mistake.”

“That might have killed a man.” More moisture pools in Izuku’s eyes. “I like him too... why’d it have to be him?”

Uraraka’s eyes soften. “Izu, just get going, okay?”

“O-Okay.”

The cab ride over to the hospital felt like a death march to meet his fate. All the life was sucked away, the scenery a kaleidoscope of muted colors as his mind raced through each moment of that afternoon. It was all his fault. Staying up late, being tired, rushing, rushing, rushing to keep up with the demands of a barista. Multi-tasking was supposed to be his forte, his pride in always getting the orders right and made quickly. But this time he’d screwed up in the worst way possible.

At the emergency room, the intake person waves him off to the side to wait. The doctors were still working to stabilize blondie, so all he could do was sit there and hope the man came out of the allergic shock. It was a nerve wracking wait that Izuku spent fighting against every horrible outcome. Can you go to jail for something like this? If the man dies, is that manslaughter?! Oh, who was he kidding. He deserved to be punished. Minimally his boss should fire him for being reckless. ‘Please don’t die...’

“Sir, you can go in now. He’s in room 14.” Technically, since he wasn’t family or even a friend, the hospital shouldn’t have let him visit. But because they had no other contacts for the man, and Izuku was clearly upset and shaken over the incident, they must have taken pity on him. Blondie was alive and unconscious. The medications were flushing his body of the toxins and countering the allergic reaction, but he would probably have to stay in the hospital overnight for observations.

When Izuku enters the small room, he sees the man tucked tightly under a blanket. His eyes are closed and IV lines trail to a machine that’s monitoring vital signs. The tears pool again at the horrible sight. Beeps from the machine echo in the silent room as constant reminders of the gravity of the situation.

“Mister...” he sits beside the man’s bed and takes a limp hand in his own. “I’m so sorry.” His head hangs down, “please wake up.”

A whole year had gone by since the first-time blondie had started frequenting the coffeehouse. The man always tipped and always made some kind of comment. Rarely any nice ones, but he’d grown used to it and over time, Izuku wasn’t sure when it’d started, but there came a point in time that he waited and looked forward to each visit.

It wasn’t uncommon to have cute customers come in that the baristas ogled over. Dating customers wasn’t forbidden, just frowned upon because they didn’t want drama to arise. So, Izuku kept his growing crush under wraps. Not that he felt he’d had a chance anyway. Mister blondie looked like a power player. Tall, trim, fit nicely in a tailored suit, while he was just a small, geeky guy with messy green hair and a face full of freckles. He didn’t even know if the man was gay. Oh, his co-workers thought he was. They were convinced his routine coffee trips were too conveniently made during Izuku’s shift alone.

All the tears and turmoil took its toll on the exhausted barista. The four hours of sleep catching up with Izuku before he even knows it. Hours pass by as fitful dreams torture him. Flashbacks of the coffeehouse, of happy times with his co-workers. There he is Izu, your knight in shining business suit! He turns around only to find a red-eyed dragon glaring down at him. A loud roar, screams echoing around them. Panic, fear sweeping through as customers and employees scramble away. The dragon roars, loud, reverberating chills to his core. Izuku’s scream catches in his throat as the beast picks him up with a clawed hand. It’s punishment time nerd!

“But I didn’t mean it!” Izuku whimpers, “please forgive me! I’d never want to hurt you!”

“Oi, if you’re gonna be noisy go away nerd.”

Awaken by the voice and a squeeze of his hand, the groggy barista raises his head off the bed. “M-mister?” The dream fades away to be replaced by a hospital room and redeyes narrowed at him. “Mister you’re back!” Moisture fills Izuku’s eyes. “I’m so glad you’re back!”

“Yeah, yeah, didn’t know you were trying to get rid of me so badly.”

“What?! I-I didn’t— it was an accident mister, I swear!”

“Stop calling me mister. I got a name nerd, use it.”

“M-Mister Bakugou. Please forgive me. I didn’t mean for this to happen to you. I-It’s all my fault but you’re one of our best customers and we wouldn’t want to lose you. I’ll resign if it makes you feel better, just please do not punish the cafe.”

“Tch, if you leave, I won’t go back cause you’re the only reason I go there.”

“Huh? But why?”

“I changed my mind, you're not a nerd, you’re an idiot. Nerds are smart and you are completely clueless.” Bakugou groans and closes his eyes. “Or I’m the idiot for liking you. Either way, it was just an allergic reaction so don’t worry too m...” he feels the hand slip from his and quickly opens his eyes expecting to see the man leaving. “Midoriya?” But instead he sees one leg still on the chair and the rest of Izuku’s body collapsed on the ground. “Yup, I’m the idiot.”

Bakugou gets off his bed and despite being a little tired from the treatment, manages to pull the smaller male off the floor, rolling him onto the bed. He then slides back on and pulls him close, so he doesn’t fall off. These hospital beds weren’t built for two people, but he made it work. ‘This little mouse fits perfectly in my arms.’

He didn’t like admitting it, but that’s what attracted him to Izuku in the first place. Seeing Izuku’s bubbly personality at the coffeehouse. Always bright and cheerful despite his grumpy comments. The fact the man was hard working was a plus. And yes, because he was small and adorable.

As the heir and VP to a family corporation, Bakugou had to be tough and serious, but what he saw in Izuku was a chance for the opposite at least in his personal life. Frankly, the man reminded him of his father. His mom was clearly the one in control, but because his father was her balance who kept the woman grounded. Bakugou wanted that too. So far, his search had turned up nothing until the day he walked into the Plus Ultra Coffee & Tea.

“Am dreaming? Like...” Izuku mumbles. “Yes,” he curls his body in to hide his blushing face. “You, too.”

‘Does this guy always mumble in his sleep?’ Bakugou shakes Izuku gently. “Time to wake up mouse. We can’t stay in the emergency room forever.”

Izuku pops up. Emergency room?! His eyes flare wide. “W-Why?! Oh no, did I fall asleep?!” He looks around. ‘Why am I in the bed?!’ “Mister Bakugou! S-Sorry!” He scrambles off, “I’m so sorry!”

“Don’t be, I put you there nerd. Now come on,” Bakugou holds out a hand, “I’ll take you home.”

#bkdk unbirthday event #bakudeku #bakudeku fanfic #bakudeku fan fiction #bkdk #coffeeshop AU #bakugou katsuki #Midoriya izuku #twitter event #food allergy

[writingawaymylife]

Dance Around - Jump Forward Part IV - Finale

A/N: This bloody part has been through five revisions, countless energy drinks, and hours of Metallica editing sessions, but I finally think I’ve gotten it to a quality that it deserves - especially since it’s technically the ending of DAJF. I’m really grateful to everyone that has read this so far, I really appreciate the patience and support - it has literally made me so happy. Seeing the comments and people getting excited for it... Oof, it’s really made me so, so excited to write again. I really hope this is everything you guys hoped for, and maybe even a little more. K, I’ll let you get to it before I get soft and shed tears (gross). Love you all!

Ship: Higgs/Reader

DAJF Masterlist

Warnings: Near death experience (Higgs), swearing, a bit of soft served ice cream at the end.

_______

Everything he had ever built for himself was falling apart. One crumbling piece by crumbling piece, slowly turning to dust until there was nothing left in the ruins but remains of the one thing he had fought so hard for. He didn’t know what to feel. Anger? Resentment? Betrayal? Fear. That one he knew without a shadow of a doubt. 

He hadn’t felt this in a long, long while. Not since his last conversation with…

Higgs looked down into the sand his knees were slowly sinking into. Mind fading out and away from the voices of that fucking bastard Sam and that bitch of a woman Fragile. He felt sick. Too many emotions that didn’t fit underneath the terms “happy”, “proud”, and “accomplished”. Even when he had so much power, even when all the odds pointed his way, he would never accomplish anything in this pathetic life, would he?

He was bound to be the failure. The loser in the Endgame. He was nothing more than a tiny blip in the fabric of time and space. He was nothing. 

His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. Each breath felt like he was sucking in nothing. For the first time in years, he felt his eyes burn. His eyes closed, head bowing even more as he tried to get some semblance of poise. He couldn’t do this, not now. Not with Fragile and Sam a mere few feet away from him. But the reality still crept into his mind and held his heart in a vice grip. 

This was his end. On a Beach, surrounded by dead, stinking fish and at the end of a gun, pointed by none other than Fragile. It wasn’t what he wanted - no, what he wanted was to be by Amelie’s side. Watching the world crumble and burn before the end dragged him down with it. He wanted to end knowing that he had some impact on this world and the next, that he had done something that was right. But, when looking back, he should have realized that it wasn’t in the cards for him. 

What did he really accomplish? What was it that he did that would mean anything in the end? The lives he had taken would have been for nothing. All that effort to weave this pathetic tale with Amelie to use Sam, would be for nothing. Throwing away his entire life for a cause would be for nothing. Pushing away the one person that had ever wanted to be with him for him would be for nothing.

How naive he was. An incompetent, powerless, obtuse man. He should have known. 

He should have seen this coming from a God-damned mile away. 

In the end, it was (Y/N) that seemed to appear the most in his mind. As they had for the past couple weeks. It hurt to think about them, shame and anger accumulating and overflowing in ways that had made him a near ticking time bomb.

What would have happened if he had stayed with (Y/N)? Taken that chance to fix the mess he had made. Even if it terrified him to admit whatever he felt towards them, he had a chance to form a connection that wasn’t based on power and manipulation. They were safe. A serrated knife that was never used against him, even when they were tempted. They were a haven that gave him much-needed respite from the crumbling world outside of that small bunker. 

They had risked everything in knowing and befriending him. If anyone had found out about (Y/N)’s connection to him, they would have been in a world of danger, their life ripped away from them in a blink of an eye, and they wouldn’t have been able to do a single thing about it. Yet they let him stay, let him carve himself a place in their life, and take up residence there. Then as soon as the both of them had begun to really become something, he ran away. Tore open a wound and left it there, untreated and bleeding. He couldn’t stop thinking about the shaky breath they had sucked in, the fear in their body and eyes when he had pressed he had appeared behind them, had threatened them. For most people, he didn’t care. But, in a disgustingly cheesy way that had Higgs’ upper lip lifting in disgust, (Y/N) wasn’t most people. 

Higgs didn’t regret many of his actions in life. What happened, happened and there was nothing anyone could ever do to fix that. But if there was one thing that would weigh on his shoulders as the void took him, it would be how easily he had thrown out his relationship with them. 

It was the sound of a magazine locking into place that brought him back to reality. Death, casting her shadow over him, ready to pounce. This wasn’t how he wanted it to end.

Higgs looked up. Eyes catching Fragile’s who were cold and calculating. She looked so unremorseful, and he could see there was a part of her that took pride in this. In knowing that the last face he’d see would be hers before he was filled with led. The roles had reversed, and now she was the one with the power. 

“So. This is it, isn’t it? The end of the line.” His voice was steely and rough, not a single sway as he kept his vocal cords in control. He pushed through the pain, sitting up straight as his aching muscles protested with pulls and stings. In the end, it wouldn’t matter, his pain would be gone in a few moments. And if there was one thing he knew, it was that he was going down with as much dignity as he could have. 

“I’m proud of you, for comin’ all this way for revenge. It seems that in the end we really did have something’ in common, didn’t we?” The butt of the gun was shoved into his face with just enough force to leave him light-headed and on the ground.  Blood was filling up his mouth yet again, copper taste overriding his senses as he spit onto the sand below him. His chuckle sounded weak, even to his ears, but he forced the shaky, sore smile onto his face. A liquid, thick and warm and most definitely blood, was seeping from his forehead.

“You never know when to shut up, do you?” Her voice, just like her face, was flat. Any spark of emotion he had seen before was gone, there was nothing there. No hatred, no anger. Only cold, hard apathy. 

He slowly got back onto his knees, digging his shoulder into the ground to help push him up, and fighting the grunt of pain that slipped from his lips. “Oh Honey, what else would you expect?”

The gun was turned in her hands. Stock pressed into her shoulder, and the barrel pointed in his face. Her head tilted, eyes narrowing just the slightest as she spoke. “Will those be your last words?”

The question hung in the air for a moment, heavy and terrifying as he realized that this really was the end. ‘There’s no avoiding the inevitable’, as he always said, and, in the end, he knew that the idea would always extend to his death as well.

But he was never one for going with passive compliance. If he was going down, he would make sure he left a stain she would never be able to scrub off.

He sighed, shaky and thick, as he shook his head and looked up at her with narrowed eyes. A smile, sickly sweet and just as poisonous, crept onto his face.

“I hope ‘ya know that my blood will always be on your hands.” 

Fragile seemed shocked, eyes widening slightly as she looked over his face. For the first time in their brief conversation, he saw hesitation. 

He rolled his eyes, trying to feign as much boredom as he could as he looked up towards the sky. 

“Well?” He started, voice casual and disinterested. “Get it on with.”

The seconds ticked by, and, as he lowered his head and looked over at her, he could see the trepidation in her face. Eyes narrowed and jaw working, body shifting just slightly as if she was fighting with herself. 

He wondered, for a brief moment, if she was going to let him live. 

The gun, which had lowered just the slightest, was aimed back at him before he could really give the thought much attention. Whatever it was she had been fighting against, she had stifled. Fragiles finger was on the trigger. His eyes moved back to the cloudy sky. He sucked in his last breath.

“Stop!” 

Time seemed to freeze when the word broke the tense atmosphere. A voice he hadn’t heard in so long, thick with fear, relief, and desperation, had everything within him freezing just like the atmosphere.

No. 

His brain stopped. Heart skipping a beat. The breath left his lungs. He felt frozen, just like the atmosphere. Scared to even look in the direction of the voice. 

That couldn’t be them. They had told him they hadn’t Jumped in years. Hell, they said that they would never jump again! 

There was no possible way this could be happening.

“Oh. Fuck.”

He couldn’t handle it any longer as the words, now dripped with more terror than the first word, forced him to look over his shoulder.

“What the fuck?” His voice sounded ragged and breathy, lungs crying out for air as stopped working, and he caught eyes with the last person he had ever expected to see.

(Y/N)’s eyes made contact with his, and he swears he sees a look of relief and concern wash over their face as they look him over. Shoulders slumping with the slightest release of tension as they gave him this soft, reassuring smile. It took only a few seconds for him to see just how exhausted they were, bags under eyes and thighs shaking with the need to rest

“Higgs.” Their voice was rough and drained, lungs heaving as their hands slipped from their place by their head and they turned to look at him.

“Do not move.” (Y/N) frozen, eyes widening as they moved from his to Fragile’s.

“Don’t shoot!” Their hands were up. Breath coming out in short, barely controlled and quavering every few seconds, and body as stiff as a board as they turned their body so they were facing hers. “I don’t want to hurt you or anyone, that wasn’t why I came here, I have no intention of doing so.” Their eyes moved between Fragile’s and her gun, voice just slightly higher than usual. “Please, there’s… no need for that.”

Any fear he had felt for himself shifted with a sharp and freezing knife in his chest, trailing up his spine and forcing him to fight the reaction to tackle Fragile. He sucked in a breath sharply, brain working a mile a minute as he tried to comprehend what was happening, and desperately trying to calm his breathing and manage the terror at the idea of them getting hurt.

They shouldn’t have been here. Not after their last conversation, not after what he had said, and how he had threatened them. Why would they be here?

His eyes darted in the direction he had heard Sam and Amelie head in, and relief flooded him when he realized that they were too far away to have seen or heard the commotion. He could only catch a glimpse of Sam from behind a whale, though he hadn’t caught on to what was happening. 

He hoped the fuck would stay that way.

“Who are you? Why are you here?” Fragile demanded, taking a small step towards (Y/N) as her finger slowly inching towards the trigger. 

Higgs felt powerless, eyes moving between the two as he tried to find a way to get the gun pointed anywhere else. He grunted as he tried desperately the get out of the rope wrapped around his wrists, a low growl in his throat as they cut into his skin. Fragile glanced over at him, but nonetheless kept the gun aimed at (Y/N).

(Y/N) looked just as scared and shocked as Fragile and he himself was, body shaking with adrenaline and fear as they tried to keep themselves from making any sudden moves. If they so much as took one step that Fragile didn’t like, all three of them knew that there would be a bullet in their skull. 

He was so powerless. 

Binds felt tighter than they ever were in this moment, digging into his wrists as he tried to tear them off or get his hands out of them. This wasn’t what he wanted. He could deal with himself dying, he knew that was going to happen, whether it was for or against his plans. But the mere concept of them getting hurt sent a spike of rage through him that had him nearly seeing red. No. No matter how many bodies he saw or created, the brutal image of them, on the ground, dying, was one that shook him to his core. He didn’t want to see that. Not now, not later, not ever. 

Fuck, why did they have to be so reckless?

“I don’t think it would be the greatest moment to share who I am-” They stopped when Fragile glared, an intimidating step and gun being pointed with more force than before. He hoped he knew Fragile enough to know she wouldn’t hurt them, but in this moment, when she was so ready to go against her set of morals to kill him, he wondered if she would let anything get in her way. “and I swear that the only thing that I want to do is get him out of here. Nothing more, nothing less.” 

Higgs’ eyes widened. Out of anything he expected to come out of their mouth, that was most certainly not that. He didn’t need to be saved. He wasn’t saveable, he was a doomed man who was already reaching the end of his ticking clock. His life wasn’t worth risking theirs for. Not now. Not ever!

“(Y/N),-” The serrated edge in his voice was enough to them to look over at him, but he didn’t have enough time to finish before Fragile cut him off. 

“I can’t let you do that.” Fragile had taken another few steps forward now, eyes narrowed as she tried to gauge them out. He wanted to scream, panic overriding his system as the image of them, dead and bleeding out on the sand kept repeating over and over in his head. 

“Get the hell out of here!” He hissed, tugging hard enough to feel something pull tightly in his shoulder. He let out a groan, deep and low in his throat as he closed his eyes and managed his breath. 

“Did you not just hear me?” Their voice, a pitch higher and faster, ripped him from the throbbing in his shoulder enough to look over at their distressed and angered expression. “I’m not leaving without you. I’m trying to save you, dumbass!” He bowed his head, mumbling a string of expletives and insults as he let out a clipped and sardonic chuckle. Even with the situation, (Y/N) had still found a way to insult him. He could practically feel (Y/N) glare before he looked back up to see it in full effect.

“He isn’t yours to save.” 

They looked back towards Fragile. “But he’s yours to punish?” (Y/N) took a step forward as well, hands lowering slightly as they tried to work with Fragile. “I know he has done some horrific things, and he has hurt far more than he was healed. But that doesn’t give you or I or anyone other than Death the right to take his life away. He still has some hope, he can still be good. I still have hope. I have faith in knowing that he could be so much better than he ever was. Please. Do you really want his blood on your hands? What would that do?” They sucked in a deep breath, voice breaking in fear as they moved closer to him.

“What if you’re wrong?” Fragile’s voice was softer than it had been in the tense past five minutes, though it still held a serrated edge. Her head tilted and turned just enough to look at him. 

“Than I’m an idiot?” They kept their eyes on her. “Then he will be…” Their jaw clenched and they winced. “My responsibility. Whatever that entails. Just… please. Please don’t do this.”

The air felt suffocating. Thick and buzzing with more than just Chiral Matter and death. The beat of his heart, fast and heavy, filling his ears with the blood rushing sound as he kept his eyes on (Y/N).

They needed to get out of here. This was so stupid. 

“Take him. Before I change my mind.”

His eyes widened and he looked over at Fragile, eyes connecting with hers as she let the gun slip from its hold and rest against her hip. Fragile stood there for a moment, staring at (Y/N) who stayed where they were standing, before she walked around him, eyes moving from (Y/N)’s to his, as she leaned down and picked up his Chiral Mask and her bag. The look in her eyes when she stood back to her full height, was one he would never forget.

She turned and walked away, towards Sam and Amelie. 

No. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be real. 

(Y/N) was in front of him in seconds, knees pressing into the sand and thighs brushing against his as they cupped his cheeks. It took everything to take his eyes away from Fragile’s back and turn to look over at (Y/N), afraid that once he did everything would disappear. Their eyes, that beautiful inviting colour that pulled him in and left him breathless. Clear as day and just less than a foot away from his. Their thumb, gentle and with more emotion than he thought possible in the action, brushed gently against his cheekbone. 

His shoulders slouched, and eyes moving across their face as his breathing came out in short, light huffs. He couldn’t stop searching their face, looking for anything, a flaw, and warping, to prove that he had just finally completely, purely, lost it.

“Hey.” Their voice was so delicate at that moment. The briefest of whispers as they looked over his face. 

The warmth from their palms seeped into his skin, and, as the realization truly soaked in that they were here, for the first time in so long, he let himself melt into the touch. A laugh, thick and heavy, left his lips as he looked into their eyes, searching for the answer for their stupid decision. 

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” His voice was rough and thick, wavering slightly as he raised his brows. 

They let out a laugh, one that had his lips perking up into a soft smile as they shook their head. And tears, fresh and confusing him with the happiness they held, spilled from (Y/N)’s eyes.

“Let’s get you home, okay?”

Home. 

He liked the idea of that.

“Okay.”

#higgs x reader #higgs monaghan x reader #higgs monaghan

[alj4890]

Love/Angst Prompt

(Thomas Hunt x oc*Amanda) as requested by many for the twins birth.

(Thomas x Amanda) from the storyline of And Then I Met You

A/N: Here's the end to this three part look. We've had it all with this couple during the pregnancy: joy at discovering they were having twins, sweetness with Kathleen, fear, angst, and now we have the birth.

Masterlist

@lxaah11​​ @alleksa16​​ @penguininapinktuxedo​​ @blackcoffee85​​ @stopforamoment​​   @hopefulmoonobject​​   @krsnlove​​   @annekebbphotography​​    @cora-nova  @hopelessromantic1352​​ . @sunflowergirl05​​ @desiree---1986​​ @greywitchyshots​​ @lilyofchoices​​ @emceesynonymroll​​ @dr-nancy-house​​ @aworldoffandoms​​ @ab1901​​   @lolablackwrites​​   @flyawayboo​​ @i-bloody-love-drake-walker​​ . @trappedinfandoms​​ @kate-mckenzie​​ ​

Catch up Part 1, Part 2

The Unexpected: Part 3

"We'll be fine." Maxwell insisted. "Go and enjoy breakfast with Kat." He placed a hand on Amanda's shoulder. "Unlike Liv, I'll panic and call you immediately if something happens."

Amanda narrowed her eyes at Maxwell. He met her gaze and shrugged. "You can't convince me otherwise when it comes to something like this that is so far out of my comfort zone."

She made a slight frustrated sound and focused on her husband. "You should get going."

"Will you give us a moment, Maxwell?" Thomas asked.

"Sure thing." He smiled at them both and left the room.

"You're not allowed access to your phone." Thomas began.

"What?!" Amanda's jaw dropped when he moved it from her bedside table and plugged it over across the room. "I am not some little girl who--"

"The only reason I am leaving is because I can trust Maxwell." His expression hardened. "After the stunt you pulled with Olivia--"

"I apologized and explained my reasons. Many times this past week." She snapped. "You need to--"

"You have yet to earn my trust back when it comes to your health." He interrupted. "I do not hold it against you, since you were somehow under the delusion that it was better to leave me in the dark." He pressed a kiss to her creased brow. "I am merely removing the temptation away from you trying not to interrupt my having breakfast at the palace with Kathleen."

Amanda grumbled about being treated like a child.

He tilted her face up and coaxed a kiss from her. "I'll be back in a couple of hours." He tenderly caressed her cheek. "Be good for all our sakes."

A laugh escaped her lips. "It's not me. It's our troublemakers."

He smiled and kissed her once more. "Only five more days left until we can scold them properly for this." His humor dimmed. "I know you feel uncomfortable. Is anything else bothering you?"

She shook her head. "That is pretty much it other than the occasional twinge from babies bouncing around on my bladder. And of course being so tired." She squeezed his hand. "Go on. Kathleen was so excited when you said you would be there for breakfast."

Maxwell knocked on the door and poked his head in. "Is it safe to come back?"

Thomas kissed her while whispering his love for her and said goodbye to the two of them.

"See you soon." She promised.

Maxwell took over the chair next to her bed. "So? What kind of trouble should we get into?"

She laughed and shook her head at the thought.

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

"Daddy!" Kathleen ran over to Thomas when he walked into the dining room.

"Good morning." He kissed the top of her head. He greeted the royal family and took a seat beside his daughter.

"How's Amanda this morning?" Riley asked.

"The end is approaching, making her more anxious, but other than that she has been handling everything well." He answered while he helped Kathleen cut her waffle.

"Who's with her?" Liam asked.

"Maxwell." Thomas said with a rueful grimace. "Out of everyone, he’s the only one who won't listen to Amanda when something happens out of his control."

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

An hour later...

"Maxwell?" Amanda struggled up. "I need some help with--"

"I'M CALLING THOMAS!!" He shouted, backing away from her.

"Stop! I need help out of bed." She yelled back. "I have to go to the bathroom."

"Oh." He put his phone back in his pocket. "Here we go." He helped her stand up. "You good?"

"Just a little light headed." She mumbled. "You pull me up much faster than everyone else." She grabbed her IV stand while he unplugged it.

"You want to cruise the hallways or go outside when you're done?" He called out when she shut the door. "I can find us a wheelchair."

"I don't think I'll be able too." She called back.

A few moments later she weakly walked back to her bed. "Max."

"Hmm?" He looked up and noticed how pale she was turning. Her lips were tinged gray "Amanda? What--"

She slumped sideways on the bed. "Call for the nurse. The bleeding...is...so much... worse." Her voice trailed off.

He looked down at the thin streams of blood trailing down her legs and ran out of the room, yelling for a nurse.

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

Thomas chuckled at the story Emerick, Kathleen, and Ellis were telling him when he felt his phone vibrate. He quickly answered it while standing.

"Maxwell? What's--"

"The hemorrhaging became worse." Maxwell interrupted. "Dr. Vasco rushed her into surgery. He said they can't wait any longer."

"I'm on my way." Thomas said. He turned to the anxious group at the table. "The doctor is operating now."

Kathleen lowered her head as her tears built.

Thomas tried to comfort her. "I'm going to go see how she is." He held her tight when she threw her arms around his waist.

"Can I go?" She pleaded. "Please."

Thomas hesistated. If his worst fears came about, he didn't want Kathleen to suffer with waiting and then the news that one, two, or possibly all three were gone.

Liam and Riley stood up. "We'll all go." He called out for Bastien and made travel arrangements. Riley sent out a group text to everyone else.

"Us too?" Emerick asked.

"Yes." Riley decided "You two can help keep Kat company while we wait."

"I need to go." Thomas told them. Kathleen gripped his hand. "We'll see you there."

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

Two hours later...

Being a part of nobility had its benefits. With the press taking note of the sudden activity at the palace and hospital, reporters flocked to the waiting room in the hopes of getting an exclusive. The medical staff destroyed that notion and had a private waiting area that the group was put in.

Thomas paced back and forth before the door. His mind went from one outcome to this nightmare to another. His fear grew with each minute that passed with no news. The thought of hearing he had lost his wife made every moment one of acute agony.

Kathleen was sitting beside. She leaned her head against the duchess's side, wishing she had her mother holding her.

Olivia's face was pale as she wrapped her arm around the little girl. Her own past came back to haunt her with memories of being Kathleen's age when she lost her parents. She thought of the night Liam had found her crying while holding her mother's dress. Knowing that something similar could happen to the little girl next to her made her heart break.

Drake stood against the wall beside them and gently laid a hand on Olivia's shoulder. He knew what was going through her mind, the fears she rarely gave words to. His eyes touched on their two children, Jackson and Juliet, for once sitting quietly. He then observed the darkening frown growing on Thomas's face the longer they were stuck here with no word. He sympathized with him, knowing he would be the same if it were his wife so near to death's door. Drake couldn't stand the thought of seeing his two without their fierce mother.

Liam's jaw spasmed as he tried to hold onto his patience. His own childhood memories with his mother's murder were tormenting him. He didn't know how they would be able to help Thomas, Kathleen, and possibly two newborns heal from what might happen. He knew firsthand that nothing they could do would ever make things right.

Riley reached over and took his hand. She smiled softly at his fingers gripping hers, simultaneously giving and taking the comfort they both needed in this hour of uncertainty.

Maxwell paced on the other side of the room, unable to sit still. He didn't think he would ever get the image out of his head of his best friend fainting and bleeding. Somehow he had a calmness settle over him after it happened and he had gotten a nurse. This waiting though, he couldn't stand it. It reminded him of when his mother died. Maxwell and Bertrand had been shut away in a private waiting room, hoping for hours that a miracle would occur. He rubbed the spot on his chest where the tattoo in memory of her resided and focused on thinking more positive about this situation. Any moment now, they would hear--

Nadia jumped in her spot by the waiting room phone. The shrill ringing cut through the prevailing silence and made everyone freeze. When Thomas seemed to be immobile, she braced herself and lifted the receiver.

"Hello?" Her voice cracked. She lowered her eyes to see the little dimpled hand of her daughter's slipping into her own. Mia looked up at her, trying in her own way to comfort her mother. Xavier came closer too, as if sensing his mom needed support. Maxwell felt his heart tweak at his family leaning on one another during this trial.

"Yes, he's here." She held the receiver out toward Thomas. "It's one of the nurses."

He forced himself forward. He took a deep breath and lifted the phone to his ear.

"This is Amanda's husband." He choked out.

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

An hour later...

"Don't make me laugh." Amanda, pressing a bed pillow to her abdomen,  pleaded to everyone. "I really don't want my stomach to burst open." 

"Again?" Maxwell teased.

She groaned at his joke and cuddled a giggling Kathleen closer. "I would prefer to never relive that moment again."

Joy and tears of relief had flooded the private waiting room when Thomas had been given the news that all three were doing well. Dr. Vasco had been able to operate before circumstances turned critical for Amanda. Their many prayers for the nightmare to end had been answered.

Thomas relinquished Elizabeth to a demanding Olivia and took a fussy Ian from Nadia and Riley. He gently swayed with him in his arms, smiling at the creased brow and slight frown forming around his pacifier. It seemed his son didn’t care for being the center of attention anymore than he did.

Drake leaned down to get a closer look at Elizabeth. "I think she's going to end up looking like Kat."

"I thought the same." Thomas added, smiling at his daughter's new interest in her baby sister. "She'll be a minature version of her."

"I think Ian will take after you." Amanda said, watching with happiness as her husband cuddled the bundle in his arms.

"I think he might." Thomas replied, fighting against too proud of a smile.

Kathleen and the other children went back and forth looking at the babies and then talked Maxwell and Nadia into taking them outside to the courtyard to play.

"How are you feeling?" Liam asked quietly while sitting in a chair near Amanda.

"Sore." She whispered. Her smile dimmed. "I didn't think I would survive when the bleeding began again."

"But you did." He said firmly. "And the twins are perfectly healthy. That's all that matters."

"A miracle." She whispered, smiling at Olivia and Drake arguing over who Ian looked like while Riley stole a chance to hold Elizabeth again. "That's the only way to explain it."

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

That night, Thomas placed the sleeping infants back in their shared bed.

"We have about two hours before the next round of diapers and feeding." Amanda whispered with a sleepy smile.

He sat down beside her on the bed and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Now that they were finally alone, he was able to come to terms with all that had happened.

"Thomas?" She whispered when she noticed how serious he looked.

He cupped her cheek and kissed her in a long, tender fashion. He pressed his forehead against hers and softly breathed the words thank you.

"For what?" She asked.

"For them. For Kathleen. For nearly a decade of putting up with my grumbling and stubborn ways." He ran the back of his fingers down her cheek. "For working so hard to bring my children into the world." He swallowed at the emotion building. "For loving me and staying alive for my sake."

She pressed another kiss to his lips, brushing her fingers across his stubbled jaw. "I could thank you for the same things." Her teasing smile formed against his lips. "Except for the grumbling."

He smiled softly. "I love you with all my heart, Amanda. All that I am is and has been yours from the moment we met."

She tugged him closer to her. "I love you just as much and have since you took my hand to reassure me when we first met."

He glanced over at one of the twins moving and letting out little cries. He got up and checked on which one was upset. He softly shushed his daughter while lifting her in his arms.

Thomas thought back to the time before meeting Amanda. He had been so satisfied in a life where all his passions had been poured out into his film projects. He didn't think he was the kind of man to marry and have a family. He thought he had all he needed to have a productive, fulfilled life.

He felt a great deal of sympathy for his misguided former self. This was what now fueled his existence. This was what had allowed him to experience true happiness. His wife had opened his eyes more than once to what life had to offer. He stood there, gazing upon the two new pieces of his heart, and knew how blessed he truly was.

How could he not when he had been given everything?

#thomas hunt #thomas hunt x amanda #rcd thomas hunt #choices thomas hunt #thomas hunt x oc

[megalony]

The affair- Part 2

The next part to my new Roger Taylor imagine, thank you to everyone for the lovely feedback I’m so glad you all enjoyed the first part.

Permanent taglist: @marshmallowmae @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @luvborhap @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly

Series taglist: @killerqueenbucky @bohemiansweede @borhapqueen92

Series masterlist

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tears of acid poured down Roger's features as he latched one hand onto his hair, the other hand clenching and tightening into a fist that made his knuckles almost break through the skin and pop out of place. His left arm being strapped in a sling due to the bullet wound that had ripped through the muscles of his shoulder and reached the bone. Lucky enough not to shatter the bone upon impact, leaving it rather intact which was more than could be said for (Y/n).

The drummer had passed out from blood loss but the moment he awoke in the hospital he was not best pleased to find the band standing beside him as opposed to having (Y/n) there to tell him it was all some sort of bad dream. He regained consciousness to find himself not backstage at the concert but in a hospital bed with a bruised and bandaged shoulder, the bullet now removed from his person. Roger awoke to find that (Y/n) was in surgery because he couldn't protect her. No one had come forward to tell him this was all in his head and he was suffering some kind of nightmare or that his subconscious was playing a hateful trick on him.

Freddie and Brian had to try and pin their friend to the bed he laid in to stop him from ripping out the IV drip in his hand and the monitors clipped to his finger and stuck to his chest. As soon as Roger had been informed that (Y/n) was in surgery he had tried to get out of bed despite the lack of energy his body felt. He wanted to wait as close to her as he could, he wanted to be standing or sitting outside of the operating room so he could be informed of her situation the moment something happened. Roger didn't want to be stuck in here when she was in peril.

The only relief Roger felt was that since all of the band was in the room with him, they had informed him that as soon as any news of (Y/n) came about they would all be informed straight away. Roger wouldn't have to wait to find out what was wrong because the nurse would come straight here to talk to them all.

Due to Roger's injury and his bloodloss he had been put on morphine to take the strain and the agony away from him but that, in turn, made him drowsy to the point he seemed hammered. When he noticed the security guards waiting outside the room the drummer threw a fit. All the time at the concert when Roger had noticed something was wrong they hadn't done anything. When Roger got shot they never came over to try and help and when Roger sat on the ground with (Y/n) laid limp in his arms no one had come to help him. The drummer had screamed for them to help, to protect them since they were injured and nothing happened.

Roger had feared for the two lives he cradled in his arms before he passed out and not one single person had gone to help him until sometime after he had passed out.

The very fact that the security guards were there now, taunting him and protecting him when there was no need made the drummer's blood boil over. Why were they protecting him now? There was no need anymore, Roger had already been shot and so had (Y/n), the damage was done. The only thing they could do now was to upset the drummer because he now rendered them useless.

The whole band had been followed by security guards the moment the gunshots had fired. They had been escorted to the hospital to be with their drummer and (Y/n) and each of them had security around them to ensure their safety after they had failed to keep two people safe already. The shooter had been detained but that didn't mean someone else wouldn't try and make an attempt on one of their lives. Yet at this point Roger welcomed another shooter to come and finish him off. He didn't want to be sat waiting like this because the news he was going to receive about (Y/n) could hardly be anything good and so Roger didn't know if he really wanted it or not.

When a nurse had entered the room to check on Roger, he had taken her wrist to tug her closer. Whispering something to her that none of the band could make out, only seeing from Roger's expression that his words were said with a sense of urgency. Roger was the only one who knew about the pregnancy, he didn't know if (Y/n) did a home test or went to the doctor so he didn't know if it would be on her records or not. If it wasn't the doctor would get a shock and a half.

"Rog, you need to take it easy-"

"Piss off." Roger bit back before Brian could even finish what he was saying, making the guitarist shake his head and his eyes roll. Roger should try and stay lying down, try and sleep or just calm down but he was shifting around like a restless animal. He was moving his arm far too much for just having stitches put in and a bullet removed, Roger was surely going to rip the skin apart from the way he was shifting. He pushed himself so he was sitting up, not having the energy to move off the bed like he wanted so he settled for sitting up. "H-how long has she been under?"

The drummer just realised that he had no sense of time. He didn't know how long it had taken for the ambulance to arrive at the concert, he didn't know how long it took for the ambulance to get back to the nearest hospital. Roger had no idea how long it had taken for them to take out the bullet in his shoulder and stitch up his muscle and skin. He didn't know how long he had been under the anaesthetic himself for them to do that before he awoke. For all Roger knew it could have been hours since he had gotten shot meaning that (Y/n) should soon be out of surgery or they should be told something about her condition soon.

"About two hours or so." Brian commented, glancing to his watch before back to Roger who nodded before he started groggily mumbling things under his breath. That was good. They hadn't been told that she had passed away in that time, they hadn't been told of any complications during then. Two hours wasn't too long meaning there was something wrong, it was just right and if Roger's mind wasn't too groggy then they should know something sooner or later.

"Darling, what's wrong?" Freddie questioned when he noticed the sudden shift in Roger's expression. His body stooped over as he didn't have the energy to move. Roger could lose (Y/n), he could lose the baby, he could lose both of them and be broken. But he knew for sure he could not have both of them. She was only four months pregnant, the baby only just had a heartbeat, there was no way they could survive this or survive out of the womb. Roger wasn't even sure if (Y/n) would get through this.

Freddie felt his heart rocketing in his chest when Roger held out his right hand for the drummer to see. He hadn't been awake for too long, Roger had only just started to come around meaning he had only just noticed that the nurse had done a horrible job of trying to clean the blood from his hand. The blood that belonged to the person Roger loved more than anything. The person that Roger was so afraid that he was going to lose. Her blood was stuck underneath his fingernails and still tainting the palm of his hand. The dark molecules were sitting right in the creases and lines of Roger's hand, not shifting when the drummer clenched his hand in an attempt to make them disappear.

"I tried..." No matter how many times Roger told himself that he had tried to protect (Y/n) and their child, he would always come back to the knowledge that his efforts were in vain.

Trying hadn't done anything. Roger had tried to stop (Y/n) from getting hurt but that only resulted in his worst nightmare anyway. Roger took a bullet and tried to hide (Y/n) behind him but she got shot anyway. Nothing Roger had done had helped. He should have turned around, he should have tried to rush (Y/n) back into the dressing room or down the corridor they came from because they would have been out of the firing line that way. What he had done had left her in surgery and ultimately ruined everything.

"I need her to be okay." Roger mumbled the words to himself, but the other bandmates still heard him anyway.

John's head rose from where it was resting in his hands, his eyes narrowing on the drummer. Anyone would think that (Y/n) was Roger's sister and not John's with the way the drummer was begging for her to be okay. John had known her all her life, she was his sister and one of his closest friends, why was Roger acting like this? Roger was friends with (Y/n) but he wasn't related to her. He hadn't had to call her fiance and tell him she had been shot and to come down to the hospital as soon as possible. A fiance who hadn't turned up yet.

"She's my bloody sister." John didn't mean to snap. Roger had done his best to save his sister, Roger had hidden (Y/n) behind him and took a bullet that could easily have hit her. He had tried to stop her from getting hurt when no one else was around to help them. Roger had cradled her before he passed out so naturally he would be afraid for her safety and want to know if she was alright. Roger wanted to know that he had done the right thing but he couldn't believe that he had because (Y/n) had gotten badly injured when he had tried to stop her getting injured at all.

The drummer tilted his head back like he'd been punched before he looked to the bass player who had no idea what went on right under his nose.

"Your sister... your sweet sister who tells you fuck all Deaky. You're so out of the loop you don't even know where it is." Roger slurred the words like he was drunk trying to tell the boys a story. His head was spinning, all he wanted to do was sleep it off like a hangover but he couldn't because he needed to know that (Y/n) would be okay. John and (Y/n) had indeed been more distant lately than before. They weren't as close as they normally were and this meant that (Y/n) had not told him she was having an affair with the drummer out of his band. She hadn't told him she was pregnant with Roger's child instead of the man who she was engaged to.

"Meaning?"

All caution was thrown to the wind when Roger knew it should be kept close to his chest. Roger had been cautious for months because this secret was going to rip the world apart but Roger couldn't help it. The morphine was adding to his anger and making him feel ten times worse yet ten times higher than the usual buzz he got of adrenaline. Roger had no filter, he wanted to tell John what had been going on and he didn't care about the consequences about what he was going to say next.

A groan escaped Roger's lips as he reached into his pocket, digging around before pulling out the silver band (Y/n) had given him earlier.

"Look familiar?" Surely John would recognise this, (Y/n) had shown him the ring when she accepted the engagement not long before she and Roger started their affair. That was when (Y/n) had been happy with her boyfriend. Before she realised that things between them were not like they should be, that they weren't like they were when she was with Roger.

Roger gave her a new lease of life that made her feel on top of the world as opposed to feeling just below it when she was with her boyfriend. Calling off the engagement didn't seem right because it was the first thing that had happened that really made her parents proud of her. She thought it was the right thing to do and after all, why throw that future away when the one with Roger hadn't been certain up until today?

Up until the moment where he told her earlier that he did, in fact, want to be with her and since they were expecting a child together it was naturally the right thing for them both to do since they clearly loved one another.

The drummer dropped the ring into the palm of John's hand, watching his friend examine the ring before looking to Roger in utter confusion. If (Y/n) had called off her engagement then why hadn't she told him? Why had she not even told him that things were rocky between them? Furthermore, why had she given the ring to Roger of all people? She could have given it to her boyfriend to tell him that they were over or throw it away or give it back to the shop it was bought from. What was the purpose behind handing the ring to the drummer?

"Your dear sister took that off because she isn't happy with that bastard anymore. Your dear little sister has been fucking me for the last six months and she's pregnant with my bloody child Deaky!"

Brian and Freddie found themselves staring at one another, unsure what they were meant to do or what they were meant to say. Roger had been having an affair with John's little sister. Roger had gotten her pregnant and Roger had tried to save her tonight because he loved her. Now Roger was being faced with the knowledge that he could lose his child and quite possibly the woman he had fallen head over heels for. All because someone decided to get a little gun-happy and start shooting at them.

Freddie was quick to grab onto John's arms to stop him from throwing a punch to either their drummer or to the bed frame he was laying on. Roger was high on painkillers, he was still clearly in some kind of pain and was in emotional turmoil. It wasn't right to start a fight with him now when he was in this state.

"My sister! My sister could die and you got her pregnant and ruined everything for her!" John practically screamed, needing Freddie to let go of him so he could either deck Roger or pummel his fist into the nearest wall. John didn't want to believe this, he didn't want to believe that one of his best friends had been seeing his sister for half a year and had subsequently broken her relationship because of it. He didn't want to think that if she really was pregnant then it was Roger's because that made things all the more complicated. John especially didn't want to think she was pregnant because she was in surgery after being shot, that wouldn't do her state anything at all.

"That's enough-" Freddie tried to interrupt. They didn't need this conversation now because they didn't know what the situation was with (Y/n).

The bullet may not have been as deep as they thought, the bloodloss might not have been as significant as Roger's since he required a blood transfusion whilst he was under anaesthetic. Maybe, just maybe, the baby would be alright, after all the bullet was in (Y/n)'s lower ribcage and stomach, it wasn't near her intestines or her womb. If not then there was still a big chance that (Y/n) would be alright and would recover from this, there was nothing to say that she wouldn't. Yet.

"She wanted to be with me I never forced her. That's my baby John! My baby, that is a life that I created which is going to be destroyed now because someone fucking shot at her. That lunatic ruined everything for both of us, not me!"

John couldn't say that Roger had been the one to ruin things for (Y/n) because that was entirely unfair. Roger had not forced (Y/n) to have a relationship with him, she had walked into that all on her own. Nor could John say that the baby ruined things either or that it was Roger's fault because even if he didn't want to believe it, that was Roger's child and Roger wanted that baby more than anything. He wanted to be with (Y/n) and he wanted their baby but someone had decided that he didn't deserve that life. They had decided to take that future away from him and try and take (Y/n) and their child's life away because he had a gun and he wanted to use it.

Roger hadn't ruined anything or done anything wrong.

"Mr Taylor? We have news on miss (Y/n) Deacon."

#roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger x reader #imagine #queen band #Brian May #freddie mercury #john deacon #the affair

[iamkatehardy]

Shots (Handsome Bob x Reader) - Pt 2

Tags: @tiredoffeelinglost , @eap1935 , @ellar21 , @but--dear-this-is-not-wonderland , @titty-teetee , @sparklyreaderx , @iv-nyc

Warnings: Use of alcohol; Use of drugs; Smut, kinky smut

A/N: I don’t know how I feel about this, but I promised a smutty Pt 2, so here it is 😁😏 Hope you enjoy it, babes!

Shots - Pt2

You had both drank too much, disinhibiting yourselves and getting to know each other’s bodies better as you danced. The beat, the music, the lights, the laughs…Suddenly everything about the surrounding environment made you feel more alive than you ever did before. The higher you got, the more energy coursed through your entire body, and whenever Bob touched you, you felt even more revitalized.

Shot after shot, the time seemed to be passing faster than normal, and he was flirty and sweaty, but seemed to need a break.

“You don’t get tired, do you?” – The music was loud, so he leaned down to whisper in your ear, his lips brushing softly in your ear in the process, making you tingle all over.

“We just got started!” – Pouting, you slid your hands under his jacket, first up his shoulder and then down off his arms, removing it. – “But you look like you need a break… And a drink!” – You wiped the sweat of his face with your uniform’s sleeve, before returning to the group.

“Bob, head honcho of handsomeness! – One Two slapped Bob’s shoulder, before wrapping one arm around it.

“I’ll take the compliment! You know you make me go weak at the knees when you turn on the charm full blast like that…” – Bob teased him. – “But let’s cut to the chase, you’re not trying to get some of this handsomeness, so what do you want from me?”

“You’re a straight shooter, gotta love that! You see that bombshell blonde, 8 o’clock?”

“I don’t even know where my 8 o’clock is right now!” – Confuse, because of the booze, Bob spun around, trying to figure out where the hell 8 o’clock was.

“Wrong side, mate…” – Laughing loudly, you spun him to the other side.

“Oh, yes, I see now.” – He  nodded in acknowledgement.- “ Let me guess! You tried, you fail, and now you want me to try.”

“Listen, you just need to get me her phone number!”

“No, you need to get her phone number! I’m not letting you use me again, unless you want to literally use me, that is.” – Bob roared in One Two’s face.

“It’s right, gentlemen, I’ve got it.” – You stated calmly

“What?! No, You’re drunk, and I’m pretty sure was checking men out, just a moment ago.”

“Wanna bet?!” – An expression of defiance crossed your face. – “My hunch is: you’re afraid I’ll do it, when you couldn’t… Guess what? I fuckin’ will!  Now watch and learn, my darlings.” – You smirked, before waking to the blonde standing near the bar.

Feeling confident, you approached her; leaning on the bar near her, you mumbled something in her ear, before her eyes roamed you from head to toe, with a flirtatious smile. She started playing with her hair, maintaining a sexy eye contact, as your hand slid down her back, until it was resting on her waist, bringing her closer before you whispered in her ear again. You bit your lip and she smiled, writing something on a napkin, along with a lipstick mark. With a victorious smile, you returned to your friends.

“I told you…” – Waving the napkin in front of One Two’s nose, an insufferable smirk played on your lips.

“Uniforms never fail! I’ll drink to that.” – Bob raised his glass before he gulped down the shot.

“You and the damn uniforms Bob… Anyway, I thought she was straight, man.” – One Two yanked the napkin out of your hands.

“She is… But then again, so is spaghetti, until it gets hot and wet.” – You devilishly smirked once again.

“Are you into girls?!” – Bob shot you a surprised look.

“The world is full of unlimited possibilities… That’s all I’m saying.” – Lifting your eyebrows, you took another shot.

“Excellent point!” – Bob smirked, as he narrowed his eyes.

“God, you’re just alike… Two little insatiable minxes!  But as a sign of my appreciation for your god results, I have a gift for you. Courtesy of our friend Cookie!” – One Two opened his palm, and you saw a handful of pills.

“Molly?” – You thoroughly studied them and he nodded. – “Fuck it. Tonight I am not turning down the gift.”- You took a pill, followed by another drink. – “Now, you won’t let me get high by myself, will you Handsome?” – Folding your arms, you sexily pouted at him.

“Absolutely not! What do you take me for?” – He mockingly sneered as he looked you up and down, before he popped a pill himself.

Another shot. You immediately felt the warmth blossom through you, leaving a pleasant heat in your stomach and cheeks; your heart fluttering, combined an intense need to touch and be touched. In no time, both of you felt more uninhibited, spontaneous, lively, and with a great willingness of dancing the night away together.

He took your hand, leading you to the dance floor again and dragging your body tighter to his; hand slid down from your waist, to firmly grasp your buttocks.

“Bob!” – You squealed in surprise, before punching his chest playfully, and a goofy grin spreads on his face. His body grinded against yours rhythmically, and your body moved in harmony with his, heating up with his every touch; for a moment you could’ve sworn his eyes were focused on your mouth, just as yours were on his.

Time seemed to pass quickly, one hour felt like a minute when you were hanging out with him; lighthearted, reckless, devil-may-care attitude, living urgently as if your next breath could be your last. When you finally came to your senses, looking for the rest of your friends, they were all gone.

“Where the hell did they go?” – Looking around the dimly lit room, you didn’t see any other familiar face.

“Home, probably.” – He checked the time on his watch, showing you as well.

“Well, that's my cue to skedaddle! It’s almost closing time anyways…”

“And how exactly are you planning to do that?”

“Driving?  I still have energy to burn, but not enough to get across town… As much as I’d like to, it’s not unlimited.” – A little laugh escaped your lips, followed by a shrug.

“What?! No. Are you crazy?!  We went off the deep end tonight, I’m not letting you drive, don’t even think about it.” – He tightened his hold on you, trying to stop you, while his free hand searched in your every pocket, looking for your car keys. He finally pulled the out of your reach.

“What are you doing?! Give me that back, now.” – Huffing in annoyance, you desperately tried to reach for the keys, that he kept triumphantly dangling in front of your face, but you couldn’t catch them. His grin was wider than ever, and he seemed somehow amused by the whole situation.

“You can crash at my house (Y/N), it’s just down the street from here. It’s not the Ritz, or Claridge’s…” – He stated with a solemn face that ultimately broke into another smile. – “Buuuuut it has Handsome Bob here, and that fact itself makes it a five star accommodation, right?” – He threw his arm around you, biting your cheek playfully.

“Yeah, right, Mr. Pain in the ass!” – You glared at him.

“Come, let’s go, soldier. Our mission here has been accomplished.”

“Idiot.” – Muttering under your breath, you slapped his arm playfully before you burst out laughing.

The walk home was not as quick as he had told you, but the high and his company made it slightly more bearable than you thought it would be.

When you got home, you threw yourself on his sofa, looking at your surroundings; the house wasn’t big, but it was pretty cozy, and surprisingly tidy, for what you’d expect from a hot mess like Bob. Your contemplation came to an end when Bob laid on the sofa, with his head on your lap.

“Should I show you our suite , milady?”

Our suite didn’t sound bad, considering that a) he was gay, and b) you wouldn’t mind sleeping with him at all, regardless of his sexual orientation.

“Sure.” – Tilting your head, you brushed your fingers across his temple, with a smile of approval.

You ended up staying like that a little while longer, and then they headed off to the bedroom.

“Is it to your liking?” – He questioned as he slowly took his shirt off.

The sight was indeed to your liking, but you quickly snapped out of it, realizing he was probably talking about the bedroom.

“Right now, any bed would be to my liking…” – You took your pants off, putting them on a chair in the corner. – “But thank you for your hospitality, your bed seems really comfy.” – Giggling, you nodded, with your hands on your hips, taking another look at the bed.

As he was taking off what was left of his clothes, he stared at you from the corner of his eye, watching you unbutton what was left of yours.

“You know…” - Before he could finish the sentence, you turned to face him and he approached you, inhaling deeply.

“Yes?”

“I still have some energy left… Maybe we could play a little bit before going to sleep.”

“What do you have in mind? There aren’t many games for two, but we’ll find something. But you ought to know, I can get very competitive while pla…”

“Play…” – He whispered in your ear, after tucking your hair behind it. His hand encircled your waist, pulling you closer.

“That pill messed with your head, you’re just high, Bob.” – Biting your lips, you hands ran over his chiseled chest.

“High doesn’t mean delusional. The world is full of unlimited possibilities, isn’t it?” – Smirking, his lips trailed down your neck, as his hand slid inside the edge of your panties. He heard your breath quickening, warm on his neck. – “So, do you want to play or not?” – He faced you, forehead resting on yours and his lips so close you could feel their warmth on yours. – “Hmm?” – You squirmed as his thumb stroked your clit in a slow circular motion.

Your mouth fell agape, a low moan escaping your lips, as you nodded in response to his question. You could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with his touch, aching for more; he could feel it too, and he complied, sliding two of his wet fingers up and down your slit.

“Oh..” – You gasped, closing your eyes, and he reached for your lips, kissing you almost animally.

He picked you up, laying you on the bed, with a devilish smirk, before he savagely kissed you again. One of his hands grabbed a fistful of your hair, while the other got a rid of your panties, before he spread your legs and his fingers insatiably penetrated you once again. Your breath was quick and heavy against his lips, and waves of pleasure shot through you as he rubbed you and pumped his fingers inside you. You could feel yourself contract, sucking him deeper, a loud moan escaping your lips as you clutched the bedsheets with both hands, growing wetter until finally came. Exhaling slowly and loudly, you opened your eyes, letting go of the sheets; he was licking the tip of his fingers, tasting you before he came to kiss you once more.

“Fuck me…” – You laid your head to a side, panting.

“No, fuck me…” – Lying atop of you, he pressed his hardness against you. – “I want you to fuck me… With that uniform of yours… I want to feel you inside me.” – His breath was hot on the nape of your neck, and he started a trail of hungry passionate kisses that ultimately stopped on your lips.

You shot him a surprised look and a giddy laugh escapes his full lips. He got up, going through the drawers in his bedside table; in the bottom drawer, he found what he was looking for: a strap-on dildo, and a half-empty bottle of lube. You open your mouth to say something, multiple times, but you ended up saying nothing at all.

“I’ll help you putting it on! Now, the uniform…” – He threw you the jacket of your uniform, before coming back to bed.

“Wait, are you serious? I’ve never…”

“It will be fun…” – He bit your earlobe. – “I think you might even like it…”

He placed himself on all-fours on the bed; you rubbed the strap-on dildo, starting by its thick shaft, smearing lube all over it. Bob could feel the tip of the dildo against his ass; your hand gently guided the tip inside him with. He groaned loudly, and you could feel his body quivering under yours, as you slowly slid deeper inside him. Asking for more, he grabbed the sheet, biting the pillow softly to control his moans. With a wicked smile, you grabbed his buttocks, squeezing them tight and thrusting deeper into him. A feeling very close to ecstasy bloomed within him when you reached and stroked his prostate, his boner throbbing in sync with his quickened heartbeat.

“Turn around…” – You smacked a flattened palm on his butt.

“What?” – He turned his head to face you; he was sweating and breathing heavily.

“You heard me, babe.” – You stopped the thrusts, and your hands slid slowly up his back.

He nodded and laid back on the bed, you gave him a provocative smirk; grabbing the collars of your uniform, he pulled you for a deep passionate kiss. Your hands slid down to his slippery hard cock, and you started rubbing in a slowly, steady rhythm. Another moan escaped his lips, and you bit his lower lip playfully as you slid the dildo inside him again.

You kept hitting the right spot, and your hand went down to cup his balls, stroking them gently before you wrapped your hand around his shaft again. His loud moans filled the room, his voice growing raspy, and his muscles clenched as he tried to hold orgasm.

“I’m gonna come.” – He growled lowly, at the edge of climax.

You stopped thrusting and focused on stroking his cock harder, slightly faster; a few moments later, placing your thumb against his tip, you rub it slowly. You wanted to taste him as you made him cum, savor him; you tongue ran in tormenting slow motions his testicles, before it moved along his whole length. He could feel the provocative effect of your eyes glued on his. With a loud moan he placed the tip of his impatient cock on your lips, and you allowed him to thrust inside your mouth; within seconds you could taste his thick load across your tongue and swallowed it. He didn’t thought you would, but it was an incredibly pleasant sight, more than he expected.

“Nice shot...”

Before you knew it, he started taking what was left of your uniform off, and removing the strap-on, throwing everything on the floor. Grasping one of your breasts, his lips explored every bit of your skin.

“I thought female bodies didn’t interest you…” – You teased him, closing your eyes as his full lips slid across your neck.

“Shut up.” – Planting a desperate kiss across your lips, he placed your legs around his waist, the tip of his cock rubbing teasingly on your clit.

“Bob…” – You moaned lowly in his ear, heightening his desire to insane levels. His hardness, his smell, his touch, his kiss… Every little thing about him was driving you insane. – “I want you.”

He traced your wet folds with the tip of his cock; you could feel your insides lubricating more with each touch. You were hot, more than ready, and dripping wet, making it easier for him to slide his rock hard cock inside you. Your cheeks flushed pink, and you bit your lower lip, your whole body clenching in arousal. The rhythm of his thrusts increased, and his thumb rubbed your clit simultaneously, as fiery pleasure washed over your whole body. You dug your nails into his back, crying out in pleasure as he throbbed vigorously inside you; he was delighted to please you in such ways.

The blood rushed through your veins, your body arched against him and your toes curled, as pleasure engulfed your entire body. Bob’s husky moans filled your ears, at the same time he slammed his body against yours.

“Yes! Yes, baby! Don’t stop!” – You breathed in short gasps, and couldn’t help but letting out high-pitch moans.

Thrusting inside you as he pleased, his throbbing cock deliciously filled you, stroking the deepest places inside you, a slick wet abyss of pleasure he didn’t know he would love so much. Your walls squeezed around him tightly and you whimpered, as pure bliss took over your whole body.

He could see in your face that you were close, so he took his sweet time to make you come. You both climaxed and he collapsed on top of you, gasping for air, before he planted a slow gentle kiss on your lips. He kept inside you for some more minutes, feeling your heat, while taking the messy hair off your face; after exhaling loudly, you giggled.

“Wow.” – Lifting your eyebrows, you placed your hands his neck, bringing him closer and kissing him fervently.

Lying by your side, he growled happily, bringing you closer; nestling your head against his chest, you closed your eyes. His hand shyly reached for yours; when he felt you squeezed his in response, he smiled and kissed the top of your head, letting his lips rest there for the rest of the night

#rocknrolla #rocknrolla fanfic #rocknrolla fanfiction #rocknrolla imagine #rocknrolla one shot #rocknrolla tom hardy #rocknrolla handsome bob #handsome bob #handsome bob x reader #handsome bob x you #handsome bob x oc #handsome bob imagine #handsome bob fanfiction #handsome bob one shot #handsome bob fanart #handsome bob tom hardy #tom hardy characters #tom hardy fanfiction

[angel-gidget]

Stars Unearth Your Fires (ch4/?)

Title:  Stars Unearth Your Fires (Ch 4/?)

Fandom: DCU, Teen Titans, Red Robin (preboot)

    Rating:  PG  | Words: 2800  | a03 link 

    Summary: Tim Drake never thought of himself as a troublemaker as far as Robins go. But a passing accusation quickly escalates into a case of stolen memories, technologically backwards clues from his past self, interdimensional hijinks, reflections on the good old days, and possibly the rekindling of a foregone romance. Eventually Tim/??? Mystery ship!

Ch 4: Tim has to look up an old friend or two before he can dig up his (hopefully existent) clue.

A/N: Hey guys! Sorry for the lateness of this chapter. It’s ended up becoming my longest one yet. Thank you so much for the amazing reviews! While there is sadly no Core Four in this chapter (Bart tried to elbow his way in, he really did), they will make more appearances soon. It’s time for Tim to reconnect with a few non-caped companions. My lovely beta Kiragecko took a much-deserved break this week, so all mistakes are 100% me. Sorry if I missed anything!

He and Ives were still friends. He was pretty sure. Mostly. At least, the guy hadn’t taken it too personally the last time Tim had visited out of the blue without speaking to him for over a year.

If anything, Ives had been shocked that Tim wanted to hang with him when he was in the middle of cancer treatment, as so many other friends had flaked out when things got too intense. Tim had just been grateful to have warning, for once, that one of his friends might die. He wasn’t usually so lucky, though he didn’t know how to tell Ives that without telling him way too much.

Two rings. Three. And then—

“Does my caller ID deceive me, or is this richest and dorkiest of my foul weather friends?”

“Don’t you mean fair-weather friends, Ives?”

“No, no, I don’t. You should brush up on your Shakespeare. And cheap surfer-stoner productions in the park don’t count, by the way,”

There were voices in the background, and music too. If anything, Tim would have sworn Ives was in the middle of a… club?

Ives continued, “I do mean foul-weather. That’s what you call people who stick with you when life is sucking but unexpectedly ditch you when it’s time to party. Case in point: I’m throwing a party and you’re not here. Because you never pick up your damn phone, you ass.”

Oh. OH! “Congratulations on your remission, man.”

He could hear the smile through the phone. It wasn’t the same as being totally forgiven, but Ives wasn’t the sort of person who could be happy and hold a grudge at the same time.

“Thanks. It’s my one-month anniversary of the big NED. Looks like for the time being, I’ve rolled a twenty on breathing. It’s worth celebrating.”

Smooth opening. Here we go.

“Feel like doing a more personal celebration too? Maybe something nostalgic? Like digging up our time capsule from the 8th grade? I’ll buy the pizza.”

“Oh, man. Yes. You better, Prince Midas. Hold up.”

He was distracted, clearly talking to somebody else at the party. Tim took a moment. It was just as well that he’d caught Ives when he was distracted. The guy didn’t do parties much. Introvert that he was, they took a lot out of him, including his tendency to say no to things. Even before he’d been sick. Tim didn’t have many childhood friends, but they were bookish gamer geeks, the lot of them.

Ives voice came back on the line.

“I got a friend who wants to come with. The dude’s curious about everything, a real Nancy Drew. Wants to know about my nerdy little 8th grade self. I told him the biggest difference was that I was little and in the 8th grade, but he’s bored and I promised to include him in more stuff.”

“That’s cool. Saturday, noon?”

“That’s high noon to you, buckaroo. And yes.”

——-

He’d outgrown his best nerd shirts.

Tim didn’t even know when it had happened. It wasn’t that they didn’t fit him through the arms and chest—he was wiry enough that they did—but he’d gotten so long in the torso, that the edges of his shirts rose up obnoxiously from the waist of his jeans, constantly baring strips of skin.

When this had happened to Cassie, she’d embraced it and pulled off the sexy belly-shirt like a pro. Tim… couldn’t do that. Or rather, he couldn’t do that without pulling out a persona.

Ives had an meet-up with Tim Drake, not Mr. Sarcastic. So belly nerd shirts were a no-go.

He’d yanked out what appeared to be his least-expensive hoodie and Alfred-purchased designer jeans, and hoped for the best. This was supposed to be about nostalgia for Ives, though Tim had mixed hopes.

What would be worse? Finding nothing but exactly what they had buried years ago, and pretending to laugh with his friend while secretly pulling out his hair over a dead end of evidence? Or finding the evidence he needed in its place, but then having to somehow cover for the oddness of whatever they found by lying to Ives again?

It had been a while since he’d had to lie to someone he loved, and Tim wanted to keep it that way. (And lies of omission didn’t count. Especially to Bruce. And to Dick. And to whomever else he’d been lying to by means of omission lately.)

“Best not to overthink it,” Tim muttered to himself. He had been ten minutes early to the discolored tree that had been the site of his and Ives’ 8th grade paint-ball fight. Also, the site of their only paintball fight, because apparently nobody had told Ives that there tended to be bruises from such a thing.

If Ives was anything like his old self, he’d be five minutes early, and… yup.

Tim smiled and waved as Ives’ old Chevy pulled into the park’s lot. He was about to say hello, when a second person slid out from the car, following after Ives with a growing Cheshire grin on his face.

Tim gasped, “F@*#$ing hell.”

Bernard Dowd.

Ives new Nancy Drew pal was Bernard. Fragging. Dowd. The nosey-est (and therefore worst possible) person to have on a dig that might or might not yield incriminating signs of inter-dimensional antics.

“Why Timbo! With a greeting like that, one would almost think you weren’t pleased to see me.” Bernard bumped the car door closed with his hip as he balanced a brand new shovel on one shoulder.

Ives blinked, “You two know each other?”

Tim scratched his head, “You two know each other?”

“As I’ve told you both,” Bernard set the shovel down by the largest tree root, “I know everyone who’s anyone.”

As if to prove the solidity of his nonchalance, Bernard took his best guess as to which patch of dirt housed the capsule, and made a sweeping ‘you first’ motion with his arm at Tim and Ives.

Tim pulled out Alfred’s trusty gardening hoe, and braced himself as Bernard began to snicker. Because he’d brought a hoe. Because, for all his eloquence, Bernard was emotionally twelve. Ives stared at them both like they had doubled their number of arms and limbs and turned green.

Tim felt his eyes narrow in suspicion in Bernard’s direction, “You knew I’d be here.”

Bernard pulled back his laughter into a finely-controlled smirk, “When dear ol’ Sebastian told me he had an eccentrically neglectful, ridiculously rich childhood compadre named Tim… well, I did the math. But I waited for a face-to-face to be sure,” He winked, “It’s more fun that way.”

Tim purposefully and carefully ignored that entire description of himself as he stared incredulously at Ives.

“You actually let him call you Sebastian? Him?”

“It was the only way to get him to stop calling me ‘St. Ives’ along with several other unholy variations of my surname,” Ives took a deep breath and pitched his own shovel into the dirt, “Now lets get this show on the road.”

Once the digging began, it was a simple matter to let Bernard dominate the conversation, explaining to Ives that he and Tim had gone to the aptly-named Grieve High for a semester together. Until the Aquista gang war had come to their front door step.

Tim’s mind remained vaguely on Bernard’s story, but mostly on the ground they were unearthing. There was a reason Bernard had been able to see the digging spot. It was especially uneven compared to its surroundings, overgrown with grass that was clearly seeded, a slightly different color than what was surrounding it.

Which was suspicious, considering Tim and Ives hadn’t laid down any grass seed when they were kids. Not that someone responsible for the park couldn’t have laid something down, but it didn’t look quite right. It had been what? Six? Seven years since he and Ives had buried the thing? It should have blended with the rest of the milieu perfectly. But it didn’t. Not quite. As though it had been dug up again at least once in the interim.

“Earth to Timinator,” Ives poked him in the forehead, “Is it true?”

“Is what true?”

Ives looked like he wanted to smack Tim with his shovel and Bernard looked… oddly serious.

“Did Bernard’s dream girl turn into a super villain and try to kidnap you?”

And this was why he didn’t want Bernard here. There was the guy’s ongoing conspiracy theory habit, and then there was the fact that he had actually seen way too much.

“No,” Tim heard Bernard begin to protest, but he continued, “Darla didn’t try to kidnap me. She tried to make me into her personal moral compass and I told her where to get off.”

Bernard stared, “You what??? But she—you—she dismantled my car! She had these… these…”

Ives jumped in, “Phenomenal cosmic powers?”

“Yes,” Bernard continued, “And you just told her to go jump off a cliff? And got away with it? What the hell, Timothy!”

Tim blinked. He had forgotten about that. When Darla Aquista had died and returned from the dead with dark magic powers via one of Robin’s enemies, she had sought out her friend Tim Drake out for “advice.” Tim had forgotten that she had gone to Bernard first. He had never bothered to call Bernard and let the guy know he was okay. For all Bernard had known, he’d sent Tim’s untimely demise to his door when he told Darla where to find their former classmate.

Tim put the shovel down for a moment.

“I’m sorry I scared you, Bernard. I meant—I meant that if Darla wanted to be a hero, and she did, she couldn’t rely on me to tell her right from wrong and hold her to it. Heroes take responsibility for their actions. She gets that now. She went off with a superhero team called Shadowpact. She was okay.”

“And you?” Bernard exhaled.

Tim grinned.

“I’m always okay.”

Neither of his friends looked like they believed him.

Ives returned to digging, “See this is why you should call me more often,” He grunted as his shovel finally struck metal, “Your life gets really, really weird without me. Dating undead superheroes, Tim? Really? Oy vey.”

“We didn’t… never mind.”

He could have pulled the chest from the remainder of the hole without grunting, but watching Ives and Bernard wheeze and strain from the physical activity set a good bar for Timothy Drake Wayne’s level of sluggishness. So he panted along with them.

“Makes..nnghhh… a lot of sense in hind sight, though.” Ives breathed.

“What does?”

“Cancer probably doesn’t look like so bad of a boss battle after you’ve seen the fire and brimstone.”

“I…” He could be honest about this much. He could. “It made me glad for the people who are alive. However long they’re alive. Y’know?”

Ives gave him the most earnest smile Tim had seen all day.

“Okay, geeks! And Tim, for all your previous disguise, I see now that you are—in fact—a geek. It’s time to unbox this baby.” Bernard crowed.

Their “time capsule” was less a futuristic tube and more pirate-chest themed lockable luggage from the nearest department store. It had space for stuff, and it looked cool. Even as an adult, Tim felt he could stand by that choice.

Three seconds to blow off the dust. Forty-two to smash the lock. (He and Ives could both remember Tim swearing when they were kids that he would remember the combination, but well, he hadn’t.)

“A moment of silence for the defunct game boy who’s grave we have disturbed.” Ives mock-solemnly intoned, as he pulled out the old system preserved in plastic.

Tim blinked, “You buried your game boy? You loved that thing.”

“Exactly,” Ives poked him in the chest, “I was committed to this project. Unlike you.”

Tim frowned.

“I was too committed. Behold,” he lifted a green mud-crusted travesty that had not aged well, “Rusty the water pistol. Never got in a water gun fight without him. And look! My pog collection.”

“You mean my pog collection.”

Tim shrugged, “Our pog collection.”

“You are both the nerdiest nerds who ever nerded in the eighth grade. I don’t know why I expected differently.” Bernard sighed.

“I did warn you, buddy.” Ives laughed.

Bernard muttered something unintelligible, but it set Ives off on a lecture about the impact of popular culture. Tim took it as a much-needed distraction.

It wouldn’t have done Tim any good to have remembered the lock combination anyway. The lock wasn’t as old as it should have been. And while the capsule was filled with mementos from younger years, there were two small evidence bags at the bottom that were Batman standard issue.

They were hair samples.

Easily researched. Easily pocketed.

Tim breathed a sigh of relief as he quietly slipped them into the back of his jeans.

That had… not gone nearly as badly as he anticipated. He reminded himself that it wasn’t quite over yet. After all, he owed Ives pizza.

Ives and Bernard were still arguing amicably.

One of the reasons Ives never had too many friends as a kid was because most people couldn’t understand that the guy’s favorite form of conversation was a heated debate. When he felt like conversing at all outside of Wizards and Warlocks.

Bernard… well, Bernard just decided when someone was his friend and treated any attempts to escape his friendship as an amusing joke. It worked for him. But he also had a tendency to look down his nose at people who fit too neatly into a category, and Ives tended to wear his categories loud and proud. So it was… curious.

“So, how did you guys meet?”

Ives and Bernard paused and then grinned in unison.

“Elizabeth Spillgrave.”

Who? It took Tim a moment. Right.

Elizabeth Spillgrave. Real name: Jodie Weise. Internationally recognized alien conspiracy theorist, and one of Ives favorite authors. Or least favorite, depending how one looked at it. He always holed up in his room on the day one of her books released, reading voraciously. He would spend the next two weeks debunking her entire book paragraph by paragraph. Sometimes with charts if he was feeling particularly zealous and homework wasn’t challenging him enough.

Tim blinked, “And you became friends over this?”

It didn’t seem possible. Because while Ives was the sort to spend two weeks disproving the sort of theories that were the woman’s bread and butter, Bernard was just the sort to spend the same amount of time proving it. Or perhaps editing how such events would be possible, turning each paragraph into a spring board for his own theories. He would stop short of making charts, though. Bernard thought excessive chart-making was for nerds.

Ives shrugged, “We were both late to her book signing last year, and had to team up on scalping tickets to get into the VIP meet and greet.”

“We shared mutual disappointment that she could but spare us two minutes each, even after all that hassle.” Bernard sighed.

Ives rolled his eyes, “And then he started going on about his idea that the UFO’s mentioned in her last book might be Kryptonian. From a hundred years ago.”

“Magic is a thing, Sebastian.”

“They’re aliens, Bernard. Superman is vulnerable to magic. He’s not going to carry around something that could kill him.”

“Humans do it all the time.”

They continued on as they packed up their tools and piled into Ives’ car. Tim didn’t get a word in edge-wise to ask where they were going, but he quickly recognized the route Ives was taking. Pizza Planet, appropriately enough.

He pulled the clear evidence bags from his pocket to glance at them once more.

One contained extremely short snips of dirty blond hair. The other contained a single jet-black lock that looked like it had been curled around someone’s finger before getting cut.

Both sets were sufficient for a DNA database search.

Tim sat back in his seat.

First pizza, then catching up with the two civilian friends who were still speaking to him, maybe some nostalgic passing around of ye olde Game Boy, and then…

Answers.

#stars unearth your fires #tim drake #Red Robin #fanfic #gidgeblog #batfic #Sebastian Ives #Bernard Dowd